Mei Lin's POV
I'm going to die of boredom before anyone gets around to actually killing me.
Three days. Three entire days locked in these beautiful chambers with nothing to do except stare at silk walls and wonder when the Emperor will tire of the political charade and dispose of me quietly.
At least in my family's house, I could steal books. Here, I have nothing.
Your Majesty, you've barely touched your breakfast, Jin Yu says, setting down fresh tea.
I push the food around my plate. Everything tastes like ash anyway. I'm not hungry.
You need to eat. You're getting thinner.
Does it matter? The words come out sharper than intended. I'm just a decoration. Decorations don't need to eat.
Jin Yu sits beside me, improper, but she's the only friend I have in this place. You're more than a decoration.
Am I? The Emperor hasn't spoken to me since the wedding. I sit beside him at dinners like a breathing statue. Servants look through me like I'm invisible. I laugh bitterly. I escaped one prison just to enter another.
At least this prison has better food.
I'd rather have books than food.
Jin Yu's expression shifts, like she's remembering something. Actually... I heard some maids talking yesterday. About the imperial library.
My heart skips. Library?
In the North Wing. Massive, apparently. Thousands of books. The previous empresses never used it, so it's mostly empty. She pauses. I don't think anyone would notice if you... visited.
A library. A real library. With books I haven't already memorized.
I shouldn't leave my chambers, I say, even as hope surges through me. The Emperor said—
The Emperor said many things. He didn't say you were confined. Jin Yu smiles. You're the Empress. The palace belongs to you as much as anyone.
She's right. Technically.
And I'm so desperately bored I might actually lose my mind if I spend another day doing nothing.
Show me where it is, I say, standing abruptly.
Jin Yu grins. I was hoping you'd say that.
We slip through corridors, avoiding main hallways where officials might question why the Empress is wandering. Jin Yu knows all the servants' paths, the hidden routes that keep the palace running invisibly
How do you know these passages? I ask.
Servants learn quickly. The palace has two worlds, the visible one where nobles walk, and the invisible one where we work. She glances back. You've lived in the invisible world too. You'll adapt.
She's right. I've spent fifteen years being invisible. These secret corridors feel more like home than any throne room.
We reach an enormous doorway. Jin Yu pushes it open, and I actually gasp.
The library is breathtaking.
Shelves stretch toward the ceiling, packed with thousands of books. Scrolls. Maps. Military treatises. Philosophy texts. History records. Everything I've ever dreamed of reading and more.
I'll wait outside, Jin Yu whispers. Call if you need me.
But I barely hear her. I'm already moving toward the shelves, my fingers trailing over spines, my mind coming alive for the first time since I arrived at this palace.
Poetry. Medicine. Agriculture. And there—military strategy.
I pull down a treatise on border defense, settle into a reading alcove, and lose myself completely.
The strategies are fascinating. How terrain affects troop movements. Supply chain logistics. The psychology of defending versus attacking. I'm so absorbed I forget where I am, forget the Emperor, forget everything except the pure joy of learning.
This. This is what I've been starving for.
Time disappears. I move from book to book, my mind blazing with ideas, questions, connections. For the first time in days, maybe years, I feel fully alive.
I'm reaching for another volume when a voice freezes me in place.
Interesting choice.
My heart stops. I turn slowly.
The Emperor stands in the doorway, watching me with those black ice eyes.
I nearly drop the book. Your Majesty! I, I apologize for intruding
You're the Empress. He moves closer, and my pulse hammers. The library is yours.
I clutch the book tighter, a military treatise on siege warfare. His gaze drops to the title, and one eyebrow rises.
Though most empresses prefer poetry, he observes.
My face heats. I should make an excuse. Say I grabbed the wrong book. But I'm so tired of pretending to be less than I am.
Poetry doesn't help when borders are threatened, I say quietly.
The silence stretches. I've overstepped. Spoken when I should have stayed quiet. Now he'll
You follow military matters? His voice is dangerous. Curious.
I should say no. Should be demure and decorative like a proper empress.
Instead, the words tumble out: I read about them. When I can.
And what does a book about siege warfare teach you?
This is a test. It has to be. But the question hangs there, and my mind is already racing through everything I've learned.
That conventional thinking loses wars, I hear myself saying. That the obvious strategy is usually the wrong one. That terrain and timing matter more than troop numbers.
He goes very still. Continue.
My mouth is dry, but I keep talking. Your northern border has been unstable for months. General Han wants to mass troops at Tiger Pass, I heard him mention it at dinner. But Tiger Pass is obvious. Everyone expects an attack there.
And? The Emperor steps closer.
And the terrain is terrible for conventional warfare. Narrow. Rocky. Easy to defend. You'd lose thousands of soldiers for minimal gain. I'm gesturing now, caught up in the puzzle. But if you used guerrilla tactics instead, small, fast units hitting supply lines rather than fortifications, you could make them spread their forces thin trying to protect everything. Attack where they're weak, not where they're strong.
I finish and realize I just lectured the Emperor on military strategy.
The Blood Emperor who killed his own brothers to take the throne.
Who's staring at me like I've sprouted wings.
Terror floods through me. I'm sorry. I overstepped. I shouldn't have
Where did you learn this? His voice is strange. Not angry. Something else.
Books. Observation. I... I falter, heat burning my face. My brother had tutors. I wasn't allowed lessons because girls don't need education. So I hid outside the door and listened. Then I'd sneak into the library at night and read the same books.
For how long?
Fifteen years.
His eyes widen fractionally. You taught yourself military strategy for fifteen years, and no one noticed?
No one looked. The words taste bitter. I was invisible. The scarred daughter who didn't matter. They only saw what they wanted to see.
The Emperor studies me for a long moment. Then, shockingly, he crosses to a table and spreads out a map I hadn't noticed was there.
Show me, he says.
I blink. Your Majesty?
Your strategy. Show me where you'd position forces.
This has to be a trap. A way to humiliate me for presuming. But he's waiting, and the map is right there, and my mind is already seeing patterns, possibilities.
Slowly, I move to the table.
Here. I point to a mountain pass. And here. Cut off their supply routes. Force them to pull troops back to protect their own territory instead of attacking ours.
What about winter? These passes freeze.
Then you use the freeze. Ice makes their supply lines even more vulnerable. They can't move heavy equipment through frozen terrain.
He asks another question. Then another. Testing me, challenging my assumptions, pushing my thinking.
And I push back.
I argue with him when I think he's wrong. Defend my strategies. Offer alternatives.
It's exhilarating.
We spend three hours bent over maps and books. The Emperor presents scenarios. I offer solutions. Sometimes I'm wrong, and he explains why with surprising patience. Sometimes I'm right, and something like respect flickers in his cold eyes.
Finally, he leans back, studying me with an intensity that makes breathing difficult.
You're wasted as a decorative empress, he says quietly.
The words hit like a slap. Right. Because I'm still just the substitute. The placeholder who shouldn't have opened her mouth.
I'm wasted as anything in this palace, I say honestly, turning away. But I go where I'm placed.
What if He pauses, and when I look back, something unreadable crosses his face. What if I placed you differently?
My heart stutters. Your Majesty?
General Han presented that exact Tiger Pass strategy this morning. I disagreed but couldn't articulate why. He gestures to the maps. You just did. In three sentences.
I... that was just luck
That was brilliance. He steps closer. What if I utilized this mind you've been hiding?
I haven't been hiding it. No one ever asked.
I'm asking now. His gaze locks onto mine. Be my advisor. Attend strategy sessions. Your insights are valuable.
The world tilts.
The Emperor, the most powerful man in the realm, just asked me to advise him.
That's... I struggle for words. That would cause problems. The court would never accept a woman advising on military matters.
The court accepts what I tell them to accept.
They'll say I'm manipulating you. Overstepping. That I'm
Right? He almost smiles. Let them say it. I don't care what the court thinks. I care about making intelligent decisions. And you're intelligent.
No one has ever called me intelligent before. Not like this. Not like it matters.
It's dangerous, I whisper.
Everything in this palace is dangerous. At least this way, you're dangerous and useful. His voice drops. What do you say, substitute bride? Will you help me?
I should refuse. Should stay invisible and safe.
But the hunger in me, the desperate need to be valued, to think, to matter—roars to life.
Yes, I breathe. Yes, I'll do it.
Something flickers in his expression. Satisfaction. Relief. Something warmer that vanishes too quickly to name.
Good. He moves toward the door, then pauses. We'll start tomorrow. Strategy session at dawn in my private study.
I'll be there.
He turns back, and his black ice eyes aren't quite so cold anymore.
And Mei? My name in his voice sends shivers down my spine. In private, when it's just us discussing strategy, call me Qian.
Before I can respond, he's gone.
I stand there, stunned, my mind reeling.
The Emperor just asked me to call him by his name.
Asked me to be his advisor.
Looked at me like I'm valuable.
Jin Yu appears in the doorway, eyes huge. Your Majesty! What just happened? I saw the Emperor leave
He wants me to advise him, I say faintly. On military strategy.
Her jaw drops. That's... that's incredible!
That's insane. I sink into a chair, my legs shaking. The court will hate me. General Han will see me as a threat. I just painted a target on my back.
But the Emperor chose you. Protected you. That means something.
Does it? Or does it just mean I'm a useful tool until I'm not?
I don't know.
But for the first time since arriving at this palace, I have a purpose beyond surviving.
The substitute bride is about to become something more.
And the thought terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.