My Beloved Has Risen from Death’s Embrace

After a while of listening, Xanthea knocked on the office door during a brief pause.

“Hello, is Mr. Lopez here?”

Benjamin Jones was deeply immersed in practicing his Russian when a knock at the door interrupted him, his eyebrows lifted in slight Imitation. However, his expression softened as he caught sight of the young woman at the door.

The girl stood in the entrance of the hallway, her soft, honey–blonde curls gently lifted by the breeze, draping a few strands over her excessively long and curled eyelashes.

She brushed them aside with her hand, her skin as delicate and pale as the finest ivory, her brows finely arched and her eyes, bright and star-like, shimmered like a radiant galaxy, so captivating it was hard to look away.

Was this Xanthea?

She was even more stunning in person than on TV.

He stared a bit too long before hurriedly setting down his script and standing up to greet her with a smile, “Hello, Ms. Nightshade, nice to meet you.”

He knew her?

Xanthea looked at him with a hint of surprise, “Hello, and you are?”

“You don’t know me?”

Benjamin paused, then found it somewhat amusing.

s the fi

first time someone had said they didn’t recognize him. This mare and fresh feeling was both

Since his debut at the age of ten, it was

novel and amusing.

Uh, should she know him?

Bemused by his incredulous tone, Xanthea racked her brains. His face did seem familiar, but she couldn’t quite recall where she had seen him before

“Are you a friend of my uncle?“uvular r’s Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Benjamin laughed, “Didn’t Mr. Lopez tell you why you’re here?”

“No, he just mentioned he had a surprise for me.”

“Then let’s wait for Mr. Lopez then,” Benjamin offered, gentlemanly pulling out a chair for her. Xanthea thanked him and sat down, noticing the notebook in his hands filled with circled words, “Were you practicing Russian?”

“You understand it?”

Benjamin was surprised. Xanthea nodded, “A little. I heard you reading from outside. Your tone, pitch, cohesion between sentences, and grammar usage were quite good. It’s just that some of your pronunciations were off. You struggle with R’s, don’t you?”

Her pinpoint accuracy in identifying his weaknesses stunned Benjamin. She had only heard him from outside for a short while but could keenly identify the issue. She definitely understood more than just a

little.

“Indeed, I’ve been learning Russian for a while but still can’t roll my Rs properly. It’s quite embarrassing. If Ms. Nightshade doesn’t mind, I’d appreciate any advice.”

“It’s not about giving advice; I can share some tips with you.”

As she read in Russian, the delivery was good, and the pace and emotion were just right – even a level that would impress professional interpreters. Yet she had modestly claimed to only understand a little.

Surprisingly, she seemed no older than 16 or 17, yet possessed such high linguistic talent and knowledge, remaining humble and unassuming. This set her apart from all the high–society debutantes he had met, who seemed to flaunt even the most trivial achievements as though they were of great importance

Benjamin’s gaze on her shifted from initial superficial appreciation to something