The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of Lu Chiyue's tablet screen. He was curled up on his bed, surrounded by a sea of blankets, his eyes red from hours of reading. His heart ached as he reached the final chapter of The Veiled Emperor, a sprawling epic that had consumed his thoughts for months. Tonight, the story had taken a cruel turn—his beloved character, Lu Chiyue, the villain whose tragic backstory and fierce loyalty had captivated him, was brutally killed.
Lu Chiyue, the real one, felt tears slip down his cheeks. He wasn't ashamed to cry.
"Damn that author," he muttered, clutching the blanket tighter. "Why? Why did he have to die like that? He wasn't even truly evil!"
He sniffled, his voice thick with emotion as he ranted to the empty room. "Sure, he plotted against the protagonist, but everything he did was for his family! And those idiots—they were upright people, just too naive to see through the prime minister's schemes. Why did they all have to suffer?"
Lu Chiyue was an orphan. For as long as he could remember, he had lived alone, drifting through a world that often felt cold and indifferent. But when he discovered The Veiled Emperor and realized the villain shared his name, something shifted. It was as if the fictional Lu Chiyue had become a surrogate for the family he'd never had. The Lu family, with their proud traditions and deep bonds, had filled a void in his heart.
It was why their tragic end had hit him so hard.
"They didn't deserve this," he whispered, his chest tightening.
The novel's protagonist, a virtuous and righteous hero, had been merciless in his pursuit of vengeance. One by one, he had dismantled the Lu family, their deaths described in excruciating detail. And in the end, the villain Lu Chiyue had died alone, his body left to rot as a symbol of justice.
Lu Chiyue cried until his exhaustion overwhelmed him. As his eyes fluttered shut, he cursed the author one last time.
"Couldn't you have let him live?"
When Lu Chiyue stirred, it was to an odd sensation. The air felt heavier, the scent of incense lingering faintly around him. He opened his eyes groggily, only to find himself surrounded by unfamiliar faces.
"Your Majesty, it is time for court," a voice said gently.
Lu Chiyue blinked. He wasn't in his room. He wasn't even in his world. The ceiling above him was high and ornate, carved with intricate patterns that glimmered faintly in the morning light. The bed he lay on was massive, draped in luxurious silks.
"What…?" he croaked.
The people around him—servants, judging by their attire—bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty," one of them said again, his tone respectful but firm. "The ministers are waiting."
Lu Chiyue sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. "Wait, wait," he stammered, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears. It was deeper, more commanding. "Where… am I?"
The servants exchanged puzzled glances, but one of them stepped forward, her expression kind but slightly concerned.
"Your Majesty, do you require a physician?"
Lu Chiyue shook his head, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in his mind. The ornate room, the servants, the title they kept addressing him with—Your Majesty. His gaze darted to a nearby bronze mirror resting on a carved stand.
"Bring me that," he said, his voice trembling.
One of the servants hurried to comply, placing the mirror in his hands. Lu Chiyue stared at the reflection, his breath catching.
Golden eyes stared back at him, shimmering like molten metal. His hair, once a plain black, now tumbled around his shoulders in waves of deep purple, an unmistakable marker of the Lu royal family from The Veiled Emperor. His features were sharper, more regal, his skin flawless.
He was no longer himself. He was Lu Chiyue, the villain of the novel.
For a long moment, he simply stared at his reflection, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and cautious hope. Had he somehow… traveled into the world of the novel?
His hands shook as he set the mirror aside. "This… this can't be real," he murmured.
Yet the ornate room around him felt very real. The servants, still waiting respectfully by his bedside, seemed very real. And the unfamiliar weight of his body, his regal bearing, his royal blood—that was all too real.
A sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed him. For years, he had imagined what it would be like to have a family like the Lu family. To belong to something greater than himself. And now, impossibly, he was here.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but this time they were tears of joy.
By the time Lu Chiyue composed himself, the initial shock had begun to fade, replaced by determination. If he truly was in the world of The Veiled Emperor, he wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
"Tell me," he said to the nearest servant, "what day is it?"
The servant hesitated, then bowed. "It is the first day of the ninth month, Your Majesty."
Lu Chiyue's heart skipped a beat. That date was significant—it was the beginning of the timeline in the novel, just before the protagonist's rise to power. The Lu family had not yet fallen.
He clenched his fists.
"This time," he vowed silently, "things will be different."
If he had been given this second chance, he would use it to change the fate of the Lu family. They would not die, and he would not become the bitter, isolated villain doomed to tragedy.
"Your Majesty?" the servant prompted, pulling him from his thoughts.
Lu Chiyue took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Prepare my robes. I will attend court."
The servants hurried to obey, bringing forth a set of resplendent robes fit for an emperor. As they dressed him, Lu Chiyue felt a strange mixture of nerves and exhilaration. He was stepping into a role he had only ever read about, surrounded by characters he had admired and hated in equal measure.
But he was ready.
When Lu Chiyue entered the throne room, he felt every eye turn toward him. The ministers bowed deeply, their expressions a mixture of respect and wariness. He recognized many of them from the novel—the scheming prime minister, the loyal general, the timid treasurer.
He took his seat on the throne, his golden eyes sweeping over the gathered officials.
"Your Majesty," the prime minister began, stepping forward with a practiced smile. "We have much to discuss today…"
As the court session unfolded, Lu Chiyue remained silent, observing. He needed time to understand the dynamics of the court, to identify his allies and enemies. The prime minister, as he remembered, was the architect of the Lu family's downfall. His polite words and obsequious demeanor masked a ruthless ambition.
Lu Chiyue's jaw tightened. If he was going to protect his family, he would have to outmaneuver this man.
By the end of the court session, Lu Chiyue was mentally exhausted but resolute. He returned to his chambers, dismissing the servants with a wave of his hand. Alone, he sank into a chair, his mind racing.
The stakes were higher than ever. If he failed, the Lu family would fall, just as they had in the novel. But if he succeeded, he could rewrite their story—and his own.
For the first time in years, Lu Chiyue felt truly alive.
"This is my story now," he whispered, a fierce determination burning in his golden eyes. "And I won't let it end in tragedy."