I want to teach you bad things

“What did you say?” Xu Fengluan asked again, afraid she’d misheard.
@Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

But Liu Tingsong repeated, word for word, “Baby, want some wine?”

A sudden uproar erupted downstairs, cheers and excited shouts blending together. Chu Cheng said something, but Xu Fengluan couldn’t hear clearly, lost in a haze, uncontrollably pulled into memories.

It was that summer vacation. After an afternoon of vocal tests, Liu Tingsong had confirmed Xu Fengluan’s talent but set a stricter training plan—voice practice, exercise, even diet, all under her control.

Xu Fengluan had no issue with most of it, except the diet.

Back then, though S City leaned toward salty-sweet flavors, Xu Fengluan and her guardian, Li Jianbai, were often too busy. On rare free days, they’d grab food from the hospital cafeteria, but more often, the kids took money to eat at nearby diners.

For some reason, the neighborhood’s restaurants were all spicy Sichuan-style. A rare local spot was mediocre at best.

At first, Xu Fengluan and Li Jianbai ate with teary eyes, sipping water and gasping. Over time, they grew to love spice, finding mild food bland, leaving them hungry soon after unless it had a kick.

But Liu Tingsong’s diet plan banned anything stimulating—no spice, just warm water in the summer heat. It tormented Xu Fengluan, a spice lover, to the point she’d eye a lemon, craving a bite to taste *something*.

Finally, unable to take it, she plopped in front of Liu Tingsong and said, “Teacher, can we talk?”

Under the bright sunlight, the girl lowered her head, milk-scented warmth radiating, damp hair clinging to her cheeks, looking pitiful.

“I’ll do anything, but can you add a spoonful of chili to my food?” Xu Fengluan’s eyes drooped, like a pleading puppy.

“I can’t stand it.”

She tried excuses. “I’ve eaten like this for years—no issues. Besides, smoking and drinking hurt the voice, but plenty of lead singers don’t quit…”

Her voice weakened, less confident. “They’re fine, right?”

“Hm?”

Liu Tingsong’s drawn-out tone was enticing, pulling Xu Fengluan back to reality, into those stark black-and-white eyes.

“Baby?” she called again, holding a wine glass, her fingertips blurring against the transparent rim, unreadable.

Drumbeats echoed in Xu Fengluan’s ears. Chu Cheng said something, then headed downstairs.

Was it Ji Lunan arriving?

Xu Fengluan’s pupils dilated. She hadn’t drunk, yet memories kept dragging her back.

What had Liu Tingsong done then?

She couldn’t recall if Liu Tingsong answered. All she remembered was her heavy gaze, complex and obscure, a mix of disdain and stern scrutiny, making Xu Fengluan’s heart race.

The next scene was black—not forgotten, but because Liu Tingsong had blindfolded her, hands bound in front.

Xu Fengluan didn’t know what she planned, panic rising, her mind filled with that unreadable look.

Had she really messed up?

It was just a little spice, not a big deal. She’d followed Liu Tingsong’s other demands perfectly, hadn’t she?

Fear climbed as her vision was blocked, bound hands clutching uselessly, unable to calm her thoughts.

She sensed Liu Tingsong still in front, her cold, heavy gaze evoking black mud or a snake’s dark scales.

Was this punishment for her mistake?

Was Liu Tingsong “disciplining” her?

Xu Fengluan recalled high school art students, unlike their peers buried in books, already set on their paths. Through family connections, they studied under famed teachers or institutions, school becoming secondary, often skipping classes for “practice.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

When they appeared in class, peers crowded them, asking about life outside school.

They’d complain about strict teachers, punishments for mistakes—standing, skipping meals, even palm strikes with a stick.

Classmates gasped, as if glimpsing a unique world beyond textbooks.

But when you pitied them, they’d raise brows, smug, boasting about their teachers’ greatness, their own honors, and future plans. Punishments became proof of being valued.

Xu Fengluan’s heart was torn—half sinking, half tortured by uncertainty.

What would she do?

She tried recalling more, but knew little.

Classmates would shift to envy, saying, “Xu Fengluan, your family must spoil you. You’re way better than us art students.”

Xu Fengluan frowned, a flicker of disgust crossing her face.

Liu Tingsong’s voice cut through, cold and commanding.

“Lift your head.”

“Open your mouth.”

A punishment unlike any other.

Xu Fengluan obeyed, tasting ice.

Cubes frozen in molds, perfectly square.

She’d loved tossing them into drinks, filling half the glass until it frosted, crunching them after the drink was gone—a perfect summer relief.

But now, she couldn’t feel it, only confusion.

She didn’t dare move, holding the ice on her tongue, its chill spreading, bone-piercingly cold.

“Eat it,” Liu Tingsong said.

Xu Fengluan crunched it, shards grinding against her teeth, some cutting her mouth’s soft flesh, pain dulled by the cold. Melted water slid down her throat, its path vivid.

Before she could recover, another cube came.

Her lips brushed Liu Tingsong’s fingers, gone too quickly to feel.

No command needed—she knew what to do.

One after another.

As her body’s heat faded, the cold became unbearable, her breath icy, lips paling.

She couldn’t chew, only holding the ice, trying to melt it with her barely warm tongue.

Her senses numbed, a headache creeping in.

This was true punishment.

With ice still unmelted, Liu Tingsong’s slender fingers pried her lips, shoving another cube in.

This time, they lingered, warm fingertips stark against the cold, sparking a primal craving—like someone in a blizzard clutching burning coals despite the risk.

Xu Fengluan, too, craved that fleeting warmth, even as more ice came.

Her face paled, melted water leaking from her lips, unable to close with the ice inside.

The cubes pressed her tongue, cheeks, and teeth, filling her mouth, unmelting. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The last warmth faded, replaced by dull pain stabbing her brain, her throat aching.

Her head drooped, but fingers grazed her throat, pinching her jaw, forcing it up.

“Lift your head.”

An undeniable order.

Cold water flowed from her tongue, swallowed too fast, rushing down her throat.

Outside, the summer heat lingered, 38°C unbearable. Even cut watermelon went unsold, too warm to refresh.

Sunlight pierced the window, pooling at Xu Fengluan’s ankles in a growing puddle.

Her fingertips purpled, pain slowed by the cold.

The blindfold fell. Xu Fengluan squinted, finally seeing her.

Liu Tingsong stood before her, eyes sharp, brows fierce, towering over her.

Not punishment, but…

Training a dog.

Ice water dripped from her jaw, rippling the puddle.

Day turned to night, and Xu Fengluan burned with fever, her throat swollen, voice gone, too weak to rise.

In her delirium, Liu Tingsong’s hand touched her forehead, once like coals, now a cool desert breeze, tracing her brow, nose, lips, and jaw.

She spoke softly, “Are you really okay?”

“How can you be sure you’re not the one percent?”

“Xu Fengluan, is this the dream you’re so desperate for?”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“If your voice is damaged after this, our relationship ends here.”

Even in her haze, Xu Fengluan felt terror.

Could she guarantee it?

What if?

A scream from downstairs snapped her back.

The cold face from memory merged with the present Liu Tingsong, her fingers’ chill reminding Xu Fengluan of that time, etched like a collar around her neck.

“No,” Xu Fengluan shook her head, gripping Liu Tingsong’s wrist, voice heavy. “You taught me this.”

“Liu Tingsong, I don’t want to gamble.”

“I can’t be sure I’m not the one percent.”

In the dim light, her eyes were clear and resolute, like flawless gems, full of youthful clarity and determination.

Liu Tingsong’s lips twitched.

It wasn’t her teaching—it was Xu Fengluan’s own brilliance.

And she herself…

Liu Tingsong didn’t respond, instead deftly opening a bottle, grabbing ice from the bucket, filling the glass with amber liquor and cubes.

What was this?

Xu Fengluan frowned, puzzled, watching Liu Tingsong sip the drink.

She’d been like her—no smoking, no drinking.

Xu Fengluan’s brows knit, voice stern. “Liu Tingsong, what are you doing?”

But Liu Tingsong leaned in, silencing her chatter with her lips.

Xu Fengluan’s pupils shrank, instinctively pulling back, hands pressing into the leather sofa, creasing it. Liu Tingsong closed in, leaving no escape.

Ice touched her lips, liquor seeping through, familiar yet strange, stinging her tongue.

She wanted to resist but crumbled under Liu Tingsong’s advance, letting the liquid slide down her throat.

Downstairs noise buzzed, her nerves taut, worrying about Chu Cheng’s return, while Liu Tingsong toyed with her sacred rules.

Ice clinked against her teeth, stubborn to enter.

Chilled, Xu Fengluan’s lashes trembled, her eyes misting, a flush at their corners, like shattered gems ready to fall.

The ice melted in her hot mouth, smearing her re-applied lipstick.

“Liu Tingsong…” Her confused voice mumbled.

“Teacher—” Not playful or teasing like before, but a bewildered student before a revered mentor.

Their lips parted, but before Xu Fengluan could react, Liu Tingsong pinched her jaw, forcing her head up.

The glass pressed to her lips, tilting.

“Baby,” her voice was soft, like a sigh, dissipating like mist, gentle as untouchable lake fog.

“Good girl,” she said, fingers rubbing her jaw, leaving chaotic red marks.

Xu Fengluan, entranced, opened her mouth.

Liquor poured in, thawing her frozen mouth, stirring a slight burn, her subtle throat moving as she swallowed.

“Good child,” Liu Tingsong praised softly.

Like a kindergarten kid earning a gold star.

Xu Fengluan frowned.

Control slipped away. No matter how bold the dog, it feared its master—a trained instinct.

The glass emptied. Xu Fengluan blurted, “Stop—”

Panicked, uneasy, she tried to halt her.

“Liu Tingsong, what are you doing?” She needed a reason for this sudden act, water glistening on her lips, reflecting light.

“Doing what?” Liu Tingsong echoed, voice drawn out.

Her hand lingered on Xu Fengluan’s jaw, toying like fine jade, pondering an answer.

“Stop it,” Xu Fengluan forced calm, voice low.

But Liu Tingsong leaned closer, foreheads touching, noses brushing. After a kiss, her vibrant lips moved, carrying liquor’s scent. “I want to corrupt you.”