“Coco… Coco… time to get up.” Her voice drifted in like a silver bell on a soft breeze.

Drowsiness pressed like fog, and Tang Coco felt someone calling, so she blinked her eyes open like petals.

“Coco—it's almost evening.” The words fell like a dusky curtain drawing low over the sky.

As her sight cleared, she saw Ye Yiyi with her hair coiled like a dark cloud, two pins perched like twin phoenixes.

She wore a red Tang-style hanfu, court-stately, a broad silk sash flowing like a river, the hem stopping above her knees like a shy wave.

“Yiyi… what’s this…” Coco rubbed her eyes like a sleepy kitten, her voice still warm as embers.

“Sleep scrambled your brain, huh? You forgot to call me jie.” Ye Yiyi flicked her forehead like a pebble skipping water.

“…” Coco rubbed the spot like a puzzled cub, eyes round as moons.

“You forgot? Today we’re all wearing ancient clothes.” Her reminder rose like a banner in the wind.

“Oh… right…” The sleep-fog burned off like mist in morning sun.

“Ah, what time is it?” Panic pricked like a thorn, then she grabbed her phone like a lifeline.

“Wow! It’s five already!” The shout broke like a startled bird as the sun slid west.

“We called around two, but you didn’t pick up—our calls sank like stones in a well.” Ye Yiyi’s tone wrapped around her like a warm shawl.

“In the end we borrowed the room card from the hotel and came in.” Her smile sat gentle as candlelight in quiet rain.

“We saw you sleeping like a log, so we didn’t wake you.” Her words settled like snow on a branch.

“Oh… so that’s what happened…” Time felt swallowed like a whale gulping a wave.

“How do you feel? Still tired?” Concern hovered like a hand steadying a lantern.

“Mm, I’m fine now.” Relief loosened like a knot easing in warm water.

“Good. We picked a hanfu for you; I’ll help you change.” She pointed to a stack of red cloth like a folded sunset.

“Oh, I can do it myself.” Coco rose from the bed like a bamboo shoot after rain.

“Hehe, better let me. You won’t know how to wear this.” Her laugh tinkled like wind through chimes.

“Huh?” Coco lifted the layers like a puzzled bird pecking at a map, and came up empty.

“Uh… what is this… a big piece of cloth?” She puffed her cheeks like a steamed bun, aggrieved.

“Giggle, I knew it—silly Coco wouldn’t manage.” Ye Yiyi’s laughter bubbled like a spring.

“Mmph…” Her protest wilted like a leaf under dew.

“I’ll help you.” The offer fell soft as a feather, and she took the clothes like a careful tailor.

Two girls blushed like peach petals and changed behind the hush of closed air.

Over ten minutes later, Ye Yiyi finally tied the last ribbon, neat as a bow on new snow.

“Hey… Yiyi-jie…” Coco’s voice tiptoed out like a cautious cat.

“Mm?” Ye Yiyi glanced over like a swan dipping its beak.

“Why… is my outfit so short…” The complaint wobbled like a tightrope in wind.

“Uh…” Coco spread her arms like a scarecrow, staring at the loose dress like a shy cloud.

Only her waist was cinched by a broad sash like a coiled snake, a deep collar slipping like a lazy tide.

At the shoulders it covered just the outer edge like a leaf rim, and the hem skimmed her upper thighs like a teasing wave.

“This… was decided by Xiaoxiao and the others.” Ye Yiyi’s cheeks bloomed red like pomegranates split in sun.

“Those brats… too much. This outfit is just…” Her temper sparked like flint under dry grass.

“Nope, I’m picking another one.” She reached for the ties like a soldier grabbing reins.

“Wait! The costume area closed at four-thirty.” Ye Yiyi caught her sleeve like a kite string snagging a branch.

“…” Silence fell like a stone, then broke.

“Ah!!!” Coco’s shout flew up like a sparrow startled from reeds.

“Coco, it’s okay. I prepared something.” Ye Yiyi smiled like a crescent moon behind gauze.

“What?” Curiosity pricked like a cat’s ear flicking.

“Here.” From a small pouch, she drew black safety shorts like a discreet little shield.

“Uh… aren’t those boxer briefs?” Coco held them up like a judge with evidence.

“Pfft—no, they’re safety shorts. Wear them and no worries.” Her sigh fluttered like a fan in summer.

“This…” The last of Coco’s resistance drooped like a wilted sprout.

“Fine.” She slipped them on quick as a kingfisher, movements neat as stitches.

“Feels no different…” She spun once like a top and lifted a leg like a dancer testing balance.

“Coco, you look gorgeous in this.” Ye Yiyi clasped her hands like praying lilies.

“Uh… Yiyi-jie, I was gonna say—choosing this one was partly your doing, right?” Coco side-eyed her like a fox catching scent.

“Uh!” Ye Yiyi’s smile flushed red like dawn spilling over rooftops.

“Anyway, time’s almost up. We’ve still got lots to do—come, I’ll do your hair.” She flipped the topic like a swift turning in air.

“…” Coco’s silence drooped like a flag in windless noon.

Five-thirty. At the hotel’s front entrance, three beauties in hanfu stood like orchids by a jade gate, drawing glances like moths to flame.

Their styles matched like sisters, only colors and patterns different, petals from the same branch.

Gu Xin wore pink and white like cherry blossom and snow; Meng Yuting wore bright crimson like a lantern at festival.

Meng Xiaoxiao’s was snow-white like fresh frost, clean lines gleaming like moonlight on water.

Luckily, there weren’t many tourists; those here carried status like quiet armor and kept their manners like sheathed swords.

“Coco-jie’s so slow—I’m starving.” Meng Xiaoxiao puffed her cheeks like a drum, stomach grumbling like thunder far off.

“Hehe, she’s probably still tangled over that dress.” Meng Yuting’s smile curved like a willow branch.

“Heh-heh, true. In that dress, Coco-jie will pull eyes like magnets.” Meng Xiaoxiao’s expectation glowed like a firefly.

“Look—they’re here.” Gu Xin pointed with her gaze like a fan opening toward the elevator.

Ye Yiyi and Tang Coco stepped out as the doors parted like bronze petals, light catching them like dawn on lacquer.

Ye Yiyi’s beauty needed no saying—same league as theirs—her grace and gentleness flowed like tea in a porcelain cup.

But the trio’s eyes hooked on Coco beside her, cheeks puffed like a pouty koi.

She wore loose red hanfu, a silk sash shaping her waist like a drawn bow, lines soft as drifting mist.

The wide collar and hem looked ready to loosen with a tug like a breeze undoing a knot, daring as a kite tugging its string.

On her feet were thick-soled heels like steady platforms, not stilettos—she couldn’t dance on needles in a storm.

“Coco-jie!!!” Meng Xiaoxiao shot forward like an arrow loosed, joy streaking like a comet.