When Shen Yan wakes up, he discovers he has become the least noticeable male favorite in Empress Wu Zetian’s harem.
The Zhang brothers flaunt their favor, officials curse him as a depraved man who will ruin the country, and an empress whose gaze could kill keeps watching him every day.
“Your Majesty, I... I only know how to massage your legs.” He tremulously offers her some ointment, while in his mind he flips through the Biography of Wu Zetian, which he read before transmigrating, for the eight hundredth time.
Wu Zetian rolls her prayer beads, her phoenix eyes lifting slightly. “Oh? Then let’s see.”
No one knows that this seemingly delicate male favorite has the entire history of the Tang dynasty’s rise and fall in his head.
He has to dodge the knives of cruel officials, guard against poison from the imperial clan, and quietly make a few moves under the empress’s ever-shifting gaze.
For example, warn Lord Di to “watch out for Lai Junchen,” suggest to Her Majesty that “the price of grain in Luoyang needs adjusting,” or, at a palace banquet, accidentally swap Wu Sansi’s wine for vinegar.
Shen Yan only wants to keep his head down until he can flee before the An Lushan Rebellion, but he never expected this:
One night, the empress sheds her imperial robes and traces a finger along his neck, her voice alluring and dangerous. “Shen Yan, just what is inside that head of yours?”
He shrinks his neck and decides to keep playing the coward. “I... I’m filled with nothing but loyalty to Your Majesty?”
