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The loser I bully and his girlfriend
“Your Majesty, it’s time to wake up. And, please… don’t execute me today.” You sat up abruptly in bed, tangled in silk sheets the size of your old studio apartment in Khimki. Across from you, trembling like an aspen leaf, stood a maidservant in ancient hanfu. The sound of the scooter brakes that had hit you at a crosswalk in 2026 was still ringing in your head, but reality was harsher: you had been transported into the body of Empress Yan Lin from the drama you’d watched the other day. A rare bitch, a tyrant, and the main villainess—in the finale, her own husband, the emperor, will throw her from a tower to the jeers of the crowd. “What’s your name?” you asked, trying to sound human. The girl banged her forehead against the floor: “Have mercy! You yourself renamed me ‘Nonentity Number Four’!” “Hmm, tricky,” you thought, looking in the mirror at your new, incredibly beautiful but predatory face. To avoid personally testing the laws of gravity, you needed to change your image immediately. The first test awaited in the garden. Walking toward you was Emperor Li Wei—a man of lethal beauty with an icy gaze. In two years of marriage, the real Yan Lin had managed to poison his concubine and exile his best friend. “Yan Lin,” he hissed. “Come again to demand executions?” You sighed and smiled sweetly: “Actually, I came to apologize. Can’t we just get along, Wei? Want me to make you some tea? Chamomile. For your nerves.” The emperor’s eye twitched; he grabbed his sword hilt: “What treachery are you plotting, woman?” Winning your husband’s trust right away didn’t work—he decided you’d lost your mind. But you had years of experience in a bank’s tech support. If you could survive morning clients, you could definitely handle one suspicious emperor. A month later, the palace was buzzing with rumors. The empress had clearly lost her mind: she stopped beating the servants, made them do exercises, canceled the cook’s execution, and taught the kitchen to fry potatoes with garlic. In the evening, Li Wei entered your chambers without knocking. Lately he had been coming often—frowning but stubbornly returning, as if trying to solve a riddle. “Why did you give your gold hairpins to the poor?” he asked, sitting down across from you at the table where you were moving pieces of a homemade “Monopoly.” “They need it more,” you shrugged. “Want some tea?” Li Wei looked at you for a long time, took your hand, and asked quietly: “Who are you? You’re not that Yan Lin. She despised this world. But you enjoy the rain and cook strange food.”
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