A choir of golden crest birds were flying around the terrasse of an inner courtyard. Their claws were making soft pecking sounds each time one of them landed on the wooden floor of the terrasse. The birds' brown feathers that occasionally fell were almost invisible on the dark colour of the tiles. Swiftly, the wind would lift the feathers and make them fly a few feet high before discarding them further.

Sheltered from the sunlight, a toddler was sitting on her knees in front of a desk, drawing phonetic characters under the watchful gaze of an elderly woman. The room's threaded curtains were drawn to prevent the hot June air from engulfing the room while letting sunlight in. The multiple books and scrolls stored in the open cabinets indicated the room served as a study room. Hung scrolls with diverse scriptures and animal drawings were littered on the wall facing the toddler.

The toddler's hand gestures were slow, failing to be measured. The more she drew, the closer she leaned over the table. Eventually, she met the table and was fully resting her head on it. The woman hit the counter with the ruler in her hand with a rapid motion of the wrist, and the startled toddler straightened her posture and resumed her work. Aged four, she was learning to read and write.

Her current dexterity made her writing closer to drawing. She had issues using the appropriate textbook font. Not wanting to wait for the toddler to master tracing regular-sized characters, her instructor decided to overlook the toddler's limitations. Teaching her how to read was urgent. Fine motor skills would eventually come with practice.

The toddler had learnt speech fairly quickly. Almost five years old, she was already able to formulate correct short sentences. When prompted, she could recount an experience and articulate an opinion. Talking wasn't an issue for the small girl. She was a windmill and words were constantly flying past her lips. The only times she would be silent were during her study time when she was too focused on learning a new task. Once she grasped the ins and outs of a skill, she would get confident enough to talk during study time.

The teacher wouldn't answer nor show any sign she was paying attention to the toddler's rambling and mumblings. If she did, the girl would get sidetracked, talking mostly for herself. She made that mistake once, at the beginning of their study sessions. The session's topic was colours and painting. The girl murmured, "Yellow is the colour [she] didn't like the most". Her tutor had been surprised at the almost grammatically correct sentence the three-year-old spoke.

The tutor had exclaimed "Oh! She speaks and can formulate complete sentences."

The toddler had perked up and exclaimed in return "Yes! Yes, I do!" A happy smile was stretching her lips.

"Work is still needed, but you are set on a good path. Practice will make you perfect." The tutor had said with finality in an attempt to close the conversation and carry with the lesson.

Unfortunately, the toddler had already stood up.

"I speak. And yellow is the colour I don't like the most!" She had exclaimed while running to the drawing of a rising sun on a scroll hanging on one of the walls. Once under the drawing, she had pointed at the sun with her tiny plump finger. "Like the sun. The sun is Yellow in the sky." She emphasised. Maybe because the sun was painted red on the scroll. Turning around, she had asked, "The sun hurt[s] my eyes! Do you know [that]?".

"I…" The woman had hesitated. She didn't finish her sentence.

"Yes! I have a [sun]shade! Not here. In the [bed]room." The toddler had filled the silence instead. Unprompted, she had ran out of the study room. Her tiny feet were making the nightingale floor creak in the hall, her footsteps were echoing.

The cacophony had jerked the tutor out of her stupor and she had rushed out of the room. The small child was mere meters away. The tutor had caught her from behind and cradled her in her arms.

The toddler went limp and asked yet another question. "Is it bedtime?"

"It's not. It's study-"

"When is bedtime?"

The tutor felt exasperation ooze from her pores. She had to calm down. She lowered the toddler in front of her desk. She looked around for the discarded crayons and put the green one in the girl's hand.

"Green." Said the tutor.

"Green." Said the toddler. "Green like the leaves. Green like the grass."

This time, the tutor refrained from making any comment. The meaning of the child's Mother's demand had sunk heavier than during the audition. She had requested her not to let her daughter get lost in tangents. The small child was eager and energetic. Tutoring her will be a challenge she wasn't used to. But she had faith in her ability to channel the toddler's energy to advance her further than she did with most of her pupils. The average affluent child was already forged into a demure mock adult. Forged by the pressure of being proper, and probably some whooping or other punishment. Most of these children were also older. On average, she started tutoring little kids aged six.

Thinking about her regular students, the elderly woman remembered the events that led her to her current position. Two months ago, she received a courier requiring a signature. She was shocked beyond words when she read the address on the envelope. It came straight from the Imperial House. Someone in the Imperial House was requesting her tutoring for a child living behind these forbidden walls. Inside the envelope, a smaller one was placed.

If she declined, she could send her refusal with said envelope. If she accepted the request, she could send her affirmative answer using the provided small envelope as well. It was already stamped. The date of her private audition by the child's Mother and the Empress Dowager was already fixed for the upcoming month. Looking forward to the opportunity, she promptly wrote an acceptance letter and posted it on the very day she received the letter.

The woman who auditioned her was the most enthralling she ever landed her eyes on. Her appearing soft skin was glowing in the sunlight. The elegant curves of her face were graced with foxy lids hosting each a hazel-coloured gem that glistened in the light. Slicked-back hair held in a ponytail highlighted her delicate neckline.

Back in the present time, she taped the toddler's desk with the ruler in her hand, again. The small child had leant on it, again. Looking at the sprouting girl in front of her, the tutor could see the kind of precious she would bloom into. She had feline eyes resembling her Mother's, with amethyst irises and discoloured pupils that were light-sensitive. Big lavender curls were hanging like petals contouring her face. They bounced with every skippy step the toddler was making. Why were they bouncing right now? Heartbeats were echoing from the ground. How was it possible?

The tutor was jostled out of her daze when the study room sliding door opened with force.

"Miss Sako. Is everything alright?" Asked a figure from the entrance. It was the toddler's Mother. She was dressed in a tunic crossed over her heart. The toddler perked up. She had leaned on her desk again. Demanding eyes were staring into Ms Sako's eyes from above with a petite mouth strained into a polite smile. Ms Sako had grown to know her employer's tells. The woman was pissed off.

"Is it bedtime?" Asked the toddler.

"Not now, Hyori." Answered her Mother, not detaching her gaze from the tutor.

"When is bedtime?" Whined the toddler.

"Not before the end of your lesson with Ms Sako." The Mother answered again. Finally, the woman looked at her child once she had terrorised the tutor enough. She walked toward her daughter and sat by her side. Gently, she caressed the lavender petals and Hyori leaned on her Mother's lap.

"Your hands are cool. They make my head feel good." Announced the toddler.

"You will be nice to Ms Sako and let her teach you without running again. Does it sound good?" Stated the Mother more than she asked.

"Yes, Mother." Came the toddler's small voice as she straightened her posture out of her Mother's embrace. She knew it wasn't a question.

Satisfied, the woman stood up and walked out of the room. Ms Sako took a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her employer had a snappy temperament. She had a reputation for escalating and being aggressive in her angry moments. Such an alluring figure, with such a repulsive side. The ones who never encountered her but would hear of her endeavours would wonder how she was tolerated in the Imperial House with her attitude. After all, she wasn't even a distant relative of the Imperial Family. And many courtesans were evicted for merely showing their teeth in an angry fit.

Directing her focus back on the toddler. She was still so cute in her innocence. Ms Sako couldn't refrain herself from wishing the girl didn't inherit her Mother's gift. That quirk. Or else, she might grow into a terror. If she could control people's feelings into loving her, everyone would want to offer her the heaven and the sky. She wouldn't accommodate anyone but herself, the world warped around her little finger.

Hyori was, again, leaning on her desk. She had done that at every chance, during the study session. With a quick motion of her wrist, Ms Sako hit the desk. The toddler straightened her posture but relaxed almost immediately.

"Can I sleep now?" She asked in a whiny voice.

Ms Sako retrieved the sheet from her hand and handed her another. "Vowel sound 'u'." And then, she didn't remember anymore.