It felt like going back to the past.

The moment the fingertips slipped through Consort Rong's transparent sleeve, the entire Cold Palace suddenly shook—the small peach tree in the corner of the courtyard vanished into thin air, and Consort Su's medicine shelf appeared in its place. The herbs on the shelf were sprouting, blooming, and withering at a speed visible to the naked eye, in a continuous cycle; the osmanthus cake in Consort Xian's hand suddenly turned into an embroidery needle, but she was completely unaware and continued to mechanically put it to her mouth until Consort Rong reached out to stop her. Only then did she blankly put the embroidery needle back on the table, and instead picked up the grass rabbit that Ya Huan had woven halfway, and continued to "gnaw" on it.

"Your Highness, that's a grass rabbit!" I rushed over, trying to take the grass rabbit from her hands, but the moment my hand touched the woven grass, the rabbit suddenly came to life, hopping and leaping into Consort Rong's embroidery basket. Consort Rong's embroidered handkerchief, which should have featured forsythia, now automatically embroidered a small peach tree. The stitches were crooked and uneven, but the instant the grass rabbit burrowed in, they transformed it into the pattern on the handkerchief, remaining perfectly still.

Ya Huan's counting suddenly changed tone, from "one, two, three" to "peach blossoms bloom, winter plum blossoms fall." She squatted on the ground, and the strip of cloth in her hand had somehow turned into a forsythia flower, which she was wrapping around the bandage on my arm—even though the wound didn't hurt anymore, the bandage kept getting thicker and thicker, until it finally wrapped my arm into a round shape. She even laughed and said, "This way the wound won't hurt anymore, that's what the director said!"

Su Fei's figure darted between the medicine shelf and the kitchen. One second she was pounding herbs in a stone mortar, the next she had a steamer in her hand, muttering, "Osmanthus cake needs to be steamed for half an hour." But what wafted from the steamer wasn't a sweet aroma, but the bitter smell of herbs. She didn't even realize it herself, and carried the steamer to me, lifting the lid: "Ah Zhao, try the newly made 'herbal cake,' it's good for your health!"

Looking at the green, bitter-smelling "pastries" in the steamer, I was both amused and exasperated, but I still reached out and took a piece—surprisingly, it was sweet, with a faint osmanthus flavor, exactly like the osmanthus cakes Su Fei usually made. "Delicious!" I said sincerely. Su Fei's eyes brightened, though still somewhat vacant, revealing her usual smile: "If you like it, eat more. I'll go steam another batch." With that, she turned and walked towards the kitchen, but her figure transformed halfway there into the image of Aunt Su from my childhood, wearing a floral apron, the steamer in her hand becoming a toaster, and humming a children's song.

The Consort Xian finally put down the grass rabbit, but picked up Consort Rong's embroidered handkerchief, examined it against the sunlight for a long time, and slowly said, "The rabbit on this handkerchief isn't as finely embroidered as Consort Rong's." Consort Rong, sitting to the side, nodded upon hearing this, her fingertips unconsciously twitching. The rabbit on the handkerchief did indeed become more detailed, even the texture of its fur became much clearer. Watching this absurd yet heartwarming scene, I suddenly felt my eyes welling up—even though the dream had collapsed, they were still maintaining their daily lives in the Cold Palace in their own way.

The Empress suddenly walked in from the courtyard gate. Her palace dress was half bright yellow and half light blue, and the hairpins in her hair kept changing styles, but she didn't care at all. She walked straight to me and handed me a brocade box: "I heard that you injured your arm. This is the best wound medicine in the palace. It is more effective than the herbal medicine of Consort Su."

I opened the brocade box, and the wound medicine inside suddenly transformed into several pieces of osmanthus cake. The Empress paused, then closed the box again. When she opened it again, it had transformed back into a jade pendant—the very one she had given me before. "Strange, why does it keep changing?" She frowned, but still handed me the jade pendant. "Take it; it'll be a keepsake." As she spoke, her figure flickered, transforming into Aunt Sun from my childhood. The brocade box in her hand turned into a cloth bag containing a few fruit candies: "Ah Zhao, this is for you. Don't tell your mother."

Ya Huan suddenly ran over and grabbed the Empress's hand: "Your Majesty, please help us weave straw rabbits! Sister A Zhao's arm is wrapped up too thickly, so she can't weave." The Empress was taken aback, but actually squatted down, and a few blades of grass appeared in her hands at some point. She clumsily began to weave a straw rabbit—her fingers were very skillful, and the rabbit she wove was even more exquisite than Ya Huan's. But as she wove, the blades of grass turned into embroidery thread, and the rabbit turned into a forsythia flower, which landed on my bandage.

The Empress Dowager sat on the veranda, looking at us, and suddenly spoke up: "It's time for dinner. Consort Su, go and cook some porridge." Consort Su emerged from the kitchen, carrying a huge bowl. Half of the porridge in the bowl was millet porridge, and the other half was herbal soup. But she still smiled and brought it over: "Everyone, eat quickly, it won't taste good if it gets cold."

We sat around the stone table, eating porridge that tasted sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, watching each other's appearances constantly change—Consort Rong's dress turned pink one moment, then blue the next; Ya Huan's pigtails became ponytails, then quickly returned to normal; the Empress's hairpins kept changing, yet she still clumsily helped me adjust my bandages. The beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor still echoed in my ears, but at this moment, it was no longer a symbol of a nightmare, but rather like background music, accompanying us through this absurd yet warm night.

The moonlight spilled into the courtyard, and the scenery there kept changing—the medicine shelf became a peach tree, the peach tree became a pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument), and the pipa became a stone table, yet we remained seated together, chatting, laughing, and joking, as if nothing had happened. Looking at their blurry yet translucent faces, I suddenly felt a deep peace.

Even if the dream has collapsed, even if our appearances and the things around us keep changing, as long as I can be with them, cherishing this warm everyday life, even if I'm trapped in the dream forever, I'm willing. I reached out and held Rongfei and Yahuan's hands. Their hands were still a little cold, but much warmer than before—perhaps, as long as I don't give up, this beauty can continue forever.

"Shall we pick forsythia together tomorrow?" I said softly, my voice filled with anticipation.

Consort Rong nodded, Consort Su smiled and said, "Okay," the Empress also nodded, and Consort Xian said slowly, "Don't forget to brew some ginger tea, it'll be cool in the morning."