Host! I told you to do a task! I didn't tell you to bbb.

Liu Yunshu was awakened by footsteps outside the woodshed.

When she opened her eyes, it was still dark. The cold wind, carrying snowflakes, rustled against the tattered window paper.

The burning pain from the whip marks on my back was suppressed by the warming pills, but a dull, heavy soreness still lingered.

She slowly sat up, curled up, and as her fingertips touched the coarse cloth clothes in the haystack, Xiao Ba's excited voice rang in her mind:

"Your Majesty! Han Fei is awake! He's been frowning ever since he woke up, and he even had the eunuchs prepare water!"

Liu Yunshu chuckled softly, her voice hoarse as if chilled to the bone, yet carrying a captivating lilt.

She slowly put on the blood-stained palace dress, the rough fabric rubbing against the wounds on her back, causing a sharp, stinging pain.

She didn't even twitch her eyebrows; instead, she straightened her disheveled clothes in the air.

"What's the rush?"

She tapped her knee lightly with her fingertips, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Dreams are only interesting when they are gradually revealed."

"By the way, what's the current state of Han Fei's harem?"

"My lord, Han Fei's harem is practically empty, almost no one's there!"

Liu Yunshu exclaimed in surprise, "So empty? That's strange. An emperor who rules the world, yet his surroundings are so peaceful."

"I heard he's cold-hearted and doesn't get close to women. But quite a few beauties have been sent to the palace over the years."

"But he didn't even bother to glance at them, and eventually sent them away."

Xiao Ba's voice was filled with a hint of excitement.

"This is great news! Without all those women getting in the way, things will be much more convenient."

As the two were talking, the door to the woodshed was kicked open.

A cold wind, carrying snowflakes, blew in, making the stray hairs on her forehead fly wildly.

Granny Zhang's mean face appeared at the door, her whip cracking loudly, spittle almost splashing onto her face.

"You lowly servant! What are you standing there for! The nobleman's clothes aren't even finished washing yet! Do you want to die?!"

There were hardly any proper masters in the palace. The so-called "noble clothes" were mostly just the clothes of favored palace maids and nannies.

It's just that everyone wants to kick her while she's down, seeing her, the former daughter of a marquis, lose power, and find some twisted pleasure in bullying her.

"This servant will go right away."

Liu Yunshu lowered her head, her voice extremely soft, trembling slightly as if chilled by the cold wind. She sounded fragile and obedient, without a trace of anything unusual.

Granny Zhang, however, was not having any of it. She lashed the straw at Granny Zhang's feet with the tip of her whip, sending up a shower of crumbs.

"What are you dawdling for! If you dare to slack off again, I'll skin you alive!"

Liu Yunshu slowly got up, her tattered palace clothes rubbing against the wounds on her back, causing her fingertips to curl in pain, but her face showed no sign of it.

With her eyes lowered, she stepped through the snow and slowly made her way outside.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Since that first dream, Han Fei had not set foot in that sea of ​​roses for several days.

He should have breathed a sigh of relief and attributed that overly vivid dream to mental confusion caused by government fatigue.

But the inexplicable irritability followed him like a shadow, not only not diminishing, but growing quietly like weeds in the corners he deliberately ignored.

He rubbed his throbbing temples, closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself.

However, that exuberant bloom of the rose of Sharon, that dazzling crimson.

And her eyes, curving like crescent moons when she smiles, and her dimples, filled with moonlight and the fragrance of flowers…

All the details, instead of becoming blurred, became even clearer, so sweet that they made one's heart tremble, and so itchy that one could not scratch them.

"Snapped!"

He suddenly opened his eyes, a hint of fierceness that he himself did not realize flashed in them, and he slammed the vermilion pen in his hand onto the imperial desk!

The memorials were scattered, ink splashed, and glaring stains spread across the bright yellow dragon-patterned carpet.

"Your Majesty?!" The chief eunuch Li De, who was waiting nearby, was so frightened that he fell to the ground and dared not raise his head.

"Get out."

Han Fei's voice was as cold as if it had been quenched with ice, and his fingertips turned white from the force he exerted, his knuckles protruding.

Li De dared not breathe, touched his forehead to the ground, and crawled backwards out with trepidation.

The palace doors closed silently, completely shutting out the outside light and human voices, leaving only a suffocating silence in the room.

Han Fei leaned back against the cold back of the dragon throne, raising his hand to press heavily on his throbbing temples.

For the past twenty-five years, his life has been like a precisely operating instrument, calm, restrained, and meticulously planned.

When have I ever felt so uneasy, or even so angry at things?

However, a mere dream has captivated him to this extent, causing him to frequently lose focus while reviewing memorials.

He even began to suspect that it might be a carefully designed trap, using unknown secret techniques or drugs.

He searched through all the people in and out of the palace, both openly and secretly, but found no trace of them.

That dream was so pure, it seemed like it was just a dream.

Just as he was beginning to forget that dream.

The cold night wind, carrying a faint, exotic fragrance, silently seeped through the cracks in the windows of the Qianqing Palace.

The roses still bloom recklessly, like snow and mist.

This time, he didn't stay in the same place.

His gaze locked onto the graceful figure on the swing, and he strode over to her.

She swayed gently on the swing, seemingly completely immersed in her own pleasure, her fair and slender ankles swaying slightly with each rise and fall.

Her ankle bones were so exquisitely crafted they resembled jade, with a few pink and white petals casually adorning them, gleaming with a delicate, luminous sheen in the hazy moonlight.

So undefended?

Han Fei frowned almost imperceptibly and stopped a few steps in front of her.

Who are you?

Seemingly having heard the noise, Liu Yunshu turned her head, tilting it to the side, her round almond-shaped eyes filled with pure confusion.

"This is my dream, how did you get in?"

Her voice was soft and clear, with a dreamlike quality, yet every word struck his eardrums with clarity.

Han Fei came to a complete stop.

A dark robe brushed against the drooping branches of the rose, startling down a flurry of fragrant snowflakes.

He lowered his gaze to her, the aloofness in his phoenix eyes replaced by a deep inquiry, and his thin lips parted slightly: "Why is this place your dream?"

Liu Yunshu swung gently on the swing, her water-red skirt fluttering, her fair ankles appearing and disappearing, petals falling from the water.

"Because I swing here. I watched the flowers bloom, I summoned the wind to play with, and nature is my dream."

As she spoke, she reached out and plucked a petal from her shoulder, her fingertips delicately tracing the petal's veins.

When she looked up at him, the natural curve of her eyes inadvertently revealed a hint of allure.

"But you, so beautiful...where did you come from, a celestial being?"

Han Fei's Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.

He lived for twenty-five years and heard enough flattery to fill the entire Qianqing Palace.

But no one had ever used such a gentle tone, with a touch of innocent curiosity, to compare him to a god.

He walked slowly closer, stopped beside the swing, and his gaze fell on her swaying ankles.

The skin there was dazzlingly white, and the pink petals clinging to it looked like rouge fallen on the snow.

He reached out, his fingertips almost touching that shimmering white.

But just as they were about to collide, he pulled back and instead picked up a petal of the rose that had fallen onto the swing.

His voice softened slightly, a tone he himself didn't even realize: "I...I am not a god."

"Then who are you?"

Liu Yunshu tilted her head back, her full lips slightly pouting, asking with a touch of coquettishness.

Han Fei lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on her rosy lips, which were like ripe cherries, glistening with an alluring sheen.

His fingertips tightened slightly, the petal he was holding was crumpled and deformed, and his voice was low, as if he were murmuring:

"I am... someone who is just passing by."

"Just passing by?" Liu Yunshu blinked.

Suddenly, a trace of loneliness flashed across her eyes, and the light faded so quickly it was heartbreaking.

"I...I think I'm waking up...Pretty passerby, next time...next time if you come again, could you...bring me a piece of osmanthus cake?"

That sense of loneliness, like a fine needle, pierced Han Fei's heart unexpectedly.

A strange, subtle itch spread, even making the fingertips feel slightly hot.

Before he could even speak, the sea of ​​roses before him began to distort, and the wind swirled the petals as they fell in a flurry, like a grand farewell.

Liu Yunshu's figure gradually became transparent, her almond-shaped eyes brimming with moisture gazing at him, her voice as soft as a wisp of smoke:

"I really have to go now... Osmanthus cake, remember me."

As soon as she finished speaking, her figure vanished completely into the wind.

Han Fei suddenly opened his eyes, his chest heaving violently.

"Osmanthus cake..."

He repeated those three words in a low voice, his fingertips gently caressing the brocade quilt, his phoenix eyes swirling with an unfathomable light.

"Li De," he suddenly called out.

Immediately from outside the hall came Li De's respectful and cautious reply: "This servant is here."

"What time is it now?"

"Your Majesty, it is already 3:45 AM."

"The third quarter of the hour of Yin?" Han Fei's eyes narrowed.

Why did she wake up so early?

"Prepare breakfast."

He spoke, his voice still low and hoarse from just waking up.

"Add a dish of osmanthus cake."

Li De was taken aback for a moment, then quickly bowed and replied, "This servant will go and instruct the Imperial Kitchen immediately."

Your Majesty has never been fond of sweets, and has always only tasted a few of the palace pastries. Why the sudden craving for osmanthus cake?

Li De muttered to himself, but dared not ask any more questions, and hurriedly retreated.

Han Fei was left alone in the bedchamber.

He gazed out the dark window, the image of that crimson figure from his dream replaying in his mind.

And then there's her soft, sweet voice saying, "Osmanthus cake, remember?"

Why is she up so early?

Could it be that... he, like the countless palace servants, has to get up before dawn to perform his duties?

The thought had barely crossed his mind when Han Fei suppressed it.

Will not.

In her dream, her eyes were filled with the moonlight of the mountains and fields.

When she smiles, her dimples are shallow, and she is charming and lively. She doesn't look like a palace maid who has been tortured.

But that lingering doubt, like a fine thorn, gently pierced my heart, refusing to dissipate.