The morning stretched on, dragging in an endless cycle of instructions, corrections, and repeated demonstrations.
But Hua Jing knew what she was doing.
Sometimes, she performed the etiquette exercises too perfectly, leaving the instructors silent and seething because there was nothing to correct.
Other times, she deliberately exaggerated, executing the movements with a ridiculous amount of grace, turning a simple bow into something so theatrical that even Xia Lin had to turn away to hide her laughter.
The instructors' faces slowly drained of patience.
Their once-proud postures began to slouch, their carefully crafted smiles cracked under the weight of frustration.
Hua Jing was clearly wasting their time.
And she was enjoying every moment of it.
The tea-serving lesson had already ended in a disaster for them, and now they had moved on to posture training.
Madam Lu, her patience hanging by a single thread, stepped forward.
