The Villains Must Win

That night, when most of the household had succumbed to sleep except for the patrolling guards, Xue Li stared at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror.

Her long, straight black hair fell like a curtain over her shoulders, and her pale ash eyes, seemed to pierce back at her.

She was slender and petite, her delicate frame accentuated by the nightgown she wore—a gown chosen not for its warmth but for the way it clung to her figure, hinting at beauty rather than flaunting it.

She wasn't a woman of legendary allure like the heroines of the stories she knew. No, her beauty wasn't the kind to launch wars or topple empires like Rui Hua.

But she had a quiet charm, the sort that lingered in the minds of those who happened to glance her way, even if just for a moment.

Her fingers brushed against her collarbone as she thought about her mother, a servant who had dared to love above her station, only to flee when betrayal loomed.

Xue Li had been born into that escape, raised in the shadow of a noble scandal, only to end up serving in the grand mansion of the Han Emperor himself.

Fate had its sense of irony.

Glancing out the small window, she noted the guards pacing the hallways below. A sly smile crossed her lips as she pushed the frame open, slipping out with the practiced silence of someone who had spent her life going unnoticed.

The cold air bit at her skin as she padded softly across the snow-laden garden, her steps light. Her destination was clear—the ancient Wintertree that stood at the heart of the estate.

Beneath its wide branches, now heavy with snow, she could think, plan, and prepare for the tangled fate she was meant to rewrite.

As she settled on a low branch, she gazed up at the moon, its pale light spilling over the frost-covered garden. She rubbed her chilled hands against her cheeks, her breath fogging the air.

The night was serene, a stillness that belied the storm she knew would one day come. She hadn't yet met the villain of the story, but she knew his role—cold, and ruthless. The kind of man the world would call a monster. And yet, it was her task to alter his path.

Unbeknownst to her, Han Feng, the very man she sought to change, was walking the grounds. Clad in his dark robes, he moved like a shadow among the trees, seeking a moment of respite under the full moon.

His sharp eyes fell on Xue Li almost immediately—a figure draped in white, her hair a dark river against the snowy backdrop.

For a moment, he thought she was a specter, some ethereal goddess who had wandered into his domain.

She was seated beneath the ancient tree, gazing at the blossoms with a look of quiet reverence, as though nothing in the world mattered but that moment.

Her delicate features glow in the moonlight, and her pale ash eyes—eyes that were rare even in the finest noble houses—stirred something deep within him.

Han Feng, who had seen countless beauties, found himself oddly entranced.

Their eyes locked, and hers widened momentarily, a spark of surprise flickering across her features. Yet, she quickly composed herself, lowering into a deep bow with a poise and elegance that surpassed even the most refined nobles he had encountered.

"Long live to your Highness, the Emperor," she said, her voice steady despite the tension coiled in her body.

Han Feng's sharp gaze studied her.

Who was this woman? She carried herself like nobility, yet he knew every guest in his mansion—and she was not among them.

Was she a spy? An assassin?

His first instinct was to kill her, but there was something disarming about her. She didn't cower as others did in his presence, nor did she make excuses, though she was visibly trying to supressed her fear.

"Who are you?" His voice was cold, detached—the voice of a ruler accustomed to obedience.

Her trembling hands betrayed her fear, but her words remained composed. "My name is Xue Li, Your Grace. I am but a maid in your household."

Han Feng's brows furrowed. "A maid? What is a servant doing in my garden at this hour? Depending on your answer, you might not see the dawn."

Xue Li hesitated. "I . . . I am sorry, Your Grace," she finally said, lowering her gaze. "I will accept any punishment you see fit."

Her response caught him off guard. Most would plead, weep, or grovel. Yet this girl, fragile as she seemed, accepted his judgment without excuse or protest.

She was scared, that much was clear, but it didn't feel like the fear of death. No, it seemed as if she feared him more than death itself.

Intriguing.

Han Feng took a deliberate step forward, his boots crunching against the snow. Slowly, he reached out, tilting her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Up close, her beauty was even more striking—her pale skin flushed from the cold, her red lips trembling slightly as though holding back tears. She looked terrified yet determined, weak yet resolute. It was . . . endearing.

A sly smile curved Han Feng's lips as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Very well," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "As punishment for trespassing in my private garden, you will serve as my personal maid from this night forward. Your duties begin at dawn."

Xue Li's eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through her composure. But she quickly bowed her head, trembling. "Yes, your Grace," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Han Feng straightened, his smile lingering. For a moment, the moonlight danced across Xue Li's trembling form, and he found himself looking forward to the days ahead for some reason.

Unbeknownst to him, a faint smile played on Xue Li's lips as the soul within her celebrated the success of their first encounter.

Now, all she had to do was capture his heart and fill his days with happiness and fulfilment.

How hard could that be?