[5:00 AM,My Room]
The fan spun above me.p
Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty—
"YOUNG MASTER!"
The door slammed open.
I didn't move.
Dreaming. This is dreaming. Right?
Go back to sleep, Nams.
The fan is spinning. Everything is fine.
"YOUNG MASTER WAKE UP!"
Some Hands grabbed my shoulders. Shook me. The whole bed shook.
The fan kept spinning, oblivious to my suffering.
I cracked one eye open.
Angy's face was inches from mine. Grinning. Too awake. Way too awake for whatever ungodly hour this was.
"What." My voice came out like gravel being crushed.
"It's EXAM DAY!"
I closed my eye.
"No no no no no no!"
The shaking intensified. Violent. Relentless.
"You have to wake up! History exam! First semester! REAL exam! Not the mini one! The ACTUAL one!"
I opened both eyes. Squinted at the window.
Still dark.
Pitch black.
"The sun isn't up."
"It will be!"
"Eventually."
"SOON!"
I looked at the clock on my nightstand.
5:03 AM.
"It's five in the morning."
"Yes!"
"The exam is at—" I paused. Actually had to think. When was the exam? "Eleven?"
"ELEVEN! Which means we have SIX HOURS!"
We?
Six hours.
She woke me up six hours early.
"For WHAT?"
"BREAKFAST! And STUDYING! And MORE BREAKFAST! And QUIZZES! And FLASHCARDS! And—"
"Angy."
Shenhe's voice from the doorway. Calm. Deadly. Like a knife wrapped in silk.
"Step back. Let him breathe."
Angy stepped back.
I didn't move. Couldn't move.
My body was still processing the trauma of being woken at 5 AM for an exam that was six hours away.
Shenhe walked in. Holding a tray. Steam rising from it in the cold morning air. The smell of rice and eggs and tea and something sweet filled the room. Made it feel almost worth being awake.
"Breakfast," she said simply. "Eat. Then we study."
We study.
Since when is "we" studying?
Since when is "we" anything?
I sat up. Rubbed my eyes. Looked at the window again.
Still dark.
"The exam is at eleven."
"Yes."
"It's five in the morning."
"Yes."
"There are six hours until the exam."
"Correct."
"Why am I awake?"
Shenhe's expression didn't change. Not a flicker. But something in her eyes shifted—amusement, maybe. Or pity.
"Because Angy checked your laptop last night."
I blinked.
My laptop.
They checked my laptop.
"You—"
"She wanted to see what chapters you needed to study."
Shenhe set the tray on my nightstand.
"She discovered you haven't opened any history files in two weeks."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
"Young Master."
Shenhe's voice was patient. Too patient. The kind of patient that meant she'd already won this argument before it started.
"Your privacy died the moment you moved in with us. Accept this."
Accept this.
My privacy is dead.
At five in the morning.
Before my exam.
Because two women who've known me since I was three decided I needed to be awake six hours early to study.
I looked at Angy. She was beaming. Radiating triumph.
I looked at Shenhe. She was expressionless. Radiating authority.
I looked at the tray of food. It smelled amazing. Rice and eggs and tea and something sweet that was probably Angy's attempt at baking.
"...Fine, but atleast let me brush my teeth."
"Go on, Master!"
Angy!, what's with those grinning for.
I brushed my teeth.
I ate.
They watched.
Always watching.
It was some weird combination in the morning but the food was good. Really good. Shenhe's cooking, definitely. Angy's baking was the sweet thing—actually edible this time. Progress.
Halfway through, Angy disappeared.
Came back with an armful of books that reached her chin.
It staggered under the weight.
She dropped them on my bed with a thump that shook the entire mattress and probably woke the neighbors.
I stared at the mountain of paper.
It was enormous. Impressive and terrifying.
"What," I said slowly, "is that?"
"History books!"
"I can see that. Why are there so many?"
"Because history is a lot!"
She patted the stack proudly. It wobbled dangerously.
"I got all of them! Every history book in the house!"
I looked at the stack. Counted quickly. Lost count at fifteen.
"There are like twenty books there."
"TWENTY-THREE!" She beamed. "I counted! Twice! To be sure!"
Twenty-three history books.
At five in the morning.
Six hours before my exam.
This is my life now.
Shenhe picked up the top book. Flipped through it with surgical precision. Nodded once.
"Start with this one. Chapter three. The Ilas Treaty."
I stared at her. "How do you know which chapter—"
"I checked your syllabus." She didn't look up from the book. "Last week. While you were sleeping."
Of course she did.
Of course.
She's been planning this.
For a week.
I read.
Or tried to.
The words blurred. My eyes wanted to close. My brain wanted to be anywhere else.
Angy sat on one side of the bed, occasionally grabbing books to "help" by reading random passages aloud at maximum volume.
"The Mauryan Dynasty lasted from—wait, this says 322 BCE? What's BCE?"
"Before Common Era," Shenhe said without looking up.
"Oh. Okay. The Mauryan Dynasty lasted from 322 BCE to 185 BCE and was—wait, I lost my place. Where was I?"
"You were at 'and was'."
"Right! And was one of the largest empires in—Young Master, are you listening?"
I was. Somehow. Despite everything.
Shenhe sat on the other side of the bed. Silent. Watchful. Occasionally pointing at something with terrifying accuracy.
"The Gupta Empire," she'd say, and I'd flip to that chapter without question.
"The Ilas Treaty SIGNIFICANCE, not just the date," and I'd realize I'd been reading the wrong section for ten minutes.
"The economic impacts," and I'd find the paragraph I'd skimmed over.
She knows the syllabus better than I do.
She's not even in school.
She's never been to school.
What ARE these women?
At 6:30, Angy brought more food. Snacks this time. Things to keep me awake.
At 7:15, Shenhe quizzed me on forty-seven questions. Rapid fire. No mercy.
I got thirty right.
"Passable," she said.
From Shenhe, that was a compliment. High praise. A standing ovation in one word.
At 8:00, Angy quizzed me on the ones I'd missed. Her method was different—she made little songs for each answer.
"The Ilas Treaty, 1672, brought peace between me and you—wait, that doesn't make sense. Let me try again."
She's making songs.
For history.
At eight in the morning.
I don't deserve these women.
At 8:30, Shenhe brought out flashcards. Hundreds of them. Color-coded.
"When did you make these?"
"Throughout the week."
"You've been preparing for my exam for a WEEK?"
She didn't answer. Just handed me the stack.
Of course she has.
Of course.
At 9:00, they herded me to the shower.
"Ten minutes!" Angy called through the door. "Not a second more!"
"I know how to shower!"
"LAST TIME YOU TOOK TWENTY!"
She counted.
She definitely counted.
She probably has a spreadsheet.
I showered. Actually took ten minutes. Felt like an achievement.
When I came out, they were waiting.
Angy with my uniform, pressed and perfect.
Shenhe with my bag, packed and organized.
"Your notes are in the front pocket," Shenhe said. "Water in the side. Spare pens in the small pocket. Snacks in the bottom."
"In case," Angy added.
In case of what?
In case everything.
In case the world ends during my exam.
In case I need to survive a history apocalypse.
With these two, I wouldn't be surprised.
At 9:45, I stood at the door.
Bag on my shoulder. Notes inside. History vaguely existing in my brain. The sun was finally up—warm and golden and normal.
Angy hugged me. Tight. Unexpected. Fierce.
"You'll do great, Young Master! I believe in you! Shenhe believes in you! Mochi believes in you!"
"Mochi is a cat."
"He believes EXTRA hard!"
I patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Thanks, Angy."
Shenhe handed me a water bottle. A snack. A spare pen. A small notebook I hadn't seen before.
"For notes," she said. "During the exam. If you need to brain dump before answering."
Brain dump.
She knows about brain dumping.
What DON'T they know?
"Thank you," I said. To both of them.
Shenhe nodded. Just once.
Angy beamed.
I stepped outside.
The air was fresh. Clean. Alive. The village was waking up around me—farmers heading to fields, children running, the normal chaos of normal life.
Behind me, Angy called: "DON'T FORGET TO BREATHE DURING THE EXAM!"
Shenhe's quieter voice: "Good luck, Young Master."
I walked toward the gate.
My new cycle was there. Blue. Shiny. Not faded like the old one. Father had finally delivered.
I looked at it.
Looked back at the house.
They were still in the doorway. Watching. Always watching.
Twenty-three history books.
Six hours of torture.
Flashcards and songs and color-coded notes.
Two women who care too much.
And an exam I might actually pass.
Because of them.
I smiled.
Just a little.
Then I turned back to the cycle.
Ready to go.
---