The Economist at the Qing Imperial Court

Tanya suddenly awoke from a dream, her heart pounding. She looked around, finding herself in a completely unfamiliar environment—no longer the modern apartment at Princeton University, but a lavishly decorated, ancient room. The room was dimly lit, with intricately carved wooden panels on the walls, filled with various porcelain pieces, and a plaque with four Chinese characters hanging on it. Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling, and the air was filled with a scent reminiscent of an Eastern temple. Groggily, Tanya sat up, trying to piece together the scene before her. She remembered that yesterday, as a newly promoted intern, she had wandered into a room in the company that stored Eastern antiques, captivated by a painting signed by Giuseppe Castiglione. Now, she inexplicably found herself waking up in a room that seemed to belong to another era. The furnishings and decorations reminded her of the rooms she had seen at the Forbidden City in Beijing. Had she somehow ended up in the company's antique storage room? She looked down and noticed that her clothes were strange too—not her usual T-shirt and jeans, but a long-sleeved silk outfit, intricately embroidered at the collar and cuffs with floral patterns. Her hair had grown longer and had odd bangs. But she couldn't worry about this bizarre retro look now. She immediately got up, determined to leave this potentially priceless room. If she accidentally damaged this ancient wooden bed, she might owe a lifetime of compensation. She wasn't interested in these antiques; she just wanted to return to her office cubicle, back to reality. She expected to see the clean tiles and glass hallways of the company when she opened the intricately carved redwood door. However, she was stunned to find another dim corridor outside, with redwood railings and hanging Chinese lanterns. Had the company preserved an entire Chinese antique courtyard? She cautiously walked towards the brighter area, hoping to leave quickly. Suddenly, she heard a voice in archaic Chinese: "Gege, you're awake." "What? Gege?" The term sounded familiar. Was someone talking to her? Tanya was a third-generation Chinese American. Although her grandparents had emigrated from Beijing to the United States, she was almost entirely American except for her quarter Chinese heritage. Fortunately, family gatherings were always conducted in Chinese, and her parents had deliberately raised her bilingually, so her Chinese was quite fluent. The phrase seemed to be asking if she was awake. But Gege, which means princess in Chinese. She turned around and saw a delicate Chinese girl, dressed in an old-fashioned blue outfit and cloth shoes, with two little hair buns on either side of her head. Tanya was stunned and didn't know what to say. Tanya stared at the girl, feeling a mix of confusion and unease. Taking a deep breath, she decided to respond tentatively. "Are you... talking to me?" she asked in slightly hesitant Chinese. The girl gave a sweet smile and nodded. "Yes, Gege, you fainted last night. Are you feeling better now?"