If Li Mei had to sum up the imperial court in one word, it would be: nightmare.
The moment she stepped into the grand hall, it felt like the air itself was pressing down on her chest. Heavy. Sacred. Dangerous.
Incense curled through the air, soft and sweet at first, until it started clawing at the back of her throat. The scent of lacquered wood mingled with that faint metallic tang that only power could have. Every inch of the room gleamed—jade pillars catching the sunlight, silks rippling, gold and glass winking like they were laughing at her.
Nobles glimmered in their finery, jewels sparkling with a cruelty that matched their smiles. The flutter of robes and rustle of sleeves blended into a river of whispers that sounded beautiful and deadly all at once. Ministers barked at each other over scrolls and reports, their voices cutting like blades—sharp, polished, merciless.
Li Mei tried not to breathe too loudly.
Her heart thudded hard enough to echo in her ears. She clutched the hem of her maid's skirt like it was a lifeline, knuckles white. Behind Empress Celestia, she was supposed to be invisible—a shadow among gods. But she had a very bad history with staying inconspicuous.
System, she thought desperately, you dragged me here to die, didn't you?
(Correction: The Empress dragged you here. I am merely observing your tragic choices.)
She nearly choked on her own breath. "Helpful. Thanks," she muttered under it, though she was pretty sure at least one nearby noble heard her tone of impending doom.
The council roared on. Something about grain shortages in the northern provinces, floods ruining harvests, logistics chains snapping like rotten rope. The words tangled into a blur of tribute quotas, supply wagons, disaster reports—and her poor, modern brain translated everything into:
Giant piles of rice falling off carts and crushing innocent villagers. Maybe with soy sauce.
She blinked rapidly, struggling to look intelligent while her mind drowned in confusion.
And then—
A silence rolled through the room like thunder before a storm.
The Emperor's voice cut across the chaos. Deep. Cold. A sound that seemed to come from the marble itself.
"If solutions are lacking, then this council is useless. Does no one have an answer?"
Every breath in the hall froze.
Li Mei felt her stomach drop into the soles of her shoes. She could feel the sweat tracing icy paths down her spine beneath her stiff uniform. Her pulse hammered in her throat, fast, too fast—
[Ding! Side Quest triggered: Provide a solution to the grain shortage. Reward: +200 XP. Failure: Public humiliation and possible execution.]
Her brain exploded.
WHAT?!
Why me? Why me?! I'm not even supposed to be here!
[Quest accepted automatically.]
"Wait, NO—"
Too late.
The words tumbled out before she could stop them, spilling into the stillness like a self-destruct sequence.
"Um… what if… we, uh… made noodles?"
Silence slammed into the hall so hard she swore she could hear her own heartbeat.
Every head turned.
Every jeweled hairpin gleamed like a row of tiny daggers.
Li Mei's brain went blank.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no, no—
She had said it out loud.
Her knees wobbled. Maybe if she dropped to the floor right now, they'd think she fainted and forget she existed. Yes. Excellent plan. Pass out. Die quietly.
A minister's monocle trembled dangerously on his nose.
"Noodles?!" he sputtered. "What kind of nonsense—"
Then, Celestia raised her hand.
The hall obeyed like the world itself had stopped breathing. Even the air seemed to wait.
"Explain," the Empress said. Her voice was soft. Too soft. It wrapped around Li Mei's name like silk—and then pulled tight, like a garrote.
Explain?!
Explain what?! I was just thinking about lunch!
[Tip: Try not to mention ramen cups.]
Li Mei swallowed so hard it hurt. Her palms were slick. Her tongue felt like it had turned to sand.
"I–I mean…" she stammered, eyes darting anywhere but Celestia's. "Grain's hard to move long distances, right? It's heavy… and it spoils if it gets wet. But if you… process it into noodles or flour first, it lasts longer. Lighter. Easier to carry. You can even dry it. Less spoilage. More… portable?"
Her voice cracked halfway through "portable."
A ripple moved through the court—small at first, then spreading. Ministers exchanged looks. One scratched his chin. Another tilted his head, frowning thoughtfully.
Wait.
Were they… considering it?
An elderly official cleared his throat. "The maid… has a point," he admitted reluctantly. "Dried grain products could be preserved longer, perhaps even transported in bulk."
Another murmured, "It would reduce loss during transit…"
Li Mei's eyes widened.
They were buying it.
They were buying it.
Did I just make sense?
Her lungs forgot how to function for a moment.
Celestia's lips curved—barely. But the faint smile that appeared was the kind of expression that could stop wars… or start them.
"Remarkable," the Empress murmured. "The girl speaks with clarity where seasoned men hesitate."
The room shifted again—courtiers bowing slightly, nodding, murmuring.
Li Mei wanted to scream, No! I'm not remarkable! I'm just hungry!
From the corner, a soft chuckle cut through the air like smoke.
Crown Prince Jianyu, lounging by a pillar, his eyes glittering with mischief. "How amusing," he drawled. "My mother's maid proposes strategies while ministers wring their hands. Perhaps we should replace the council with kitchen staff."
A ripple of laughter. Nervous. Too loud. The kind that made Li Mei want to crawl under a table and never come out.
Then—
The Emperor moved.
His hand tapped once on the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing like thunder. His expression didn't soften, exactly, but it shifted.
"It is unorthodox," he said slowly, voice rolling through the chamber like a deep wave. "But worth a trial. Have a report drawn on feasibility."
"Yes, Your Majesty," several voices chorused instantly.
Li Mei blinked. Once. Twice.
Wait.
She had just… influenced imperial policy. With noodles.
[Quest complete! Reward granted: +200 XP, +1 Intelligence.]
Her mouth twitched. Hysterical laughter clawed at her throat.
She had no idea whether to cry, scream, or start a small noodle business.
All she knew was—she had survived.
By accident.
Again.
The court's whispers hit Li Mei like a swarm of bees.
Everywhere she looked, people were staring—studying her, weighing her, like a new coin tossed into circulation. Their gazes stung almost worse than the panic had.
She tried to keep her chin down, but she could feel them. The nobles' sharp perfume mixed with the smoke of incense and her own cold sweat until the air itself turned dizzying. Her fingers twisted in her skirt, knuckles pale. Her heartbeat felt too loud for the silence.
I hate this attention, she thought wildly. I didn't even do anything heroic. I just invented… lunch.
[Reminder: Because someone has to make noodles in an imperial crisis.]
Her lips twitched. "You are the worst motivational speaker," she whispered under her breath.
A few courtiers glanced her way, puzzled. She smiled tightly. Maybe they'd think she was praying. Yeah. Praying sounded better than "arguing with a sarcastic ghost in my head."
Across the hall, whispers turned into ripples—admiration here, jealousy there, and that dangerous glint of interest. She could feel the envy like invisible threads brushing against her skin, weaving her into their games whether she liked it or not.
Jianyu stood near one of the jade pillars, dark eyes bright with something that made her chest tighten. Amusement? Curiosity? Or something more dangerous?
"So the maid who saved the grain crisis with noodles," he said lazily, "is she a genius, or just incredibly lucky?"
Li Mei's spine stiffened. Her inner voice screamed: Both. But mostly stupidly lucky.
Celestia's gaze shifted toward her son, sharp enough to slice silk. "Luck," she said, her tone edged with warning, "has its uses. Until it runs out."
The Crown Prince only smiled—slow, feline. "Then let's hope she's rationing it."
Li Mei wanted to disappear. Right there. Into the marble. Maybe become a decorative floor tile. Something inanimate and unremarkable.
The Emperor rose slightly, his robes whispering across the dais. "It is unorthodox," he said again, more softly this time, "but effective. We shall see if the results justify her suggestion."
Every voice echoed his. Yes, Your Majesty.
And just like that… it was decided.
The meeting dissolved into movement—silks sweeping, armor clinking, voices rising again as the ministers scrambled to obey. But Li Mei just stood there, still half-frozen, her mind playing catch-up.
[Quest complete! XP distributed. Congratulations on not dying.]
Her breath hitched out in a weak laugh. Not dying. That was the new standard of success apparently.
She followed Celestia through the parting crowd, careful not to trip on the polished tiles. Each reflection in the floor seemed to mock her—Congratulations, noodle girl. You've just declared war on boredom.
The corridors outside the hall were cooler, quieter, and yet the silence there was worse. It clung to her skin, heavy with unsaid things.
"System," she muttered, "remind me again why I exist here?"
[Answer: Because drama is more entertaining with radishes in peril.]
"Radishes?" she hissed. "That's what I am now?!"
Celestia glanced back, one brow arching in that unreadable way that made Li Mei's stomach lurch. For a moment, she wondered if the Empress knew what the System said. If she could somehow hear the madness bouncing around in her head.
The Empress's expression softened—barely. "You did well," she said quietly, her tone not quite kind, not quite cold. "But boldness draws eyes. And eyes draw envy. Do you understand, little maid?"
Li Mei nodded too quickly. "Yes, Your Majesty. Completely. Totally. No more noodles."
A faint smile touched Celestia's lips. It wasn't comfort. It was warning, wrapped in silk. "Stay close to me," she murmured. "And remember: cleverness without caution is a blade that cuts its own hand."
Li Mei bit her tongue to stop herself from blurting something stupid like I like my hands intact. Instead, she bowed slightly. "Understood."
[Correction: You are statistically unlikely to survive without supervision.]
She inhaled shakily. "Wow, thanks. Love the confidence boost."
They walked in silence after that. The sound of Celestia's robes brushing the marble echoed like the hush before a storm.
And as they stepped past the threshold of the great doors, Li Mei realized something with chilling clarity.
She wasn't invisible anymore.
Not to the court. Not to the Emperor.
Not to the Empress.
And definitely not to the Crown Prince with his dangerous smirk.
Everyone had seen her now. A maid with a tongue too quick and luck too sharp.
She pressed her hands against her knees, steadying her trembling breaths. The palace air shimmered, sweet and suffocating.
Okay, she thought. So maybe I just changed imperial logistics. Accidentally. No big deal. Just… need to survive the aftermath.
[New objective unlocked: Try not to die. Again.]
Her lips twitched. "Great. Love that for me."
And as the echo of her own footsteps faded down the endless golden corridor, Li Mei finally understood—
This wasn't luck.
This was the start of a very long, very dangerous game.
And she, the accidental noodle strategist, was officially on the board.