[🎐] a thousand ceaseless dreams

i. heiyaoshi

The breeze nipped at Heiyaoshi's fingertips and he shivered and clutched his arms, knelt down beside the small koi pond in the palace's garden. The small waterfall on the opposite side of him trickled quietly as he stared blankly at the fish swimming in mindless circles—it's not like they had anything to swim for, anyways. Large lily pads grouped up in the corner of the pond and smaller ones were scattered around the pond, some drifting towards the waterfall and jumping away as the water cascaded on them. A few small lotuses dotted the edges of the little waves, and between them Heiyaoshi could catch the faint glimpse of the newborn moon and its stars.

All was silent. Even the wind whistled quietly and the leaves brushed against each other almost soundlessly, as if they were afraid to break the tranquility as they gently caressed Heiyaoshi's ears. No voices could be heard, not even a songbird, as the whole world seemed to slumber.

Except for the prince. He was seated on his knees, not even in his sleeping gown despite it being hours since sunset.

He rarely ever participated in the evening dinners because the maids, butlers, guards, cooks, and everyone who worked in the palace attended, and although it was Heiyaoshi's idea to invite them to dinner every day to show his gratitude, being bombarded by questions and gratitude was overwhelming. He'd usually pretend to be eating and couldn't talk with his mouth full so they wouldn't bother him.

A small walk outside was all he wanted to unwind, but he found himself pondering beside the koi fish for a little too long. He'd brought his pet rabbit, Yùtù, along, and had her curled up on his lap as he stroked her gently to keep her warm. Her white fur seemed to glisten in the moonlight, and if he looked hard enough, they had a pale green tint, like the color of the jade bracelet around his wrist, hence the name.

As a prince, one could assume Heiyaoshi had many duties; governing the kingdom, addressing his peoples' needs, etc. But his father took the responsibility of doing everything his son was supposed to do so Heiyaoshi could relax and enjoy life as a child, much to his opposition. He still tried to help anyway. After all, his father was growing old and would soon need help remembering his own name, so Heiyaoshi needed to learn quickly how to rule an entire kingdom.

Heiyaoshi was sent out of his reverie when Yùtù hopped up from under his hand and faced the palace, crouching down close to the floor. She squeaked and looked back up at Heiyaoshi, and then tilted her head, as if beckoning him to go back inside. Heiyaoshi sighed and picked her up again. "Are you cold, Yùtù?" he whispered.

Yùtù shook her head but curled up into a ball close to Heiyaoshi's chest, still facing the palace. He continued to pet her as he stood up and strolled towards the back door, stopping suddenly when he heard a faint twang of string and then a distant thump.

Heiyaoshi turned his head to his left, towards the direction of the sound, where he was met with a stone wall. He gently lowered Yùtù in front of the back door and slid it open just enough for her to squeeze inside. "Don't forget to close the door when you walk in, okay? And wipe your paws, the cleaning staff has already done their nightly duties. We don't want them to have to clean up after us again," Heiyaoshi whispered. He gave her one last pat as she squeaked in approval and watched Heiyaoshi walk away.

Heiyaoshi stepped back on the stone path towards the wall, which was cut off to allow entrance to a small bridge built over the river surrounding the palace. Right on the other side was a military base, where the general himself trained only the best soldiers to guard the palace.

Heiyaoshi strolled through the bridge, stopping to gaze at a flower drifting along the current for a few seconds before continuing on his path. The stone path spread out to circle around the training grounds, which Heiyaoshi followed, to the front of the base where an arch had been carved into the wall to allow entrance. Unlike the rest of the palace, the roof tiles of the base were red, the color of luck, the sun, blood, and fire, perfectly fitting for the emperor's army.

Heiyaoshi poked his head shyly from behind the wall. His heart skipped a beat and he slapped his hand over it, praying that no one heard.

The general, who had his back to him, didn't seem to notice. He was holding up a bow and arrow, the string pulled towards his cheek. He stood still for a few seconds before releasing. Heiyaoshi blinked, and the arrow was gone, pinned right in the center of the target, still slightly shivering from the impact. His heart raced again—the way the veins on the general's hands tensed when he opened and closed his fists, his tall, broad stature, the way he shot so effortlessly. . .

I'm being ridiculous. Heiyaoshi padded silently up behind the general, clapping his hands together the polite, ladylike way his mother taught him. "You're very skilled, General Nguyen," Heiyaoshi whispered shyly.

Nguyen turned around, eyes widening slightly as he spotted Heiyaoshi. He quickly stopped to face him completely and bowed. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said, smiling. Heiyaoshi's heart seemed to leap to his throat. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I-I didn't either," Heiyaoshi responded, returning Nguyen's smile and bow, but a little more awkwardly. "Apologies if I interrupted you."

"Not at all, Your Highness," Nguyen assured with another smile. "I needed a break, actually." He glanced back at the target, where ten or more arrows were packed tightly around the center, a few in the very middle frayed where more arrows had hit them right dead center. He turned around to put his bow down.

Heiyaoshi paused, wringing his hands together nervously. He couldn't pull himself to make eye contact with Nguyen, despite the fact that they knew each other, probably longer than most others who worked in the imperial palace.

Nguyen didn't have any royal blood. He grew up working for his family's seafood restaurant, and when he was sixteen, he ran away and joined the army. Heiyaoshi was required to attend the cadets' graduations as the prince, and after Nguyen's, Heiyaoshi retreated to a secluded corner of the courtyard, where Nguyen found him and gently took his hand and bent down to give it a kiss.

For one thing, only ladies' hands got kissed. Another, royal hands were far cleaner than common hands—at least, that's what Heiyaoshi's maids insisted—and another, Heiyaoshi couldn't imagine why a commoner would be brave enough to walk up to him and give his hand a kiss. Heiyaoshi wasn't anything special, but everyone thought he was, and if he were a peasant, he'd definitely never step even within a hundred feet of the imperial palace.

That was the thing. Nguyen was so bold and brave and carefree, despite being so poor and in a toxic family environment. But somehow, he seemed more than content. If anything, Heiyaoshi thought he was way more fitting the role of a king than Heiyaoshi.

"Aren't you tired?" Heiyaoshi asked quietly. "Training all day must be exhausting."

"I am, yeah, but I don't feel like sleeping," Nguyen responded. Again; everyone seemed to switch up when Heiyaoshi or his father was around, becoming ten times more polite, but Nguyen—he didn't hide anything. There wasn't anything bad about him Heiyaoshi could imagine him hiding, anyways. "What about you, Your Highness?"

"I was just about to head off to bed," Heiyaoshi said. "Um. . . if there's anything the army needs, please don't be afraid to come to me. I'd be more than delighted to help, General Nguyen."

Nguyen smiled again, clapped his hands together, and bowed. "Thank you, Your Highness. You're too kind." He stood up straight again. "And you don't have to call me General Nguyen. I hate that name, actually."

Heiyaoshi hesitated. "Oh? S-So how else shall I address you?"

Nguyen smiled again—but this time, a little more softer. Sincere. "Cornelius. Call me Cornelius."

"Oh. . ." Heiyaoshi smiled back. "Okay, Cornelius."

Cornelius smiled and chuckled. Butterflies leaped into Heiyaoshi's throat. "I haven't heard anyone call me that in a while."