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The Greatest Grammar Student in Tianci - 1

  For the first time in her entire life, Sophia actually wanted to learn something.

  When once as a child the maids, siblings, and eventually parents had to wrestle her into the chair with promises of (sweet) rewards came this graceful, demure young woman now sitting on the dining table with a near perfect posture.

  From the angst and extraordinary stubbornness, came this unsettling level of motivation; so much so that even Sophia herself takes a few seconds to really comprehend her level of excitement over this silly little activity.

  She had dressed up for the occasion, putting on a medium length cut skirt and white blouse decorated with small embroidered flowers (the second time she had worn it without washing, she hoped it didn’t smell); as well as a pair of boxy, lensless reading glasses. Long blonde hair tied back in an educated ponytail, a face powdered slightly to give a mildly more rosy color to her unusually pale complexion.

  Sophia Elise, when looking at herself in the mirror, was the most educated she had ever looked in her entire life. From how the glasses broke up the structure of her face to the way the dress folded around her body; to even the way she straightened out her hair specifically for this moment. She was, without any doubt in her heart, the smartest she could ever be.

  The only reason we’re dressed up like this is because it’s a study date. Sophia’s internal monologue informs, asking the deadly question. Do you think Zai thinks the same?

  Whatever the case, this girl had practiced her "studious" expressions in the mirror and had perfectly timed the way to dramatically adjust her (fake) glasses for maximum intelligence. And now, especially now, with a set of writing utensils and an abacus that she had brought in from one of the study rooms on the table, she was absolutely ready for anything her husband could throw at her.

  Soon, my mastery of Tiancin shall be the stuff of legend. Sophia declares to herself, a haughty arrogance as she flirts her hand over her chest. Zai will look at me in awe. ‘Oh Sophia, I didn’t realize you were so well learned!’ He’ll speak to me in that soft voice of his. ‘I wonder what other hidden talents of yours you have?’

  And I’ll tell him, leaning close to his lips as I caress his jawline. ‘Let’s find out, together.’

  Every thought in the Central Consciousness just stares at this declaration from the process currently on the speaker’s podium, the awkward silence weighing over the room like a summer rain storm.

  A single, hesitant cough.

  Ok, let’s not get sidetracked.

  Sophia Elise waits patiently, sitting next to the dining table as she listens to the bustle of the few handful of servants the caretaker had hired over the past two weeks. The few well dressed maids and butlers, checked and interviewed by both the casual conversation of Guardsman Fushimi and the utter interrogation that was Sophia’s Impericutta, were still getting used to this strange, foreign type of housing layout.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Turned around as they did their rounds to the bathrooms, sitting rooms, and the central living room; a few were ending up in the eastern wing of habitation on complete accident.

  Sophia had expressly forbidden their presence in her bedroom in a singular, cold order to the entire staff; the two weeks spent here giving the Fourth Princess ample opportunity to strew used articles of clothing across the floor, cover her tables with cups half-filled with water and the dried residues of drunk teas, and completely ruin her floor bed as she tossed and turned each night.

  If they find out about how badly you’ve trashed your room, they’ll actually kill us. Sophia’s thought processes all conclude, turning to the Internal Monologue who still stands on the speaker’s podium. Right?

  There’s no answer as it remains in deep thought, considering the push and pull of this state of the body.

  Hello? They all ask again.

  The internal monologue asks the burning question to Sophia, and the rest of the thought processes. Why are we sitting here at the dinner table? It’s almost forty minutes before the agreed time, Zai’s not going to show up until two o’clock.

  Yeah, maybe her fear of being late to this was a little too crippling.

  “Goddess, why have you made me like this.” Sophia murmurs beneath her breath, cringing at her own prudence in this matter. “I hate myself…”

  And before her own thought processes could begin to pile on more self loathing, Zai enters in through the door.

  Awkward silence as they make eye contact, a long, almost painful glare as he attempts to hide his surprise.

  A stack of books and loose paper in his hands, a small set of writing utensils along with it; pilfered from another study room in this humble, yet surprisingly expansive home.

  Oh he’s prepared. Sophia’s internal monologue notes with a small whistle.

  Zai nods, keeping a measured head to hide his surprise. “You’re here early.”

  Excuse time! One of the thoughts suggests, pointing out to the filing cabinet stored in the corner of the chamber. What great series of words shall bail us out of this situation?

  Sophia flashes her hand in a quick dismissal. “Well, I wanted to be prudent. If this is inconvenient for you then I do not mind waiting until you’re ready.”

  The internal monologue snatches the script card from the speaking thought process. That was an extremely damning statement you just spoke to him. We just accused him of being unprepared, compared to us who oh-so is responsible.

  There’s a tragic look on Zai’s face, his own thoughts attempting to find the compliment in what was a thinly veiled insult directed to him by his own wife. But he watches as that cold frown on her face melts like a candle into a wince, and responds with confidence as he places his own materials onto the table. “Not at all.”

  “Really?”

  Zai takes a conceited glance, eyes following a single maid who just happened to be stepping through the living space. He calls out to her, gently with a soft voice; not ordering but instead more of a request. “Excuse me. Would you mind preparing a pot of tea for us? And, if you can, find my Guard and tell her to come meet with us. She should be in her room at the moment.”

  The well dressed middle aged woman bows sharply. “Yes, I’ll be on it.”

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