Emma never imagined that maintaining the persona of "obsessed with Fox Lian" would come at such a steep price.
At first, it was just following the crowd—saying a few lines like "His Highness looks so handsome," pretending to casually pass by places he frequented. But as Gu Liang grew increasingly dependent on her "intel," Emma found herself trapped in a situation she could no longer escape.
"Emma! Look! What did His Highness's glance just mean?" Gu Liang clutched her arm excitedly. "Was he looking at me?"
Emma stared at the fox youth in the distance, surrounded by admirers, his profile so flawless it looked painted. Inside, she was blank. How was she supposed to know what that glance meant? She couldn't even overcome her phobia enough to look him directly in the eye!
"Maybe… he was thinking," Emma guessed dryly.
"No!" Gu Liang declared firmly. "According to Chapter Three of Fox Clan Micro-Expression Analysis, a 0.3-degree lift of the lips combined with a 15-degree tilt of the ears is the standard expression of friendly interest!"
Emma: "…" There was a book like that?!
Worse, Gu Liang somehow procured a stack of "textbooks":
Shocking! Tail-Swing Frequency and Emotional Correlation
How to Judge Attention by Ear Direction
Color Psychology in Fox Lian's Wardrobe
"Emma, we must be professional!" Gu Liang shoved the pile into her arms, dragon eyes burning with zeal. "Know yourself and know your target, and you'll never lose!"
Thus, Emma was forced into "Fox Lian Studies."
She stayed up late cramming absurd "theories," memorizing how many degrees of ear tilt meant joy, what tail frequency meant impatience. She even had to learn sketching, because Gu Liang demanded she "record every moving moment of His Highness."
"Here! The shading needs to be softer!" Gu Liang pointed at Emma's crooked fox outline. "His Highness's gaze is as deep as the starry sky, not dead-fish eyes!"
Emma stared at her criticized drawing, inwardly roaring: I'm supposed to be a future goddess ruling the clan—why am I learning to draw foxes?!
The worst was the "practical lessons."
She had to force herself to observe Fox Lian—not with wary glances, but with "obsessed," detailed attention. For someone with fluff-phobia, it was torture.
"Look! His Highness is drinking water!" Gu Liang squealed softly. "According to Behavioral Analysis, the frequency of Adam's apple movement might suggest…"
Emma stared at his hand holding the teacup—long fingers, elegant. But her gaze kept slipping to those fox ears trembling faintly with each swallow, her stomach twisting.
"He set down the cup! His lips lifted for 0.1 seconds! That's satisfaction!" Gu Liang scribbled furiously.
Emma: "…" She only thought the poor teacup deserved pity.
Weeks passed like this. Emma felt herself splitting apart—on the surface, a crazed devotee of Fox Lian; in reality, a goddess tortured by fluff and ridiculous theories, on the verge of collapse.
Until one late night, staring at yet another failed sketch of Fox Lian, she suddenly realized— She could actually tell the difference between his fake smile and his real one. She could actually judge his good mood by the sway of his tail. She had even, unconsciously, captured the habitual, careless detachment in his violet eyes.
The realization chilled her.
"Emma!" Gu Liang burst in, clutching a new "textbook." "Latest discovery! His Highness has a special preference for glazed materials—we can…"
Emma looked at her friend's excited face, then down at her increasingly lifelike sketch of Fox Lian, and buried her head in despair.
Had she… turned her persona into a full-blown occupational disease?