Blood-red curtains.
Golden characters.
"月与王座" (Yuè yǔ Wángzuò - The Moon and the Throne)
Chapter 358: The Queen's Last Smile
林树敏 (Lín Shùmǐn) stared at the glowing screen until her vision blurred.
She'd read this line a hundred times, yet it still clawed at her chest.
The Queen turned, smiling faintly as the blade pierced her chest.
Behind her stood a shadow - the neglected concubine who drove the dagger..
Then, as always, the story ended.
Shumin exhaled, thumb hovering over the screen.
"What the f.... Again? You end it there? Seriously?"
she muttered, voice half tired, half angry.
"Not even a hint about the concubine?"
No matter how many times she re-read the ending, the author never gave that woman a reason, or even a name.
Just a single, cruel sentence in chapter 78 that left her mind echoing:
The King never visited her..
That line burned.
It wasn't tragedy .. it was neglect.
The kind that made people disappear without dying.
Shumin rubbed her eyes and leaned back in bed.
Her tiny apartment hummed with the sound of rain hitting metal pipes.
The city lights flickered faintly through half-closed curtains.
The smell of instant coffee and old books mixed in the air.
She sighed. "Why even mention her if she doesn't matter?"
The Queen 顾昭瑶 (Gù Zhāoyáo) had been perfect -- elegant, noble, everything the readers adored.
But this concubine? She was nothing. A shadow at the edge of someone else's love story.
And yet, Shumin couldn't stop thinking about her.
She unlocked her phone again, opening the author's comment board.
Her thumbs moved quickly, words spilling out before she could second-guess them.
敏敏/minmin: @MoonlitAuthorHi ! Can you write a side story for the concubine in Chapter 78?
The one the King forgot?
I really want to know why she did it.
She hit Send.
The text sent .
Three dots never appeared.
No reply.
Just her reflection in the black screen.
Outside, thunder cracked once, shaking the thin window glass.
Her chest ached with that quiet kind of irritation that comes from caring too much about something that isn't real.
But to her, it was real.
That woman's silence , that single forgotten line , it lingered like an unanswered question in her veins.
Shumin switched off her lamp, curling beneath her blanket.
The dim blue glow of her phone was the only light left.
No notification
No reply
"Figures," she whispered.
She turned on her side, trying to close her eyes.
The rain outside deepened into a low roar.
Wind pressed against the window as if it wanted in.
Her breath slowed, heartbeat syncing with the storm.
For a moment, it sounded like the world itself was whispering
soft, rhythmic, too close.
And right before sleep pulled her under,
a voice faint, distorted brushed her ear like cold air:
"You shouldn't have asked that question."
---
When she opened her eyes,
the sound of rain was gone.
In its place was the hush of incense smoke and faint bells.
The blanket felt wrong.
Heavier. Smooth.
Silk brushed her skin, thick with warmth and perfume.
Her eyes blinked open to a ceiling painted gold.
The light that hit her eyes wasn't LED white but candlelight..trembling, alive.
Her pulse thundered. "What..is..."
She sat up too fast.
Her hair, long and pinned, fell heavy over her shoulder.
Jewels clinked softly.
She froze.
That scent .... lotus and sandalwood.
The same one described in the novel.
Before she could move again, a soft, trained voice spoke from behind the veil of silk curtains:
"文贵人 (Wén Guìrén), His Majesty will not visit again tonight."
Her heart stuttered.
That phrase. .
'The King never visited her....'
No...no.. No way...!!
"This isn't real," she whispered, but the air didn't agree.
Her throat went dry. "Wh...who said that?"
No one answered.
Only the faint rustle of the curtain.
Shumin threw the veil aside.
Candlelight painted the room in warm gold.
Red silk hung from carved beams.
A bronze mirror gleamed in front of her.
The reflection that stared back was not her own.
Pale skin.
Red lips.
Dark, kohl-lined eyes beneath heavy lashes.
Hair twisted with gold pins.
She lifted her hand ,
the reflection followed graceful, trembling, foreign.
Her voice came out in a whisper:
"...No way..."
She pinched herself. Hard.
"Ouch..!!"
Pain.
Real.
The silk robe slid against her shoulder, revealing a faint mark .. not hers.
Her legs trembled as she stood.
On the vanity table, a name carved faintly in wood caught the light:
文倩 (Wén Qiàn)
Concubine ?? Wen Qian...?
The neglected woman...!
The one who drove the blade...?
The one the King never visited ...!!
Her heart pounded so loud it filled her ears.
"This… can't be…possible..!!"
A voice outside broke the silence:
"My lady, will you please eat something? It's late."
"I.... I'm not hungry."
The maid bowed and retreated.
Silence returned deep, watchful, as if the room itself was listening.
Wen Qian sank onto the floor, palms pressed against the cool stone.
The world spun around her, real in every impossible way.
Was this a dream?
Or had she fallen into the very story that once kept her awake at night?
Her chest ached.
If this was fiction, where did her reality go?
Then..footsteps.
Slow...Heavy.... Purposeful...
Echoing through the long corridor beyond her chamber.
Guards whispered outside.
"His Majesty is passing through the west wing."
Her blood froze.
The King. ..李湛 (Lǐ Zhàn)...?
She remembered every word about him from the novel --
how cruel he was, how cold, how his eyes could freeze someone mid-breath.
He loved the Queen, no one else.
He ignored the rest .. especially this concubine.
Even before she saw him, her body reacted heart quickening, air tightening, like some instinct burned into her new flesh.
A shadow crossed her curtain.
A deep, quiet presence filled the air.
"Your Majesty," a guard murmured, "this is the Cold Palace…"
"No," said a calm, low voice.
"Let her sleep."
Sleep?
He was outside her door.
Not entering.
Not speaking.
Just there.
She didn't breathe.
When his steps finally receded, the silence he left behind felt louder than thunder.
She sat there ...
A soft knock came.
A maid said again
"My lady, 文贵人 (Wén Guìrén)," she said quietly.
"Tomorrow,His Majesty will attend the Queen's morning court soon. Would you like to watch from the garden ?"
Shumin...no...Wen Qian..lifted her head.
Didn't reply ...
The Queen 顾昭瑶 (Gù Zhāoyáo)...
The woman she'd admired.
In the novel, the Queen was described as flawless
gentle, brilliant, and the King's only love.
But now that she was here, in the concubine's silk and skin,
she couldn't help wondering
"So..she is alive?"
The air trembled faintly, as if listening.
She pressed a trembling hand to her heart.
"What if the book lied?" she whispered.
The thought stayed with her, heavy as the still air.
If the Queen wasn't doomed yet..if the story hadn't reached that moment..
then maybe she had the chance to change it.
The candle beside her flickered.
Outside, wind brushed the chimes, scattering a few lonely notes across the quiet room.
Shumin lay back on the silk pillow, eyes open to the golden ceiling above.
She didn't know how long this dream or world...would last.
But for now, she knew one thing.
She would not let the story end the same way again.
And somewhere beyond the palace walls,
a distant bell rang ..