Prince Yifan

I.

"Make your own breakfast," said John sternly. Yifan, snug in her bed with a Chinese romantic drama on her laptop, pouted and then yawned.

"I'm tired," she complained. "And I'm a Princess." This did not cut any ice with her step-father, who made a "tch!" sound and left her room with a parting "And get up! It's past noon."

Yifan made a face behind his back and shouted, "Go away! Nobody likes you!" Then she snuggled deeper under the duvet, made her own "tch!" sound and unpaused the video.

This is how Saturdays start in a household lucky enough to contain a Princess. It will be recognised by the guardians of Princesses and Princes all across the land.

"She was lovely when she was ten," said John to Ji Ye, who was also still in bed. "Now she's thirteen she's just a pain." He went to sit on the bed, but Ji Ye shooed him off.

"Where's my tea?" she asked. John cast his eyes to the ceiling, but there was nothing there to help him. "I'm a Princess too. I deserve a cup of tea, at least."

John sighed and set off downstairs. He had been up since eight-thirty, and had done the dishes, washed the clothes, picked up work emails and fed Bart, the cat. But he couldn't argue with his wife, and it was frustrating arguing with Yifan. Besides, they really were Princesses – they were the last direct female descendants of the first Emperor Qin Shi Huang, who had ruled China in the third century BC. Since their connection had been discovered the family had found fame and a certain amount of fortune. They now lived in a really nice house, big enough to hide quite a lot of clothes, shoes and bags (for Ji Ye and Yifan), and books and computers (for John), and with many places where Bart the cat could lurk and ambush Ji Ye, who hated him.

Bart was waiting in the kitchen beside a full bowl of food. He mewed when John approached, and John bent down to shake the bowl. Bart immediately started eating. "Stupid cat," said John, and went to fill the kettle.

How had Ji Ye and Yifan found out that they were Royal? That's a strange tale. Yifan had fallen into a sleep when she was eleven and found herself sharing the mind of her older self, who was studying at Cambridge University. Over the next year Yifan had 'gone off' many times to join Vicky, as her older self liked to be known, and had watched as Vicky and her mother got into danger when their regal history had been revealed, with assassination attempts and political pressure threatening to overwhelm them.

Vicky had told Yifan that it all started when she had discovered an ancient pot in the attic of her grandparents' house in Cardiff. Yifan then found the pot herself and took it to the British Museum. Armed with the knowledge of what had happened to Vicky, Yifan and her family had managed to avoid most of the perils and agreed terms with the various governments and interested parties, coming out of the situation with a pension each from the Chinese government, and lucrative offers for television appearances, product endorsements and articles in magazines and online. Ji Ye's 'Queen of China' blog was tremendously popular, and Yifan herself got fan mail from girls and proposals from boys, some of which were for marriage.

John continued to work on and off on how Yifan had found herself with Vicky. It was obvious that Vicky was not in Yifan's future, but from a different but similar Universe. It wasn't easy for him, because he didn't have the scientific training and he couldn't talk about Yifan's secret with anyone outside the family. But Vicky, before she died, had told Yifan that it was very possible that she could go off again to a different Universe, and John wanted to find some way of controlling Yifan's excursions, if they were to happen again.

The kettle boiled, and John made tea. Bart wandered out through the open back door into the garden. Upstairs Ji Ye could be heard on the phone to her friend Angela in Cardiff, and Yifan sang a Chinese song. The kitchen radio did not drown it out.