Chapter 1 — The Spill
Xiao Jun’s first mistake was gossiping while carrying the Emperor’s lunch.
His second mistake was flirting after dumping it on him.
The afternoon palace corridors glowed gold beneath the fading sunlight, long shadows stretching across polished stone floors. Servants hurried past with lowered heads, their footsteps soft against the endless halls of the imperial palace.
In the middle of it all, Xiao Jun was very close to disaster.
“—I’m telling you, if Madam Li puts that much salt in the soup again, someone important is going to die,” he whispered dramatically, balancing a massive lacquer tray in his arms.
Behind him, Mei nearly choked trying to hold back her laughter.
“You shouldn’t say things like that!”
“Why not?” Xiao Jun scoffed. “Nobody listens to me anyway. I’m practically invisible in this palace.”
The tray tilted dangerously.
Mei gasped. “Careful!”
“I am careful,” Xiao Jun lied confidently, adjusting the dishes with one hand. Steam curled around his face as he continued down the corridor. “Honestly, I’ve been stuck in the forgotten wing for three years. At this point, I could set the kitchens on fire and no one would—”
He turned the corner.
And slammed directly into someone solid.
The world stopped.
The tray flew out of his hands.
Bowls shattered against marble.
Hot soup exploded into the air.
Braised pork, vegetables, and plum sauce rained down in what could only be described as the worst moment of Xiao Jun’s life.
Every single dish landed on Emperor Ming Lo.
Silence.
Absolute, horrifying silence.
Xiao Jun stared.
The Emperor stood motionless beneath the wreckage of imperial lunch. Dark robes of black and gold silk clung to his broad chest, now soaked in soup broth and decorated with pieces of bok choy. A mushroom slowly slid down his shoulder before falling to the floor with a soft plop.
Behind him, Captain Zhao looked seconds away from death.
One of the guards had gone pale.
Mei disappeared.
Actually disappeared.
Coward.
Xiao Jun’s soul briefly left his body.
This is it, he thought faintly. This is how I die.
The Emperor slowly lifted his eyes.
Dark.
Sharp.
Unreadable.
And somehow even more terrifying up close.
Xiao Jun should have apologized immediately. He should have thrown himself to the ground and begged forgiveness like every survival instinct in his body was screaming at him to do.
Instead, his mouth betrayed him.
“Well,” Xiao Jun said weakly, “Your Majesty certainly needed seasoning.”
Captain Zhao inhaled so violently it sounded painful.
The silence somehow became worse.
Ming Lo stared at him.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just… staring.
Like no one had ever spoken to him that way before.
A strange heat crawled up Xiao Jun’s neck under the Emperor’s gaze. Ming Lo was tall—far taller than Xiao Jun remembered from ceremonies—and overwhelmingly alpha. Even standing perfectly still, he radiated authority like a drawn blade.
And his scent—
God.
Cedarwood. Smoke. Winter air.
It wrapped around Xiao Jun’s senses instantly, rich and dangerously calming at the same time. His omega instincts reacted before he could stop them, pulse stumbling as warmth spread through his body.
Xiao Jun fought the urge to look away.
Ming Lo finally spoke.
“What,” he asked slowly, “did you just say?”
Xiao Jun swallowed.
Too late to survive now.
“I said you needed seasoning, Your Majesty.” His voice shook slightly despite his best efforts. “Though I admit the delivery may have been excessive.”
For one terrifying second, Ming Lo’s expression remained blank.
Then—
Something flickered in his eyes.
Not rage.
Amusement.
Tiny. Brief. Gone almost instantly.
But Xiao Jun saw it.
Which somehow made this worse.
“You’re either very brave,” Ming Lo said quietly, “or very stupid.”
“Both,” Xiao Jun answered before thinking.
Captain Zhao looked ready to bury himself alive.
To Xiao Jun’s horror, the corner of Ming Lo’s mouth twitched.
Not a smile.
But dangerously close.
The Emperor stepped forward once.
Xiao Jun stopped breathing.
They were suddenly too close.
Close enough for Xiao Jun to notice droplets of soup clinging to Ming Lo’s throat. Close enough to see how unfairly handsome the Emperor actually was beneath all the cold imperial distance. Close enough for Ming Lo’s scent to completely surround him.
His omega instincts went traitorous.
Heat curled low in Xiao Jun’s stomach.
Ming Lo noticed.
The Emperor’s eyes darkened slightly.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Xiao Jun.”
The Emperor repeated it quietly.
As if testing how it sounded.
“Xiao Jun,” Ming Lo said again.
Something about hearing his name in that deep voice made Xiao Jun’s pulse skip.
“One of your forgotten concubines, actually,” Xiao Jun added lightly. “Very forgotten. I’m almost impressed.”
A strange expression crossed Ming Lo’s face.
“Forgotten?”
“Well, yes.” Xiao Jun laughed awkwardly. “Three years in the palace and this is our first conversation. Though admittedly, I imagined less soup.”
For the first time, Ming Lo looked genuinely unsettled.
His gaze lingered on Xiao Jun’s face.
Then his lips.
Then back to his eyes.
The air suddenly felt too warm.
“You’re not afraid of me,” Ming Lo said.
“Oh, I’m terrified,” Xiao Jun admitted honestly. “I’m simply hiding it behind bad decisions.”
That almost-smile appeared again.
Small.
Quick.
Dangerous.
Ming Lo took another step closer, and Xiao Jun’s heart nearly gave out entirely.
Then the Emperor reached up—
And brushed a streak of sauce from Xiao Jun’s cheek with his thumb.
The touch lasted barely a second.
Still, Xiao Jun froze.
Every omega instinct inside him shattered into chaos.
Ming Lo seemed affected too. His hand paused briefly against Xiao Jun’s skin before withdrawing.
The corridor had gone completely silent.
Captain Zhao looked like he’d witnessed a political assassination.
Ming Lo stared at his own hand for half a heartbeat before his expression hardened again.
“Captain Zhao,” he said calmly, though his voice sounded rougher now. “Escort Concubine Xiao back to his quarters.”
Xiao Jun blinked.
He wasn’t being executed?
“And clean this corridor,” Ming Lo added.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Zhao answered immediately.
Ming Lo’s eyes returned to Xiao Jun one final time.
That same unreadable intensity burned there again.
Like he’d discovered something unexpected.
Something interesting.
Then the Emperor stepped past him.
As Ming Lo brushed by, their sleeves touched.
A spark shot through Xiao Jun so suddenly his breath caught.
Ming Lo slowed.
Just slightly.
As if he’d felt it too.
Then he continued walking without another word, disappearing down the golden corridor with guards trailing behind him.
The moment he vanished, Xiao Jun finally exhaled.
His knees nearly gave out.
“Oh no,” he whispered to himself.
Because the terrifying thing wasn’t that he’d insulted the Emperor.
The terrifying thing was that the Emperor looked at him like he wanted to see him again.
---
Later that evening, Emperor Ming Lo stood silently while servants removed his ruined robes.
No one dared speak.
Not when the Emperor looked like that.
Distracted.
The scent of jasmine and honey still clung faintly to his skin.
Ming Lo frowned.
Annoying.
He had met countless omegas before—elegant ones, obedient ones, breathtakingly beautiful ones carefully chosen for the palace.
None of them had ever made his pulse react.
None of them had looked directly into his eyes and joked after ruining imperial robes worth more than entire villages.
Xiao Jun.
The name lingered unpleasantly in his mind.
Interesting.
Bright.
Alive.
Ming Lo disliked how much he remembered already.
“Your Majesty?” Captain Zhao asked cautiously.
Ming Lo glanced at him.
“Tell me about him.”
Zhao blinked.
“The concubine, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.”
“He lives in the forgotten wing,” Zhao answered carefully. “Mostly works in the kitchens. Causes… occasional problems.”
“Problems?”
“He talks too much.”
Ming Lo looked away before Zhao could notice the almost-smile threatening to appear again.
“I see.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Ming Lo said quietly:
“Find out everything about Xiao Jun.”
Captain Zhao stared in surprise.
“…Everything, Your Majesty?”
Ming Lo’s gaze drifted toward the open window where evening rain clouds gathered over the palace roofs.
For the first time in years, the endless routines of palace life felt slightly less dull.
“Yes,” the Emperor said softly.
“Everything.”
