Li Mei had once thought the worst thing in life was her boss at the convenience store yelling at her for microwaving noodles too long.
She had been wrong.
The real worst thing in life was standing perfectly still between the Empress of the Empire and the Crown Prince, while they silently tried to kill each other with their eyes.
Eyes sharp enough to slice dumplings—
if dumplings were unlucky enough to be her.
The chamber felt like it had shrunk.
Every inch of air pressed in around her, heavy with centuries of authority and quiet judgment.
Celestia's silver eyes gleamed like carved ice. Her crimson-and-gold robes flared softly, a living storm of silk. The faint scent of incense and parchment filled the air—beautiful, but suffocating.
Li Mei's pulse thudded. Too loud. Too human.
She could hear everything—the whisper of silk, the subtle scrape of parchment, the faint inhale of power focusing right on her.
Crown Prince Jianyu stood opposite, leaning lazily against a table stacked with petitions, all effortless poise and danger wrapped in one. His dark hair fell across his temple just enough to make him look like a painting someone might die over.
His face was smooth, detached—
but those eyes?
They sparkled with quiet mischief, like a cat watching a cornered mouse.
And she, unfortunately, was that mouse.
([Warning: Host has entered a Death Zone. Survival chance: 17%.])
Seventeen percent?!
Li Mei's heart nearly exploded. That was lower than her high school math test scores. Lower than the time she tried balancing a ramen bowl on her laptop.
Her entire brain short-circuited.
Celestia's voice cut through the tension—soft, elegant, but sharp enough to draw blood.
"You seem to have a great deal of free time, Jianyu, if you've come to hover over my maid."
"Your maid?" Jianyu's dark eyes flicked toward Li Mei, assessing, amused. He plucked up a scroll and twirled it lazily between his fingers. "I didn't realize she belonged to anyone. I thought she was simply a… curiosity wandering the palace."
Curiosity?
Li Mei swallowed hard. That made her sound like a pet rabbit—and everyone knew what happened to rabbits in palaces.
Stew.
Celestia's robes whispered as she stepped forward, every motion regal, deliberate, dangerous.
"She is under my protection. That means she is not for you to toy with."
Jianyu tilted his head, smile flickering like a knife catching light. "And yet you leave her buried in scrolls until midnight. Some protection, Mother."
Celestia's silver gaze didn't waver.
"Discipline is not cruelty. Perhaps if you spent more time at your desk and less time wandering, you would understand."
The air was tightening—again.
Li Mei could practically hear the sound of her own doom ringing in her ears.
Do something, her brain screamed. Anything.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Um… excuse me?"
Two pairs of imperial eyes snapped to her.
She froze.
The back of her knees went weak. Her words stumbled out like nervous rabbits fleeing a hawk.
"I—uh—I just wanted to say that I can totally finish the scrolls on my own! No need for, you know, family disagreements over little ol' me. Carry on. Ignore me. I'm wallpaper."
([Correction: Host does not blend in like wallpaper. More like an unsightly stain.])
Li Mei wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throttle the system into another dimension.
Celestia's lips curved faintly—
a gesture so small, it could have been mistaken for mercy.
"See? Even the maid understands."
Her voice was calm, but there was an undertone that said this conversation is over.
"You may leave now."
Jianyu's chuckle broke the silence—
low, amused, and entirely too deliberate. He moved with unhurried grace, fingers brushing over the scrolls as if they were nothing but dust beneath his touch.
"Of course, Mother," he said smoothly. "I wouldn't dare disobey."
His gaze flicked to Li Mei as he passed, lingering just long enough to make her skin crawl.
"Take care, little maid," he murmured. "You might find the palace less merciful than my mother."
That smile—lazy, charming, poisonous.
Then he was gone, footsteps fading down the corridor like the echo of a blade sliding back into its sheath.
The silence that followed felt too loud.
Li Mei exhaled shakily, her shoulders sagging, every muscle trembling from the effort of pretending not to exist.
"I'm going to die," she muttered. "I'm definitely going to die."
Celestia's voice came softly behind her.
"You won't."
Li Mei turned.
The Empress had stepped closer, her presence still overwhelming but… different now. There was something quieter beneath it—
not warmth exactly, but something that could almost be mistaken for concern.
"As long as you remain under me," Celestia said, her tone calm and deliberate, "you are safe."
Li Mei blinked, stunned.
Safe?
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," she whispered, "every time I stand near you, I feel like I've entered the final boss room of a video game."
Celestia's brow arched slightly. "Final boss?"
Li Mei winced. "Uh—it means you're… really powerful. And scary. And, uh… impressive."
She wanted to melt straight into the marble floor.
For a long moment, Celestia simply stared at her, unreadable.
The silence stretched—long enough for Li Mei to regret being born.
Then—softly—
the Empress laughed.
It was the kind of laugh that didn't belong in a palace.
Low. Musical. Dangerous.
Like the sound of bells chiming in a storm.
"Strange girl," she murmured.
Li Mei's cheeks burned, but she dared to smile, a small, nervous flicker.
Strange was better than dead. I'll take it.
Celestia turned gracefully, silver hair sliding like moonlight over her shoulder. "Finish the scrolls," she said. "At dawn, you will accompany me to court."
Li Mei froze. "C–court? The one with all the nobles who look like they'd eat me alive for breakfast? That court?"
"Yes."
There was a faint glint of amusement in Celestia's eyes as she looked back.
"Consider it your next test."
([Ding! New Quest: Survive the Imperial Court. Objective: Avoid humiliating yourself in front of the Emperor and the nobles. Reward: +100 XP, Favor with Empress Celestia. Failure: Possible execution.])
Li Mei collapsed against the nearest pile of scrolls, her soul leaving her body in spirit form.
"I hate this game."
([The game hates you back.])
She groaned. "Of course it does."
By the time dawn's first light crept through the palace windows, Li Mei already felt like she'd lived three separate lifetimes and failed all of them.
Sleep hadn't come.
Her brain had spent the entire night running simulations of how she might die in court. Most of them involved tripping, insulting a noble, or being vaporized by Celestia's glare.
But there was no time for panic now—only movement.
The dressing room smelled faintly of lavender and silk, with a trace of burnt incense from last night still hanging like a ghost in the air. Li Mei stood before a tall mirror, tugging at the collar of her maid's attire.
Plain. Stiff. Scratchy.
Her reflection looked… pale. Wide-eyed. Unqualified for life.
"This is going to be my doom," she muttered, poking at the fabric like it might bite her.
Focus, Li Mei.
Blend in, observe, survive.
The soft rhythm of footsteps made her spin. Celestia entered the chamber like dawn in human form—crimson silk layered with gold, every step rippling quiet authority. Her silver hair caught the light, gleaming with the kind of perfection that made mortals question their existence.
"Come," the Empress said, voice smooth as still water. "The court waits. And your performance begins the moment you step into the hall."
Li Mei swallowed, her throat dry as parchment.
A performance. That sounded right. She just hoped it wasn't the kind that ended in a tragic finale.
She followed, each step careful, heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Do not trip. Do not breathe too loud. Definitely do not think about dumplings right now.
The corridor to the throne room seemed endless—rows of jade pillars, gold lanterns, light streaming through carved lattice to paint shifting patterns across the polished marble. Courtiers glided past, whispering behind fans, their eyes flicking toward her like she was a new exhibit in a gallery of gossip.
Every glance felt like a test she hadn't studied for.
Finally, the Grand Court Hall appeared ahead.
Vast. Breathtaking.
The ceiling arched high above, painted with dragons and stars, while incense smoke curled upward in slow, sacred spirals. The floor gleamed so brightly it reflected every shimmer of silk from the nobles arrayed like jeweled birds.
At the far end sat the Emperor—solemn, expression carved from centuries of rule. His robe was midnight blue, embroidered with dragons that almost seemed to move with the flicker of torches.
Li Mei's breath caught. Okay. Big boss unlocked.
Whispers rippled through the hall as Celestia glided forward, Li Mei trailing carefully behind.
She could feel the gazes latch onto her—nobles murmuring behind fans, assessing her presence, judging her plainness, measuring her usefulness.
Her palms were damp. Her pulse a drumbeat.
([Warning: Host has attracted unwanted attention from 14 nobles, 3 concubines, and 1 assassin in disguise.])
"One assassin?" she hissed under her breath.
([Yes. Have fun.])
Her blood went cold.
Every shimmer of silk now looked like a threat. Every smile, a blade.
Celestia spoke with quiet command, her words cutting clean through the hum of politics. Ministers debated taxes, generals thundered about borders, courtiers gossiped in veiled tones.
Li Mei stood still, trying to look like a piece of furniture—one that preferably didn't breathe.
Then, Jianyu's voice slid across the room, smooth and unhurried, each word coiling like smoke.
"And what of your new maid, Mother?"
Every head turned.
Every breath caught.
"She seems… unusually close to you."
Li Mei's stomach plummeted straight through the polished floor.
Oh no. Too many eyes. Way too many eyes.
Celestia didn't blink. "My maid is diligent. That is all."
But Jianyu's smirk deepened, amusement flickering like a blade's glint. "Diligent enough to be brought here? Or perhaps she serves another purpose?"
Her heart seized.
Another purpose?! What purpose?! I don't even know what I'm doing here!
The air tensed, ready to shatter.
Then Celestia's aura expanded—cold, precise, beautiful in its ferocity.
"You concern yourself too much with a servant, Jianyu," she said softly, each word honed to perfection. "Shall I remind you of your duties?"
The Crown Prince lowered his head, but the faint curve of his lips said he'd won a small, private victory anyway.
"Of course, Mother."
Li Mei didn't dare exhale until his gaze finally broke from hers. When she did, it came out as a quiet, trembling sigh that didn't feel like enough to empty her lungs.
Okay. Still alive. Still somehow not soup.
The court murmured again, the sound swelling back like an ocean reclaiming its tide. Celestia turned slightly, her eyes a calm silver flame.
Li Mei knew that look now—it was both shield and sword, the face of someone who ruled by silence more than words.
As the petitions resumed and scrolls rustled, Li Mei realized something chilling:
this wasn't survival anymore.
This was a game of eyes and breath, of power disguised as poise.
And she was on the board now.
No escape. No rewind.
Just survival by inches.
She kept her head bowed, heart pounding, as the court continued its ritual dance. And in that moment of stillness—
as incense curled above and Celestia's shadow stretched long across the floor—
Li Mei understood the truth of this place.
She wasn't merely serving tea or sorting scrolls.
She was standing between gods who smiled like humans.
And she was the piece they'd both decided to move.
It wasn't a court.
It was a battlefield made of silk.
And Li Mei…
She was standing at its very center.