The first rays of dawn, pale and shy, filtered through the ornate window carvings, painting Mei's unfamiliar chamber in hues of gold and rose. Mei, still inhabiting Xiu Luan's body, had not truly slept. Her mind, a whirlwind of calculations and terrifying realities, had refused to quiet. She'd spent the hours before light dissecting every detail of her surroundings, every piece of information Lian and Xiao Ling had unknowingly given her.
"Zhou Dynasty... Prince... Princess Consort... concubines... Orchid Pavilion... poison accusation..." The terms spun in her head, forming a complex, dangerous diagram. This wasn't just a historical drama; this was her new, terrifying reality. Her engineering brain, accustomed to solving problems with precise algorithms, now faced a system governed by human emotion, ancient superstition, and brutal power plays.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Princess Consort? Are you awake?" It was Lian's gentle voice.
"Enter," Mei said, the unfamiliar sound of her own voice still subtly jarring.
Lian and Xiao Ling entered, carrying basins of warm water, fresh towels, and a delicate breakfast tray. The aroma of steamed buns and fragrant tea filled the room, a stark contrast to the instant noodles and strong coffee Mei was used to.
"Good morning, Princess Consort," Lian said, bowing deeply. "We have prepared your morning wash and breakfast."
Mei observed them. Their movements were graceful, practiced. Their faces, though respectful, held a faint hint of concern, almost pity, for Xiu Luan. This reinforced Mei's earlier thought: Xiu Luan was not a favored figure.
As Lian helped her sit up, Mei felt a strange sense of detachment. It was like watching a character in a game being prepared. Her fingers, Xiu Luan's fingers, were surprisingly delicate. She noticed the slight tremble in her hands as she accepted a warm, damp cloth. Xiu Luan was evidently not a physically strong woman.
"Lian," Mei began, keeping her voice even, "tell me more about... the palace. The Prince. And... Grand Empress An Ru." She emphasized the last name, remembering the brief, unsettling encounter from yesterday.
Lian and Xiao Ling exchanged quick glances. Lian hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. "The palace is vast, Princess Consort. It is the heart of the Zhou Dynasty. His Royal Highness, Prince Liang, is the third son of the Emperor. He is... ambitious." Lian chose her words carefully, a sign that the Prince was not to be spoken of lightly.
Ambitious. A red flag for Mei. In corporate terms, "ambitious" managers were often ruthless. In a palace setting, it likely meant deadly.
"And Grand Empress An Ru?" Mei pressed.
Xiao Ling, usually quieter, shivered slightly. "She is... formidable, Princess Consort. The highest-ranking woman in the Inner Palace, overseeing all affairs. Even the concubines and Princess Consorts tremble in her presence. It is said she has a heart of ice."
Lian nodded, her expression grim. "Indeed. Her family, the An Clan, holds immense power. They possess ancient knowledge and spiritual abilities that date back centuries. It is rumored that the Grand Empress herself holds a... unique power. But few dare to speak of it openly."
Ancient knowledge? Spiritual abilities? Unique power? Mei's analytical mind immediately flagged these terms. They were the "unexplained variables" in this new system. Could this be related to the artifact that caused her transmigration?
"What kind of power?" Mei probed, trying to sound merely curious, not desperate for answers.
Lian's voice dropped to a whisper. "They say she can... influence minds. And that her gaze alone can bring one to their knees. Some even claim she can glimpse snippets of the future, or control shadowy figures that are not quite human. But these are just whispers, Princess Consort."
Mei's stomach tightened. This was far beyond data algorithms and code vulnerabilities. This was mystical. And terrifying. If An Ru truly possessed such abilities, then navigating this world would be far more complex than optimizing server performance.
"And the incident in the Orchid Pavilion?" Mei continued, her voice soft but firm. "Concubine Ling. What happened?"
Lian's face clouded. "Concubine Ling... she is much favored by the Prince. On that day, she claimed to have been poisoned by tea prepared by the Princess Consort. It was a clear setup, Princess Consort! Your tea was always made with the freshest leaves, brewed with such care. But the Prince... he believed her, or pretended to. He punished you severely."
"He pretended to believe her?" Mei repeated, picking up on Lian's subtle phrasing. "Why?"
Lian hesitated, glancing nervously towards the door. "Perhaps... to assert his authority. Or to gain favor with Concubine Ling's powerful family. The Prince is always looking for ways to strengthen his position against his brothers in the succession."
Mei absorbed this. The Prince was not just cruel; he was a political opportunist. He used people as pawns, even his own Consort. This meant Xiu Luan, and now Mei in her body, was expendable.
As Mei ate the surprisingly delicious breakfast, her mind raced. She needed information. Comprehensive, reliable data. And she needed to map the key players: the Emperor, the Prince, An Ru, Concubine Ling, and the other concubines, their families, their allegiances. It was like building a new social network graph, but with potentially fatal consequences for incorrect connections.
"Lian, Xiao Ling," Mei said, putting down her cup. "From now on, I want you to tell me everything. Every detail about the palace, about the Prince's habits, about the other concubines, about Grand Empress An Ru. Don't hide anything. No matter how small or insignificant it seems."
The two maids looked surprised, then a hint of admiration flickered in their eyes. The "old" Xiu Luan would never have asked such direct questions.
"Yes, Princess Consort," Lian said, her voice firmer. "We will."
Over the next few days, Mei initiated a meticulous data collection process, disguised as Xiu Luan's renewed interest in palace life. She used Lian and Xiao Ling as her primary "data points," extracting information on everything from the daily routines of key figures to gossip about their weaknesses and ambitions.
She learned that Prince Liang was indeed a cunning man, obsessed with securing the throne. He played his concubines against each other, using their families' power to his advantage. Concubine Ling, a pampered woman from a wealthy merchant family, was a tool for financial support. There was also Concubine Mei (no relation to our Mei), from a respected military family, used for their influence. Xiu Luan, it turned out, came from a scholarly, less powerful family, which explained her vulnerability.
Mei also began to understand the strict hierarchy. The Emperor was the sun, the source of all power. The Princes were planets vying for orbit. The Grand Empress An Ru was a dark star, powerful, mysterious, and gravitational in her own right, positioned above even the Prince's wives. Her power was ancient, deeply tied to the land and its spiritual currents.
One afternoon, Mei decided to test her "new" body's limitations. She attempted some simple exercises she used to do in Shenzhen to relieve desk stiffness. Her limbs felt weak, unaccustomed to physical exertion. Xiu Luan's body was delicate, clearly meant for quiet embroidery and gentle walks, not for modern stretches or self-defense. This was a critical vulnerability.
She also started "researching" a new "language" – the ancient scripts and texts. She asked Lian to bring her old books and scrolls. Initially, the characters looked utterly foreign, like complex, abstract symbols. But with her engineer's mind, she started to see patterns, repetitions. It was like learning a new programming language, only much older and more beautiful. Slowly, painfully, she began to decipher the basics.
"Princess Consort, your interest in the ancient texts is... unusual," Xiao Ling remarked one day, watching Mei meticulously tracing characters.
"One must always seek knowledge, Xiao Ling," Mei replied, her gaze fixed on a scroll detailing ancient astronomy. She saw patterns resembling algorithms in the movements of stars, a different kind of predictable system.
Her newfound intellectual curiosity did not go unnoticed. News of "Xiu Luan's transformation" began to spread subtly through the palace. Whispers followed her: The Princess Consort who was once so meek, now speaks with a sharp mind. She asks strange questions. She reads old texts.
This was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it gave her a new kind of respect, or at least curiosity. On the other hand, it could draw unwanted attention. Especially from those who valued predictability and obedience above all else.
One day, a formal summons arrived from the Grand Empress An Ru herself. Mei's heart pounded. This was it. The direct confrontation.
"The Grand Empress wishes to see you, Princess Consort," the Imperial Guard announced, his voice devoid of emotion.
Mei felt a chill. She knew this was a test. An Ru was not known for idle curiosity.
She spent hours preparing, not just her appearance, but her mental strategy. What would An Ru want? What would she test? Mei thought of An Ru as a complex algorithm. She had to predict her inputs and craft the correct outputs.L
When she arrived at An Ru's grand pavilion, the air immediately felt heavier, colder. The pavilion was sparsely decorated, unlike the other opulent sections of the palace. Dark, polished wood, sharp angles, and a pervasive scent of sandalwood filled the space. It felt like a temple of cold power.
An Ru sat on a raised platform, a figure of striking severity. Her robes were of deep, rich jade green, her hair pulled back into an impossibly elegant high bun, adorned with only a single, large, obsidian-like phoenix hairpin. Her face was perfectly sculpted, beautiful in a chilling, unapproachable way. Her eyes, the color of polished black stone, held no warmth, no emotion. They were eyes that saw everything and revealed nothing.
Mei bowed deeply, as Xiu Luan would. "Greetings to Grand Empress An Ru. May your wisdom shine eternally."
An Ru's gaze was piercing. It felt like her eyes were dissecting Mei, probing her very essence. Mei fought the urge to squirm, to look away. She held her breath, trying to project a calm, respectful demeanor, while her mind raced to control Xiu Luan's body's reaction.
"Princess Consort Xiu Luan," An Ru's voice was low, resonant, like stones grinding against each other. "I have heard... interesting reports about your recent conduct. A sudden awakening of intellect. A newfound curiosity. Tell me, has your brush with death brought enlightenment?"
Mei kept her expression neutral. "Grand Empress is too kind. This one merely reflected on the fleeting nature of life and realized that knowledge is the only constant. I seek to better myself, to be a more worthy servant of the Imperial Family."
An Ru's lips, thin and precise, curved into the barest hint of a smile. It was not a warm smile. It was the smile of a predator. "A worthy sentiment. But unusual for one who was once... so withdrawn."
Mei knew she had to acknowledge the past Xiu Luan without revealing the truth. "Indeed. Perhaps it was a long slumber, awaiting the right stimulus to awaken. The shock of the Prince's displeasure... it served as a harsh, yet effective, teacher."
An Ru was silent for a long moment, her dark eyes still fixed on Mei. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the distant chirping of cicadas. Mei felt a strange pressure building in her head, as if An Ru was subtly trying to penetrate her thoughts. She unconsciously reinforced her mental "firewall," drawing on the discipline she used to protect her code from cyberattacks.
"You have a keen mind, Princess Consort," An Ru finally said, her voice sharper now. "Perhaps too keen. Such minds can be dangerous. They see too much. They question too much."
"Only what is necessary for understanding, Grand Empress," Mei replied, carefully. "A clear understanding leads to efficient service."
An Ru tilted her head slightly. "Efficiency. An interesting choice of word. Tell me, Princess Consort, how would you ensure the 'efficiency' of a palace fraught with hidden currents and unspoken rivalries?"
This was the test. An Ru was asking for a solution to a political problem, framed as a philosophical question. Mei drew on her experience with project management and system optimization.
"Grand Empress," Mei began, choosing her words with precision, "efficiency requires transparency of data, clear objectives, and the removal of redundant processes. In a palace, this means understanding the true intentions of all parties, aligning their actions with the Imperial will, and eliminating distractions that hinder progress."
An Ru's gaze intensified. "And how would one 'understand true intentions' in a realm where lies are the most potent weapon?"
"By observing patterns, Grand Empress," Mei stated, her voice gaining a quiet confidence. "Just as a skilled strategist observes troop movements, one can observe repeated behaviors, subtle shifts in allegiance, and the flow of information. The truth, like a river, will always seek its lowest point, eventually revealing its path."
A flicker, a genuine flicker of something unreadable, passed through An Ru's eyes. It might have been surprise. It might have been interest.
"An intriguing perspective," An Ru murmured, her voice almost soft. "Most would speak of loyalty, or punishment, or divine will. You speak of patterns and rivers."
"The natural world, Grand Empress, often holds the deepest wisdom," Mei replied, trying to sound profound, not like a software engineer citing data analysis.
An Ru remained silent for another long moment, her expression unreadable. Mei braced herself for a dismissal, or perhaps a more direct challenge.
Finally, An Ru leaned back slightly.