Half an hour later.
Alice was drenched in sweat. Her sun top clung to her body, completely soaked from the heat radiating through John's palm during their cultivation session. Her pores felt like they had all opened at once, and a gentle moan escaped her nose as John finally lifted his hand from her back.
"Mm…"
She turned around, reluctant, and shot John a cold yet strangely dazed look.
"That's enough for today," John said quickly. "If we keep going, your meridians might get overstressed. It could cause serious issues—"
He abruptly paused. Something was… off.
Alice's breathing was getting heavier, and her gaze more intense—unfocused, yet strangely locked onto him.
Oh no.
Was this… a side effect of auxiliary cultivation?
He remembered reading somewhere that in therapy, patients—especially female ones—might develop an attachment to their psychiatrist due to emotional dependence.
Was this something similar?
It couldn't continue like this.
Seeing Alice's dewy, dazed eyes, John felt a chill run down his spine. Without thinking, he scooped her up and bolted straight for the bathroom.
Splash!
Cold water drenched them both from head to toe. Their soaked clothes clung to their skin, but at least it helped clear their heads.
John set her down gently. "Wash off the sweat. I'll go grab your clothes."
Then, like a guilty criminal fleeing the scene, he hurried out of the bathroom.
His heart was still racing. That was too close.
This kind of dual cultivation needed serious caution in the future. He hadn't expected such intense aftereffects.
He quickly changed into a dry outfit, then went to Alice's room to find some loungewear in her closet. He brought it back and left it at the bathroom door for her.
Later that evening.
John sat in the living room, trying to watch TV, but his mind kept drifting. Suddenly, he heard a car pull into the yard.
He stepped outside—only to see a familiar silhouette rushing toward him.
"Little John!"
Queenie's voice was bright with joy as she ran to him. But just as she reached him, her eyes froze.
Her gaze locked onto a faint lipstick mark on John's neck.
It had rubbed off earlier during the incident with Alice. In his rush to shower, John hadn't scrubbed carefully, and now—it was plainly visible.
Queenie's expression flipped instantly.
One second, she was all sunshine and smiles. The next, a cold storm brewed on her face.
"You little rascal!" she snapped. "You fooled around with Alice while I was gone, didn't you? Just watch how I teach you a lesson!"
Before John could react, she had his ear in a firm pinch, twisting and tugging as she scolded him nonstop.
"Ow! Ow! Queenie, listen! Please—It's not what you think! I swear, nothing happened between me and Alice!"
He tried desperately to explain. "And—and why are you so sure it was Alice? What if it was Tracy's lipstick?"
Queenie scoffed. "Tracy would never use a flashy color like this. It's definitely Alice's. Just wait—I'll go ask her right now!"
She stormed toward Alice's room, eyes blazing.
From near the parked car, Nick watched the entire scene unfold with mixed emotions.
"She only ever shows this side of herself when she's with you," he said quietly.
John turned, the humor gone from his face. "Then I don't need to say anything else, do I?"
Nick gave a dry laugh. "John, there's no need to be so guarded. I really did come today to apologize."
John's eyes narrowed slightly. "Apologize? Where's Marcia?"
Nick's smile faded into something more bitter. "She didn't come. But you must have noticed—her attitude has changed. She regrets everything. She just doesn't know how to come face you… yet."
John shrugged. "Then we'll talk when she's ready to put her pride aside."