The Moment of Realization in the Young Master’s Past
Day after day, Zixu would read with her.
He looked over the books she looked over. They were often scrawled over, with inked handwriting, yet he could not make sense of her notes. He couldn't understand what she was doing or the messages she was trying to decipher. The things she saw such deep secrets in were nothing but ordinary texts to him.
Regardless, he wanted to see that smile again. And so, he continued to read with her, in complete silence, the only sound coming from the fluttering of thin pages.
She barely took breaks. In those moments where she did, they would speak. She would not tolerate any fumbling of words or hesitation from him. His speech had to be perfect, as if rehearsed.
She demanded perfection. She needed perfection.