Chapter 2

The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the small, cluttered dorm room in Beijing University of Technology. It was late June 2026, and the summer heat outside pressed against the window like an unwelcome guest. Lin Yuze sat cross-legged on his narrow bed, a worn paperback novel propped open against his knees. The dim glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the pages, highlighting the cheap print and slightly yellowed edges. *Shadows of the Dragon Throne: Consort of a Suspicious Emperor*—the title stared back at him in elegant but somewhat melodramatic font.

Yuze flipped the page with a sigh, his dark eyes narrowing behind his slightly smudged glasses. He was twenty-one, majoring in computer engineering, with messy black hair that fell into his eyes and a lean build from too many late-night coding sessions and not enough sleep. The novel had been a “gift” from his best friend, Zhang Wei, two days ago. “Bro, you need to relax before finals,” Wei had said with a grin, shoving the book into his hands during their last group study break. “It’s this new danmei historical thing that’s blowing up online. Palace intrigue, forced marriage, all that good stuff. Trust me, it’ll take your mind off algorithms.”

Yuze had laughed it off at first. He wasn’t much for romance novels, especially not BL historical ones. But after staring at his notes for six straight hours, he had cracked it open. Now, here he was at 1:17 AM, halfway through what was supposed to be a quick distraction.

His phone buzzed on the desk—another WeChat message from his mother. *Yuze, have you eaten dinner? Don’t stay up too late studying. Dad says to remember to drink more water in this heat.* He smiled faintly but didn’t reply immediately. His parents, Lin Jian and Wang Mei, ran a small family bookstore in a quiet neighborhood in Chengdu. They had scrimped and saved for years to send him to university in Beijing, always supportive but quietly worried about their only son being so far from home. Dad was the quiet, bookish type who loved classical literature; Mom was more practical, pushing him to “study hard and get a stable job.” They had no idea he was up reading a romance novel instead of reviewing for his data structures exam.

Yuze turned back to the page, his expression souring as he read the Emperor’s smug dialogue during the chess game. “Tch. Look at this guy,” he muttered under his breath. “So full of himself. One glimpse of the kid being ‘kind’ and suddenly he’s forcing a marriage to ‘test loyalty’? Overreacting much? If you suspect the general, just investigate properly instead of playing these mind games with people’s lives.” He shook his head. The Emperor Ji Yuxuan came across as cold, calculating, and annoyingly arrogant—exactly the type of character Yuze couldn’t stand in these stories. “Political marriage my ass. Poor Su Jingyu doesn’t deserve this crap.”

He continued reading, immersed despite himself. The description of the wedding night—Su Jingyu waiting alone in the lavish chambers, the Emperor not bothering to show up—hit a nerve. Yuze’s fingers tightened on the edges of the book. The harem politics already starting, the other consorts throwing petty insults and punishments... it felt too real, too heavy for what was supposed to be escapist reading.

A soft knock on the door pulled him out of the story. “Yuze? You still awake?” It was Zhang Wei’s voice, muffled through the thin wood.

“Yeah, come in,” Yuze called, closing the book but keeping his finger in the page.

Wei slipped inside, carrying two cans of iced coffee from the convenience store downstairs. He was shorter than Yuze, with a round face and perpetual cheerful energy even at this hour. “Dude, I knew you’d get hooked. How far are you?”

“End of the wedding chapter. The Emperor is such a smug prick. Doesn’t even visit on the wedding night? And the way he doubts the general over nothing—classic overpowered ML nonsense.” Yuze accepted a can, popping it open with a hiss. “Su Jingyu seems too nice for all this palace bullshit. The family drama on the side is interesting though. That aunt and cousin are clearly snakes.”

Wei laughed, flopping onto the chair by the desk. “That’s the point! Slow burn, angst, then sweet revenge or whatever. The translations online say it gets really good later. But seriously, finish your exams first. You’ve got that big one tomorrow afternoon, right?”

Yuze nodded, rubbing his temples. University life in 2026 wasn’t easy. Online classes mixed with in-person labs, constant pressure from internships, and the ever-present economic worries his parents tried to shield him from. The bookstore wasn’t doing great with digital competition, and they kept insisting he focus on his future rather than “worrying about home.” He wanted to help them after graduation—maybe start a small tech side hustle—but right now, finals loomed like storm clouds.

“I’ll read more after the exam,” Yuze said, setting the book aside. “Thanks for lending it. It’s... engaging, even if the Emperor pisses me off.”

“Anytime. Get some sleep, man.” Wei gave him a fist bump and left.

Alone again, Yuze stared at the closed book. The cover showed a stylized silhouette of a young man in ancient robes kneeling before a dragon throne. He flipped it open one more time, skimming the last lines of Chapter 1. Su Jingyu’s quiet endurance, the hidden family betrayals... something about the gentle protagonist resonated. Unlike the Emperor, who seemed to treat everything like another chess piece.

“Whatever,” Yuze muttered, turning off the lamp. “It’s just a story.”

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The next day passed in a blur of exams and caffeine. Yuze finished his data structures test feeling drained but reasonably confident. By evening, back in the dorm with the AC blasting, he picked up the novel again. His parents had called earlier—Mom reminding him about nutrition, Dad asking about his scores. He assured them everything was fine, then settled in for what he promised himself would be “just one more chapter.”

But as he read deeper, the story pulled him in further. The narrative shifted to Su Jingyu’s first full day in the harem. Detailed descriptions of the opulent yet suffocating palace filled the pages: the scent of incense and blooming peonies masking underlying venom, the rustle of silk robes, the cold marble floors that bruised knees during punishments.

Yuze found himself frowning again at the Emperor’s distant figure glimpsed in the distance. “See? Smug and detached. Guy forces the marriage then ignores him. Classic.”

He read on, the words flowing with the same immersive style as the opening—rich sensory details, layered internal monologues, and sharp character observations.

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**Within the Novel – Chapter 2: Whispers in the Phoenix Pavilion**

Morning light filtered through the intricately carved lattice windows of the Phoenix Pavilion, one of the smaller yet still luxurious residences granted to the newest male consort. Su Jingyu knelt in the outer courtyard, his knees protesting against the unyielding stone tiles. The thin summer robes offered little protection from the chill that lingered in the shaded areas despite the rising sun. A group of lower-ranked concubines and their attendants stood in a loose circle, their painted lips curled in disdain.

“The tea you oversaw for Noble Consort Li yesterday was bitter, Consort Su,” one of them announced with false sweetness, a senior maid reading from a slip of paper. “Her Highness was displeased. You are to kneel here for two hours as reflection.”

Su Jingyu kept his head lowered, his soft voice steady despite the humiliation burning in his chest. “This consort understands and accepts the punishment.” There had been no mistake in the tea preparation—he had personally selected the finest leaves and supervised the brewing twice. Yet here he was again.

Whispers rippled through the onlookers like poison in a well. “A general’s son, thinking he can rise above his station just because of his father’s troops...”

“His Majesty hasn’t even favored him once. Look at how plain he is. No wonder.”

“Pathetic. The Su family’s influence won’t protect him from the realities of the inner palace.”

Su Jingyu’s hands clenched subtly within his sleeves, but his face remained calm, almost serene. He thought of his father’s reluctant expression when the marriage decree arrived, of his mother’s strong yet gentle embrace the night before he left. Madam Ye Xinyue had whispered words of resilience, her martial artist’s posture straight and proud even as worry clouded her eyes. “Endure, my son. The palace is a battlefield of its own.”

Back at the Su mansion, the atmosphere simmered with unspoken tensions. Madam Ye practiced sword forms in the training courtyard, her blade whistling through the air with lethal grace. Sweat glistened on her forehead, but her movements never faltered. Her younger sister, Ye Qingrou, clapped politely from the veranda, her delicate features arranged in an expression of sisterly admiration.

“Sister, your skills improve daily,” Ye Qingrou cooed, fanning herself with a silk handkerchief. “With Jingyu in the palace, our family’s position is secured. You must be so proud.” Her words were honeyed, but her eyes held a sharp glint as she watched her sister’s powerful form. Jealousy had festered for years—why should Ye Xinyue have the General’s devotion, the prestige, the strong son? Staying in the mansion “to help” had given her ample opportunity to observe and undermine.

Her son, Ye Hongyu, lingered nearby, speaking to Su Jingyu’s elder brother with practiced concern. “Cousin, any news from the palace about Jingyu? It must be difficult for him. If I can assist in any way—perhaps sending supplements or messages—I would be honored.” His tone dripped with familial warmth, yet inside, schemes turned like gears. The main branch’s elevation through this marriage was an obstacle to his own ambitions. A well-placed rumor here, a quiet alliance there...

Su Jingyu, unaware of the gathering storm at home, endured the kneeling until his legs went numb. When the two hours finally ended, a palace eunuch approached with a message. “His Majesty requests Consort Su’s presence in the imperial garden for the evening poetry gathering.”

Hope flickered briefly in Su Jingyu’s chest. Perhaps the Emperor had not forgotten him entirely. He changed into fresher robes, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and cautious optimism. The garden was beautiful under the setting sun—lotus ponds reflecting the sky, pavilions draped in silk, scholars and consorts already assembled.

Emperor Ji Yuxuan sat at the head, his presence commanding. He acknowledged Su Jingyu’s arrival with a slight nod, nothing more. The poetry recitals began, elegant verses flowing from the lips of favored consorts. When it was Su Jingyu’s turn, he recited a modest piece on loyalty and quiet perseverance, his voice clear and sincere.

The Emperor listened, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. That same glimpse from years ago—the kind youth helping others without fanfare—surfaced again. Yet his expression remained cool. “Adequate,” he remarked flatly before turning to another consort, bestowing a rare smile that made the others titter with envy.

Su Jingyu returned to his pavilion later that night with a heavy heart. No invitation to the Emperor’s chambers. Another night alone.

Days blurred into weeks. Punishments mounted for trivial or invented faults: copying scriptures until his hands cramped, fasting for “impertinence,” enduring cutting remarks during group audiences. Through it all, Su Jingyu maintained his gentle dignity, writing letters home that hid his suffering.

In the Emperor’s study, Ji Yuxuan reviewed reports from his secret guards. The Su family showed no signs of rebellion. General Su Feng’s loyalty appeared genuine. Yet doubt lingered like a shadow. The marriage had been a chess move—necessary, political. He had no room for personal feelings. Still, the image of the young consort kneeling in the courtyard, enduring silently, refused to leave his mind completely.

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Yuze closed the book with a groan, rubbing his eyes. It was past midnight again. The chapter had been long and immersive, packed with vivid palace details, the slow unfolding of schemes, and deep character insights. He hated how realistically frustrating the Emperor was—distant, suspicious, almost emotionally constipated. “Why can’t he just communicate like a normal person?” Yuze complained to the empty room.

His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten much since the exam. A quick message to his mom: *Finished the test, doing okay. Eating now, don’t worry.* He stood up, stretching, the novel lying on the bed like a tempting distraction.

University exams would continue for another week. After that, he could dive deeper. The story of Su Jingyu’s quiet strength against the backdrop of betrayal—both in the palace and from his own extended family—had hooked him more than he expected. The modern world of 2026, with its exams, part-time coding gigs, and parental expectations, felt far removed from ancient intrigue, yet the emotional weight translated perfectly.

“Alright, Emperor,” Yuze muttered with a half-smile, “you better redeem yourself in the later chapters, or I’m dropping this.”

He headed out for a late-night snack, the book waiting for his return.

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