Yan Zhen understood what the Beautiful Master meant.
Simply being able to draw a square with his left hand and a circle with his right wasn’t enough. He had to manage it under external interference to meet even the bare minimum requirement.
That said, there were plenty of ways she could interfere with him. Why did it have to be a hug?
Like this, with the Beautiful Master embracing him from behind, her entire body enveloped his in her fragrance. That unique scent—floral yet pill-like—filled his senses with a single whiff, leaving him lightheaded as if he’d downed a few drinks. It was a natural intoxicant, effortlessly captivating the heart.
But the most distracting part of this position was the sensation against his back. Though he couldn’t see it, his mind vividly conjured her image:
She stood barefoot, her lotus-like arms emerging from the wide sleeves of her robe to wrap around his waist, her pale, delicate hands overlapping on his abdomen. Her upper body leaned slightly forward, pressing fully against his back. Beneath her black robes, those ample peaks resembled large white dough meticulously kneaded by a beautiful pastry chef into perfect round buns. Even wrapped in fabric, their soft, glutinous texture was unmistakable.
This posture felt less like interference and more like a newlywed wife coquettishly clinging to her husband.
Of course, it was just a resemblance. The Beautiful Master surely wasn’t like that.
She harbored a sincere hope for her disciple’s success, willing to go to great lengths to nurture his talent—including dual cultivation to pass on her flame.
Though things didn’t quite match the script he’d imagined, since the Beautiful Master was doing all this for him, he couldn’t let her down.
Yan Zhen took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
At noon, Mentor Yu Xuan had taken four mouthfuls from him, leaving a trace of Sage Power lingering in his body. He wouldn’t succumb to teasing so easily.
Enveloped in the Beautiful Master’s embrace, Yan Zhen picked up the brush once more. Left hand for the square, right for the circle.
Suddenly, the hands resting on his abdomen lightly scratched his belly a few times. It tickled so much that he nearly burst out laughing.
The nearly completed square and circle immediately distorted.
Yan Zhen couldn’t laugh anymore.
Chen Xi chuckled faintly. “That was just a little stimulation, Zhen’er. You can’t let it distract you. In other words, you need to set aside part of your mind in advance to handle things beyond drawing the square and circle. That way, no matter what happens, it won’t affect your strokes.”
Yan Zhen nodded thoughtfully and started over.
Divide the mind into three parts: one for the left hand’s square, one for the right hand’s circle, and one left free for unexpected disruptions.
The theory was simple enough, but putting it into practice proved subtly difficult.
How exactly did one leave the mind “free”? Like Ge You slumping on a sofa, playing the ultimate dead fish? Did reserving a third of his mind mean turning into a third-dead fish?
This…
Yan Zhen’s expression twisted and shifted, but he couldn’t grasp it.
System-chan stayed silent, confirming he couldn’t skip this—he had to figure it out himself.
This time, Yan Zhen drew the square and circle while staying alert for the Beautiful Master’s sudden moves. He managed to finish, but she hadn’t interfered at all, simply holding him quietly. Because of his divided attention, though, the shapes came out rougher than before, incomparable to his earlier attempts.
He’d been tricked.
“Hehe, let’s go again.”
“Oh~”
On the third try, Yan Zhen had just drawn a horizontal line with his left hand and an arc with his right when the soft pressure on his back intensified. Then a cool breeze whooshed past his ear, making him shiver.
Third attempt: failure.
“Don’t get discouraged, Zhen’er. Keep going.”
“Mm.”
Yan Zhen had the distinct feeling that the Beautiful Master was enjoying herself, her tone even brighter.
She usually carried an ethereal, otherworldly grace, but Yan Zhen knew well that she also had a girlish, playful side.
Like last time when she sneakily ate snacks and licked her fingers—too adorable, hehe~
“Zhen’er, don’t get lost in thought.”
A light tap on his head snapped Yan Zhen back to reality. He refocused and tried dividing his mind three ways.
The Beautiful Master launched a new interference: one small hand slipped quietly under his clothes, sliding slowly from his belly to his chest, like a nimble snake exploring a burrow.
Yan Zhen barely held on, speeding up his strokes. But just as he neared completion, the pad of her finger teasingly grazed that sensitive spot.
Fourth failure.
Yan Zhen’s face flushed beet red as he complained resentfully, “Master, could you not… not do it this way? You know I’m sensitive there.”
Chen Xi tightened her arms slightly and said calmly, “Your Master knows that full well, which is why I’m using this method. In real combat, every enemy strike is lethal. Survival instincts and battle fervor sharpen your mind to a peak. If you can’t handle this level of distraction, you’ll fare even worse in actual fights… I’ll ramp it up next, Zhen’er. Steel yourself mentally.”
What? Ramp it up? Who could withstand that?!
With a bitter little face, Yan Zhen pressed on with his practice.
One moment, his earlobe was caught between her teeth for gentle nibbling; the next, her lips sucked at his neck, her tongue licking delicately.
Those fair, tender hands played like mischievous children—one moment pinching the soft flesh at his waist, the next circling his chest, even venturing lower to lightly scrape with her nail.
Yan Zhen’s face burned crimson, his hands trembling as his drawings grew more and more misshapen.
He began to suspect the Beautiful Master was treating him like her personal plaything, toying with him at whim. But her guidance each time was deadly serious, precise, and insightful. Yan Zhen quickly dismissed the thought, chalking it up to his own weak resistance.
Only when someone called from outside did the Beautiful Master release him.
“Come back this evening to practice. It’s normal to struggle at first, but with your foundation in spiritual power, Zhen’er, more practice will have you mastering one mind in three—or even four—uses in no time.”
Yan Zhen steadied his body’s reactions and nodded.
“Then I’ll go eat now, Master. See you later.”
He fled back to his room. Hearing Mentor Yu Xuan still calling him from outside, he straightened himself out before hurrying to open the door.
“Mentor.”
Yan Zhen’s cheeks were a bit red, and Mentor Yu Xuan’s were too. She kept her head slightly lowered, her hands trembling faintly as she held the tray—like a shy new bride still intimidated by her vigorous husband.
Except in their case, the roles were reversed.
Mentor Yu Xuan bustled into the room with the tray, set everything on the table, and then said, “Sorry, Yan Zhen. At noon, I was a bit… out of my mind, so I got carried away without restraint… Anyway, it was my fault. I promise it won’t happen again. Don’t be mad, okay?”
He wasn’t mad, but—a next time? Yan Zhen’s mouth twitched.
“It’s fine. I’m not mad. I share the blame too—I can’t put it all on you, Mentor.”
“Mm, as long as you’re not upset. This is a tonic soup I specially simmered for you. Drink it to nourish your body.”
With that, Mentor Yu Xuan watched him expectantly, as if she wouldn’t leave until he finished every drop.
Curious, Yan Zhen lifted the lid. Upon seeing the contents, a black line crept down his forehead.
If he drank this, he’d be hard and sleepless all night for sure!
