[GL] I'm Just A Side Character... So Why Is The Heroine Chasing Me?!-Chapter 70: Punishment

The trouble started, as most trouble did, with Lan Yue deciding she knew better.

Zhao Lingxi had been explicit. Crystal clear. The kind of clear that left no room for creative interpretation.

"Do not go near Qin Wen’s quarters tonight," she had said, standing in the doorway of their room with her arms folded and her eyes carrying the particular frost that meant she was not negotiating. "He has gone silent. Silent means unpredictable. Unpredictable means dangerous. You are not to approach his wing of the dormitory for any reason."

"I was just going to observe from a distance," Lan Yue had said.

"No."

"A very large distance. Practically a different building."

"No."

"What if I brought Mo Tian as backup?"

"Mo Tian’s idea of stealth is wearing a slightly darker shade of gold. No."

"What if..."

"Lan Yue." Zhao Lingxi’s voice dropped half a register. Low. Firm. The voice she used on the tournament platform when she told opponents to forfeit. It did something to the base of Lan Yue’s spine that she absolutely refused to examine. "You will stay in this room tonight. That is not a request."

Lan Yue had swallowed. Nodded. Said, "Fine."

She lasted two hours.

In her defense, the reasoning was sound. Jiang Yi had reported that Qin Wen’s quarters had been lit past midnight for three consecutive nights, which meant he was working on something. The imperial authorization could arrive any day, and whatever Qin Wen was planning needed to happen before the inquiry launched. If she could just get close enough to see who visited him tonight, just a glimpse through the window, just one piece of additional intelligence...

She slipped out of their room at the second watch bell. Zhao Lingxi was meditating, her breathing deep and even, her spiritual energy cycling in the slow patterns of someone genuinely focused inward. Lan Yue eased the door open one inch at a time, slid through the gap like water, and closed it behind her without a sound.

Bethany’s skills. Zombie apocalypse stealth. Flawless.

She made it to Qin Wen’s dormitory wing in seven minutes. She positioned herself behind a decorative pillar across the courtyard from his window, pressed flat against the stone, invisible in the shadows. His window was lit. She could see movement inside, the shadow of someone pacing. If she just waited a few more minutes...

"Good evening."

Lan Yue nearly jumped out of her skin.

Bai Xuelan stood three feet behind her, arms crossed, glasses reflecting the moonlight, expression carrying the serene disapproval of a librarian who had caught someone dog earing pages.

"What are you doing here?" Lan Yue hissed.

"I came to collect a reference scroll from the eastern archive. What are you doing here?"

"I am... observing."

"You are disobeying a direct instruction from Zhao Lingxi."

"I am strategically expanding the scope of my compliance."

Bai Xuelan stared at her for a long, measured moment. Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Where are you going?" Lan Yue whispered urgently.

"To bed. I have a long day tomorrow."

"You are not going to tell her."

Bai Xuelan did not answer. She did not need to. The silence said everything.

Lan Yue stood behind the pillar and weighed her options. She could continue observing and hope Bai Xuelan valued discretion over honesty. Or she could accept that Bai Xuelan had never once in her life chosen discretion when accuracy was available and return to her room before the inevitable.

She chose poorly.

She stayed another twenty minutes. She saw Qin Wen’s shadow pass the window twice more. She saw nothing useful. She crept back to their quarters and eased through the door at the fourth watch bell, feeling simultaneously guilty and justified.

Zhao Lingxi was still meditating. Her breathing had not changed. Her posture had not shifted. Lan Yue exhaled silently and tiptoed to her bed.

"You smell like night air and the cedar pillar outside the eastern dormitory," Zhao Lingxi said without opening her eyes.

Lan Yue froze.

"The cedar pillar that is directly across from Qin Wen’s window. The one I specifically told you not to go near."

"I can explain."

"Bai Xuelan already explained. She sent a message formation the moment she saw you."

"She sent a... the woman carries message formations to the archive at midnight?"

"She carries message formations everywhere. She is Bai Xuelan."

Zhao Lingxi opened her eyes. She unfolded from her meditation posture with the fluid grace of someone who had been waiting for this moment and was going to enjoy it.

She stood. She walked toward Lan Yue. Each step was deliberate. Unhurried. The kind of walk that made Lan Yue’s survival instincts fire in twelve directions at once while simultaneously making her feet refuse to move backward.

"I gave you one instruction," Zhao Lingxi said. She stopped in front of Lan Yue. Close. Close enough that Lan Yue could feel the cold that always radiated from her skin, could smell the clean winter scent of her hair, could see the precise line of her jaw and the way the candlelight played across the curve of her neck.

"One," Zhao Lingxi repeated. "And you lasted two hours."

"Two and a half."

"That is not the defense you think it is."

Zhao Lingxi’s hand came up. She gripped Lan Yue’s chin. Gently, but firmly, tilting her face upward until their eyes met. Her fingers were cool against Lan Yue’s skin. The touch sent a line of heat down Lan Yue’s throat that had absolutely no business existing.

"You are reckless," Zhao Lingxi said softly.

"I prefer resourceful."

"You are reckless. And disobedient. And apparently incapable of following a simple instruction for a single night."

"That is... a fair assessment."

Zhao Lingxi studied her face the way she studied opponents on the tournament platform. Reading. Measuring. Deciding. Her thumb shifted against Lan Yue’s jaw, a tiny movement that sent sparks cascading through every nerve Lan Yue possessed.

"Turn around," Zhao Lingxi said.

Lan Yue’s brain stopped working. "What?"

"Turn around. Hands on the desk."

"Lingxi, I do not think..."

"You clearly do not think. That is why we are in this situation. Turn around."

Something in her voice, low, commanding, carrying an authority that had nothing to do with cultivation rank and everything to do with the kind of woman Zhao Lingxi was, made Lan Yue’s body obey before her mind could object.

She turned around. She placed her hands on the desk. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.

The first strike landed on her backside with a sharp, precise smack that echoed through the room.

Lan Yue yelped. Not from pain. The hit was controlled, calibrated with the same precision Zhao Lingxi applied to everything, hard enough to sting, light enough to leave nothing but warmth. It was the shock of it. The sheer audacity. The fact that Zhao Lingxi, the ice queen of the cultivation world, had just spanked her like a misbehaving child.

"That is for leaving the room," Zhao Lingxi said calmly.

The second smack landed before Lan Yue could form a response. Same spot. Same precision. Her fingers curled against the desk surface.

"That is for the cedar pillar."

A third. Lan Yue bit her lip. The sting was spreading into something warmer, something that pooled low in her stomach and made her grip the desk harder.

"And that is for lasting only two hours."

"Two and a half," Lan Yue managed, her voice embarrassingly breathless.

A pause. Then a fourth smack, lighter than the others but delivered with a flick of the wrist that made Lan Yue’s entire body jolt.

"That is for correcting me."

Lan Yue pressed her forehead against the desk and tried to breathe. Her face was on fire. Her skin was on fire. Everything south of her waist was on fire in a way that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the fact that Zhao Lingxi’s hand was resting on the small of her back, cool and steady, and she could feel each individual finger through the fabric of her robes.

"Are we clear?" Zhao Lingxi asked. Her voice was even. Composed. The voice of someone who had just disciplined a disobedient subordinate and was waiting for acknowledgment.

Except her hand was still on Lan Yue’s back. And her thumb was moving. A small, slow circle against the fabric, almost absent, almost accidental, the kind of touch that someone makes when they do not realize they are doing it.

"We are clear," Lan Yue said into the desk.

"You will not approach Qin Wen’s quarters again without my permission." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"I will not."

"You will not sneak out of this room at night."

"I will not."

"And you will not lie to me about where you have been."

"I did not technically lie. I just... omitted my location."

The hand on her back pressed down slightly. A warning.

"I will not omit," Lan Yue corrected quickly.

"Good."

Zhao Lingxi removed her hand. Lan Yue straightened up from the desk on legs that had apparently been replaced with something significantly less reliable than bone. She turned around.

Zhao Lingxi was already walking back to her meditation cushion, her posture perfect, her expression serene, as if the last three minutes had been as routine as morning tea.

But her ears were pink. Both of them. A deep, unmistakable pink that spread from the tips to the lobes, visible even in the candlelight.

She had enjoyed that. She would rather die than admit it, but the ears did not lie.

Lan Yue sat on her bed. She sat carefully. Her backside tingled with a warmth that was taking its time fading, and every residual sting sent a small, involuntary shiver through her body that she was going to have to think about later in a very private and very thorough way.

"Lingxi," she said.

"Yes?"

"For the record. If that is how you punish disobedience, you are not exactly motivating compliance."

The silence that followed was electric. Zhao Lingxi did not turn around. Did not respond. But her ears went from pink to red, and the frost that had been gently forming on the meditation cushion around her crackled and spread three inches in every direction.

Lan Yue smiled. She lay back on her bed, stared at the ceiling, and pressed her palm against the red thread on her wrist, which was pulsing so hard it felt like it was trying to set her entire arm on fire.

She was in so much trouble.

And not entirely the kind she minded.