Transmigration:The Villain Wants A Happy End Without His BeastHusbands-Chapter 40: Music Heals (1)

"Did you get hurt last night?"

"I was lucky I wasn’t killed!"

"I knew the dragons would fight. Gathering them together is basically a death sentence."

"I heard Yan Wuhen and Rong Yue went to the manor..."

The hall buzzed with excited, terrified, breathless voices. Students clustered in pairs and groups, reliving the chaos from the night before.

Ningyan sat in his usual seat with Rong Chao beside him.

Rong Chao hadn’t said a word since arriving.

Ningyan wasn’t much better.

Yan Wuhen’s words echoed in his head. A phoenix. A slave. He didn’t know whether to feel excited, disturbed, or furious and uncertainty sat heavily in his chest.

"Quiet!"

The deer beastman teacher strode in, and the hall fell silent instantly. He stopped at the front, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students.

"How many of you are disciples of the seniors?"

Hands went up across the room.

Ningyan raised his as well.

The reaction was immediate. Eyes snapped toward him. Whispers broke out. Even the teacher paused.

Rong Chao turned, surprised.

Ningyan blinked and slowly lowered his hand. "Why is everyone staring?"

"Who would take you as a disciple?" someone scoffed. "You’re a coreless phoenix."

Ningyan rolled his eyes. For now, his presence only registered when someone touched his core.

"Who is your teacher, Su Ningyan?" the teacher asked.

Ningyan stood.

"Yan Wuhen." He cleared his throat. "Great Divine Beast Prince Yan Wuhen."

Shock rippled through the hall.

"Yan Wuhen?"

"That Yan Wuhen?"

"He’s joking, right?"

"There’s no way Yan Wuhen would take someone like him."

Rong Chao, however, only smiled faintly.

Ningyan resisted the urge to snap back. He’d already earned enough hostility.

The teacher studied him for a moment. Then smiled.

"Congratulations," he said. "Yan Wuhen is in his final year at the Celestial Beast Academy. He has much to teach. You are fortunate."

Ningyan forced a smile, bowed respectfully, and sat back down.

The lectures passed smoothly, ending, as usual, with strength testing at the sparring grounds under the teacher’s supervision.

Rong Chao and Mingze faced each other in the ring, circling slowly.

Ningyan watched from the side, fully aware of the teacher’s gaze drilling into him. Ever since he had revealed Yan Wuhen as his mentor, the man hadn’t stopped watching him.

Maybe it was a bad idea, Ningyan thought.

Then again... he was tired of being known only for the wrong reasons.

Mingze charged first, his sword blazing with fiery spiritual energy.

But Rong Chao moved like a flash of lightning.

He appeared behind Mingze in a heartbeat, kicked him hard between the shoulders, and slammed him to the ground. The sword was at Mingze’s neck before the fire serpent could even react.

Silence.

Then murmurs. Applause.

Ningyan smirked.

Mingze had lost. Fast.

Satisfied, he glanced at the teacher, meeting his stare deliberately before giving a shallow bow and leaving the grounds.

This time, when he reached the Imperial Library, royal guards stood at the doors.

Serpent eyes narrowed as he approached.

He forced a polite smile and pressed his hands together. "I’m here to see Lan Meishan."

"You are not allowed inside," one guard hissed.

"I just—"

"I said no," the guard snapped. "Or are you deaf?"

Ningyan grimaced, stepped back, and turned away.

I hope he’s okay.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked past scorched bushes and otter beastmen repairing damaged structures from the night before.

Then, an emerald glow flared beneath his feet.

Ningyan gasped as he sank into it.

He landed hard on a bed inside the Imperial Library’s inner chamber.

Heart racing, he looked up.

Lan Meishan was pacing in front of the bed, fingers pressed to his teeth, breathing uneven. His glasses were slightly crooked, his robes neat but his movements were erratic, tense, like he couldn’t settle into his own skin.

He didn’t notice Ningyan at first.

Ningyan stayed still.

He’d seen this before in children from his past life. The overload. The way emotions piled up without an outlet, turning inward until everything became too loud.

He had always been good at calming them down.

But Lan Meishan wasn’t a child.

He was a grown beastman. A great divine beast prince.

So what had triggered him?

Who?

"Meishan?" Ningyan asked quietly.

Lan Meishan’s eyes flicked to him.

"Are you okay?"

Lan Meishan parted his lips, as if to speak but then closed them again and looked away.

Ningyan studied him for a moment before climbing off the bed. He approached slowly, carefully, and reached for Meishan’s hand.

He lifted it gently, pressing the back of it to Meishan’s forehead.

His pupils were slightly dilated, his breathing uneven, his gaze unfocused but locked onto Ningyan now.

"You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to," Ningyan said softly. "But you do need to calm down first."

Lan Meishan hesitated... then nodded.

"Okay," Ningyan said. "We’ll breathe together."

He placed a hand over his own chest.

"On three. One. Two. Three."

They inhaled.

Exhaled.

Again.

In. Out.

Lan Meishan’s eyes fluttered shut on the third breath. His shoulders lowered slightly.

When he opened his eyes again, the tension had eased.

"...Thank you," he said, offering a small smile.

Ningyan smiled back and released his hand, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"My pleasure. But what happened?" he asked. "There are two very rude guards outside."

Lan Meishan sighed.

"It’s the Dance of Dragons tonight. Some of my family arrived to attend."

Ningyan blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"

Lan Meishan nodded. "Yes. My father is here."

Ningyan froze.

"The beast king of the abyss serpent clan?" he asked quietly.

Lan Meishan’s posture tightened instantly.

Ningyan noticed and his chest sank. "...Do you have a good relationship with him?"

Lan Meishan shook his head once. "I do not."

Then, firmly, he turned away. "Let’s go to today’s recovery session. I will give you additional healing pills to hasten your progress."

He walked toward the door.

Ningyan watched him for a moment... then followed.