Vision blurred. Her throat was dry, and her eyes drowned in tears at the sight of her father coughing uncontrollably, each breath a desperate wheeze that rattled the air.
Bǎihé stood amidst sorrowful faces. Lán lingered in the corner, poised like a guard, her expression carved from stone. Chún Dù sat quietly in her wheelchair, knuckles white as her fingers dug into the silk folds of her hanfu. Two of her sisters clung to their father's bedside, sobbing softly. Their mother... was nowhere to be seen.
Was he sick? Or poisoned? Bǎihé did not know, but fear pressed against her chest with the weight of a stone.
A gentle hand clasped hers. A whisper brushed her ear.
"I know... I know what will save him."
She turned. It was the man from her dreams—the one who had died only days ago.
He drew a small blue vial from his robe and pressed it into her palm. Wiping her tears, Bǎihé looked into his eyes, searching for hope.
"Where did you—?"
She stopped herself. There was no time.
She rushed to her father's side, unstoppered the vial, and carefully poured the liquid between his lips as her sisters watched in trembling silence.
The stillness that followed was deafening. His coughs ceased. For one fleeting moment, hope fluttered.
Then, a harsh spasm wracked his chest. He spat out blood—thick, crimson, spraying onto the floor. A droplet splattered against Bǎihé's shoe, staining the silk of her hanfu.
Panic erupted. Lán rushed forward. Shadows gathered around the bed as people tried to revive the emperor.
Bǎihé's vision tilted, blurred. Darkness swallowed her.
⸻
She opened her eyes with a gasp. A cup of water trembled in her hand as she took a sip. A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," she whispered.
Hépíng entered with a bow.
"Gōngzhǔ Fang, it is time to prepare for the horse ride. Wángzǐ Feng will arrive shortly."
"What?!" Bǎihé leapt to her feet. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
"Gōngzhǔ... I have been knocking for thirty minutes."
Bǎihé fell silent, then sighed.
"Forgive me. Let us hurry before he arrives."
Soon, she was dressed, her hanfu delicately arranged.
"If Hǎoyú comes by, tell him to wait," Bǎihé said.
"Why?" Hépíng asked, fastening the last fold of silk.
"I need to see my father first."
"Huángdì Hòu is in the gardens," Hépíng replied with a soft smile.
Without hesitation, Bǎihé rushed out. She knew exactly where to find him.
⸻
The lily garden. One of the four great gardens. Under the morning light, the garden glowed—lilies drifting on still water, a cool breeze stirring their fragrance. At its heart stood a great shaded pavilion, and beneath it, the figure of the man she cherished most.
"Father." Bǎihé's voice trembled with relief as she bowed.
"Ah, Bǎihé." Huángdì Hòu smiled warmly. "I thought you were Bǎo. She was meant to be here by now."
Bǎihé nodded. She knew well the bond between her youngest sister and their father. But she too shared a closeness with him, for he was more than ruler—he was the warrior of peace who had united cities and clans, adored for his kindness and strength.
"Come, sit with me," he urged.
She obeyed, watching as he calmly signed scrolls—documents approving the reconstruction of the western bridge, a passage vital for merchants and travelers.
"Do you wish to talk about something?" he asked without looking up.
"Not really... I'm just happy to see you well."
He chuckled, thumping his chest.
"Strong as ten men."
Bǎihé laughed softly.
"I must go now. I am going horse riding through the city with Wángzǐ Feng."
"Good," he said, eyes twinkling. "It warms me to see young love flourish."
"Father!" She blushed, bowing her head. "It isn't like that..."
His smile faded slightly.
"I still do not trust him."
Bǎihé frowned.
"Why not?"
"Because I have seen you love before. And I do not wish to see you hurt."
The words stung.
"That was a long time ago," she whispered.
Huángdì Hòu's gaze softened with sorrow.
"Forgive me for failing to find him... He was like a son to me."
"Father..."
He raised a hand.
"Go now, child. Your birthday is less than one week away. Do you realize that?"
Bǎihé blinked, startled.
"It always slips my mind."
"Nineteen years. Do you want anything?"
"Anything you give me will be enough," she said, bowing with a smile.
"Then hurry. You'll be late for your ride."
"Thank you, Father!" she chirped, skipping off like a child.
Huángdì Hòu watched her go, his lips curved in a grateful yet distant smile—like a man who cherished the present, even while trouble loomed ever nearer.