I woke up drowning in roses. Not metaphorically but literally.
The heat hit me first. Moist, heavy steam clung to my skin, and I jolted awake with a gasp.
Petals.
Rose petals were everywhere—on my face, in my mouth, floating around me like I'd been sacrificed in some luxury pagan ritual. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, rich and dizzying, like incense burning too close to the nose.
I blinked hard. My eyes scanned the space, trying to make sense of the haze. Above me, soft golden lanterns glowed—hundreds of them, maybe thousands—casting everything in warm, opulent light. The ceiling was so high I couldn't see where it ended.
Everything was... too luxurious.
"Where am I?" I muttered, groggy, throat dry, heart hammering in my chest.
This wasn't my cramped studio apartment in Beijing.This wasn't my bathroom.And this definitely wasn't the crummy twin bed I passed out on after pulling an all-nighter writing the finale of my palace drama.
My gaze drifted downward, cautiously—my hands moving to my chest then to my stomach. Something was off. Something was wrong.
I glanced at myself, trying not to panic.
"Huh… this isn't my body," I breathed, voice soft and strangely smooth. I patted my face, ran my hands over unfamiliar skin.
"Oh my god, why is my arm thinner than that of an unfed idol? Why the hell do I look so pale?"
I sat up—slowly, shakily—and stared. The silk sheets slid off me, revealing a royal bath carved from marble, its edges dripping with rose petals and steam. The water shimmered around me like liquid jade.
My chest rose and fell in short, careful breaths. Every movement felt foreign, like I'd been poured into someone else's skin.
"What the hell…" I whispered, then froze. That voice, it was Soft, breathy and high. Nothing like mine.
No.No, no, no.
This wasn't happening. What in the name of chasing jade was going on?
I sat completely still, glaring at the ornate furniture, the carved dragon columns, the golden ceiling. And then, because the universe is cruel, I moved—too fast. Bad idea.
The room spun. Pain cracked through my skull like a whip, and I clutched my head as a sharp memory pierced through the fog.
"Ahh—" I groaned, fingers digging into my scalp.
And then it hit me, Like a thrown dagger.
A name. A title. A face.
Lian Yu.
Concubine Lian Yu.
Third-ranked male consort in the harem of Emperor Long Renzhao.
I froze. My lungs refused to work. I knew that name. I wrote that name.
Lian Yu. My character. The one I'd created as a stunning, icy beauty with no allies in the palace. Rumored to have seduced the emperor with a single glance. Poisoned by jealous rivals and forgotten like a wilted flower by chapter fifteen. A tragic afterthought in a world of power games.
And now… I was him?
"What the heck… nope. Nope nope nope," I whispered, half-laughing, half-hysterical. I tried to stand, legs slipping on wet marble, and landed back in the bath with a loud splash.
The cold bit through me.I clung to the side of the tub, water sloshing around me. The air, despite its heat, felt like ice against my bare skin.Then—soft footsteps. A screen slid open.
"Your Grace," a voice called gently. "His Majesty has summoned you to the Azure Hall. Please prepare to present yourself within the hour."
My brain just... shut off. His Majesty?
The Emperor?The same man who kills Lian Yu—not with a sword, but with indifference and political exile?
Fantastic. Just fantastic.I'm stuck in my own palace drama. The one I wrote. The one I built out of backstabbing, poisoned tea, and dramatic hairpins.
I turned my head and caught my reflection in the water—long dark hair cascading like silk, delicate cheekbones, a mouth too soft to look threatening. A face like porcelain, like tragedy.
A beautiful body that wasn't mine.
But also... damn, I was kind of hot?
"This isn't a dream," I said softly. "It's a death sentence."
And unless I wanted to go down with the doomed character I created, I had one option; Rewrite the story from the inside
"Fine," I muttered, dragging myself from the water, dripping and determined. "I can work with this."
After all, I wrote court drama for a living.
Now, I just had to survive one.
Step one?
Don't. Die.
Step two?
Survive the Emperor.