For six years, Li Yanyue lived as a nameless palace maid, scrubbing floors and keeping her head down. The court was a viper’s nest, and survival meant never drawing attention—especially not from the Emperor.

But fate had other plans.

One night, she is summoned to the Emperor’s private chambers… and his eyes widen in shock.
“You’re alive…”

To the world, Yanyue is a servant. But to him, she is the woman he was once promised to marry—the noble daughter of the Li clan, slaughtered in a political purge years ago.

Taking her back as Empress would ignite a war with the family who helped him seize the throne.
Keeping her as a maid would kill the last shred of his heart.

And so begins their dangerous game—of secrets, of desire, of survival—where every stolen glance could be the death of them both.

"I… I think you mistake me for someone else, Your Majesty." She kept her gaze on the polished floor, forcing her voice into the meek tones of a servant. "I am only Li Mei, a humble maid of the Cold Palace."


But she could feel his stare like the sun—searing, impossible to hide from.


The weight of his voice dragged her chin upward. His eyes searched hers, as if peeling back the years.


The corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile, but the faintest crack in the mask of an emperor. "You think I wouldn't recognize the girl I swore to marry?"


Six years dissolved in an instant. She was seventeen again, standing under the plum trees in the Li family garden, the summer air thick with the scent of blossoms. A boy in plain scholar's robes grinned at her, his hair tied loosely, his eyes bright with promise.


"When I take the throne," he had said, "you will be my empress. No matter what."


That boy had become the man standing before her. But the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by something colder… hungrier.


"I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty," she whispered.


The Emperor dismissed the eunuch with a flick of his hand. The heavy doors shut with a deep thud.


"Enough lies." He stepped closer, until the hem of his robe brushed her skirt. "I buried you in my heart years ago, thinking you were dead. And now you stand here, scrubbing floors like a common servant."


She clenched her fists. "If I am who you claim… then perhaps I wished to remain dead to you."


In one swift motion, his hand shot up, fingers gripping her chin. She gasped, her pulse racing.


"You will not speak to me like that." His voice was soft, but threaded with steel. "If you value your life, you will come to me tonight… or I will drag the truth from you myself."


He released her, and the warmth of his hand vanished like the last ember of a dying fire.


"Go," he said. "Before I change my mind."


She bowed low, her heart pounding against her ribs, and fled into the shadows.


But as she hurried through the corridors, she knew one thing with chilling certainty—he would not let her go again.


Cliffhanger: Somewhere in the darkness, another pair of eyes had watched the entire exchange.


Chapter 2 - Recognition