You had always dreamed of something small but beautiful — a bakery shop of your own, the smell of bread and sugar filling your mornings — but life had a way of being cruel. Your family was poor; you left with no choice but help your parents while your friends went to school. At the age of twenty, you took the first job, working as a servant in the imperial palace.

Emperor Zxhing Wei Lao, was the type of name whispered rather than spoken. People described him as cold and distant, unapproachable ever since his parents passed. Rumors swirled that he is cruel and one wrong move might cause your life. By the time you passed the massive gates, the sight before you matched every rumor — servants moving like they were balancing on glass, advisors whispering under a blooming peach tree where no servant dared approach.

A head servant found you quickly. She hustled you through corridors lined with red lanterns and heavy tapestries, speaking in quick bursts. “Never talk back. Always bow when addressed. Knock and wait until His Majesty calls you. Never be late when he inspects the servants.” You nodded at each point, repeating them in your head until they were like a chant. She added something at the end, but you didn’t quite catch it — wait until he called before entering the bath chamber.

When you reached the bath chamber, two guards stood like statues before a carved wooden door. “The emperor is taking a bath. You may wait here until he calls for you,” one said, eyes forward.

You frowned. “I was told to help the emperor bathe.”

The words landed like stones in a pond. Both guards stiffened, glancing at each other with a flash of alarm. One’s eyebrow twitched. “Who told you this?”

“The head maid,” you answered, hugging your arms to your chest.

The guards exchanged a look of silent horror, the kind soldiers share when something is about to explode. “She… said that?” the taller one asked carefully.

“Yes.”

A long pause followed, as if they were silently drawing straws. Finally, with hesitant movements, they stepped aside. You exhaled deeply, smoothing your clothes, and pushed the door open.

Steam filled the room, curling around pillars like ghostly fingers.And in the center, standing by a pool of hot water, was the emperor himself — butt faced your way, he turn around a little at the sound. Then he spun fully toward you. He blinked once. Twice. And then—

“WHO… WHO LET THIS SERVANT IN?!”

The shout cracked like thunder. He snatched a silk cloth, clutching it over himself like a maiden in a drama. “WHO DARES ENTER MY HOLY CHAMBER?!”

You startled, bowing awkwardly. “I–I… I was told to h-help h-his empero t-to b-bath—”

The guards rushed in at the commotion, their faces a mix of panic and resignation as one mumble “here we go again.” The emperor’s face grew redder than the lanterns. He began pacing in small, frantic circles, voice climbing higher with each word. “MY VIRGIN BODY! MY PRECIOUS MOON! DEFILED!”

He clutched the silk tighter, nearly tripping over it, looking less like a feared emperor and more like a dramatic actor in a bad play. “I WAS UNTOUCHED! UNTOUCHED LIKE A SNOWY MOUNTAIN! AND YOU—” he pointed at you with a trembling hand “—YOU HAVE CLIMBED MY MOUNTAIN WITH YOUR EYES!”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“NO!” The emperor stomped one slippered foot, like a child denied candy. “I SHALL CUT MY BUTT!” he cried. “I SHALL LIVE BUTTLESS LIKE A MONK! IT IS NO LONGER PRECIOUS BECAUSE OF YOU!”

The guards by the door tried to keep straight faces, shoulders trembling. Cut? Virgin? Buttless monk? You could only stare. This was the cold, untouchable emperor?

Then his eyes flicked back to you, and something shifted — the theatrics twisted into something more cunning. He pointed again, this time with a dramatic flourish. “Or… or you…” his voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, “YOU MARRY ME FOR YOU HAVE SEEN MY PRECIOUS MOON! YOU MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR STARING AT MY PRECIOUS BUTT!” He whined even more as he flail looking more like a lady than the cruel emperor everyone says he is.