The red-lacquered corridors of the West Wing buzzed with quiet interest: a trade envoy from the southern harbors had arrived. Silk merchants, gold smugglers turned nobles, jewelers who whispered in five dialects—those were Meiqi's people.
But she walked through them now like she belonged in the marble halls of empire.
She didn't dress to impress that morning. Instead, she wore soft green silk, embroidered lightly with jasmine. Not loud. Not seductive. Just watchful.
The key to blending in was pretending you didn't need to.
A whisper greeted her as she passed the third lantern corridor: "The Emperor will receive them in the Hall of Mirrors."
Meiqi smiled faintly. That meant the meeting was intimate—no more than seven people. Good. Fewer distractions.
When she arrived, a young steward blinked at her. "My lady? This gathering—"
"Is for those who understand commerce," she said smoothly. "Does the Emperor prefer ignorance?"
The boy opened his mouth. Then bowed, wisely.
Inside the Hall of Mirrors, golden panels shimmered with candlelight. The Emperor was seated at the central dais, flanked by two ministers and one unusually quiet foreign ambassador.
Meiqi entered with grace—not arrogance, but clarity. She bowed low.
"Lady Lin," the Emperor said with a slight tilt of his head. "We were not expecting you."
She rose, hands folded. "Then I am honored to be the unexpected that proves useful."
A ripple of chuckles from the southern envoy. One even murmured something in old Yue dialect. Meiqi responded without hesitation.
The Emperor's brow lifted.
"You speak Southern Yue?" he asked.
"My mother was born under a pearl canopy," Meiqi said simply. "She made sure her daughter could trade in five tongues and never be cheated in any of them."
That was partly true.
The Emperor gestured to a space beside the ministers. She took it with quiet confidence.
Over the next hour, she listened. Measured. Spoke when needed.
She advised that taxing jade imports too heavily would hurt inland alliances. That redirecting river tariffs could make room for court coffers and lower rebellion in the provinces. She didn't plead. She presented.
By the end of the meeting, the ambassador had addressed her directly—twice.
And when she bowed to leave, the Emperor said:
"Stay behind."
The others departed. Meiqi remained, spine straight.
The Emperor regarded her.
"You came without invitation."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And left with influence."
"I only reminded the room," she said carefully, "that I existed."
A long silence.
Then—unexpectedly—he smiled.
"A valuable reminder."
He said nothing more, but she knew what had changed.
She was no longer invisible.
She was counted.