Bǎihé gasped, bolting upright from her bed, breath heavy and skin slick with sweat.
"Gōngzhǔ Fāng?" Hépíng's voice called softly from the adjoining room. "Are you alright?"
She rushed in, eyes widening at the sight of the disoriented princess.
Another nightmare.
Bǎihé's chest rose and fell with panic. Her eyes darted around the room, unfocused, as she clutched at her bedding.
"What about Yí?" she blurted suddenly, voice trembling. "Did he get a physician? He needs one—quickly!"
"Yí?" Hépíng asked, her brows furrowing.
"Yes!" Bǎihé insisted. "Brother Yí. Did he...?"
But Hépíng only stepped closer, gently taking her hand in hers.
"Gōngzhǔ," she said softly, "I don't know anyone by that name. Who is Brother Yí?"
Bǎihé stared at her, heart pounding, face full of distress. Then, slowly, her eyelids lowered as if trying to force herself back into the present.
"It was... just a dream," she muttered, voice faint.
"You're sure?" Hépíng asked, worry creasing her brow. "These dreams—they're becoming more frequent."
"I'm fine now," Bǎihé whispered, her breath shaky. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Hépíng replied. "I'll bring you some tea and call for the palace physician."
"No need," Bǎihé said, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. "The tea will be enough."
With a nod, Hépíng disappeared into the next room, returning moments later with a small porcelain cup.
"I made it just a few moments ago, so it's still warm," she said, carefully handing it to her.
Bǎihé sipped in silence, then began describing the vivid dream—its strange beauty, the stabbing pain, the man with the light brown eyes.
When she finished, Hépíng tilted her head, puzzled. "So... you felt love?"
"Yes," Bǎihé replied, then shook her head. "Wait—no. That's not the point. I nearly died, and he was dying in my arms too. It felt... real."
"Do you recognize him?"
"No... his face is blurred in my mind now. I don't think I know him. But it all felt so familiar."
Hépíng watched her closely. "Gōngzhǔ, this is the second dream in a row. More vivid than before. Are you sure you're okay?"
"It's just a dream," Bǎihé said softly, more to convince herself than Hépíng. "Everyone has them."
Hépíng sighed, unconvinced. "Yes... just bad dreams."
Suddenly, the soft clinking of footsteps echoed beyond the beaded curtain. A voice called out from the other room.
"Good morning, Gōngzhǔ Fāng!"
A young servant stepped through the curtain, her head bowed respectfully. Her attire was different—not one of the palace staff.
"Wángzǐ Feng requests your company for breakfast," she said. "He wishes to take tea outside your manor this morning, with the Empress's permission. He hopes you will accept his offer. I will take my leave now."
She bowed once more before disappearing.
Bǎihé rolled her eyes.
"Well, that's exciting," Hépíng said, trying to lighten the mood.
Bǎihé gave her a look of flat disappointment.
"I'm not having tea with him," she muttered.
"But Gōngzhǔ, he already has permission from your mother. You must accept."
"Then tell him I'm sick."
"I can't! You should've said that to the servant—it's too late now," Hépíng replied with a teasing grin. "So... I'll help you dress."
Bǎihé groaned, rubbing her temples. "It's outside my courtyard, right?"
"Yes, under the shade near the front."
"Good," Bǎihé said, rising with a stretch. "Then as my dear friend, you'll help me make it short and painless."
Hépíng sighed, already pulling out a basket of dresses. From within, she raised two options—soft pink, or light green.
Bǎihé tapped her chin in thought, then pointed past both.
"Orange. I look terrible in orange."
Hépíng glanced down at the bright orange hanfu peeking out from the flower-woven basket and shook her head.
"You are truly the most stubborn princess I've ever known," she muttered.