Mei Qing stared at the intricate embroidery on her robes, the delicate threads winding together to create a pattern that, at first glance, seemed perfect. But the more she looked, the more she could spot the tiny imperfections—barely noticeable unless you knew where to look. It reminded her of the harem. Beautiful on the surface, but underneath, a mess of hidden flaws and cracks waiting to be exploited.
Her fingers traced the embroidery absentmindedly as the faint hum of laughter from the other concubines drifted through the air. She hated the sound. It was too fake, too rehearsed. Every laugh was calculated, every smile a weapon disguised as politeness. Mei wasn't here for idle gossip, or to win favor through charm and empty words.
She was here to win. To survive.
The harem was like a strategy game with no respawns, no second chances. There was no "try again" if you made the wrong move. Every interaction was a potential trap, every glance and whispered word a clue that had to be interpreted perfectly. It was exhausting.
"Better than listening to them," she muttered, glancing toward the garden where the concubines had gathered. The day's tea ceremony had ended hours ago, but the court ladies lingered, like predators waiting for their next kill.
Concubine Xu had, unsurprisingly, dominated the event. Her words were laced with sweetness, but everyone knew better than to believe the surface.
"I do love that dress, Hua," Xu had said with that perfect smile, her gaze calculating as it slid across the table. "It's such a bold choice. Not many would dare wear something so... untraditional."
Mei had watched Hua's reaction carefully. The younger concubine had stiffened slightly, her hand faltering as she reached for her teacup, but she quickly plastered on a smile. "Thank you, Xu-jie. I thought it might be a refreshing change."
"Refreshing, indeed," Xu had replied, her voice silkier than ever. "Though I wonder if the court prefers something more... classical?"
The slight lift of her eyebrow had sent the message loud and clear. It wasn't a compliment. It was a warning.
Hua had nearly choked on her tea, the discomfort flashing briefly across her face before she recovered with a shaky smile. The other concubines had laughed, some out of genuine amusement, others out of sheer self-preservation.
Mei hadn't joined in. Instead, she had observed. There was something far more interesting in seeing how the power shifted in the room with each word Xu threw out.
After the ceremony, Mei had followed Concubine Linghua to the garden. Linghua moved quietly, her gaze downcast, as if she were afraid someone might notice her thinking too much. But Mei had caught the subtle flicker of irritation during the tea earlier—Linghua had grown tired of Xu's games. Mei could use that.
"Xu's getting bold, isn't she?" Mei said casually as she fell into step beside Linghua, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the gentle rustling of the leaves.
Linghua's head turned slightly, her expression polite, though her eyes held a flicker of something darker. "She always knows how to manage the room," Linghua replied, keeping her tone neutral.
Mei offered a small smile, the kind that could mean anything or nothing. "It must be exhausting, though. Always having to manage everything so perfectly."
Linghua's eyes flickered again, a slight tightening around the edges, though she said nothing. Mei could feel her hesitation, the internal battle between wanting to speak out and the fear of what might happen if she did.
"I've been watching for a while," Mei continued, keeping her tone light, conversational. "Xu's good at controlling things. But it's the cracks that are interesting, aren't they?"
Linghua's steps faltered, her lips pressing into a thin line. "What do you mean?"
Mei glanced at her, the small smile still on her lips but her eyes sharp. "Everyone has cracks. Even Xu."
There was a brief silence as they walked, the tension hanging between them like a drawn bowstring. Finally, Linghua sighed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "If she finds out—"
"She won't," Mei cut in, her voice calm but firm. "Not unless you let her."
Linghua hesitated again, her gaze flicking over the garden, checking for any eavesdroppers. "And what exactly are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," Mei said with a shrug, her tone easy. "Just pointing out that sometimes, the cracks are the best places to start."
Linghua was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Mei. "You've been here long enough to know how dangerous that thinking is."
Mei smiled, this time a little wider, a little more real. "I know. But we're not here to survive, are we? We're here to win."
Linghua didn't respond, but the flicker of doubt in her eyes had shifted, just slightly. Mei could see it—a tiny crack, a seed of rebellion, and that was enough for now.
Zhihao leaned back in his chair, staring out of his study window as the moonlight bathed the palace grounds in a cold, silver glow. His expression was calm, but his mind was racing through possibilities, each scenario twisting and turning like the web of alliances and schemes he'd built since waking in this strange world.
"Minister Shen has been busy," came Yun's voice from the corner of the room.
Zhihao didn't turn, but his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Isn't he always?"
Yun stepped forward, placing a small scroll on the table. "He's been meeting with Xu more frequently. They've been discussing troop movements. It seems they're preparing for something."
Zhihao's eyes flickered with interest. Shen was a cautious man, but if he was aligning with Xu this openly, it meant they were planning a larger move. Good. Let them think they were in control.
Zhihao had never liked confrontation. His strength was in charm and manipulation, in making people feel secure while he slowly took the ground from beneath them. It had been the same back in Seoul, where he had climbed from a no-name country bumpkin to the top of elite social circles by playing people against each other without them even realizing it. Lovers, businessmen, politicians—they had all fallen for the same tricks. He'd smile, flirt, and make them feel special, all while keeping his real intentions hidden.
Even now, Zhihao's absence from the harem was deliberate. Let them gossip about why the king wasn't interested in his concubines. Let them speculate. The more distracted they were, the better. It kept them off balance, guessing, and when they were busy chasing rumors, Zhihao could operate quietly.
And it wasn't as if he needed to keep tabs on the harem himself. That was Mei's territory. They didn't need to talk about it to know they were working together. Their relationship had always been like that—silent understanding, even when they mocked each other endlessly.
"Keep a closer eye on Shen," Zhihao said, his voice quiet but sharp. "Let me know if he makes any unusual moves."
Yun nodded, disappearing into the shadows without another word. Zhihao trusted Yun... to a point. Yun was loyal, yes, but loyalty was just another form of currency in the palace, and Zhihao never forgot that. The only person he trusted completely was Mei, and even then, trust between them wasn't spoken aloud. It was just there, unspoken but unbreakable, forged from years of shared struggles.
Mei paced her chambers, waiting for Lian to return. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts of Xu, Shen, and the slow unraveling of alliances she and Zhihao were orchestrating. Xu was powerful, but she wasn't invincible. Mei had been quietly collecting allies, using Rui's desperation and Linghua's growing dissatisfaction to her advantage. But none of it was enough without Zhihao's moves in the court.
Their spies worked in tandem, information flowing between them in a way that no one else could follow. They didn't need to explain things to each other—Zhihao handled the ministers, the generals, and Mei handled the harem. Together, they were shifting the balance of power, little by little.
Lian entered the room, her steps light as she bowed before Mei. "Concubine Xu's been speaking with Minister Shen again," she reported. "There are rumors they're preparing for something... bigger."
Mei's lips twitched, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. "Of course they are. They're getting nervous."
Lian looked uncertain, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "What should we do?"
Mei's gaze slid over to her, her expression cold. "We wait. And when they make their move, we'll be ready."
Lian bowed and retreated, leaving Mei alone with her thoughts. Xu and Shen thought they were untouchable, but Mei had spent her entire life learning how to read her enemies' weaknesses, just like in her tournaments. Xu was no different from those arrogant players she had crushed back in her gaming days—too sure of herself, too focused on maintaining control to notice when the ground was shifting beneath her feet.
Mei sat back, exhaling slowly. She didn't need to rush. The game was just beginning.
Later that night, Zhihao stood in the shadows of the garden, the cool breeze ruffling his robes as he waited for Mei. When she arrived, she didn't say anything at first, just gave him a brief nod before standing beside him.
"They're making moves," Mei said after a moment, her voice low.
Zhihao smirked. "Let them. They have no idea we're three steps ahead."
Mei glanced at him, her lips quirking into a small smile. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"And you're not?" Zhihao raised an eyebrow, the playful glint in his eyes familiar.
Mei huffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe a little."
They stood there in silence, side by side, the night quiet around them. Neither of them had to say it, but they both knew the truth. In this dangerous game of court and harem politics, they only truly trusted each other. Everyone else was just a pawn.