The Cold And Straight Alpha Is Always Being Flirted With By The Goddess Aunt - Chapter 5

A long banquet table was set with dishes prepared by Xi Zhaowan. Exquisite porcelain bowls held fragrant, colorful, and delicious food.

Gazing at the elder, who was propping her chin on her hand and seriously staring at her with her clear, expressive eyes, Yan Qing felt overwhelmed and found it difficult to refuse. Her pale, indifferent face rarely showed any hint of helplessness or embarrassment.

The only reason was that she couldn’t eat this much. In the cultivation world, spending ten years in closed-door training and often not eating for days was common. As a cultivator, attaining bigu (abstention from grain/food) was normal. The higher the cultivation realm, the less reliant one became on food.

Yan Qing, who had cultivated the Path of Jueqing (Awakened Emotion) to the ninth layer, wouldn’t starve if she didn’t eat for a month. Just as she was about to decline, the sound of the password lock opening came from the front door. The butler respectfully called out, “Patriarch, you are back.”

Amidst hurried footsteps, a crisp, cheerful voice arrived: “What occasion is it today? It must have been hard for you to prepare such a table of food.”

Yan Qing turned her head. The person who arrived was Yan Manxing, the original body’s biological mother. She was dressed in an exquisite tailored suit with a belted jacket, paired with a blue striped shirt, highlighting her slender, graceful waist. Her perfect makeup exuded a capable and assertive aura.

In the original body’s memory, Yan Manxing barely cared for her after giving birth, immediately dedicating herself to the family business. She was an irresponsible, hands-off mother.

It was as if this daughter, the original body, was merely a tool for seizing power. In the past, the original body would resent her mother’s coldness, but as the years passed, with Xi Zhaowan’s warm companionship, her expectations of her mother had become minimal.

Time was like the gaping maw of a colossal beast that devoured emotions, always capable of swallowing all feelings of unresolved injustice.

For Yan Qing, the only immediate feeling of unresolved injustice was her failure to break through the tenth layer of the Path of Jueqing. She possessed a character defined by strict self-discipline. She raised an eyebrow at the table of food made by Xi Zhaowan, preparing to refuse.

“Qing’er just recovered from an illness, and I don’t feel entirely assured if the nanny cooks…”

Yan Manxing was accustomed to Xi Zhaowan’s reply. Without caring whether her nominal daughter would eat or not, she put down her bag and immediately had the butler serve the dishes and soup.

“Why are you just looking? Eat!” Yan Manxing glared at Yan Qing. Her daughter seemed less polite after recovering from the illness. Before, when she saw her, although she wouldn’t greet her, she would look timid and hesitant. Every time she saw this, Yan Manxing felt a somewhat twisted “sense of achievement.”

Gazing at her child, Yan Manxing’s thoughts drifted. Qinghe’s previous name was just the single character “Qing.” Later, a master advised her to change the child’s name and falsely report her age as one year younger. Only then would the child have a chance to escape a destined calamity and return to peace when she grew up.

In truth, Qinghe’s actual age was eighteen, but Yan Manxing had not told anyone. Changing her daughter’s name and age to potentially avoid a disaster was nothing more than a trivial matter to her, easily accomplished.

During the meal, Xi Zhaowan occasionally served dishes for Yan Manxing as well. Eating the delicious food, Yan Manxing inwardly praised the brilliant decision she had made back then to keep Xi Zhaowan around.

Xi Zhaowan could participate in the research and management of the company’s inhibitor agents externally, take care of the “little cub” at home internally, and was also an excellent cook. Although she didn’t cook often, whenever Yan Manxing could piggyback on her daughter’s benefits and get a chance to eat Xi Zhaowan’s homemade food, she couldn’t help but follow the aroma and shamelessly enjoy a feast.

Undoubtedly, Yan Manxing’s ruthless business nature had permeated every aspect of her life.

“Okay.” Yan Qing found it hard to be impolite. She picked up her chopsticks, tentatively took a few pieces of plain vegetables, placed them in her bowl, stirred them a few times, and reluctantly ate a few bites.

Watching Yan Qing’s actions, Xi Zhaowan was stunned for a moment. This time, Qing’er was really a little different from before. She used to love meat, but now, she hadn’t picked up a single piece of meat throughout the meal and had only eaten a few bites of vegetables.

Was it because she was ill and couldn’t handle too much grease? She suppressed the questions in her heart.

Having watched Qinghe grow up from infancy, from the age of 17 to 33, she felt that no one knew this child as well as she did. Yet, the look in Qing’er’s eyes when she saw her returning from her trip was devoid of the former filial affection, a bit cold, a bit distant.

After the meal, Yan Manxing hurriedly returned to the company to handle business. Only Xi Zhaowan and Yan Qing remained in the house, besides the servants who were cleaning up.

“Come, Qing’er, let Auntie check if your technique has improved recently.”

Technique? The technique Master Yan was most proficient in was meditation, besides meditation.

Not until she was led by the gentle, smiling woman to a massive, black-lacquered musical instrument did she understand. Black and white keys gleamed with a new polish in the light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling sheer curtains on this afternoon.

The “original body’s memory” of playing a four-hand duet with Xi Zhaowan flooded her mind. However… while the visual memory was there, the muscle memory wouldn’t return to proficiency so quickly.

Could it be that she had noticed something and was trying to test her? Or was it simply for the sake of playing the piano?

The original body’s piano skills were taught by Xi Zhaowan, but after Yan Qinghe turned 15 and went to high school, they rarely played together.

“My piano skills are a little rusty… May I watch you play?” Yan Qing feigned a look of embarrassment.

Calling Xi Zhaowan “Auntie” was as difficult as calling Yan Manxing “Mom.” It was hard to get the words out right away.

She avoided using an honorific, referring to the other party only as “You”

“Alright, then I’ll play a piece we used to play often.” Xi Zhaowan’s lips curved upward. She gently raised her slender hand, and Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons poured forth from her fingertips.

This was the first time Yan Qing had seen a musical instrument from outside the cultivation world. She was skilled in the guqin (a traditional Chinese zither). This piano’s volume was many times larger than her guqin, grand and majestic, and was known as the “King of Instruments” in the ABO world.

The sound produced was also different from the gentle, flowing sounds of the guqin, complex, varied, and dazzling.

Yan Qing closed her eyes slightly, her body relaxed, embracing the afternoon’s leisure. She leaned gently against the side of the piano, watching the light outside the window being fragmented by the sheer curtains in the warm afternoon sun, surrounding Xi Zhaowan’s fingertips, Xi Zhaowan’s eyes, and her figure.

The notes danced, and time stretched endlessly in the sea of music. Yan Qing felt the tranquility of every note in her meditative state, sometimes slow, sometimes urgent, sometimes like weeping… She seemed to see flowers and butterflies gathering in the dusty light, settling near Xi Zhaowan’s elegant back as she bent over the piano.

While playing, Xi Zhaowan reserved a fraction of her attention for Yan Qing. The familiar black and white keys danced beneath her fingers. She concentrated on capturing the sound of the music she was playing. With every collision of the keys, Qing’er’s brows would alternately relax and furrow. Her breathing was soft and focused, as if the only things in the world were the heavenly melody in her ears and the notes from her fingertips.

Qing’er was listening so intently.

She had never seen Yan Qing so focused and serious. This child was always impulsive in her actions in the past, which was why she had insisted she learn the piano to temper her restless nature.

Seeing her listening so attentively, Xi Zhaowan had the idea of testing her level. She smiled slightly, and as the melody shifted, she continued playing with one hand while the other gently rotated the girl and pulled her onto the piano bench. They sat side by side, their bodies touching.

“Come, play with me. Do you still remember the sheet music?”

Yan Qing’s pupils dilated, and her fingertips stiffly hovered over the keys.

Perhaps sensing the other party’s unfamiliarity, Xi Zhaowan’s warm, slender fingers rested on the back of Yan Qing’s hand, guiding her fingers to help her recall the memory of the feeling.

Delicate and warm, Yan Qing felt as if she was encapsulated in a seashell, lying in the undulating sound of the tide, allowing the other party to manipulate the rhythm.

One was a mature, elegant Omega, and the other was a clear-faced, immature girl, an Alpha who was delicate like an Omega.

Their bodies were close together. Looking from the side, the Omega seemed to be embracing the Alpha girl beside her. A gentle breeze blew, sweeping over the fingers dancing on the keys and across their hair. The mischievous wind tied their hair into a knot, then separated the strands, brushing against Yan Qing’s face.

She should have been sensitive to human scents, but perhaps due to the added effect of the music, she felt hypnotized. She didn’t instinctively recoil from the approach of the white gardenia scent, which she usually avoided like a plague.

Taking a deep breath, to others, this might appear as a moment of romance like flowers in the wind, but right now, she just wanted to shake off this troublesome “bone-sticking parasite.”

This Master, who had lived for a hundred years in her previous life, found it difficult to childishly pull away and reject the approach of the 33-year-old woman.

If she could recall the sheet music, if she could remember how to play the piano, she would be able to shake off this unfamiliar and uncomfortable touch, right?

She tried to regulate her breathing, sinking her spiritual consciousness into the sea of memory in her alaya-vijnana (storehouse consciousness), striving to find the residual memories of the original body in her meditative state. The warm current of consciousness flowed through her limbs and bones. The familiar muscle memory was activated, like being resurrected after death.

Steady!

“I remember,” her voice was calm.

Xi Zhaowan felt the back of her hand being covered in return, and then firmly released as if it had been scalded.

Hurry back to your side of the keys, stay in your lane, and don’t encroach upon me again.

Her actions seemed to be conveying this message to Xi Zhaowan, who was amused by her own thoughts. She smiled brilliantly, like a flower blooming. She was too busy. Since Qing’er grew up, it had been a long time since they had relaxed together in such quiet company.

Collecting her thoughts, she refocused on the keys.

The skin on the back of the girl’s hand was tender and white, faintly revealing the sickly paleness beneath the almost invisible blue veins. Her side profile was cool, her lips stubbornly pressed together. Her vigorous finger technique made the flowing notes follow closely with her playing.

Immediately after, every note Xi Zhaowan played was perfectly matched by the girl one advanced, one retreated, a back-and-forth exchange.

A fine layer of sweat broke out. When did this child’s piano technique become so good? Xi Zhaowan pursed her red lips. In the final modulation, she slowed her fingers, subtly easing her play.

She felt a little weak. With the inhibitor patch on, she felt her pheromones were being slightly disturbed and spilling out with the plucking of the notes.

Fortunately, I wore an inhibitor patch. She shouldn’t be able to smell it, right? That would be embarrassing. Just as she thought this, she saw the picturesque Yan Qing raise her beautiful eyebrows, turn her head, and look at her aunt with a puzzled expression.

Hmm, it shouldn’t be, right? She remembered she had put on an inhibitor patch. They should both have them on; it shouldn’t be so easy to be affected by the other person. She feigned composure.

She convinced herself that it was only a slight overflow, and even without the patch, this tiny amount shouldn’t be detectable.

But the next sight made her pupils contract, because she saw the girl’s neck, fair and pure white, with no trace of an inhibitor patch.

She knew Yan Qinghe’s pheromone was carman-orange scent, but without an inhibitor patch for such a long time, she hadn’t smelled the other party’s scent.

Could it be that Qing’er’s scent gland was malfunctioning? She was always vague and evasive about the cause of this illness.

The child wasn’t like this before. When she was little, Yan Qinghe would cling to her and act spoiled, with her eyes red and tearful, just to get her attention and affection, even if she was only bitten by an ant.

Had Qing’er suffered some kind of trauma? She was cold natured since she returned and seemed quite resistant to her approach. A pang of hurt struck her heart. She couldn’t help but raise her hand to push aside the black hair at the back of Yan Qing’s neck, just as the scent gland was about to be exposed…

The genius girl, immersed in the complex and diverse sound of the “King of Instruments,” felt something different from the simplicity of the guqin. In the majestic notes, and the classical music of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons,

She realized that within the contemplation of “Spring returns to the earth, Summer has frog sounds, Autumn sees yellow leaves falling, and Winter sees the melting snow,” she felt the vital energy of life itself. A portion of spiritual energy was mobilized, subtly repairing her long dry and damaged meridians.

A fortunate coincidence. The longer this continues, the better. Perhaps I should thank Xi Zhaowan, a thought flashed through her mind during the cultivation observation.

The continuous, flowing repair was enjoyable and immersive. She didn’t notice Xi Zhaowan’s gaze until a slight coolness touched her neck and the white gardenia scent was right at her nose.

She seized that pair of caring hands. The girl’s pleasant voice, habitually tinged with the coldness of one used to authority, commanded: “Don’t move!”

Instantly, the cold scent of a mountain cold cypress mixed with an elegant, ascetic fragrance emanated from the girl’s neck.

A feeling that was both familiar and strange once again filled Xi Zhaowan’s heart.

Her hand was held by the icy fingertips, which gave a gentle pull. She couldn’t escape, trapped in a seemingly prison-like constraint by the clear, cold command of “Don’t move.”