The palace awoke like a beast stretching its golden limbs.
Servants scurried through corridors lit by the soft light of dawn, their slippers whispering against marble. The scent of sandalwood clung to the air — clean, expensive, and suffocating if you breathed too deeply.
Li Mei was already awake.
Had she slept? Maybe an hour. Two, if the gods were kind.
Her eyes felt like sandpaper as she pinned her hair up for the morning shift. Her fingers trembled just enough to make the hairpin clink against porcelain, a sound that made her flinch as if she'd broken something sacred.
The palace didn't forgive noise.
Not from people like her.
"(System Notification: Stamina Low. Suggestion: Rest recommended.)"
"Wow," she muttered under her breath. "Really? You think?"
Her whisper earned a sharp glare from another maid arranging flowers nearby, but Li Mei just smiled weakly and bowed in apology. Inside, she wanted to scream.
Her legs ached. Her back felt like it had been twisted by invisible hands. But none of that mattered. The day didn't care if you were tired. The palace only cared if you were useful.
She tightened her sash, pulled her shoulders back, and joined the line of attendants heading toward the Empress's wing. Every step was measured. Every breath quiet.
She had learned that hesitation was just another way to die here.
The corridors of the inner court shimmered like a dream — gold-leafed dragons coiling across columns, white jade floors so polished they reflected her own nervous face.
And at the center of it all, behind a screen of pale silk, Empress Celestia awaited.
Li Mei had seen her only once before, from a distance — a figure draped in light, impossible to look at for long. But now, she was being led toward her.
Her hands itched. Her heartbeat turned traitor, slamming against her ribs.
"(System Warning: Heart rate elevated. Risk of error increased by 32%.)"
"Oh shut up," she thought furiously, lips tight in a polite smile. "You try meeting a goddess and see how calm you are."
When the silken curtains parted, the light changed.
It wasn't the sunlight that shifted — it was the air. Thicker. Heavier. A weight that pressed against her skin.
The Empress sat on an ivory dais, her gown flowing like water over stone. Her eyes, sharp and steady, seemed to cut through the layers of decorum and flesh to something beneath.
"Rise," Celestia said, voice low enough that Li Mei barely caught it.
She did. Slowly. Carefully. Like prey standing before a predator.
Celestia studied her for a moment that stretched far too long.
"You are the one from Lady Zhen's court," she said at last.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Li Mei answered, keeping her head bowed. "A servant only."
The Empress tilted her head slightly, and in that moment, Li Mei realized something terrifying — Celestia wasn't just looking at her. She was seeing her.
The weight of that gaze was unbearable.
"(System Alert: Mental Fortitude check initiated.)"
Li Mei swallowed hard. "Oh great. A test. Because that's exactly what I needed today."
"Your hands," Celestia said suddenly. "Raise them."
Li Mei obeyed. The faintest tremor ran through her fingers, betraying her exhaustion. The Empress's gaze softened — not kindly, but with interest, like a scholar studying an odd insect.
"You work hard," Celestia murmured. "But in this place, diligence alone will not save you."
The words landed like a quiet blade.
Li Mei's breath caught. "Yes, Your Majesty."
A faint smile ghosted across Celestia's lips, too controlled to be warmth.
"Good. Then learn quickly. Doing nothing is the fastest way to die."
And just like that, the Empress turned her gaze away — dismissing her as easily as one would exhale.
Li Mei bowed low, heart hammering against her ribs, the words echoing in her skull.
Doing nothing is the fastest way to die.
The chamber emptied slowly, attendants slipping out like shadows afraid of being noticed.
Only Li Mei remained, kneeling before the dais, her head bowed low enough that the marble's chill kissed her forehead.
She could feel the Empress's eyes on her.
Not just looking. Weighing.
For a moment, silence filled the room — not the kind born of peace, but the kind that hunted.
"Tell me," Celestia said softly, "how long have you served Lady Zhen?"
Li Mei's throat went dry. "Three weeks, Your Majesty."
Celestia's fan flicked open, the motion delicate, deliberate. "Three weeks… and already you stand before me."
Li Mei didn't know if that was accusation or amusement. Maybe both.
"(System Prompt: Recommend response: Humility + Earnestness.)"
She swallowed. "It was not by design, Your Majesty. I simply obeyed where I was told."
A soft hum. "And yet, obedience alone rarely brings one to the throne room."
The Empress's tone didn't rise. It didn't need to.
Every syllable felt like the drop of water that erodes stone.
Celestia leaned slightly forward, her gaze calm but unyielding. "Tell me, girl. When the cup was served, who prepared it?"
The words struck like a slap.
Li Mei's breath caught — just for an instant — but she forced herself to keep still.
"(System Warning: High-stress condition detected. Maintain composure.)"
"I... I did, Your Majesty. As instructed."
Celestia's lashes lowered. The faintest smile ghosted across her lips, something too fine to read. "And yet no one died. Fortunate."
Li Mei's pulse roared in her ears. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Fortune," Celestia repeated, her fan stilling mid-motion, "is a word fools use to explain survival."
Her gaze lifted — direct, sharp, impossible to meet without trembling.
"In this court, survival is never luck. It is either skill…"
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"…or deceit."
The air seemed to thin. Li Mei's mouth went dry.
"(System Suggestion: Evade. Do not deny directly.)"
"I only did what I thought right," Li Mei said, voice small but steady. "If that was wrong, then I beg to learn better."
A beat of silence.
Then — softly, almost imperceptibly — the Empress smiled.
"You learn quickly," she said. "That may save you."
The fan snapped closed with a sharp click.
Li Mei flinched before she could stop herself.
Celestia rose, her gown whispering across the marble like water flowing around a blade.
As she passed, the faint scent of lotus and cold iron followed her — the perfume of someone untouchable.
At the threshold, she paused.
"Li Mei," she said, voice low but clear.
Li Mei dared to lift her gaze just enough to see the Empress's profile framed in pale light.
"I will be watching you."
It wasn't a threat. It wasn't even anger.
It was worse — a promise.
Then she was gone, leaving silence in her wake, and Li Mei remained kneeling, her breath trapped somewhere between awe and terror.
"(System Notification: Primary Objective Updated — Gain the Empress's Trust. Risk Level: Extreme.)"
Li Mei closed her eyes, heart thundering.
Warmth in frost. A warning in silk. And somehow, I survived.
But she could still feel the weight of those words pressing against her skin like invisible chains.
The Empress was watching.
And Li Mei knew, with cold certainty, that in this place, being seen was never safe.
The moment the Empress's robes vanished beyond the doors, Li Mei's legs gave up.
She collapsed in a graceless heap beside the towering mountain of scrolls that had been left behind — a paper monument to suffering.
The air reeked of old ink and candle smoke. Every breath felt like inhaling powdered dust and bureaucracy.
She eyed the mountain with the dread of someone facing their own grave.
"I'm going to die here," she muttered. "Not metaphorically. Literally. The cause of death will be listed as 'paper-related despair.'"
"(System Alert: New Side Quest – Scroll Sorting Hell. Objective: Complete within 24 hours. Reward: +20 Intelligence. Failure: Public scolding.)"
Li Mei dragged her palms down her face. "Of course. Because humiliation is such a motivating consequence."
"(System Note: Motivation detected at 3%. Consider coffee.)"
"Do you have coffee?" she hissed.
"(Inventory empty.)"
She groaned, flopping onto the cold floor, glaring at the ceiling as if it personally offended her.
Her stomach twisted, her head throbbed, and her fingers ached from the weight of the brush she hadn't yet picked up.
Still, she worked. Because what else could she do?
Scroll by scroll, hour by hour, she fought through the tower of imperial paperwork. The air thickened with the scent of wax and exhaustion.
Each sheet was written in looping calligraphy so ornate it might as well have been a spell designed to curse her vision.
Her muttering became a rhythm. "Province. Urgency. Famine—what, less important than bandits? Oh, for heaven's sake."
By the time the moon rose, silver and cold through the narrow lattice windows, she'd barely made a dent.
Ink streaked her cheeks. Her hair had rebelled entirely.
The palace looked serene from the outside, but inside this little room, Li Mei was fighting for her life — against paperwork.
Then…
Footsteps.
Measured. Slow. Confident.
The kind that said: I belong here, and you do not.
Li Mei froze, brush in hand.
When she turned, she nearly dropped it.
Crown Prince Jianyu stood in the doorway.
The candlelight caught on his dark hair and the edges of his sharp smile. His eyes — half-shadow, half-amusement — glimmered like polished obsidian.
"Hard at work, little maid?" he asked, voice low, smooth.
It was the kind of voice that sounded harmless until you remembered who owned it.
Li Mei blinked rapidly, words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I—I was just… filing!"
He stepped closer, boots barely making a sound. The air between them seemed to pulse.
"Filing?" His gaze drifted lazily across the chaos. "It looks more like drowning."
She gave a strained laugh. "I'm multitasking."
That earned her a quiet chuckle — warm, but not kind.
He crouched, plucking up a scroll from near her knee. "My mother gave you this?"
"Yes, Your Highness," she whispered, her throat dry.
"And you accepted without protest?" His tone was curious, almost amused, like someone watching a rabbit attempt calculus.
"Yes?" she said uncertainly.
Jianyu smiled faintly. "Most would rather run than serve her directly."
"Running isn't an option," she muttered, not meaning for him to hear.
But he did.
And instead of being offended, he laughed again — softly this time. "You're strange. I can't decide if you're brave… or just very, very lucky."
"Mostly unlucky," she said before she could stop herself.
The sound he made — half laugh, half hum — sent a tremor through her chest. "You amuse me, little maid. That's dangerous."
Her heart jumped. "I don't want to be dangerous," she murmured. "I just want to survive."
That was when the air changed.
Heavy. Cold.
A familiar weight pressed into the room — like the world itself taking a sharp breath.
Li Mei didn't have to turn to know.
Celestia had arrived.
Her voice sliced cleanly through the silence. "What," she said, calm and lethal, "is my son doing here?"
Li Mei stiffened, still on her knees.
Jianyu didn't even flinch. His composure was a kind of defiance. "Merely curious, Mother," he replied lightly. "I wanted to see what entertained you so much."
Celestia's silver eyes flicked toward Li Mei. For a single heartbeat, she saw no mercy there. Only ice.
"She," Celestia said, each word precise, "is not your entertainment."
Li Mei could feel the danger rippling between them, sharp as a blade balanced on her spine.
"(System Alert: Host is caught in a lethal crossfire. Suggestion: Pretend to faint.)"
Li Mei's pulse spiked. Fainting sounded extremely reasonable right now.
She imagined herself collapsing dramatically, maybe even twitching for effect. But knowing her luck, she'd faint wrong and be accused of mockery.
So she stayed frozen, trapped in the invisible web spun between mother and son.
Celestia's presence filled the room, vast and suffocating. Jianyu's smirk faltered — just barely — and that tiny flicker of discomfort was the only thing that kept Li Mei from actually collapsing.
Candlelight wavered. Shadows stretched like dark fingers across the parchment towers.
Her breath came shallow and fast.
This is what danger smells like, she thought. Wax, dust, and something burning just out of sight.
Celestia finally turned, her robes whispering against the stone as she left. Jianyu followed her gaze for a moment, then looked back at Li Mei — and smiled.
Not kindly. Not cruelly.
Just a silent promise that this game wasn't over.
Then he, too, was gone.
Only silence remained. And Li Mei, sitting in the wreckage of scrolls and candle smoke, stared at the door long after they vanished.
"(System Notification: Main Quest Updated — The Game Has Begun.)"
Her hands were trembling.
Her chest ached from holding her breath.
The palace was a pit of serpents, she thought.
And she was standing right in the middle.
But this time, she didn't look away.
Because if the game had tightened its grip, then so had she.