After her morning tea, Princess Zhao Yuyan was gently ushered into her bathing chamber. The soft warmth of the rising sun filtered through carved sandalwood windows, casting golden patterns over the jade floor. Her maids, quiet and graceful, bathed her with perfumed lotus water, humming low tunes passed down from generations of palace servants.
Once she was dried and her skin oiled with sweet plum essence, they dressed her not in the heavy silk gowns she usually wore for morning court, but in her training attire—a robe of pale silver trimmed with sky-blue, stitched with cloud patterns and fitted for movement. Her long pink hair was drawn into a high tail with silk cords, a few strands flowing freely down her back like ribbons in the wind.
Outside, the training grounds buzzed with distant sounds of clashing practice swords. She stepped into the stone-floored courtyard, only to realize something was off. Her master was not there.
Instead, Zhao Lingyun—her thirteen-year-old brother and the crown prince—was in the middle of the yard, practicing alone with a wooden sword. His movements were sharp, balanced, and composed beyond his years. The crisp sound of the blade slicing through the air was almost musical.
Yuyan approached, raising a brow. "Where is Master Jun?"
Without pausing in his movements, Lingyun replied, "Father summoned him. Said it was important."
Yuyan sighed. "Hmm. In that case, how about we spar a little, you and I?"
Lingyun stopped mid-strike and turned, an amused grin spreading across his youthful face. "Are you sure about that, Jie? You don't want to get hurt, do you?"
She rolled her eyes and stretched her arms. "Oh please. Don't get cocky. You've had a lucky streak, that's all. I've been training harder lately."
He smirked, walking toward her with his sword slung over one shoulder. "You mean you've been 'training,' or just diving into that weird book Father gave you?"
She froze. Her eyes narrowed. "What? How do you know about the book?"
He shrugged casually. "I know everything."
That sent a chill through her. Suddenly, memories came flooding in—how he could beat her easily despite being much younger; how he always seemed to know where she hid things, what she was thinking, what she planned to do before she even did it. There were countless small things over the years. Moments where he would guess her thoughts or secrets with eerie accuracy.
She stared at him now with new eyes. Who exactly was this little brother of hers?
They began to spar. At first, the match was even, light, and full of playful banter. But the more she moved, the more her thoughts slipped elsewhere. Her body moved with practiced precision, but her mind... her mind drifted.
To the dream. To the boy by the stream, playing a flute, shrouded in beauty and mystery. His back had been to her, his melody haunting. The moment she touched him, she had awakened—startled, confused, but enchanted.
She blinked, losing focus.
That's when Lingyun paused. He lowered his sword slightly, tilting his head.
"What's the problem? Thinking about the handsome boy in your dream?"
Yuyan stopped cold.
The wooden sword slipped slightly in her grip.
Her eyes widened. She stared at him, stunned.
She had never told anyone. Not a soul. The only person who even knew she had a dream was her maid Mei—and Mei didn't know the details. She hadn't mentioned a boy. Not the flute. Not the stream. Nothing.
Her voice was tight. "Wait... how did you know that?"
Lingyun smirked, already stepping backward, raising his sword. "It's written all over your face."
"No!" she snapped. "You're acting weird! It's not normal! You keep knowing things! You always know things!"
She swung her sword at him, irritation bubbling over into real frustration. "You always beat me. You always guess my thoughts. You always know where I hide things. You're thirteen!"
He blocked each strike effortlessly. "Maybe you're just easy to read."
"Don't play with me!" she shouted, striking again. "You're not that smart! You're not—this isn't normal!"
He twirled and avoided her final swing, laughing. "Or maybe you're just predictable."
They locked swords again, breath quickening, sweat beading on their foreheads.
Just then, a voice broke through the tension.
"That's enough. My lady, it's time for your real training."
Master Jun stood at the edge of the platform, arms folded in his dark training robe, face calm but stern.
Yuyan turned to him, still catching her breath. She looked back at her brother with a glare.
"You're lucky, you little urchin. If Master hadn't shown up, I would have flattened you like steamed buns!"
Lingyun laughed, brushing his sleeve. "Sure, Jie. But try not to get folded by Master first."
She gave him a dangerous smirk. "Watch your mouth, or I'll tell Father you've been sneaking into my dreams."
That wiped the smile from his face. Just briefly. But long enough to make her wonder.
The morning sun bathed the training ground in soft gold, casting long shadows of bamboo poles and fluttering practice flags. Princess Zhao Yuyan stood in the center of the open court. She had already tied back her long pink hair with silk ribbons to keep it out of her eyes. A wooden practice sword hung loosely from her hand, but her stance lacked its usual firmness.
Across from her, Zhao Lingyun was wiping sweat from his brow, looking as calm and confident as ever. His short, dark hair was pulled back in a tidy knot, and his youthful face carried a smirk far too wise for someone his age.
They had sparred for nearly half an hour now, yet Yuyan's strikes had grown increasingly half-hearted. Her eyes often drifted toward Lingyun—not with annoyance or amusement, but with silent, lingering confusion. There was something different about him. Something unsettling.
Her sword hovered midair as she stared at him again, brows knitting tightly together.
Lingyun paused, tilted his head, and raised a brow. " Wow!. Calm down, Sister. If you keep staring at me like that, I'll start thinking I've grown another head."
Yuyan blinked, startled. "Says the one who's acting more spooky every day," she muttered, lowering her sword.
She tried to shake it off, but her thoughts pulled her back to earlier moments—the way he'd known about her dream. She hadn't told anyone about it. Not even her maid knew the details. Just the vague mutterings of "a strange dream." How could Lingyun—her baby brother—have guessed the presence of a handsome boy in it? He even teased her with the right words. Could he read her mind? Or was it something else entirely?
The master, an older man with a steel gaze and flowing white robes, had been observing silently from the shade. His voice now cut through the air, calm but sharp.
"Princess, you are here in body, but your mind is floating in the clouds."
Yuyan snapped her head toward him, realizing too late that she'd been standing still, sword lowered and lips parted in thought.
"If your heart is not steady, training becomes a danger," the master continued. "Perhaps we should continue later. Go inside and take some rest."
Relief flooded her face, though she tried not to show it. She bowed slightly, muttering a quick "Yes, Master," before turning away from the court.
Behind her, Lingyun's laughter echoed faintly. "Don't think I'll go easy on you next time, Sister. Train your mind, not just your arms."
She ignored him, forcing her steps to remain composed despite her whirling thoughts.
—
Back inside her chambers, the afternoon sun had shifted, pouring golden beams through the lattice windows. The silk curtains swayed gently in the breeze, their embroidered dragons and phoenixes dancing in silent grace.
Mei had already prepared her lunch—steamed buns, sweet lotus soup, and fragrant tea. Yuyan ate slowly, her appetite dulled by distraction. Every movement felt mechanical, as though she were floating outside her own body.
Afterward, she lay on her silk-draped bed, arms folded beneath her head as she stared at the painted ceiling above. Her room was silent except for the distant chirping of birds beyond the palace garden and the faint rustle of leaves.
Her mind, however, was anything but quiet.
Lingyun. That child was... different since he turned thirteen.
She thought back to the many strange moments she had brushed aside. Times he had known exactly where she'd hidden her personal comb. Times he predicted what she would say before she said it. Even the way he guessed what emotion she tried to suppress. He wasn't simply observant—he was precise, as though he had lived in her mind.
And now... this dream.
The boy by the stream. The flute. The garden.
No one knew about it.
She closed her eyes, trying to recall the figure's face, but it was always hazy. A silhouette with gentle hands, flowing hair, and eyes that seemed both distant and familiar.
Could Lingyun have dreamt the same dream? Has he suddenly develop supernatural powers like the vampires or witches in the story the emperor gave her. At a time she started talking to her self as Mei watched her in amazement. After a while of watching Yuyan, Mei approached her.
"My lady!. You seem to be overthinking. How about we take a walk in the garden
That always works for you. " Mei said and with that, Yuyan went along with Mei for a pleasant walk in the imperial garden.