The first thing to pierce the veil of sleep was not sound, but a scent. It was heavy, complex, and utterly alien. It wasn't the familiar, clean scent of her high-thread-count cotton sheets or the faint, sterile aroma of her apartment's air purifier. This was a thick, cloying bouquet of sandalwood incense, bitter medicinal herbs, and something else… something sweet and decaying, like jasmine flowers wilting on the vine.
The second thing she noticed was the silence. It was a profound, unnatural quiet. There was no distant hum of traffic from the freeway, no faint wail of a siren echoing through the canyons of downtown buildings, no gentle whoosh of the air conditioner. There was nothing. A silence so deep it felt like a pressure against her eardrums.
An Weiyun's eyes fluttered open.
She wasn't in her bed.
The ceiling above her was not the flat, white expanse of her modern apartment. It was a high, vaulted canopy of dark, intricately carved wood, so detailed it seemed to swim in the dim light. She was lying on a mattress that was strangely firm, her back protesting. She pushed herself up, her hands sinking into a thick, exquisitely woven silk coverlet, the likes of which she'd only seen behind velvet ropes in museums.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to prickle at the edges of her consciousness. She blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the soft, flickering light. It came from dozens of candles placed in ornate wall sconces, their flames dancing and casting long, monstrous shadows that clawed at the walls.
The room was cavernous. Dark wood pillars, carved with coiling dragons and phoenixes, soared up to support the ceiling. Delicate, monochromatic paintings of mist-shrouded mountains and winding rivers adorned the silk-paneled walls. In a far corner, a bronze brazier glowed with dying embers, the source of the sandalwood scent. A low table of polished, dark wood sat in the center of the room, upon which sat a delicate porcelain tea set and a single, closed scroll.
This wasn't a set. She had been on enough sets to know. This was too real. The air was too cold, carrying a damp chill that seeped into her bones. The silence was too deep, broken only by the faint, sputtering hiss of a candle flame.
"My lady? You are awake?"
A voice, soft and deferential, cut through the quiet. An Weiyun's head snapped toward the sound. A young woman, no older than twenty, was kneeling by the side of the bed. She was dressed in a simple pale pink robe, her glossy black hair styled in an elaborate, ancient braid that was pinned with a single, unadorned wooden hairpin. Her eyes, wide and dark, were filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension.
An Weiyun stared, her mind a blank slate of confusion and dawning horror. "What?" she managed to croak, her throat dry and scratchy.
"My lady, you must be careful," the handmaiden said, her brow furrowing with concern. "You took a terrible chill yesterday evening. The Imperial Physician said your fever has broken, but you must not rise too quickly. You are still weak."
My lady? The words were like stones, heavy and nonsensical. "Who are you?" An Weiyun demanded, her voice raspy. "Where am I? Where's my phone?"
The handmaiden's eyes widened in fear. She shuffled back on her knees, her hands clasping together nervously. "My lady… it is I, A-Li. We are in your chambers in the Western Palace. Your… phone?" The girl looked utterly bewildered, as if An Weiyun were speaking a foreign language. "My lady, I do not know this word. Shall I call for the physician again? Perhaps the fever has returned to your mind."
Panic, no longer a prickle but a full-blown tidal wave, crashed over An Weiyun. This was wrong. Everything was fundamentally, terrifyingly wrong. She threw back the heavy silk coverlet and swung her legs off the bed. Her bare feet met the shockingly cold, smooth stone floor, and a violent shiver wracked her body. She felt unsteady, disoriented. Her body felt… wrong. Lighter. Weaker. The lean muscle she'd built from early morning runs felt soft, unused.
She ignored the handmaiden's frantic pleas. "My lady, please! You must not!"
An Weiyun stumbled across the room, her movements clumsy and awkward in the long, silken nightgown she wore. It was a beautiful garment, but it felt like a shroud. She was looking for a door, a window, anything that looked like it belonged in the 21st century. A light switch. An electrical outlet. A security camera.
She found a door, but it was massive, made of dark, heavy wood and reinforced with black iron straps. There was no knob, only a heavy, ornate latch. Beside it, the window was not a pane of glass but an opening covered with a lattice of delicate wooden fretwork, through which she could see the branches of a willow tree swaying gently under a moonless sky.
Desperation clawed at her throat. She turned, her eyes scanning the room wildly, and they landed on it.
A large, polished bronze mirror stood on a lacquered stand in the corner.
Her reflection stared back, and the world tilted on its axis.
The face was hers, but it wasn't. It was a younger, more exquisite version, with skin like polished jade and eyes the color of dark, stormy clouds, delicately lined with kohl. Her eyebrows were a perfect, graceful arch. Her lips were a natural rose, full and bowed. Her hair, a cascade of jet-black silk that shimmered in the candlelight, fell far past her waist.
It was the face she had described in a hundred character notes. The face she had seen in countless casting calls and CGI mock-ups. The face that had launched a thousand online fan threads and forum debates.
It was the face of Mei Lian. The villainess.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips. She raised a hand to her cheek, and the reflection mimicked the movement. The touch was real. The skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingertips. She reached up and touched her hair, feeling the incredible weight and length of it.
"No…" she whispered, her voice a horrified, breathy sound. "No, no, no…"
"My lady!" The handmaiden cried out, rushing to her side. "Please, you will catch your death! The Royal Banquet is tonight! You must be ready!"
The Royal Banquet.
The name hit her like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that knocked the air from her lungs. It was Chapter 12 of her script. Titled, "The Humiliation of the Pearl." It was the first major "Iconic Scene" where Mei Lian publicly establishes her cruelty by humiliating the pure-hearted Princess Ning'er.
A cold, invisible force seemed to settle over the room. It was a pressure, a heavy, suffocating blanket of intent. An Weiyun felt a primal terror seize her, a terror so profound it was paralyzing. She had to get out. She had to run.
"Get away from me," she snarled at the handmaiden, her voice a raw, desperate thing. She turned and ran for the door, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone with a sound that was deafening in the silent room.
But she didn't make it.
Three steps from the door, her legs locked. It was as if they had turned to stone. She strained, every muscle in her body screaming, but she couldn't move them forward. She could only stand there, trembling, a prisoner in her own body.
"My lady?" The handmaiden's voice was trembling with pure terror now.
An Weiyun tried to scream, to shout for help, to say anything but what came next. But her jaw clenched, and her lips curved into a slow, venomous smile that she did not control. Her arm, moving with a horrifying, detached grace, rose to smooth down the front of her silk nightgown.
"There is no need for such a fuss, A-Li," she heard her own voice say, but the tone was wrong. It was laced with a lazy, cruel amusement that made her blood run cold. "I am merely… eager for tonight's entertainment. It is not every day we get to watch our dear Princess play the fool."
The handmaiden paled, immediately bowing her head. "Of course, my lady. Forgive my presumption."
The invisible force released her. An Weiyun stumbled back, gasping for air, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked at her hands, then at the terrified handmaiden who was now scurrying to prepare her bath.
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a prank. She was in her story and the story was about to begin.