Darkness. Then a throbbing pain blooms in her skull.

"Urghh... What's this pounding headache when I don’t even drink?"

She groans, squinting as she tries to open her eyes.

Blurry wooden ceiling. Heavy silk bedding. Huh? Not her IKEA sheets for sure.

"Mm? Where... am I?"

She sits up—very slowly—and takes in her surroundings.

"Didn't i get hit by a truck? Shouldn’t I be in a hospital??"

She looks around. Carved wooden screens, embroidered drapes, no wires, no monitors.

"...This definitely isn't a hospital room... or is it some historical architectured hospital?"

She gets up, feet hitting the wooden floor. The headache still throbs, she hears a knock.

"Prolly the nurse, I guess..."

She opens the door.

Standing there is a young woman in full hanfu, holding a porcelain bowl with steam rising from it.

"Your Highness, I brought some ginseng soup for your headache." she says with a serene bow.

Don't tell me this is a historical-themed love hotel... And I drank so much yesterday that I imagined the truck??

She steps inside, places the bowl on the table, then bows again and starts leaving.

"Uhh thanks?"

The woman looks abit weirded out an leaves immediately after bowing. huh? something feels off. The words that just came out of his mouth—were fluent Mandarin. And definetely not from Google Translate.

She freezes.

"Wait... did I just speak Chinese? With a deep-ass voice??"

She turns slowly towards the mirror.

"HhhhuuHHHHH???"

A regal-looking young man with long hair tied back in a jade crown stares back at him. Skin flawless. Robes embroidered. CHEEKBONES.

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?? WAIT— WHYS HE MOVING LIKE HOW I AM MOVING??? WHAT!"