Mei Lin's POV
The whispers start before I even leave Qian's study.
Captain Feng escorts me back through the private corridors, but we pass servants who stop mid-task to stare. Their eyes follow me, curious, suspicious, calculating.
By the time I reach my chambers, Jin Yu is waiting with wide eyes.
The entire palace is talking about you, she says, closing the door quickly. They're saying you attended the Emperor's private war council. That you contradicted General Han. That you— She stops, searching my face. Is it true?
I sink into a chair, my hands still trembling from the confrontation. Yes.
Your Majesty. Jin Yu kneels beside me. That's incredibly dangerous. General Han is
Furious. I know. I press my fingers to my temples. He practically threatened me in front of the Emperor.
What did His Majesty do?
I remember Qian's cold voice, the way he defended me without hesitation. He protected me. Told Han I'm under imperial protection.
Jin Yu relaxes slightly. Then you're safe.
Am I? I stand, pacing. The previous empresses had the Emperor's protection too. They still died.
Silence falls between us.
Lady Chen said something yesterday, I continue quietly. About Empress Lian dying while the Emperor let her scream. What did she mean?
Jin Yu's face goes pale. Your Majesty, that's palace gossip. You shouldn't
Tell me.
She hesitates, then sighs. Empress Lian died in childbirth. The labor went badly—lasted three days. They say she screamed for the Emperor, begged him to save her. But he never came. Just... let her die.
Horror crawls through me. Why wouldn't he come?
Some say he was away handling a border crisis. Others say... Jin Yu looks uncomfortable. Others say he didn't care. That he only married her for political alliance, and once she was dying anyway, he chose the empire over her.
I think about Qian's words: This throne is lonely.
Is that what happens? The throne consumes everything, even the ability to care when someone dies screaming your name?
The first empress was poisoned, Jin Yu continues softly. The third was accused of treason and took poison herself rather than face execution. And now you
A sharp knock interrupts us.
Jin Yu opens the door to reveal a palace servant I don't recognize, holding a small box.
Delivery for Her Majesty, the servant says, bowing low.
From whom? I ask.
Anonymous, Your Majesty.
Every instinct screams danger. I didn't order anything.
Nevertheless. The servant places the box on the table and leaves quickly.
Jin Yu and I stare at the box.
Don't open it, she whispers.
But curiosity wars with caution. What if it's important? What if it's a clue about who's threatening me?
I lift the lid carefully.
Inside is a single dead flower, a white chrysanthemum. The funeral flower.
And a note in elegant handwriting:
Empresses who play at being men don't live long. Ask the previous three.
My blood runs cold.
That's it. Jin Yu snatches the box. I'm telling Captain Feng. This is a direct threat
Wait. I grab her arm. If we report every threat, I'll look weak. Scared. That's what they want.
You should be scared! Someone is threatening to kill you!
Someone has been threatening to kill me since the wedding night. I force my voice steady even though my heart hammers. If I run to the Emperor every time, I prove I can't handle this position. That I'm just a frightened girl playing at advisor.
You're not playing! You gave brilliant strategy today
Which is exactly why they're scared. I look at the dead flower. I challenged General Han in front of witnesses. Proved I'm not just decorative. So now they're trying to frighten me back into silence.
Jin Yu's expression shifts from fear to understanding. You're not going to stop.
No. I throw the flower into the brazier, watching it burn. I'm going to be exactly what terrifies them most—useful.
A slow smile crosses Jin Yu's face. The Emperor chose well.
The next morning, I'm summoned to breakfast with the court ladies.
I've been dreading this. Palace women are more dangerous than any general—their weapons are words, rumors, social destruction.
Jin Yu helps me dress in formal robes, her hands steady even though mine shake.
Remember, she murmurs, they'll try to make you feel inferior. Don't let them.
I've survived my mother's disapproval for fifteen years. I can handle court ladies.
But when I enter the pavilion where they've gathered, my confidence wavers.
There are twelve of them, wives and daughters of high officials, draped in silk and jewels, beautiful and polished. Everything I'm not.
They rise and bow when I enter, but the respect is perfunctory. Cold.
Your Majesty, Lady Wang, the Minister of Rites' wife, gestures to the seat of honor. How kind of you to join us.
I sit, acutely aware of their stares cataloging everything wrong with me. My simpler robes. My lack of jewelry. The scars on my neck that no amount of powder can hide.
We were just discussing the upcoming Moon Festival, Lady Chen says—the woman who warned me about Empress Lian. The preparations are extensive. As Empress, you'll be expected to oversee everything.
I look forward to it, I say carefully.
Do you? Lady Wang's smile doesn't reach her eyes. The previous empress found it overwhelming. So many details, the music, the decorations, the proper rituals. It requires such... refinement.
The insult is delicate but clear: You lack refinement.
I'm sure Her Majesty will manage, a younger woman says. Lady Mei—Minister Shen's daughter. Her tone is kind, and when our eyes meet, she offers a genuine smile.
An ally? Or someone trying to seem kind before striking?
Tell us, Your Majesty, Lady Chen leans forward, how are you finding palace life? So different from... wherever you came from.
The Lin family estate, I say evenly. And yes, it's different. Larger. More complex.
And the Emperor? Lady Wang's eyes glitter. How is married life treating you? You must be so happy.
It's a trap. If I say I'm happy, they'll mock me for delusion—everyone knows we have separate chambers. If I say I'm not, they'll spread rumors of discord.
His Majesty has been... educational, I say instead.
Several women exchange glances.
Educational? Lady Chen's eyebrows rise. How peculiar. Most would say 'attentive' or 'devoted.'
The Emperor is devoted to the empire, I reply. As am I.
Is that why you attended his war council yesterday? The question comes from Lady Zhao, the General's wife. Her voice is ice. How... unusual for an empress.
The table goes silent.
Here it is. The real attack.
His Majesty values diverse perspectives, I say carefully.
Diverse, Lady Wang repeats. What a charitable way to phrase it. Though I wonder—what could a woman possibly contribute to military strategy? We're not trained for such... masculine pursuits.
Perhaps that's why fresh eyes are valuable, I counter. Those too close to conventional thinking sometimes miss alternatives.
Lady Zhao's smile is sharp. Are you suggesting our generals are incompetent?
I'm suggesting no one is perfect. Including me. I meet her gaze directly. Which is why discussion and debate improve decisions.
Debate. Lady Chen laughs—bright and cruel. How very... intellectual of you, Your Majesty. Though one wonders if the Emperor truly values your thoughts, or if he simply tolerates them to avoid... unpleasantness.
The implication is clear: He only listens to you out of obligation.
My thoughts seem adequate, I say coolly. The Emperor implemented my suggestion regarding the eastern passes.
Shock ripples through the group.
You... suggested military strategy? Lady Wang's voice rises. And he actually—
Yes. I lift my chin. He did.
Lady Zhao's face goes white with fury. That's outrageous. Women have no place—
Women have whatever place the Emperor grants them, I interrupt. And he's granted me this one. Unless you're questioning His Majesty's judgment?
Silence.
No one can criticize the Emperor directly without risking their families' positions.
I've trapped them with protocol.
Lady Mei hides a smile behind her tea cup.
Well, Lady Wang says tightly, how... progressive. Though I do hope you're careful, Your Majesty. The previous empresses also had the Emperor's favor. Briefly.
There it is. The threat wrapped in concern.
Thank you for your... concern, I say. But I'm not the previous empresses.
No, Lady Chen agrees, her eyes traveling over my scars. You certainly are not.
The breakfast continues in tense silence, broken only by forced pleasantries. When it finally ends, I escape to the gardens, my composure cracking the moment I'm alone.
I survived. Barely.
That was impressive.
I spin to find Lady Mei approaching, her expression warm.
Lady Mei—
Please, call me Xiu. She glances around to ensure we're alone. My father told me about the strategy session. He said you were brilliant.
Your father is Minister Shen?
Yes. And unlike the others, he actually values intelligence over gender. She moves closer. I wanted to warn you—Lady Zhao is General Han's wife. Anything you say to her goes straight to him.
My stomach sinks. I didn't realize
Of course you didn't. That's what they count on. Xiu's voice drops. The court ladies are an information network, Your Majesty. Every word you speak here will be twisted and weaponized. You need to be careful.
Are you part of that network?
She hesitates. I'm part of it. But I don't have to be your enemy. She meets my eyes. My father believes the empire needs new thinking. He thinks you might provide it. So... if you need a friend in this nest of vipers, I'm offering.
I study her. Is this genuine? Or another trap?
But I'm so desperately alone. And I need allies.
Thank you, I say quietly. I could use a friend.
Xiu smiles. Good. First lesson—never attend these breakfasts without preparation. I'll send you information about everyone attending. Their alliances, their weaknesses, their agendas.
Why help me?
Because I'm tired of watching intelligent women pretend to be empty-headed dolls to survive. Her eyes flash. You're actually using your mind. That gives me hope that maybe things can change.
Before I can respond, a servant rushes over, bowing quickly.
Your Majesty! Forgive the interruption—the Emperor requests your immediate presence in the war room.
My heart jumps. Now?
Yes, Your Majesty. He said it's urgent.
I follow the servant, Xiu's parting words echoing in my mind: Be careful. People are watching everything you do now.
The war room is in chaos when I arrive. Maps scattered everywhere, officials arguing loudly, and Qian standing at the center, his face grim.
He sees me and gestures sharply. Empress. Good. I need your assessment immediately.
I move to the table. What happened?
Your prediction. Minister Shen points to the map. It's coming true. Scouts report enemy movement in the eastern passes—exactly where you said they'd attack.
General Han's forces are positioned at Tiger Pass, Minister Wu adds nervously. If the main attack comes through the east
Then we're vulnerable, I finish, my mind already racing. How many mobile units do we have near the eastern sector?
Not enough, Qian says grimly. We didn't implement the full strategy yet—only preliminary repositioning.
Because they didn't fully trust my judgment. Now they're paying for it.
How long until they reach the passes? I ask.
Two days. Maybe less.
I study the map, possibilities forming. Pull cavalry units from here and here. They can reach the eastern passes before the enemy if they ride hard. Use them to harass and delay while you mobilize the main force.
That leaves the southern border exposed, General Han snaps—when did he arrive? His face is thunderous.
For three days. The southern warlords won't move that fast. I trace routes. But if you don't defend the east, you lose the passes entirely. Then the southern border won't matter because they'll be inside your territory.
Qian stares at the map, then at me. You're certain?
No. But I'm logical. And this is our best option given the circumstances.
He holds my gaze for three heartbeats. Then: Do it. Pull the cavalry. Send messengers immediately.
Officials scatter to obey.
General Han's face goes purple. Your Majesty, listening to a woman over your experienced generals
My experienced general didn't predict this attack. She did. Qian's voice is ice. If you have a better strategy, present it. Otherwise, implement the Empress's plan.
Han looks like he wants to argue but can't. Because I'm right, and he knows it.
Yes, Your Majesty, he grits out, then storms from the room.
When we're alone just me, Qian, and Minister Shen, I let out a shaking breath.
That was terrifying, I admit.
You handled it perfectly, Shen says, eyes twinkling. My daughter tells me you survived breakfast with the vipers as well.
Barely.
But you survived. That's what matters. He bows to both of us. I'll oversee the cavalry deployment. Your Majesty, Empress.
He leaves, and I'm alone with Qian.
You were right, he says quietly. Your strategy predicted this perfectly.
I got lucky.
You were brilliant. He moves closer. And now everyone knows it. Which means...
Which means I'm even more of a target, I finish.
Yes. His expression darkens. General Han will hate you for this. The court ladies will spread vicious rumors. Every enemy I have just became your enemy too.
I know.
And you still want to do this? Still want to advise me?
I think about the breakfast. The threats. The dead flower. The danger closing in from all sides.
Then I think about the last hour—using my mind to solve real problems, making decisions that matter, being someone who matters.
Yes, I say firmly. I still want this.
Something fierce and approving blazes in his eyes. Then we fight together. Partners.
Partners, I agree.
He extends his hand again—that equal gesture.
I take it.
And this time, he doesn't let go immediately. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, a gesture so small and unexpected it steals my breath.
Thank you, he says quietly, for not running when you had every reason to.
Thank you for giving me a reason to stay.
The moment stretches between us—charged, dangerous, something.
Then a messenger bursts in, destroying it.
Your Majesty! Urgent news from the border!
Qian releases my hand, and I feel the loss of his warmth immediately.
Report.
The messenger bows. The enemy forces—they're larger than scouts reported. Three thousand troops, not two. And they're moving faster than expected. They'll reach the passes by tomorrow morning.
Horror floods through me. Tomorrow morning. Not two days.
Can our cavalry reach them in time? Qian demands.
Unknown, Your Majesty. It will be close.
If our forces don't arrive in time, the enemy takes the passes. And my strategy—my brilliant, confident strategy—will have led to disaster.
Qian sees the fear in my face. Mei
If I'm wrong, I whisper, if they don't make it in time, people will die because I
If you're wrong, we adapt. But you're not wrong. His voice is fierce. Your strategy is sound. Now we execute it and trust it works.
And if it doesn't?
His jaw tightens. Then we fight anyway. Together.
The messenger clears his throat awkwardly. Your Majesty, there's more.
What?
A letter. Found on the body of one of our scouts, he was killed trying to get this information back to us. He hands over a sealed envelope.
Qian opens it. His face goes completely still.
What? I ask. What is it?
He hands me the letter silently.
My blood turns to ice as I read:
To the False Empress,
Your strategy will fail. Our forces are already in the passes—we've been there for days, waiting. Your cavalry rides into a trap.
The Emperor will watch his army die because he trusted a woman's judgment. And when they're slaughtered, the court will finally see what we already know: empresses who pretend to be generals get soldiers killed.
Enjoy your last day of relevance. Tomorrow, you'll be the reason hundreds die screaming.
Then we'll come for you.
Sweet dreams,A Friend
I can't breathe.
This wasn't a prediction. This was intelligence they already had. They've been in the passes for days.
Which means my strategy isn't walking into an unprepared enemy.
It's walking straight into an ambush.
And hundreds of soldiers are riding toward death right now because I convinced Qian to trust my judgment.
Pull them back, I gasp. Send riders now, pull them back before—
Too late. Qian's voice is hollow. They're already committed. We can't reach them before they engage.
The room spins.
I just killed hundreds of men.
I just proved every doubt, every whisper, every warning right.
And whoever set this trap is watching, waiting to see the substitute empress destroy everything she touches.
Just like they knew I would.