The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
The two etiquette instructors, their faces stiff, exchanged a glance, as if trying to determine their next course of action.
They had tried their level best and with the orders of the Empress and the other consorts, they had been told to make life exceptionally difficult for Hua Jing.
But—
It seed a safe this damned seventh consort had other plants up her sleeve.
Hua Jing simply stood there, calm and unbothered, as if she had all the ti in the world.
"Shouldn’t we start with serving tea properly?"
Her voice was light, almost innocent, yet the weight of her words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.
The first instructor—Madam Lu—cleared her throat sharply, masking her irritation behind a tight-lipped smile.
She was going to use this opportunity to ensure that the Seventh consort knew her place and even if she had the favor of the crown prince there was nothing she was going to do to escape this torture that they were going to give her!
"You misunderstand, Your Highness," she said, her voice forcefully polite. "We are here to teach you, not to follow your commands."
Hua Jing arched a delicate brow, feigning curiosity.
"Oh?" she mused, tilting her head slightly. "Then should I assu that etiquette training does not include the proper way to serve tea?"
The second instructor—Madam Qiao—visibly bristled.
"Of course it does," she snapped before catching herself, quickly schooling her expression.
Hua Jing’s smile deepened.
"Then it seems my suggestion was not unreasonable, after all," she said smoothly.
Xia Lin, standing just behind her mistress, barely suppressed a smirk.
She had seen Hua Jing toy with her enemies before, but this was sothing different entirely.
This was a ga, and her mistress was winning effortlessly.
Madam Lu exhaled slowly, as if gathering the last remnants of her patience.
"Very well," she said stiffly.
"Since Your Highness insists, let us begin with the proper way to serve tea."
She gave a small nod, motioning to one of the palace maids who had been standing quietly nearby.
The young girl hurried forward with a tray of fine porcelain teacups, placing it gently on the table before retreating once more.
Madam Qiao turned back to Hua Jing, her gaze sharp.
"We shall demonstrate first," she announced.
Hua Jing nodded gracefully, stepping aside.
"By all ans," she said, gesturing elegantly for them to proceed.
Madam Qiao took a asured step forward, her posture rigid with discipline, before reaching for the teapot.
She moved with practiced precision, tilting the pot at an exact angle, ensuring that the tea poured in a graceful, steady stream.
The liquid filled the cup without a single wasted drop, the steam curling like a whisper into the air.
Every movent was calculated, perfected, a result of years of training in court etiquette.
She placed the teapot down, straightened herself, and turned to Hua Jing expectantly.
"This," she said with calm authority, "is how a noble consort serves tea."
Hua Jing nodded slowly, appreciating the effort.
"A most impressive demonstration," she praised.
Madam Lu and Madam Qiao visibly preened, as if pleased with themselves.
But then—
Hua Jing stepped forward, reaching for the teapot with effortless grace.
She moved smoothly, her every action exuding a kind of natural elegance that had been ingrained into her through years of performing in her past life.
With a single, fluid motion, she poured the tea into her own cup—
And it was flawless.
The exact sa angle, the sa graceful stream, the sa effortless precision.
Not a drop was wasted.
Not a single mistake was made.
And when she set the teapot down, she did it with such effortless refinent that the room felt utterly silent.
Xia Lin’s eyes widened in silent admiration.
The instructors, however—
Their faces stiffened instantly.
Hua Jing took a small sip of the tea, savoring the mont, before glancing up at them with a soft, knowing smile.
"I believe that was correct, was it not?" she asked sweetly.
Madam Lu’s jaw tightened.
Madam Qiao looked like she had swallowed sothing bitter.
There was nothing to correct.
Nothing to point out.
Hua Jing’s execution had been impeccable.
But admitting that would an acknowledging that she did not need their lessons at all.
And they could not allow that.
"Your movents were passable," Madam Lu finally said, her voice clipped.
"But your posture was stiff."
Hua Jing blinked.
"Stiff?" she echoed, tilting her head.
Madam Lu nodded, seizing the opportunity to regain control of the lesson.
"Yes. You lack refinent in your wrist movents," she said, demonstrating a more exaggerated flourish. "A noblewoman must appear effortless, yet delicate. Try again."
Hua Jing’s lips twitched.
She had perford this action thousands of tis before in both worlds—on screen, in high-class events, in front of powerful figures.
These won were clearly making up flaws where none existed.
But she had no intention of playing into their ga so easily.
She poured again—this ti mimicking Madam Lu’s exaggerated flourish, letting her wrist bend just slightly too much, making the movent look unnatural and awkward.
The tea spilled over the rim of the cup, splashing onto the table.
Hua Jing frowned dramatically, placing a delicate hand over her mouth.
"Oh my," she murmured, her tone utterly innocent. "It seems that adding more refinent has made my hands less stable."
Madam Qiao’s eye twitched.
"You’re exaggerating," she said tightly.
"Am I?" Hua Jing asked smoothly.
She tilted her head again, her expression soft—but her gaze was sharp as a blade.
Madam Lu, realizing that she was being mocked outright, took a deep breath, forcing a strained smile.
"Let us move on," she said quickly.
"As you wish," Hua Jing replied, sipping her tea with perfect grace.
Madam Lu inhaled sharply, clearly struggling to keep her composure.
She turned stiffly to Madam Qiao, who nodded.
"We shall move on to the art of walking," she announced.
Hua Jing hid a smirk behind her teacup.
"This will be fun."
She placed the cup down gently, standing up with the grace of a queen.
The older won straightened, ready to put her in her place.
But Hua Jing—
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