Chapter 64: The Problem with Private Lessons

The summons came at dusk.

Not a formal scroll, not a chime from a palace attendant—just a folded note on my breakfast tray in handwriting that was maddeningly elegant.

Training. Private session. Twilight. Come alone. No distractions.

No distractions.

Which meant no Xiaohua. No Ming Yu. No sanity.

I stared at the note for a long time, debating whether "accidentally falling into a koi pond" would be a convincing excuse to miss this session.

Spoiler: it wouldn't.

So now I was walking through a quiet, dimly lit corridor, lit only by low lanterns, toward the same room from yesterday—the one with the basin, the too-close cushions, and the memory of a wave that had no business coming out of me.

And when I entered?

He was already there. Of course.

Draped in another brocade robe, this one deep charcoal embroidered with muted gold. His hair half-up again. Candlelight framed him like a painting the universe commissioned just to irritate me.

He didn't greet me. Just gestured toward the cushion with that same quiet expectation he always carried—like I was a player in a story he already knew the ending to.

I sat. Cautiously.

"Is this going to be another spiritual jump scare?" I asked, deadpan. "Because I didn't bring a towel this time."

His lips curved slightly. "No. Today, we'll try something more… deliberate."

"That sounds threatening."

"You need to stop letting the water control you. Start controlling it."

I folded my arms. "I didn't even know I had water powers until, like, five minutes ago."

He didn't flinch. "You've always had it."

I raised a brow. "You sound very confident about that."

His eyes met mine—and there it was again. That flicker. A shadow of longing that passed too quickly to name, but hit too sharply to ignore.

"Can you stop doing that?" I blurted.

He blinked, mildly surprised. "Doing what?"

I waved a hand in his general direction. "That. The way you look at me."

He tilted his head, lips curving just slightly. "The way I look at you?"

"Yes," I said, exasperated. "That thing. With your face."

He gave a low chuckle, smooth as silk and twice as irritating. "You'll have to be more specific, Consort Li."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't play innocent. You know exactly what I mean."

"You're saying I… look at you a certain way?"

"No. I'm saying you look at me like I'm a memory you're trying to drag back from a dream. Or a riddle you already solved but won't explain. It's weird. And distracting. And emotionally suspicious."

He raised a brow. "Emotionally suspicious?"

"Don't repeat it like it's nonsense. It's a very real category of behavior. Don't pretend you know me."

Something shifted in his expression—too subtle for amusement, too soft for sadness.

Then he stepped closer. Just a little.

"I'm not pretending to know you," he said quietly. "I do know you."

I blinked. And my heart—traitorous, unpredictable thing—hiccupped like it had been caught listening too closely.

Shen Kexian plopped back down next to me.

Same spot. Same distance. Or rather, lack of distance. Our knees nearly brushed again.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, like yesterday hadn't happened at all. Like he hadn't shattered my emotional eQuilibrium and turned a training basin into a tragic love scene from some high-budget cultivation drama.

I sighed loudly. The kind of sigh that carried the full weight of a person questioning every decision that led to sitting on a cushion next to Lord Emotional Whiplash.

Then he added, "Before we start… what did you feel yesterday?"

I paused.

He was watching me again—not cold, not calculating, but carefully. Like my answer wasn't just another note in some celestial experiment, but something he genuinely wanted to understand.

I glanced at the basin. My expression probably looked like someone trying to solve a riddle written in fire and moonlight.

What did I feel?

Where do I even begin?

That when he looked at me, the world tipped slightly off its axis? That something deep inside cracked open, and the water answered not to my command, but to my pulse? That it felt like… part of me had been waiting for that moment?

Do I mention how, for once, I didn't get the usual skull-splitting headache? That instead, I felt something softer—quieter.

Safe. Drawn in, even. As if I'd been dropped into a storm and found stillness instead of fear.

Which, frankly, is absurd. Because no one should feel safe around someone who communicates in loaded stares, half-smiles, and cologne that smells like regret and sandalwood.

"I don't know," I said slowly. "It was… a lot."

Shen Kexian didn't press. He just waited—quiet, steady—like the silence itself was part of the question.

So I continued, hesitantly. "It felt like… something moved. Not just the water. Me. Something inside me shifted. Like a door cracked open somewhere I didn't know existed—and I wasn't ready to look through it."

Still, he said nothing. His silence wasn't cold, just measured. Intent. Which, somehow, felt worse than if he'd interrupted me.

So, of course, I panicked and went straight to deflection.

"And also," I added, waving vaguely, "mild spiritual embarrassment. Because frankly, it's very hard to have an emotional breakthrough in front of someone whose face looks like it was hand-carved by vain gods."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Just slightly.

"Noted," he murmured.

And there it was again—something quiet but undeniable settling between us. Not quite tension, not quite comfort. Just… a charge. Like the space between words when something important was about to be said.

Then he lifted his hand.

Palm up. Still. An invitation.

I stared at it.

Not because I didn't recognize the gesture, but because I wasn't sure what it meant—for me. For this training. For the way my heart had started ticking a little louder in my chest.

"…What is this?" I asked, wary.

He tilted his head, his gaze steady. "A test."

My eyes narrowed. "What kind of test? You want me to hold your hand?"

"Yesterday," he said calmly, "I brushed your knee. The water surged hard enough to flood the basin."

I winced. "That was a fluke."

He raised a brow. "Your power disagrees."

I folded my arms. "Are you implying that I overreacted spiritually?"

"I'm saying," he said, his tone maddeningly even, "that your power responds to emotion. And I want to see if you can touch someone without letting it overwhelm you."

He kept his hand raised.

Unmoving.

Like he had all the time in the world and knew I didn't.

My pulse flickered uneasily. The last time we were this close, the water hadn't just moved—it had roared. And yet here he was again, asking me to reach for something I wasn't sure I could control.

"…What happens if it surges again?" I asked.

"Then we learn from it."

"And if I short out the whole palace plumbing?"

"Then I'll apologize to the maids."

Despite myself, my lips twitched. I stared at his hand a moment longer. Then, carefully, I reached out—fingers brushing his.

A cautious brush. Barely contact. But the moment our skin met—everything shifted.

A soft thrum pulsed through my fingertips, traveling up my wrist like a heartbeat that didn't belong to me. His fingers were warm—too warm—but not in a burning way. More like… radiant. Alive. Like they were humming with some energy I couldn't name.

I gasped.

Because the water—

Lifted. Not surged. Not exploded. Lifted.

A smooth column rose from the center of the basin, curling upward into the air like it was weightless. It hovered there, spinning into a perfect shape—a sphere, like a floating moon made of liquid.

I was so stunned, I forgot to breathe. My fingers twitched against his. My heart was hammering like I'd run through the palace barefoot in full consort robes.

Shen Kexian didn't move. His gaze stayed fixed on me—not the water. Me.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

I blinked. Tried to focus.

How did I feel?

Like my blood was running sideways. Like I was made of lightning and fog. Like I wanted to either scream or lie down and overthink everything I've ever done with my hands.

"I—uh—my heart is… loud," I managed, cheeks flaming. "And your fingers are warm."

His brows lifted slightly. "Warm?"

"Not like fever-warm. More like—like energy. You radiate power. It's weird. Stop looking at me."

He didn't stop looking at me.

I panicked. And let go.

Instantly, the suspended orb of water dropped.

It hit the basin with a dramatic splash, sending droplets flying across the marble floor and soaking the hem of my robe.

Again. Shen Kexian raised a brow. "Progress."

"Progress?" I sputtered, wringing out my sleeve. "I almost created a sentient water balloon!"

He smiled, faint but real. "Next time, maybe try not to panic."

"You try not to panic when you're accidentally flirting with a magical nuclear warhead."

His smile widened, just barely.

And I hated that it made my stomach flip again.

***

I barged into Yuling's quarters just after breakfast, still damp from yesterday's emotional tsunami and spiritual embarrassment.

She was stitching a bib with little lotus flowers on it, humming softly like she didn't expect a chaos gremlin to explode through her doors at any moment.

She barely looked up. "Let me guess. Another training session?"

I dropped onto her bed like a melodramatic ghost and groaned into her embroidered pillow. "I touched his fingers."

She paused. "You… what?"

"Just the tips!"

"Of what?"

"His hand! I didn't mean to—I mean, I did, but not like that—ugh, it wasn't romantic! It was spiritual! Maybe. Probably. I don't even know anymore."

Yuling finally set her embroidery down. "Okay. Start from the beginning. Use real words. Do not make random metaphors."

I flipped onto my back and flung an arm across my eyes like a tragic heroine. "He asked me what I felt. I gave some vague poetry about heartbeats and doors. Then he held out his hand like some brooding prince of emotional damage. I barely touched it and—bam! Floating water orb. Just levitating there like a mystical jellyfish of bad decisions."

Yuling stared at me. "That's… kind of impressive, actually."

"No! No, it is not! It's terrifying! My heart was pounding so hard I thought I was dying. And he just sat there like, 'Hmm, progress.., progress?!"

She pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. "So you're saying… you unlocked some ancient elemental power and flirted with your trainer again?"

"It was not flirting!"

"You held his hand and made a water sphere float."

"I panicked and let go!"

"And?"

"And it exploded!"

She leaned back and sighed. "Honestly? That sounds like flirting and a magical breakthrough. Good job."

I groaned again.

"I'm doomed," I muttered. "If Ming Yu ever finds out I made a spiritual orb while accidentally touching another man's fingers, he's going to combust."

Yuling raised a brow. "Did you tell him?"

I rolled over and screamed into the pillow.

She patted my hair. "I'll take that as a no."

And with that I knew it was time to come clean with him.