Yixing was absolutely exhausted when Yeonhee went to see him in hospital the next day.  She ended up not staying very long as a result, because the nurses said he needed his sleep, and popped next door to see how Minseok was doing once Yixing had drifted off again.

Minseok was still on strong painkillers, but the dosage had been reduced and he was able to sit up in bed and hold much more coherent conversations.  His wife was busy trying to stop their baby daughter from clambering all over him.  For a moment, Yeonhee looked around for Jongin, but then she remembered that he and the rest of the Rolls had a small performance that evening and they’d gone to do sound checks.

It appeared that Minseok was still trying to keep up to speed with everything going on in the world, because he’d seen reports of Yeonhee at the ball the day before and various reactions from the media to her.  Yeonhee hadn’t dared go near any media outlets after the aftermath of the press conference, and so she was pleasantly surprised when Minseok told her that she had made a largely favourable impression the previous day.  There were one or two people apparently trying to tie her to Wenhan, but she’d danced with a lot of people and most of the journalists were reporting that she was mixing well in spite of her status and seemed to be capable of charming all sorts of people – something, one reporter had said, that was a necessary trait for a princess to have.   It was a bit of a shock to realise that there were some members of the public who were quite seriously contemplating the prospect of her being the next princess of Taderra, and not just that, but that they appeared to approve.

Some outlets had commented on her clothes, as she had been warned, but a fair number – perhaps influenced by the general goodwill that was suddenly being lavished on her – seemed to approve of the fact that she hadn’t been wearing a ball gown from a famous, expensive brand.

“You’re doing pretty well,” Minseok told her.  “It’s not easy being in the limelight.”

By the end of Monday, Yeonhee couldn’t think of any excuses to justify spending a lot of time not revising, and so she cranked out the books and study material and reluctantly made herself go to all her revision lectures.  There was one last assignment to turn in at the end of that week, but after that the only thing to worry about was her final exams.

Yixing was disappointed when she told him that evening over the phone that she couldn’t afford the time out that it took to go to the hospital to visit him during the weekdays, but he bore it patiently enough.

“If I’m organised, I think I’ll be able to come this weekend,” she told him, looking at the (rather optimistic) revision timetable that she’d drawn up for herself and stuck up on the wall over Juan.

“Is seeing me not enough of an incentive to get yourself organised?” Yixing demanded in mock offence.

“Yixing, these are my finals and they’re important to my future.  If I don’t get done what I need to get done—”

“I know, I know,” he cut her off at once.  “But it’s important to have breaks too.  Otherwise you oversaturate your brain and it’s unable to take everything in, and you also end up more and more stressed.”

“I know breaks are important,” said Yeonhee with frustration, staring at the few rectangles of green she’d drawn in denoting where those breaks were on the plan.  “It’s just, I can’t afford to have them several hours long at a time.”

Yixing gave an unhappy sigh.  There was silence for a long moment.

“This ,” he said eventually.

Yeonhee had to agree that it really did.  There was another long pause.

“The doctors told Mum they’re hopeful they can discharge me next week,” he said, “but why do I have a nasty feeling you’re going to put a moratorium on dates?”

Yeonhee felt wretched.  “I really don’t have the time.”

“Can we agree on something?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“You’re not working the whole hog on Saturdays and Sundays, are you?”

“No,” said Yeonhee, “but my first exam is on a Monday morning so I’ll want to revise the day before.”

“Okay,” said Yixing.  “Do you think you can spare me, say, two-and-a-half hours on Saturday mornings?  Or afternoons?  I’ve got quite a lot of free time on my hands, so I can organise everything, come pick you up, whatever saves you time.  We could even just stay on campus if it makes life easier for you.  I don’t want to just not see you for five weeks because of your exams.”

Yeonhee surveyed the plan again.  She knew it was overly ambitious, but she also knew she’d get worked up if she felt like the time she did have available wasn’t set aside for working, even if she knew she wouldn’t work for all of it because it was impractical.  Sehun was probably going to rip it up and write her a new one when he saw it, especially if he saw that she hadn’t even given herself a free half day for the full three weeks, other than the following Saturday.

Steeling herself, she crossed out half of the afternoon on the upcoming two Saturdays after that.

“The next three, yeah,” she said.  “I don’t know about the fourth one, though.”

“Then I’ll see you Saturday.”  He yawned.  “What time is it?”

“Half eleven.”  Yeonhee grimaced.  “D*mn.  I was hoping to finish going through the changes to the parliamentary system tonight.”

“Go to bed,” Yixing told her around another yawn.  “You’re not going to be able to concentrate.”

“I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t do it.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.  Your wellbeing can’t.”

“It’ll mess up my revision timetable.”

“Yeonhee,” he said with fond exasperation.

Yeonhee knew he was right, but it didn’t stop her from feeling anxious and terribly guilty.  She decided to change the subject onto something else that had been bugging her before the prince could say anything more.

“Yixing,” she said, picking a dead leaf off Juan, “do I dress too shabbily for your status?”  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Xiaodan and Mei had got to her  and it had been preying on her mind ever since the ball.

He hesitated, and her heart sank.

“I do, don’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.  “You’d do better asking my mum.  You never dress too shabbily for me, but status perception is how the country views it, and unfortunately I have no control over that.”

Yeonhee chewed her lip.

“From what I’ve seen in the media, people didn’t appear to be concerned,” he added.  “They actually seemed quite positive about the way you dress.”

“Yixing, that could turn as soon as they decide they don’t like me,” Yeonhee said.  “For whatever reason, the press liked me on Saturday, so they weren’t looking for reasons to attack me.  If they want to attack me, especially if they can’t find anything in terms of my comments or actions to comment on, they’ll come after what I’m wearing.  It happens to female politicians all the time.”

“Honestly, ask M