Is she really not pretending anymore?

Lu Yunling truly had a fine appearance.

Her delicate features were perfectly proportioned.

Her skin was fair and clean, nothing like her own disciple, who gorged on meat and pills all day, her face practically glistening with oil.

And unlike Tang Qiaohuan, who became instantly unlikable the moment she opened her mouth—though objectively, her skin and bone structure couldn’t be changed.

Yet this era had no aesthetic standard that matched Lu Yunling.

Before Great Yan, there had been Great Yuan, where women were subjected to strict societal rules.

Too youthful, too flat—unsuitable for childbearing.

Too alluring—hard to control.

Too busty—naturally promiscuous.

Too cold—impossible to tame.

Too gentle—prone to forming improper attachments.

Labels were always ready to be slapped onto a woman’s head.

Though the dynasty had changed, many of those outdated values lingered.

Lu Yunling, however, fit perfectly into the ideal image of a celestial maiden.

Beautiful, but not seductive.

Graceful, yet not overly striking.

Distant, yet not cold.

In every way, she was just right.

So much so that even the usually silent System had chimed in, actively suggesting Gong Ning take her as a disciple.

She carried the aura of someone favored by fate—the true “chosen one” of this world.

No cultivator would let such a promising talent slip through their fingers.

Unfortunately, she had already joined the Sword-Steering Hut.

And worse—she had already “set her heart” on someone.

“By your appearance, you came to the Central Land alone?

Have you secured lodging?

Is the allowance from the Sword-Steering Hut sufficient?

Though we’re from different branches, we’re all under Xuantian Sword Sect.

If you’re in need, speak up.”

Lu Yunling replied respectfully, “The Sword-Steering Hut has treated me well, and the allowance is generous.

If I must name a hardship, it’s that I’ve yet to find a quiet inn…

Ah, but cultivators should temper themselves through hardship.

Forgive me, Elder, for burdening you with such trivial complaints.”

“Where are you going with that?

Hardship may refine one, but it can’t fill your stomach.

As it happens, my status as an elder grants certain privileges—better accommodations, better service.

Why not stay with me?”

Gong Ning spoke casually, but Tao Lingling heard with full attention.

‘Not you again, Master? After all this time, after all the effort I’ve put in—why are you still so kind to her? Does she have fox spirit blood, bewitching you?’

If she thought rationally, she’d understand.

This was simply the natural appreciation an elder had for a talented junior.

Gong Ning wasn’t a genius herself.

She’d tasted the bitterness of being overlooked.

She believed elders should treat all disciples equally.

Yet in small details, she couldn’t help but show extra care.

But Tao Lingling didn’t care about that.

All she knew was that her Master, with her flirtatious nature, could be swayed by the slightest gesture from another.

She couldn’t stand by and watch her Master shower kindness on someone else.

“Hey, Master—aren’t you blatantly poaching disciples?”

“What do you mean, ‘poaching’?

Showing concern for a junior disciple—how is that poaching?

We’re all from Xuantian Sword Sect.

A little care is only natural.”

Seeing her disciple’s reaction, Gong Ning finally understood.

She thought she was about to take a second disciple—feared being replaced.

Jealousy, plain and simple.

Otherwise, why choose such an awkward way to express it?

‘Poaching’ was a deeply frowned-upon act in this era.

Clearly, Tao Lingling was trying to make Lu Yunling dislike her.

Yet Lu Yunling said, “Yunling understands.

Elder has already seen through Yunling’s quiet intentions.

In that case, Yunling won’t decline the kindness.”

Tao Lingling froze.

‘What intentions?’

Before she could process it, Gong Ning had already handed her Elder Token to Lu Yunling to secure a room.

As for “quiet intentions”—a spoiled young miss like Tao Lingling could never grasp it.

Earlier, Lu Yunling’s words had seemed like a simple status update.

In truth, they were a subtle request.

And Gong Ning, equally sharp, had gladly accepted.

Every word in between wasn’t mere small talk—it was communication meant only for those with wit.

Speaking in veiled hints and half-truths—this was the nature of people from Yan.

Gong Ning, once reluctant to play such games, now found herself too prideful to speak plainly.

She had grown accustomed to this foggy way of talking.

“Tang Qiaohuan, go with her to claim the room.

As for you… come to my room.”

Tao Lingling’s eyes lit up instantly.

It didn’t matter if her Master was about to scold her.

Being alone with her Master was reward enough.

She closed the door carefully behind her, sat properly in front of Gong Ning, and waited for judgment.

Seeing her like this, Gong Ning couldn’t help but press her palm to her forehead.

“Tao Lingling, Tao Lingling… what am I supposed to do with you…”

“Hm? Master, have I done something to upset you?

Is my cultivation lacking?

Am I not studying hard enough?

Or did I embarrass you in front of others?”

“It’s not that…”

If a disciple could excel in all those areas, even without extraordinary talent, a Master could still feel content.

There’d be nothing to complain about.

“Then why are you angry?”

Those big, innocent eyes staring at her—once again, Gong Ning felt helpless.

Before, she hadn’t seen through it.

Now, she knew—this innocence was clearly an act.

“Don’t play dumb.

You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“That’s easy for you to say.

Don’t beat around the bush either.

Say it directly, or your disciple won’t understand.”

Gong Ning at that moment truly wished she could follow ancient wisdom—punish first, ask questions later.

But such an irrational method couldn’t pass her own moral scrutiny.

No.

Even if she set aside her authority as a Master, she couldn’t allow her disciple to develop such improper thoughts!

Gong Ning sat in her chair, holding her teacup, legs naturally crossed, eyes closed in thought.

She pondered for a long time, unable to devise a proper strategy.

Finally, she just blurted out:

“First, kneel.”

“Oh.”

Tao Lingling obediently knelt before Gong Ning’s feet.

Then Gong Ning remembered the injury on her knee.

“Never mind. Sit.”

“Oh.”

Tao Lingling sat back on the small stool.

But that wasn’t right either.

Why be so kind?

Wouldn’t that only encourage her to develop those… inappropriate feelings?

“You kneel again.”

“Oh.”

Tao Lingling didn’t understand her Master’s thoughts.

But as long as she followed orders, that was enough.

Besides, being this close, she could see the smooth, jade-like legs beneath her Master’s skirt.

The glow, the faint celestial fragrance—just breathing it in was intoxicating.

But Gong Ning noticed even that.

For someone who had once been a seven-foot-tall man, this was deeply humiliating.

She had grown used to long robes.

Used to bare legs beneath her skirts.

But that was just adapting to her new body—accepting nature.

Wearing undergarments, wearing dresses—this was her way of acknowledging her current form.

But to be gazed upon like this, like a woman on display, especially by her own disciple…

That was…

“You go kneel by the door.

And don’t look at me.”

This situation, Gong Ning had never faced before.

In her past life, there were many tales of teacher-student romances.

But that era was different.

This wasn’t some distant classroom setting.

This was a direct, one-on-one, master-apprentice relationship.

There was no easy way to maintain distance.

Gong Ning wasn’t a genius.

She excelled at handling what had already happened.

But for the unknown?

She was completely at a loss.

How was she supposed to solve this?