The Villains Must Win

"What did you do?" one of the maids hissed, glaring at Xue Li while pointing an accusatory finger at her.

By now, the servants already knew how Xue Li was promoted to be a personal maid of Han Feng.

"Why would the Emperor suddenly assign you to him?" another chimed in, her tone sharp with suspicion.

"You must have done something vile! You shameless wench!"

Xue Li trembled under their pointed fingers, her shoulders curling inward as though trying to shield herself from their scorn.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stammered, "X-Xue Li did nothing wrong . . . it—it was the Emperor himself who assigned me to be his personal maid."

The words hung heavy in the air, silencing the maids for a brief moment. But their stunned quiet quickly turned to venom.

"You? A personal maid? The Emperor's personal maid?" one scoffed, disbelief dripping from her words.

Being appointed as the Emperor's personal maid was the highest honor a servant could achieve—an impossible dream for most. It meant you held the Emperor's trust and favor above all others.

Yet, the very notion was unfathomable. Han Feng was notorious for his indifference toward women except to warm his bed.

Even the maids here were no ordinary servants. Many came from noble families, their parents sending them to the palace with the faint hope of catching the Emperor's eye. To secure even the lowest position as a concubine in his harem would elevate their status and bring honor to their lineage.

But that hope was a double-edged sword. Years passed, and those same maids found themselves aging out of the ideal marrying years for women of their station. Their dreams of royal favor turned to bitter ash, and with every passing day, the walls of the palace became their gilded cage.

Now, those unfulfilled ambitions curdled into resentment, and Xue Li had become their target. She, who appeared to have effortlessly achieved the impossible.

She wasn't like them—wasn't born into privilege or raised with promises of a glittering future. She had no noble name to protect her and was already in her late twenties, well past the age society deemed desirable for marriage.

And yet, despite her station, despite her age, she was the one chosen by the Emperor himself as his personal maid!

The sight of her, so calm yet vulnerable, was like pouring salt into their wounds. Their frustrations, their insecurities, their years of silent suffering—all found their outlet in her, and they lashed out with the ferocity of caged beasts.

But Xue Li, though she trembled and bowed her head, understood one thing they did not: their anger was born not of power, but of desperation.

Whispers bubbled among the gathered maids, suspicions turning sharp like knives.

"Just what makes her special?" one sneered.

Xue Li lowered her gaze, her trembling hands clutching at the fabric of her uniform.

The truth? Timing.

Calculated timing and deliberate performance. The soul inside her had seen this scenario play out in countless novels and games, and she understood the archetype of a man like Han Feng better than anyone else.

She knew what would capture his attention—and more importantly, what would keep it.

Yet, now wasn't the time to gloat. Now was the time to play the part.

Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Xue Li . . . Xue Li only followed the Emperor's orders. She only wanted to serve the emperor."

"Blasphemy!" A loud slap echoed through the corridor as one maid struck Xue Li across the face. "How dare you imply this is the Emperor's fault?! Have you lost your mind?"

Xue Li stumbled, falling to the cold floor. Her hand flew to her cheek, cradling the stinging skin, but still, she didn't let the tears spill. Instead, her expression remained delicate and pained—perfectly pitiable.

And then, right on cue, she spotted a figure approaching from the far end of the corridor.

Han Feng, flanked by his retinue, walked with an air of authority that silenced even the faintest whispers. His footsteps were slow but his strides were long, echoing ominously against the floors.

Though still at a distance, it was impossible for him to miss the commotion.

Perfect, Xue Li thought, schooling her features into a blend of fear and grief. Her tears brimmed higher, her lips trembling just so.

"Please . . . Xue Li didn't mean to upset anyone," she murmured softly, her voice quivering. "Xue Li only obeyed his Majesty's orders."

The maid who had struck her sneered, stepping forward to deliver another blow. "You dare! You dare talk back to me?! You're just a lowly commoner! And how dare you blame the Emperor for your improper ways?!"

But before her hand could land, a voice boomed, cold and commanding.

"What is going on here?"

The room froze. All heads turned to see Xin Yu, the Emperor's trusted right-hand man, standing at the head of the corridor. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, taking in the maids' panic and Xue Li's trembling form on the ground.

"You are in the presence of His Majesty, Emperor Han Feng," Xin Yu announced, stepping aside to reveal Han Feng himself.

Gasps rippled through the room as everyone dropped to their knees in a synchronized bow, their foreheads pressed to the floor in terrified submission.

All except Xue Li, who remained on the ground, her body quivering as she clutched her cheek. Slowly, as though too frail to move properly, she shifted to bow, her movements labored and pained.

Han Feng's sharp gaze fell on her immediately, noting the red mark blooming on her pale cheek and the subtle way she struggled to move. His eyes narrowed, his frown deepening as an almost imperceptible chill filled the air.

"Who hurt her?" Han Feng's voice cut through the silence like a blade.