She changed into a pure-white short-sleeved blouse trimmed with lace, tied a sky-blue ribbon at the collar, and gave the hem of her skirt a little pinch as she spun once in place. The pleated skirt — black with white patterns — bloomed open like a flower, just like the dark-haired beauty reflected in the full-length mirror before her: radiantly pure and achingly lovely all at once.
She rummaged through the wardrobe for a pair of black mid-calf socks next. With practiced ease, she rolled the cuffs down a few times, then stretched them wide, bent at the waist, and looped the cuff over her pointed toes. She drew the socks up slowly, tugging them by the hem — her slender toes, snug in the breathable black fabric, flexed and spread to test the fit. Satisfied, she let go. The soft fabric snapped against her pale, shapely calves with a crisp little sound, clinging tightly and tracing a clean, taut line — the black sheer enough that a faint suggestion of skin showed through underneath.
For shoes, Li Fei chose a pair of small brown loafers. The low topline left her ankles exposed — delicate, clearly defined curves wrapped in the thin, dark fabric of her socks.
She glanced at her Charisma, which had ticked up to 143, gave a satisfied little hum, and pushed open the door.
It was the middle of the lunch rush. The streets were alive with foot traffic, and the air was thick with the mingled scent of a dozen different foods.
Li Fei picked a noodle shop nearby and had barely taken her seat when a server girl in an apron came over with bright, eager energy:
"Hello, what would you like to— I mean, what kind of noodles can I— um, that is…"
She'd gotten halfway through her greeting when she actually looked at Li Fei's face — and went immediately, spectacularly red. The rest of her sentence dissolved into stumbling fragments.
"What's your specialty?" Li Fei asked, resting her chin in her hand.
"Oil-splashed noodles — we learned the recipe from Easterners…" the girl murmured, head bowed, unable to meet Li Fei's eyes.
"Oh?" Li Fei's eyes lit up. "One bowl, please — two fried eggs on the side. Thank you."
She was no longer the clueless newcomer who had known nothing about the continent's history and customs. She'd at least heard the stories: far to the east of the Continent of Enlos, beyond the edge of the known world, lay a vast ocean — and across it, the Eastern Continent.
A thousand years ago, great ships flying the banners of a powerful merchant empire had come sailing through the waves without warning, and sudden war had lit up the murky, churning mists of history. The sheer distance had wreaked havoc on supply lines and communications, and even Transcendent power couldn't bridge that gap — the conflict between the two continents sputtered on for a decade or more before petering out, ushering in a new era.
The sea routes that had once carried soldiers and weapons became the famous Spice Routes. Fleet after fleet made the crossing in both directions, sustaining trade between East and West. They brought spices, porcelain, and dark-haired, dark-eyed Easterners to the Continent of Enlos — and sailed home laden with gold coins, mana crystals, and all manner of curious mechanical devices.
For reasons she couldn't quite explain, the culture and cuisine of the Eastern Continent felt remarkably like her ancient homeland — as it had been a thousand years ago.
Before long, the noodles arrived. A wide, flat ribbon of noodles glistening with chili oil and seasoning still steamed in the bowl, scattered with a few flecks of spring onion, the aroma punching straight up her nose.
Li Fei lifted a strand and tasted it. The flavor was exactly as she remembered — indistinguishable from the oil-splashed noodles of her past life. As for the skill involved… street-stall level, honestly, with one saving grace: the owner was not stingy with the chili.
Hunger, it had to be said, was the best seasoning of all. For a bowl of quite ordinary noodles, Li Fei abandoned any pretense of ladylike restraint — she all but buried her face in the bowl, eating with a wolfish, unstoppable energy, and in short order the noodles were gone along with both runny-yolked poached eggs.
She patted her stomach contentedly, almost flagged the server down for a second bowl — and then suddenly became aware that every other diner in the shop was sneaking glances at her.
She gave a soft, discreet cough, straightened her posture without making a show of it, and with great composure produced a handkerchief to dab the light sweat from her forehead.
"The check, please," she said with a serene little smile.
...
A woman in a plain, unadorned dress sat at a writing desk in the parlor, turning page after page, the crease between her brows deepening with every pass. A knot of worry that refused to loosen.
On the wall behind her hung a clock. The hands moved steadily around the face, and each small, precise tick only made her more restless.
When the hour hand touched two o'clock, a knock sounded at the door.
"Miss Annie? Are you in? I've arrived."
Annie Teresa startled out of her thoughts, rose to her feet, and immediately dropped the lesson plan she'd prepared. She scrabbled the papers together in a fluster, then hurried to open the door — and Li Fei's bright, luminous smile leapt into her clear blue eyes.
"Good afternoon, Miss Annie."
Li Fei cupped Annie's hand in hers and pressed a kiss above her knuckles — a ghost of a kiss, barely touching, though Annie could still feel the warmth and faint dampness of her breath, enough to send a small shiver through her.
"You are, as always, utterly beautiful."
"Mm… mm, good afternoon, Fei."
Annie quickly reclaimed her hand and retreated back to the desk, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Come, sit — I've got black tea and biscuits ready for you."
Li Fei pressed a hand to her heart and arranged her face into the precise expression of flattered, overwhelmed delight she'd once seen on Shannina the first time they'd met.
"I haven't stopped thinking about your tea since last time."
Mrs. Annie was the Common Tongue tutor Lady Gneia had personally hired for her — private, one-on-one lessons. Li Fei had been mildly disappointed at first that her teacher wasn't Lady Gneia herself. But the moment she met Mrs. Annie, that small pang of regret evaporated entirely — because Mrs. Annie happened to be exactly her type.
Once Li Fei was seated, Annie slid the fragrant cup of black tea toward her, withdrew her hand immediately, and spread out the lesson materials on the desk. She dropped her gaze. "This is what we'll be covering this afternoon…"
Oh, I already know all of this.
Li Fei glanced over the densely written pages with mild disinterest.
After all, the star courtesan had, on more than one occasion, spent her working hours perched on a customer's very comfortable, very elastic lap — learning a foreign language while playing the coquette, in a style that would not have been out of place for a certain Dean Chen of the people's judiciary.① Truly, a masterclass in making education entertaining.
What woman — arriving at the Golden Kumquat Tavern in search of a good time — could possibly hold out against the star courtesan's lethal combination of warm breath at their ear, a honeyed pout, and a softly murmured "Sensei~"② as she asked about grammar?
Li Fei had quickly discovered that learning languages on the job actually moved more wine. Who could have predicted it?
The ancients were right after all: between the pages of a book, one finds both gold and beauty. The wisdom of the ages does not deceive.
When Lady Gneia heard the customers' glowing praise, she was struck speechless with admiration at the star courtesan's sheer creativity. She immediately contacted a designer to have several private rooms redecorated as replicas of Magic Academy classrooms and faculty offices — intending to roll out the star courtesan's independently developed specialty service to a wider clientele, and further cement the Golden Kumquat Tavern's reputation. In her imperfect Eastern, she offered up a heartfelt tribute: "Had Heaven not sent us Li Fei, the art of public relations would have languished in eternal darkness."
Li Fei, whose Morality score had been sliding steadily downward, took this as the highest of compliments.
You might say I have Grandmaster-tier potential as a mage — and perhaps a small portion of that is owed to the system. Fair enough.
But Grandmaster-tier potential as a star courtesan? That is mine, and mine alone, thoroughly deserved.
"Fei — shall we… begin?" Mrs. Annie noticed Li Fei's faraway expression and suppressed a quiet sigh.
"Hm? In here?"
Li Fei, who had assumed they were simply having afternoon tea in the parlor, arched an eyebrow and made a small show of reluctance. "The parlor seems a bit… improper, doesn't it? Why not do what we usually do and go to your bedroom, Miss Annie?"
"It's a little cramped in there, and the light in the parlor is much better…" Annie's expression grew slightly strained.
These past weeks, the two of them had sat side by side at the bedroom desk for their lessons, and Li Fei's arm or thigh was always somehow brushing against hers — that smooth, silky warmth, the faint, clean fragrance drifting from Li Fei's hair, left Annie's thoughts adrift and scattered.
As time passed, her student had only grown more dangerously captivating. Every glance and smile was like a piece of forbidden fruit; every strand of hair seemed to move like a coiling serpent. Annie lay awake nearly every night, turning restlessly, Li Fei's face rising unbidden in her mind and in her dreams, impossible to banish.
She had realized, with growing dread, that if this continued, she would lose control. She would do something unforgivable — she would hurt this innocent, trusting girl who had done nothing wrong.
To prevent herself from making that mistake, Annie had resolved to keep her distance.
Li Fei was so young. She deserved someone just as bright and vivid as herself — someone to share poetry and moonlight with. She had no business being hurt by a woman who had lost all sense.
"Ah…" Li Fei pouted, letting a flicker of disappointment show on her face.
Mrs. Annie really doesn't know how to read the mood. And here I made a special effort to wear the school uniform.
"Then — let's begin," Annie said, drawing a slow, steadying breath. She pointed to a line in the lesson notes. "As I explained last time, the Common Tongue has eight sentence structures in total. Today we'll be covering the seventh…"
Her hands looked almost smaller than Li Fei's — the skin pale, soft, and fine. On her ring finger sat a silver wedding band.
Li Fei propped her chin on her hand and let her gaze rest, unhurried, on Annie's face rather than the lesson materials.
Mrs. Annie looked to be around thirty. The well-fitted, slightly conservative dress she wore would, at certain unguarded moments, yield to the gentle curves of a figure that was slender yet unmistakably maternal. Her soft golden hair was pinned up at the back of her head, glinting with a quiet, warm luster in the lamplight. Her face was a little drawn, her fair complexion almost bloodless; her brows were faintly furrowed, and those gentle blue eyes carried a perpetual undercurrent of tender melancholy — as if tears might spill from them at any moment.
So delicate, so heartbreakingly lovely — a young widow in mourning, and still her teacher besides. Even the star courtesan, who had passed many a night in song and wine, felt an involuntary tenderness stirring in her chest.
Annie glanced up without thinking — and met Li Fei's gaze directly.
On that vividly beautiful face, a pair of dark eyes curved with a faint smile, watching her with quiet, unhurried intensity. Annie's heart lurched. She felt like prey — and yet found she had very little desire to run. That fatal, bewitching pull left her breathless even as it dragged her under.
No. I can't.
I swore to my wife I would keep faith with her…
And besides — she is my student. She's barely older than my daughter. How could I let such wicked thoughts take root toward a girl this pure and good…
Annie turned her face away, fighting down the flame rising inside her. Her voice wavered slightly. "Did you follow what I just covered?"
"Not a word of it, Miss Annie." Li Fei produced an expression of perfect, artless bewilderment.
Annie's smile grew more strained, threaded through with a quiet, aching bitterness.
She had been teaching Li Fei for nearly a month now.
In the beginning, Li Fei's progress had been remarkable — she absorbed unfamiliar material with impressive speed. But for reasons Annie could not explain, Li Fei had grown increasingly distracted over the course of that month. Her learning pace had slowed to a crawl. It left Annie anxious — and wracked with guilt.
It must be my fault.
I have harbored wicked thoughts about this bright, kind child, and so I cannot teach her with a clear heart. Goddess of Nature — punish me for my sins. Scour the darkness from my heart.
Alice — I'm sorry. But please believe me. I will not commit any greater wrong.
Annie Teresa closed her eyes, drowning in self-reproach.
But was any of this truly her fault?
Of course not.
The truth was that higher Intelligence made Li Fei learn faster — content that once took an entire evening to memorize could be recalled in a single pass with sufficient Intelligence; calculations that took a minute might take only seconds. Intelligence did not confer wisdom or pre-existing knowledge, of course — a math problem she'd never known how to solve wouldn't solve itself just because her Intelligence had gone up a thousand points. But the core principle held.
There was no question about it: Li Fei's learning efficiency had slowed because her Morality score had dropped.
She had noticed early on that changes in her System Panel fed back into her actual self, and her actual self fed back into the panel. But she had kept her attention fixed on the attributes with the most obvious, tangible effects — Constitution, Strength, Charisma — and had, whether consciously or not, overlooked the quieter influence of Morality.
Just as dedicated exercise could raise Constitution, and the system could grant raw Strength through direct stat allocation — Li Fei's immoral conduct caused her Morality to fall, and as Morality fell, her personality was slowly, imperceptibly shifting toward something darker, more self-serving, more chaotic.
Gentle, guileless Mrs. Annie had no idea that her sweet, well-behaved student harbored a heart being steadily dyed black — and had, quite without meaning to, let slip far more than she should have.
For instance: Annie's wife had gone missing, leaving her perpetually short on funds, needing to scrape together tuition money for her daughter at the Magic Academy.
For instance: this tutoring position was the highest-paying side work Annie had been able to find.
And: if Li Fei's progress proved unsatisfactory, Lady Gneia might let Annie go. In fact — as Li Fei's Charisma had continued to climb — Lady Gneia had already begun to quietly regret hiring the tutor at all, and had hinted more than once that she would be happy to take over Li Fei's lessons personally during the daytime hours.
In short: Mrs. Annie desperately needed this well-paying job. And Li Fei held her fate in her hands.
A Morality score of -4, imperceptibly, had begun steering Li Fei toward the things her heart most wanted.
"Where did you lose me? I'll go over it again carefully."
Annie opened her eyes and somehow kept a wan smile in place. Worried about losing her position, already torn apart by guilt — her composure had crumbled entirely. Without thinking to maintain her distance, she rose and came to sit beside Li Fei, spreading the lesson notes open, asking with a faint note of urgency:
"Here." Li Fei pointed to a spot on the page, her slender fingertip drifting across Annie's finger as though by accident.
Her hand is so soft…
Annie shivered, recoiling as if she'd been shocked. She withdrew her hand and gripped the wedding band on her ring finger, running her thumb over it again and again, trying to recall her wife's face and voice.
She realized, with quiet despair, that all she could find in her mind was Li Fei — inescapable, everywhere.
① Chen Qingquan from In the Name of the People.
② Japanese; an honorific form of address for a teacher.
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