She snapped her head back down to her parchment. She gripped her jade stylus so tightly her knuckles turned white.
'I am calculating yeast ratios,' Ji'an chanted internally, staring blankly at the ink. 'I love math. Math is my passion. 2 + 2 = 4. Sugar + Yeast = Alcohol. I am completely engrossed in my studies. I am not interesting. Please do not initiate a dialogue tree with me.'
She sat there, rigid, unmoving, pretending to read the herbal compendium with such intense, exaggerated focus that she practically had her nose touching the pages.
For two silent minutes, nothing happened.
Ji'an allowed herself a tiny, microscopic sigh of relief. 'It worked. The Ostrich Protocol is flawless. He got bored. He is ignoring me.'
"Your thermal distribution model is fundamentally flawed, little Chef."
The voice did not come from across the room.
It came from directly beside her right ear.
***
Ji'an flinched so violently she nearly launched herself backward over her chair.
