Last day was a hectic disaster. I did so many things that I didn't even know when I fell asleep, and today I woke up so late that I was basically *running* toward the academy.
Okay fine, I didn't actually run.
But I was late—**very** late.
And Father Yang hates late students more than he hates wasting ink.
Somehow, I reached the academy alive.
Today was the painting class.
And finally… **FINALLY** something I was actually good at.
At least, that's what I believe.
All the girls were seated on the floor with their brushes, looking elegant, graceful, and very ancient-culture.
I sat down too, pulled out my brush, mixed ink with all the elegance of a modern girl deeply upset about being stuck in the past, and began painting.
I still wasn't comfortable with these brushes.
Why can't they invent pencils already?
So simple. So beautiful.
But no—we suffer.
Still, within ten minutes, a masterpiece was born.
A cat.
A very cute, very innocent, very *meow-meow* cat.
Honestly? It looked better than half the historical scrolls I've seen.
The girl next to me leaned in.
"Is this… a tiger cub?"
My soul left my body.
"No. It's a CAT," I corrected, smiling through internal screaming.
The teacher walked by, hands behind his back, beard long enough to have its own personality. He paused and stared at my painting.
Then nodded like he had just seen enlightenment descend from the heavens.
"Ah. Deep meaning."
Yes, sir. Very deep. Mariana Trench-level deep.
Class ended after a solid ego boost, and I was ready to go home, relax, and maybe brag to the boys about my natural artistic genius—
Then a servant wearing Jinwei's crest appeared.
"Lady, Master Jinwei requests your presence. Immediately."
My happiness evaporated on the spot.
Why. Why can't I be happy for more than 20 minutes?
I arrived at Jinwei's office like someone walking straight to their execution. *I don't wanna be here* was written all over my face.
He looked up with a smirk.
"Ah, you're here."
I forced a polite smile. "Why do you want to see me, sir?"
"Remember your promise? To help me with the accounts?"
I stared.
"I said that in a moment of weakness."
"Still counts."
Of course it does.
Everything counts when he wants it to.
He handed me a stack of ledgers thicker than my patience.
"You know," I tried, "I actually hurt my hand today. Painting class. Very dangerous activity."
He raised an eyebrow. "Show me."
I instantly hid both hands behind my back.
"No need! It's internal pain. Very spiritual."
Jinwei sighed the sigh of a man who fully understood my nonsense but had accepted it into his life.
"Sit."
I sat dramatically—if I must suffer, I will suffer with style.
He pushed the ink brush toward me. "Start."
I picked it up like it was venomous.
"Sir, if I faint, it's on you."
"Noted."
And thus began the torture.
Ancient accounts + my 21st-century brain = absolute failure.
After five minutes Jinwei leaned over.
"You're holding the ledger upside down."
I froze.
"…Oh. That explains a lot."
He covered his face like he regretted every path that led him to this moment.
I hunched over again. Ink on my fingers. Hair in my face. Brain cells dying.
Jinwei watched me like I was a comedy show.
"Why does this number look like a crushed mosquito?"
"It's ancient art," I said proudly.
"That's a five."
"Well, it *feels* like a mosquito."
He groaned. "You're going to give me grey hair."
"Good. It'll match your personality."
He stared. Long. Slowly.
I pretended to focus.
After ten minutes of destroying his accounting system, Jinwei casually said:
"Oh, by the way… did you hear? The Crown Prince's wedding ceremony has been decided."
I continued writing.
"Hm."
"…With the Prime Minister's daughter."
"Hm."
"It will be next week. Very grand. Lots of nobles."
"Hm."
Jinwei narrowed his eyes.
He finally leaned forward, placing a hand on the ledger so I had to look up.
"You didn't react."
I shrugged. "I'm trying to figure out if this is a seven or if I accidentally drew a horse."
"It's a seven."
"Oh good. I was worried."
Back to the ledger.
He stared like I'd personally offended his ancestors.
"You didn't hear what I said."
"I did. Crown Prince. Wedding. Wow. Amazing. Fantastic."
Ink brush waved.
"But right now, sir, I'm literally fighting for my life."
He pressed his lips together, mildly offended but also strangely amused.
"So… you're not bothered?"
"Why would I be bothered? Do *you* want me to be?"
His jaw tightened just a little.
"No. Just asking."
Suspicious.
But the nine I wrote looked like a pregnant duck so I let it go.
He suddenly snatched the paper.
"This… is nonsense."
"You said I'd help! You didn't say the help would be *good*," I protested.
He inhaled deeply like he was meditating.
"…Where's that cat painting?"
"At home."
"Bring it tomorrow," he muttered. "At this point I need proof you can draw *anything* that resembles life."
Rude.
But fair.
I stood dramatically. "Fine! Tomorrow I shall bring the majestic cat that defeated your accounts!"
Jinwei looked at me with full *I regret this* energy.
"Just… go."
I saluted and marched out proudly, leaving behind ink drops, bent papers, and a man who clearly needed therapy.