Li Junwei's head was pounding like it had just survived a rock concert, loud, relentless, and completely overwhelming.
He groaned and tried to roll over, expecting to feel his lumpy dorm mattress and maybe knock over the tower of empty energy drink cans he'd built beside his bed. Instead, the hand sinks into something smooth. Not cotton. Not polyester. Actual silk.
"What the—"
He bolted upright and instantly regretted his life choices. The world spun around him like a washing machine in a full cycle, and he almost fell back on his face. But even through the vertigo, one thing was obvious, he was definitely NOT in his dorm room.
Gone were his anime posters, his gaming gear, and the usual mess of textbooks, instant noodles, and socks he'd been too lazy to wash. Instead, he was sitting on what could only be described as the most extra bed in existence of massive carved wooden pillarsreal dragons, not just some swirly patterns pretending to be dragons—wrapping all the way up to the canopy. Silk curtains in at least twelve shades of blue. And pillows. So many pillows. It looks like someone robbed a pillow factory and dumped the entire stockpile here.
Junwei pressed his palm against his face, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "Okay, Li Junwei he muttered to himself. But then his hand moved up to his hair—and froze. It was longer. So much longer. And smoother, silkier than anything his cheap shampoo-and-five-in-one-conditioner combo had ever dreamed of achieving.
"Don't panic. There's probably a logical explanation for this." His heart skipped a beat. This wasn't just a weird dream. This was real.
Right. Totally normal. Because spontaneous teleportation into what looks like the set of a historical drama is logical
Junwei stumbled out of the ridiculously ornate bed and caught sight of himself in a bronze mirror across the room. The face staring back wasn't quite his. Sure, it was still Asian, still male—but everything else was screaming Not Junwei.
This guy was way prettier than Junwei had ever been, with delicate features and skin so flawless it looked like it had never been near a 3 AM gaming session or a single instant noodle stain. And those robes? They probably cost more than Junwei's entire semester tuition—combined with interest.
He blinked. Okay, this is definitely not my life anymore.
"No way." He whispered, fingers touching the mirror like some cliché protagonist. "No freaking way."
But the proof was staring him right in the face, silk robes, the ancient-looking room, and that perfect, manhwa worthy face instead of his usual boring one. Yeah, he'd been transmigrated. Like, actually transmigrated. No joke.
Into a historical setting.
Where he was apparently rich enough to afford silk pajamas.
"Okay, don't panic." He told himself. "You've read enough webnovels to know how this goes. First, figure out where you are. Then, what the plot is. And finally, how to survive long enough to find a way back home."
Easy, right? Yeah, sure. Totally easy.
Junwei took a deep breath and started scanning the room for clues. It was definitely a bedroom, and judging by the luxury, whoever this body belonged to wasn't some lowly servant. Dark wood furniture with gold decorations filled the space, shelves lined with actual books, though he couldn't read a single character, and, wait, was that a real jade ornament?
Focus, Junwei. Focus.
Nearby, a chair held a set of robes. Clearly men's clothes, but in soft colors with delicate embroidery. Almost... feminine? No, not exactly feminine, but definitely not what he'd expect a warrior or scholar to wear.
A horrible suspicion started forming in his mind. Before he could make sense of it, there was a soft knock at the door.
"Young Master Shen?" A timid voice called from outside. "Are you awake? It's nearly time for the morning meal."
Young Master Shen? Shen what now?
"Uh..." He cleared his throat, wincing at how different his voice sounded. Higher, softer. "Come in?"
The door slid open and a girl in simple but clean robes stepped in, carrying a tea tray. She was maybe sixteen, with her hair in a neat bun and nervous eyes. A servant, definitely.
"Young Master Shen." She said, bowing slightly. "This servant hopes you slept well."
Shen. Shen. Why did that name sound familiar?
"I..." he started, then realized he had no idea what this body's voice usually sounded like. "I slept fine."
The girl—servant—whatever, she looked relieved. "This servant is glad to hear it. You seemed... troubled yesterday evening."
Yesterday evening? What even happened yesterday evening? And more importantly… what was his character all about?
"Right." Junwei said slowly, trying to piece it together. "Yesterday evening."
The maid set the tea tray on a small table and began tidying up, straightening things that already looked perfectly straight. Junwei noticed her hands trembling just a little. Nervous. Why nervous?
"Young Master." She said carefully, avoiding his gaze. "Will you be attending the morning gathering today?"
Morning gathering? That sounded ominous. Official. And exactly the kind of thing he wanted to avoid if he planned to keep a low profile.
"Do I usually attend?" He asked, trying to sound casual.
Now she looked genuinely confused. "Young Master? You… you always attend. His Highness expects all concubines to—"
CONCUBINES?!
Junwei choked on his own saliva. "Did you just say concubines?"
The servant girl's eyes went wide with terror. "Young Master Shen, please don't joke about such things! If anyone heard you speak so carelessly about your position…"
Oh no. Oh no no no.
He wasn't just in some historical transmigration story. He was in a HAREM transmigration story. And apparently, he was one of the concubines.
His brain scrambled, pulling up every palace drama he'd ever half-watched while procrastinating. Concubines schemed and fought for the emperor's favor. Concubines got poisoned by jealous rivals. Concubines who displeased their masters met… very unpleasant ends.
And he was a MALE concubine, which meant one of two things. Either this was some shockingly progressive ancient society, or… oh god, please let it be the former, not some BL novel where male concubines had even worse survival rates than the female ones.
"Right." He said weakly. "My position. As a… concubine."
The servant girl nodded frantically. "To His Highness the Second Prince, Wei Qing."
Wei Qing. That name… why did it sound so familiar?
"And I attend morning gatherings where…?"
"Where His Highness takes his morning meal with his… with all of us." He whispered, like saying it any louder might summon disaster.
All of them. The harem. Surrounded by people who actually knew how to act like proper concubines, while he could barely figure out how to walk in these robes without tripping over his own feet.
Okay, new plan. Attend this breakfast thing. Keep your mouth shut. Observe everything. Figure out what story you're in—and how to survive it.
"I'll attend." He told the servant girl, who looked relieved.
"Shall this servant help you dress, Young Master Shen?"
The idea of someone else dressing him was weird enough that he almost said no, but then he looked at the complicated layers of robes and realized he had no idea how any of this worked.
"Yes." He said, feeling like hed just surrenderd. "Please."
As she helped him into what felt like seventeen different layers of silk, he tried to remember everything he could about palace survival. Don't stand out. Don't make enemies. Don't catch the wrong kind of attention. Just blend in until he could figure out an exit strategy.
How hard can it be to be a forgettable background concubine?
The servant girl finished with his outer robe and stepped back, looking satisfied. "Young Master Shen looks very handsome today."
He caught sight of himself in the mirror again. The robes were beautiful but understated—pale green with subtle silver embroidery. Expensive but not flashy. Perfect for someone trying to avoid attention.
"What's your name?" He asked the servant girl as she started cleaning up.
She looked surprised. "This servant is called Mei, Young Master."
Thank you, Mei." He meant it. She seemed kind, and if he was stuck here, he definitely shouldn't make enemies of the people trying to help him.
She smiled the first genuine expression he'd seen from her. "Young Master is very kind."
Kind? I literally just asked her name. What kind of jerk was the original Shen Moli?
"Mei." He said carefully, "What should I… expect at this morning gathering?"
Her smile faltered. "His Highness will take his morning meal in the Lotus Pavilion. All concubines are expected to attend and…" She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
"And?"
"And be available for His Highness's attention, should he desire it."
Right. Because he was a concubine. His job was to be decorative and… available.
This is fine. Totally fine. I just need to be the most boring, unremarkable person at this breakfast. How hard can that be?
"Young Master?" Mei's voice was soft. "Are you feeling unwell? You look quite pale."
"I'm fine." He lied. "Just… thinking."
She nodded, though she still looked worried. "This servant will escort you to the Lotus Pavilion."
As they walked through corridors that looked more like a museum than a palace, Junwei
tried to prepare himself. Stay quiet. Blend in. Don't do anything to catch a prince's attention.
Just survive breakfast. That's all. Survive one breakfast, then figure out the rest.
The sound of flowing water and quiet conversation drifted toward them as they neared the Lotus Pavilion. Through the ornate doorway, he spotted other people in exquisite robes seated around low tables.
Okay, Li Junwei. Time to find out just how deep you've fallen.
Mei stopped at the entrance and bowed. "This servant will wait here for Young Master Shen."
He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and stepped inside hoping this wouldn't be the first day of a very short, very tragic new life.
The first thing he noticed was that everyone was gorgeous. Like, unrealistically, probably has a twelve step skincare-routine gorgeous. The second thing he noticed was that they were all looking at him.
So much for blending in.
Shen Moli." A voice called from the head of the room. "You're late."
Junwei turned toward the voice, and his heart nearly stopped.
Seated at the main table was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. Dark hair pulled back into a perfect topknot, features straight out of a classical painting, and eyes that seemed to pierce right through him.
This must be Prince Wei Qing.
And he was staring directly at Junwei with an expression that made his stomach twist.
Oh.
Oh no.
I think I know exactly what story I'm in.