Psionic Progress and a Peculiar Visitor

Having distanced herself from the brutal clashes and endless conflicts, Ming Yu found time passing with remarkable swiftness as she settled into a tranquil, leisurely life as a patient.

One by one, various medical instruments were removed from her room. Her gaze was no longer confined to the narrow expanse of the ceiling; now, with Little Nightingale’s gentle support, she could even sit up in bed.

Though the arduous battle had taken a toll on Ming Yu’s physical condition, her mental strength had paradoxically surged, allowing her to cross the threshold into Level Three psionic intensity.

In mid-air, a piece of fresh fruit, weighing approximately one hundred grams, would suddenly ascend, then glide effortlessly. Under Ming Yu’s psionic control, it moved as if an extension of her own limb, with the accumulated fatigue and weariness from these few minutes being almost negligible.

It truly was a testament to the old adage: the first time is awkward, but practice makes perfect.

As if she had discovered a novel toy, she meticulously adjusted the output and application methods of her psionic energy, gradually correcting the erroneous techniques from her initial attempts.

In her understanding, the macroscopic effects of psionic object manipulation fell into two categories: altering an object’s state of motion and causing an object to undergo a change in form.

Consider a horse pulling a carriage.

If five horses pulled a carriage uniformly from five different directions at the angles of a regular pentagon, the efficiency of changing the object’s state of motion would be virtually zero. However, this arrangement would maximally compress the object, causing it to deform.

The carriage’s position would remain almost static, yet it would be torn apart by the five converging forces.

Conversely, if five horses pulled the carriage in the same direction, the carriage’s state of motion would change most rapidly, and the carriage itself would remain perfectly intact.

The art of wielding psionic energy with precision, adapting the application of force to various situations, depended entirely on the psionic user’s individual talent.

Of course, these were merely the most rudimentary psionic techniques.

During Little Nightingale’s instruction, Ming Yu’s eyes widened. She stared in disbelief at the sparks of electricity materializing from thin air in the girl’s hand, her thirst for knowledge soaring to unprecedented heights.

According to Little Nightingale, manipulating objects at a microscopic level with psionic energy demanded even greater control and a more profound understanding of physics and chemistry.

‘The former could be achieved through diligent practice, but the latter…’

“Little Nightingale, uh, I’m sorry to trouble you, but could you explain it again…?”

Ming Yu blinked, gently squeezing Little Nightingale’s soft hand, and pleaded with a hint of embarrassment.

Witnessing Ming Yu’s endearing demeanor, Little Nightingale felt her head spin, as if she were floating. A blush crept uncontrollably across her cheeks.

“Oh, right, okay… Where was I just now…? Oh, yes,” Little Nightingale shook her head, the flush on her cheeks refusing to recede until it reached her earlobes. Her manner of speaking had also softened considerably.

“Because the microscopic world cannot be observed with the naked eye, controlling invisible things to move is certainly more difficult, so…” she continued, “This is called ‘Peering Perception,’ a method of acquiring information through psionic energy that can help you visualize the microscopic world…”

As she spoke, Little Nightingale unreservedly shared all the psionic knowledge and practical experience she possessed with Ming Yu. This was her way of reciprocating the natural and human sciences knowledge Ming Yu had imparted to her.

Unbeknownst to them, the sky outside gradually shifted from bright to dim. The slanted shadows beneath the windowsill slowly swept eastward until they vanished completely.

Little Nightingale remained utterly oblivious to the passage of time, her mind consumed by the image of Ming Yu pleading with her. Her little heart pounded wildly in her chest.

“Find those tiny particles, then split them in half, thereby generating voltage and creating a current that breaches the air…”

Just as Little Nightingale was elaborating, an incongruous sound suddenly broke the quiet, interrupting her explanation.

Grrrruuuumph~!

The familiar rumble emanated from Ming Yu’s stomach, causing her expression to instantly freeze.

Just then, the rich aroma of cooked food wafted into the hospital room.

With a soft “beep-beep,” the door swung open. Qing Shui Ling Yin, as if sensing Ming Yu’s hunger from within, arrived precisely on schedule, carrying an absurdly generous dinner.

“Good evening, Qing Shui Ling Yin.”

Ming Yu’s gaze swept past Little Nightingale, meeting Qing Shui Ling Yin’s eyes. She offered a slight smile and a wave of her hand.

Seeing this, Qing Shui Ling Yin nodded subtly. She placed the several bento boxes she carried onto the bedside table, then removed her mask and pushed back her hood.

‘Ming Yu’s disguise was proving quite effective; it had significantly reduced bothersome incidents during the day.’

Qing Shui Ling Yin casually tossed her coat onto the nearby sofa. She pulled up a chair beside Ming Yu’s bed and reached for one of the bento boxes on the nightstand.

“Ming Yu, good evening,”

She opened the bento box lid and snapped apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, subtly glancing at Little Nightingale before turning to Ming Yu with a soft chuckle.

“I bet you’re starving, aren’t you?”

“Tonight, it’s my turn to feed you.”

Qing Shui Ling Yin blinked, her eyes sparkling with unconcealed delight.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, she remarked nonchalantly:

“Oh, by the way, Little Nightingale’s favorite sugar-sweetened scrambled eggs with tomatoes are in the bento box at the very bottom. Don’t take the wrong one.”

“If I recall correctly, Ming Yu prefers her scrambled eggs with tomatoes seasoned with salt, isn’t that right?”

She scooped a mouthful of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, gently blowing away the steam. Her free hand was poised underneath, ready to catch any stray bits, as she brought the food to Ming Yu’s lips.

“Ah~”

“Qing Shui Ling Yin, I’m not a child; I can feed myself…”

“Ah~”

“Er, I really can…”

“Ah~”

“Fine,” Ming Yu conceded.

‘Let her have her way.’

Since Qing Shui Ling Yin was so eager to serve her, Ming Yu was more pleased than anything, at most feeling a slight embarrassment, certainly not inclined to offer a firm refusal.

Meanwhile, Little Nightingale stood frozen in place, utterly still. She felt a strange awkwardness, yet couldn’t pinpoint what exactly felt wrong.

‘After all, Ming Yu’s fiancée was naturally intimate with Ming Yu.’

‘Was it Qing Shui Ling Yin’s demeanor? Or Ming Yu’s?’

‘Or perhaps both…’

Little Nightingale was still too young, unable to discern such subtle emotions. Consequently, she failed to grasp the unspoken implications in Qing Shui Ling Yin’s words and simply went blankly to retrieve her own bento box.

As she mechanically ate her meal, she watched, lost in thought, as Ming Yu accepted Qing Shui Ling Yin’s feeding. Her chest felt heavy, as if something was lodged in her heart, and her appetite had dwindled.

This strange atmosphere persisted until the feeding concluded and Qing Shui Ling Yin gathered her belongings to leave the room.

Afterward, Little Nightingale vaguely realized where the oddity lay.

Compared to her previous visit to Ming Yu, Qing Shui Ling Yin’s attitude had distinctly shifted. The air of natural innocence she once carried was completely gone, replaced by the same demeanor she had displayed when they first met.

‘What had happened?’

Little Nightingale looked at Ming Yu with a puzzled expression. After a moment of hesitation, she finally mustered the courage to ask softly:

“Ming Yu, don’t you think Qing Shui Ling Yin has become a little strange?”

“Strange?”

Ming Yu rubbed her now full stomach, her eyebrows arching in pleasant surprise. She squinted slightly, responding almost instinctively.

“Indeed, strange. She feels just like she did before her memory loss—a bit mischievous.”