After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 37

Shen Shuheng did not dare to speak, nor did she want to. She simply buried her face in Fu Xueke’s embrace, her tears flowing without end. Her face was soaked, and the salt of her tears slipped into her mouth—bitter, just like her heart.

She wept silently, offering no explanation.

Fu Xueke sighed softly and did not press further. Her hand continued its slow, steady rhythm, patting the girl’s back.

The girl has secrets now, Fu Xueke thought. Secrets that even I am not permitted to know.

Part of Shuheng hoped her Master would keep asking, yet another part was terrified she would. Now that the questions had stopped, the silence felt even more unbearable. She hated her own moodiness; she shouldn’t be crying like this.

From the time she was a child, whenever she felt wronged, her Master was the first person she turned to. In this world, only her Master—only her Master—would listen to her every word and resolve every grievance.

But now, it was different.

The source of her sorrow was her love for her Master, a love she feared was unrequited. How could she confess that? And what right did she have to feel aggrieved? Just because she loved her Master, did it mean her Master was obligated to love her back?

Her Master was already so good to her; she shouldn’t be selfish or greedy. As long as she could remain by her side, it should be enough. As the gentle patting on her back continued, exhaustion eventually pulled Shuheng into a deep sleep.

The Master’s Awakening

As Shuheng’s breathing steadied into the rhythm of sleep, Fu Xueke rested a hand atop the girl’s head, feeling the cool, silky strands of hair.

Fu Xueke let out a long, slow breath. The girl’s earlier whimpers had acted like tiny levers, prying open the valves of her heart to release things she had long suppressed.

Fu Xueke had always considered herself a person of great self-control, someone capable of resisting any temptation. Now, she realized her “self-control” was nothing more than a shattered shield.

When did I begin to indulge these feelings?

Vague memories sharpened in her mind. A moonlit, snowy night—the moment she had gazed into the girl’s eyes. Since then, desire had grown like a spiderweb, covering her heart. She realized that throughout their journey, she had intentionally allowed the girl’s bold actions. In fact, she had subconsciously invited them, ceding her authority as a teacher to indulge her own hidden wants.

I am her elder, Fu Xueke thought with a pang of guilt. I should be the one guiding her, teaching her the weight of these actions, not leading her further into this ambiguity.

She feared the day Shuheng would grow up and realize her Master had taken advantage of her youth and ignorance.

From tomorrow, everything must return to its proper orbit.

Fu Xueke looked down at the sleeping girl, intending to push her away. Her hands moved to the girl’s slender waist, but they froze there. Just as she gathered the resolve to move her, Shuheng let out a soft sigh in her sleep and rubbed her head against Fu Xueke’s chest.

The ice in Fu Xueke’s heart melted instantly.

Forget it, she sighed into the darkness. Tomorrow. I will do it tomorrow.

The Cold Morning

The next morning, Shen Shuheng woke to find her eyes swollen and heavy—a lingering gift from a night of crying. She stretched across the bed, but her hand met only cold sheets. Her Master was gone.

A hollow ache filled her chest. Since realizing her feelings, she had become even more clingy, wanting to spend every waking second with her. She lived in constant fear that her secret would be discovered and she would be cast away.

Without even putting on a coat, she climbed out of bed and ran barefoot across the cold floor. She pushed open the door, and the winter wind bit at her face like a blade.

“Why have you come out like this? You’ll catch a cold.”

Shuheng turned. Fu Xueke was standing in the snow, a vast expanse of white separating them.

“Are you hungry? Breakfast will be ready in a moment,” Fu Xueke said, walking toward her. She looked down at the girl’s frozen, red feet. Her hands twitched, wanting to scoop the girl up as she always did, but she forced them to stay at her sides.

Shuheng’s smile faltered as she noticed the hesitation. The rejection felt like a frostbite to her soul.

“Don’t do this again,” Fu Xueke said, her voice calm but distant. “You are grown now, not a child.”

Shuheng nodded, maintaining a stiff, frozen smile. But then, Fu Xueke finally relented, picking her up and carrying her into the warmth. She placed one hand over Shuheng’s feet, sending a flow of warmth that slowly brought life back to the girl’s toes—and her smile.

“Master is so good to me,” Shuheng whispered, resting her chin on Fu Xueke’s shoulder.

The Mirror and the Orange

Back inside, Fu Xueke sat Shuheng on the bed and used a warm towel to clean her feet.

“Don’t move,” Fu Xueke commanded.

A water mirror appeared in the air, showing Shuheng her own red, swollen eyes. Fu Xueke’s fingertips glowed with a gentle green light as she applied a cooling spiritual energy to the girl’s eyelids until the swelling vanished.

“There,” Fu Xueke said, quickly withdrawing her gaze. She was remembering that moonlit night when, influenced by demonic energy, her rationality had crumbled. She realized now that the demonic energy only drives one to act on the deepest desires of the heart.

Was I the one who started this? Fu Xueke wondered as she went to the kitchen. Is that why she acts so strangely now?

After a while, she called Shuheng to breakfast. Shuheng, still feeling the lingering aches in her body, played the “damsel” to get her Master to help her dress. Fu Xueke, preoccupied with her own thoughts, didn’t notice the mischievous glint in her disciple’s eyes and patiently helped her with her robes and shoes.

At the table, Shuheng looked at the spread—every dish was a favorite of hers.

“Master, I’m sorry about last night,” Shuheng said shyly. “I shouldn’t have said your heart was black and cold. You are the only person in the world who is good to me. I like Master the most.”

Fu Xueke smiled faintly. The only person? If she knew the ‘filthy’ thoughts in my heart, would she still say that?

“Eat,” Fu Xueke said. “I have already reached the stage of Inedia (fasting), so I will not join you.” She planned to wait until Shuheng finished eating to have “the talk”—to explain that their behavior was not appropriate for a Master and disciple.

But then, she placed a few bright, orange fruits on the table.

Shuheng gasped. “It’s only the beginning of summer. Where did these oranges come from? Why did you get them for me?”

“You said you wanted them,” Fu Xueke replied. “That night you looked at the moon and said it looked ‘orange-flavored’.”

Shuheng touched her head in surprise. She had mentioned that over a month ago as a passing comment. She had forgotten it entirely, yet her Master had remembered.