Mei Lin's POV
I don't sleep that night.
My mind won't stop racing—replaying every moment in the library, every word the Emperor spoke, the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle worth solving.
Call me Qian.
I've never called anyone by their personal name except family. And even then, my family barely acknowledged I had a voice.
But the Emperor, Qian—wants me to use his name. Wants my opinion. Wants my mind.
It feels like a dream. The kind I'll wake from to find myself back in my family's house, invisible and worthless.
Except the morning comes, and a servant arrives with a message: His Majesty requests your presence in his private study.
It's real.
Jin Yu helps me dress in simple robes, nothing elaborate, just clean and appropriate. My hands shake as she fixes my hair.
You're nervous, she observes.
I'm terrified. I meet her eyes in the mirror. What if I say something stupid? What if the other advisors mock me? What if
What if you're brilliant and they realize the Emperor chose well? Jin Yu squeezes my shoulder. You saved yourself from a fire at eight years old. You survived fifteen years of neglect. You can survive one strategy meeting.
She's right. I've survived worse than judgmental officials.
But this feels different. This feels like hope. And hope is the most dangerous thing I've ever carried.
Captain Feng escorts me through the palace. We take corridors I've never seen—private passages that bypass the main halls. Keeping me hidden from court gossip.
The Emperor values discretion, Feng says. These sessions are private. Only his most trusted advisors attend.
How many?
Four. Minister Shen, General Han, Minister Wu, and now you.
My stomach drops. General Han will be there?
Yes. Feng's expression is carefully neutral. He won't like your presence. But the Emperor's word is law.
We reach an ornate door. Feng knocks twice and opens it.
The study is smaller than I expected, intimate, lined with maps and books. Four men look up as I enter.
Three stare at me like I'm a strange insect that wandered in.
The fourth Qian, stands behind a desk, his expression unreadable. But when our eyes meet, something flickers in his gaze. Recognition. Maybe approval.
Gentlemen, Qian says smoothly, allow me to introduce the Empress. She'll be joining our sessions going forward.
Silence.
Then General Han, a broad, intimidating man with cold eyes, speaks. Your Majesty, surely this is a jest. The Empress has no place in military discussions.
The Empress has a mind sharp enough to see flaws in your strategies, General. That gives her every right to be here.
Han's face darkens. This is unprecedented. Empresses attend to court functions and produce heirs. They don't
They do what I say they do. Qian's voice cuts like ice. Or do you question my judgment?
Han backs down immediately, bowing stiffly. But his eyes when they meet mine are full of hatred.
I've made an enemy. My first day, and I've already made a powerful enemy.
Minister Shen. Qian gestures to an older man with kind eyes. Your thoughts?
Shen studies me thoughtfully. If Her Majesty has insights to offer, I welcome them. Fresh perspectives often reveal what we've missed through familiarity.
Minister Wu?
The third man, thin, nervous, just nods quickly. As Your Majesty wishes.
Qian pulls out a chair. Sit, Empress.
I sit, acutely aware of every eye on me. The only woman in a room of men who think I don't belong.
Prove them wrong, I tell myself. Show them why he chose you.
Qian spreads a map on the table. The northern border. General Han, present your current strategy.
Han launches into his plan, massing troops at Tiger Pass, overwhelming force, standard military doctrine.
I bite my tongue. Don't speak yet. Wait for the right moment.
The barbarians won't expect such a strong show of force, Han concludes. They'll retreat or be crushed.
Or, I say quietly, they'll avoid Tiger Pass entirely and attack somewhere you've left vulnerable.
Every head swivels toward me.
Han's eyes narrow. Empress, with respect, you don't understand
I understand that obvious strategies invite obvious counters. I lean forward, pointing to the map. You concentrate forces here. Which means these passes are weakened. If the enemy has any intelligence network and they do, they'll know exactly where you're strongest. And they'll go where you're weakest.
The other passes are defensible with minimal troops
In summer. But winter is coming. These eastern passes freeze early, making them harder to defend and easier to attack if you know the terrain. I trace the route. I'd send scouts here, and here. Small raiding parties hitting your supply lines while your main force waits at Tiger Pass for an enemy that never comes. Then when you're stretched thin and supplies are low, I'd attack in force through the eastern passes.
Silence.
Minister Shen leans forward, studying the map. She's right. We haven't adequately considered winter vulnerabilities in the eastern sector.
Han's face goes purple. This is absurd! Your Majesty, she's a woman with no military training, no battlefield experience
And yet she just identified the exact weakness I noticed in your plan but couldn't articulate, Qian says coldly. Perhaps that says more about your strategy than her qualifications.
The insult lands like a slap. Han's jaw works, but he says nothing.
Qian turns to me, and something almost like pride flickers in his eyes. What would you do instead, Empress?
My heart races, but I force my voice steady. Divide forces. Keep enough at Tiger Pass to make it look like your main defense. But position mobile units at the eastern passes—smaller, faster troops that can respond quickly to raids. And send your own raiding parties to disrupt their supply lines first. Make them defensive instead of offensive.
That's guerrilla warfare, Han spits. Not honorable combat.
War isn't about honor. It's about winning. I meet his glare. You want to protect the empire, don't you? Or do you want to protect your pride?
Minister Wu makes a strangled sound that might be a suppressed laugh.
Qian's lips twitch. Well said, Empress. He turns to the others. We'll implement a modified version, conventional forces at Tiger Pass, mobile units at the eastern passes, and scouting parties to gather intelligence.
Your Majesty Han starts.
That's my decision, General. Unless you have a better alternative?
Han's silence is answer enough.
The session continues for another hour. They discuss supply logistics, troop rotations, diplomatic considerations. I contribute when I have insights, stay quiet when I don't.
And slowly, I watch Minister Shen's respect grow, Minister Wu's curiosity awaken, and General Han's hatred deepen.
Finally, Qian dismisses them. Empress, stay a moment.
The others file out. Han shoots me a look that promises retribution before the door closes.
I'm alone with Qian.
You made an enemy today, he says, moving to pour wine.
I noticed.
Han is dangerous. Powerful. He has the loyalty of half the military. Qian hands me a cup. He won't forgive being contradicted in front of others.
Are you saying I shouldn't have spoken?
I'm saying you should be careful. He sits across from me, his black eyes intense. But no. Don't stop speaking. That mind of yours is exactly what I need.
Warmth floods through me at the praise. Why? Why do you need me? You have advisors, generals, minister
Who all think the same way. Who see the same patterns, make the same assumptions. He leans forward. You see differently. Think differently. That's valuable.
I'm not trained. I have no experience
You have fifteen years of teaching yourself. Of surviving by being smarter than people who underestimated you. His voice softens slightly. I know what that's like.
Our eyes meet, and something passes between us. Understanding. Recognition.
We're both survivors. Both underestimated. Both dangerous in ways people don't expect.
I was the fourth son, Qian says quietly. No one thought I'd be emperor. No one paid attention to the powerless prince reading military history and studying politics. They focused on my brothers—the obvious heirs.
Until you weren't powerless anymore, I whisper.
Until I took what they thought I couldn't have. His jaw tightens. And you? You were the scarred daughter no one wanted. But you learned anyway. Prepared anyway. Survived anyway.
We're both substitutes, I realize. You substituted for your brothers. I substituted for my sister.
Except we're better than the originals. The corner of his mouth lifts—almost a smile. And that terrifies them.
Is that why you really want me here? To terrify them?
I want you here because you're brilliant. Because you see what others miss. Because... He pauses, something flickering in his expression. Because this throne is lonely. And you're the first person in years who's spoken to me like I'm human instead of a crown.
The confession hangs between us, raw and unexpected.
I don't know how to be an advisor, I admit. I don't know the politics, the protocols—
You'll learn. I'll teach you. He stands, moves to the window. But Mei—this won't be easy. The court will hate you for this. They'll call you manipulative, power-hungry, improper. They'll try to remove you.
Then why risk it?
He turns, and his eyes burn with intensity. Because I'd rather have one intelligent advisor I can trust than a hundred sycophants who tell me what I want to hear. Because the empire needs better than conventional thinking. And because...
Because? My voice is barely a whisper.
Because you saved your family when they threw you away. That kind of loyalty, that kind of strength—I need that beside me.
My throat tightens. I'm not loyal to you. I barely know you.
Not yet. He holds my gaze. But you will be. And I'll be loyal to you. Partners, Mei. Not emperor and ornament. Partners.
The word settles between us like a promise.
What if I fail? I ask. What if my strategies are wrong and people die?
Then we'll learn from it. Together. He moves closer. I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm asking you to think. To challenge me. To be honest even when it's dangerous.
Honesty is all I have.
Then give me that. And I'll give you something you've never had.
What?
A place where you matter.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I blink them back. This is insane.
Probably. His almost-smile returns. But the best decisions usually are.
A knock interrupts us. Captain Feng enters, bowing. Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. General Han requests an urgent audience.
Qian's expression hardens. Tell him I'm unavailable.
He says it concerns the Empress.
I tense. Already. Han is already making his move.
Send him in.
Feng hesitates. Your Majesty, perhaps the Empress should
The Empress stays. Qian's voice is iron. Whatever Han wants to say, he can say in front of her.
General Han enters, his face a mask of false respect. He bows to Qian, then turns cold eyes on me.
Your Majesty, I must speak plainly. Having the Empress attend military sessions is a mistake.
Your concern is noted, Qian says flatly.
The men won't respect orders that come from feminine influence. The court already whispers that she's manipulating you, using womanly wiles
Let them whisper. Qian's voice drops dangerously. The Empress's strategies are sound. That's all that matters.
Today, perhaps. But what about tomorrow, when her advice leads to disaster? What about when— Han's eyes narrow. Your Majesty, the previous empresses also had... unusual influence. And they all died under mysterious circumstances. I merely suggest that such visibility makes Her Majesty a target.
Ice runs down my spine.
Is that a warning? Or a threat?
Qian goes utterly still. Are you suggesting someone might harm the Empress for attending strategy sessions?
I'm suggesting the palace has many dangers. And empresses who draw too much attention often... don't survive long.
The room crackles with tension.
General, Qian says softly, lethally, if anyone—anyone—harms the Empress, I will hold them personally responsible. Along with anyone who might have... encouraged such harm through careless words
Han pales slightly. Your Majesty, I would never
Then we understand each other. The Empress attends my sessions. She advises me. And she does so under my absolute protection. He leans forward. Spread that message to anyone who might have concerns. Am I clear?
Crystal, Your Majesty.
Good. Dismissed.
Han bows stiffly and leaves, but not before shooting me one last look of pure venom.
The door closes. Silence.
He just threatened me, I say quietly.
He did. Qian's jaw is tight. But he also revealed something important.
What?
That you're already valuable enough to threaten. Which means my instinct was right. He turns to me. You're going to change everything, Mei. The question is—are you ready for what that means?
I think about my old life. Invisible. Worthless. Safe in obscurity.
Then I think about the last hour. Speaking my mind. Being heard. Mattering.
I'm ready, I say.
Even knowing it might get you killed?
I'd rather die mattering than live invisible.
Something fierce and approving flashes in his eyes. Then welcome to the game, partner. Let's see if we can survive it together.
He extends his hand, an equal gesture, not emperor to subject.
I take it.
And feel my entire world shift.
The substitute bride just became a player in the deadliest game in the empire.
And somehow, terrifyingly, I've never felt more alive.