Chapter 4 : The Little Genius of the Manor

**Time:** Late Autumn 1889, Aurora''s 3rd birthday

**Location:** Winters Manor study

The morning sun filtered through the intricately carved window lattice, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow upon the mahogany writing desk. The study was elegantly furnished, its walls adorned with precious magical diagrams and ancient paintings. The air carried the faint scent of ink and old paper—a familiar, comforting aroma that had permeated these walls for generations.

Evelyn reclined lazily upon a rosewood carved daybed, a black gown embroidered with gold thread trailing to the floor, a sheer red silk shawl draped loosely over her arm. She held a book in her hands, her golden-brown eyes half-closed as she flipped through the pages with an air of casual indifference.

Before the writing desk, Aurora sat obediently on a small chair specially crafted for her. She was three years old now, her silver-white hair tied into two little buns with red ribbons, her pale silver-grey eyes darting about curiously as she examined the objects spread out before her.

Evelyn had gathered them—a small, exquisitely crafted wooden sword, a pure white jade flute, a beginner''s magic book filled with complex runes, and a stack of talisman paper that emitted a faint spiritual aura.

"Wanwan, today is your third birthday." Evelyn set down her book and rose, walking to stand behind Aurora. She bent down, resting her chin atop the child''s fluffy head, her voice as gentle as when coaxing an infant. "Mother wants to ask you, what would you like to learn in the future?"

Aurora tilted her little head, extending a soft, chubby hand to hover over the objects, pointing and gesturing.

"What''s this?" she asked, pointing at the small wooden sword, her milky voice brimming with curiosity.

"A sword." Evelyn took her small hand, picked up the wooden sword, and gave it a gentle swing. "If you learn swordsmanship, you''ll become a swordswoman in the future. You can protect yourself—very impressive."

Aurora''s eyes lit up, then she looked at the jade flute. "And this?"

"A flute." Evelyn set down the wooden sword and picked up the jade flute, her slender fingers lightly tracing its surface. "If you learn music, you can use the flute''s sound to soothe people''s hearts, or even attack enemies."

Aurora nodded thoughtfully, her little brow slightly furrowed, wearing an expression of serious contemplation.

"And this? And this?" She pointed to the magic book and the stack of talisman paper.

"This is the Winters family''s beginner magic." Evelyn tapped the magic book with her finger, pausing briefly before adding in a neutral tone, "Mother practices this."

Aurora''s eyes instantly shone with astonishing brightness, her little body wriggling excitedly. "Wanwan wants to learn Mother''s!"

Evelyn chuckled, reaching out to gently tap the child''s nose. "Silly girl, the Winters family magic... isn''t very suitable for you."

"Why?" Aurora pouted, her face full of confusion.

*Because I don''t want you learning those dangerous things.*

The thought flashed through Evelyn''s mind, but she didn''t voice it. Instead, she simply lowered her head and placed a soft kiss on Aurora''s forehead. "Because Wanwan is too clever. It''s better to learn other things."

Aurora, pleased by the compliment, immediately forgot her disappointment, giggling as she continued to examine the objects.

Her gaze eventually settled between the wooden sword and the jade flute, hesitating for a long while.

"Mother... can Wanwan learn both?"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow slightly. "Both?"

"Mm!" Aurora nodded vigorously, picking up the wooden sword to give it a little swing, then picking up the jade flute to mimic blowing into it—though no sound emerged, she looked utterly serious. "Wanwan wants to learn the sword, and also the flute! Wanwan is very capable!"

Evelyn looked at the child''s earnest little face and couldn''t help but laugh.

"Learning both will be very tiring, you know." She lifted Aurora onto her lap, letting the child sit on her knees. "When you get tired and cry, don''t come to Mother for comfort."

"Wanwan won''t cry!" Aurora straightened her little chest, declaring proudly. "Wanwan is a big kid now!"

"Alright, alright, our Wanwan is a big kid now." Evelyn suppressed a smile, pinching the child''s soft cheek. "Then we''ll start with the sword and flute. Mother will hire the best teachers for you, okay?"

"Okay!" Aurora nodded emphatically, then wriggled her little body, snuggling into Evelyn''s embrace. "But... Wanwan likes it best when Mother teaches..."

"Mother doesn''t know swordsmanship or music." Evelyn chuckled softly, her chin still resting on the fluffy head. "Mother only knows how to set people on fire and summon storms. Does Wanwan want to learn that?"

Aurora blinked, her large pale silver-grey eyes blinking repeatedly. "Setting people on fire... are they bad people?"

"Yes, they''re all scoundrels." Evelyn''s tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.

"Then Wanwan wants to learn that too!" Aurora immediately grew excited, her little hands forming fists and waving about. "Wanwan wants to protect Mother! Help Mother burn the bad people!"

Evelyn was amused, reaching out to ruffle the child''s silver-white soft hair, her golden-brown eyes filled with indulgence and tenderness.

"Alright, when Wanwan grows up, Mother will teach you."

"Pinky promise!" Aurora extended her little finger, hooking it solemnly around Evelyn''s. "No lying!"

"No lying." Evelyn curved her lips into a smile, allowing the child to shake her finger. "When has Mother ever lied to Wanwan?"

"Never!" Aurora nodded with satisfaction, then began to whine again. "Mother, Wanwan is hungry..."

"Didn''t you just have pastries?"

"But Wanwan is still hungry..." Aurora justified herself shamelessly, already nuzzling against Evelyn''s chest, her little hands beginning to tug at the neckline of her gown.

Evelyn sighed softly, smiling with a mix of helplessness and indulgence as she skillfully unfastened her gown, exposing her full, snow-white breasts.

"You''re three years old now, still clinging to Mother for milk all day. Aren''t you afraid people will laugh?"

"Not afraid!" Aurora retorted around the nipple in her mouth, her words muffled. "Wanwan likes Mother''s milk..."

"It''s breast—never mind, suit yourself."

Evelyn looked down at the satisfied little face nestled against her chest, her fingers gently combing through the silver-white soft hair, her golden-brown eyes brimming with tender light.

*Swordswoman or musician...*

*As long as Wanwan is happy.*

However, when Aurora actually began her lessons, Evelyn realized things weren''t so simple.

The child could memorize sword forms after seeing them once, hum melodies after hearing them once, and magic incantations succeeded on the first try. The hired teachers were all amazed, saying she was a once-in-a-century genius.

Evelyn felt both proud and anxious.

*Too clever... clever enough to be frightening.*

*If such talent were known to the outside world...*

She didn''t dare think further.

The swordsmanship teacher was a retired knight, his face scarred, his movements precise and sharp. He stood in the manor''s courtyard, holding a wooden practice sword, demonstrating a basic stance to Aurora.

"Watch closely, little miss. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, back straight..."

Aurora stood beside him, her silver-white hair tied into a neat ponytail, her pale silver-grey eyes fixed intently on the teacher''s movements. She mimicked his posture, her little body surprisingly steady.

"Good, very good." The knight nodded approvingly. "Now try swinging the sword—grip it firmly, wrist relaxed, swing from the shoulder..."

Aurora picked up her small wooden sword, took a deep breath, and swung.

The movement was fluid, the arc perfect, the force controlled just right—not at all like a three-year-old''s first attempt.

The knight''s eyes widened. "Again."

Aurora swung again, then a third time, each movement more precise than the last, as if she had practiced this a thousand times.

"Extraordinary..." the knight murmured, then looked at Evelyn, who stood watching from the corridor. "Madam, your daughter... is a natural."

Evelyn smiled, but the smile didn''t reach her eyes. "She''s just a quick learner."

The music teacher was an elderly lady who had once served in the royal court. She held the jade flute, her fingers lightly covering the holes, producing a clear, melodious note.

"Music is the language of the soul, little miss. Listen carefully..."

She played a simple scale, each note pure and clear, lingering in the air.

Aurora listened intently, her pale silver-grey eyes half-closed, as if savoring the sound. When the old lady finished, Aurora picked up her own small flute, placed it to her lips, and blew.

The same scale flowed out, note for note identical, the tone even purer, as if the flute had been crafted specifically for her.

The old lady stared in astonishment. "You... you''ve never learned before?"

Aurora shook her head. "Wanwan just listened."

"Gods above..." The old lady clasped her hands together, looking at Evelyn. "Madam, this child has perfect pitch. I''ve taught for forty years and never seen such talent..."

Evelyn''s smile grew even more strained. "She''s just... particularly fond of music."

That night, after the lessons, Evelyn bathed Aurora herself.

The bathing room was filled with steam, the large copper tub filled with warm water scented with lavender and chamomile. Aurora sat in the water, her silver-white hair damp and clinging to her fair skin, her pale silver-grey eyes drowsy with fatigue.

"Tired?" Evelyn asked softly, her hands gently massaging shampoo into the child''s hair.

"Mm..." Aurora nodded, leaning back against Evelyn''s chest. "But Wanwan is happy. The sword is fun, and the flute is pretty..."

Evelyn''s hands paused momentarily. "Do you like learning?"

"Like!" Aurora turned her head, looking up at Evelyn with bright eyes. "Wanwan wants to learn lots and lots of things! Then Wanwan can protect Mother!"

*Protect me...*

Evelyn''s heart clenched.

*My little Wanwan, you don''t need to protect me. I need to protect you—from the world, from danger, from your own terrifying talent.*

She rinsed the shampoo from Aurora''s hair, then lifted the child from the water, wrapping her in a soft, warm towel.

"Mother will always protect Wanwan." She whispered into the child''s ear, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "Always."

Aurora, half-asleep, nuzzled against her. "Wanwan loves Mother..."

"I love you too, Wanwan." Evelyn kissed her damp hair. "More than anything in this world."

Late that night, after Aurora had fallen asleep, Evelyn stood by the window, looking out at the moonlit garden.

The child''s talent was a double-edged sword—a blessing and a curse. On one hand, Evelyn was proud, thrilled that her daughter was so exceptional. On the other, she was terrified, knowing that such talent would inevitably attract attention, and attention meant danger.

*What if someone finds out?*

*What if they come for her?*

*What if I can''t protect her?*

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. The familiar, cold determination settled over her once more.

*No one will take her from me.*

*No one will harm her.*

*I''ll kill anyone who tries.*

She turned away from the window and walked to Aurora''s bedside. The child slept peacefully, her silver-white hair spread across the pillow, her little face relaxed in slumber, one hand clutching the edge of the blanket.

Evelyn reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from the child''s forehead. Her touch was feather-light, as if afraid of waking her.

*My chosen child.*

*My little genius.*

*My everything.*

She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Aurora''s forehead, then straightened, her golden-brown eyes hardening with resolve.

*I''ll hire more teachers. I''ll give you everything you want to learn. I''ll let you explore every talent you possess.*

*But you will never leave this manor. You will never be exposed to the outside world. You will never face the dangers that lurk beyond these walls.*

*This is your cage, Wanwan. But it''s also your sanctuary.*

*And I am both your jailer and your protector.*

The following morning, Evelyn summoned the steward.

"Hire more teachers. Find the best tutors in literature, mathematics, history, art—everything. Money is no object."

The steward bowed. "Yes, madam. May I ask... how many?"

"As many as she wants." Evelyn''s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made the steward tremble. "My daughter will have the best education in England. She will master every subject, every skill, every art."

"And... the magic lessons?"

Evelyn''s eyes narrowed. "I will handle those myself. No outside teachers for magic."

"Understood, madam."

After the steward left, Evelyn returned to the study. Aurora was already there, sitting at her small desk, carefully copying letters from a primer. Her little tongue peeked out from between her lips in concentration, the tip of the quill moving slowly across the paper.

"Mother!" She looked up when Evelyn entered, her face breaking into a bright smile. "Look! Wanwan wrote her name!"

Evelyn walked over and looked at the paper. The letters were shaky, the lines uneven, but they were unmistakably "Aurora Winters."

"Very good, Wanwan." Evelyn smiled, genuine warmth in her eyes this time. "You''re learning so quickly."

"Teacher says Wanwan is smart!" Aurora declared proudly.

"Yes, you are." Evelyn bent down and hugged the child. "The smartest little girl in the whole world."

Aurora hugged her back, then, as always, began nuzzling against her chest. "Mother, milk..."

Evelyn sighed, but her hands were already unfastening her gown. "You and your milk..."

"Wanwan loves Mother''s milk!" Aurora said around the nipple, her words muffled but happy.

As she nursed, Evelyn stroked the child''s hair, her thoughts churning.

*How long will this last? How long before she outgrows this need? How long before she no longer needs me at all?*

The thought was like a knife to her heart.

*No. She''ll always need me. I''ll make sure of it.*

She tightened her arms around the child, holding her closer.

*Always.*