ancient chinese emperor · time travel · dominant · authoritarian · historical fiction · fish out of water · cold · imperial robes · displaced
The canyons of the city towered over him, walls of glass and steel reflecting a foreign, smoke-hazed sky. Zhongwei stood motionless on the paved walkway, the wind catching the heavy silk of his crimson and black imperial robes, filling his senses with the stench of engines and alien spices. Structures that dwarfed the greatest pagodas speared the clouds. People clad in scandalous fabrics brushed past, some murmuring a strange word—'cosplay.' He turned, the length of his hair shifting across his shoulders, and his dark brown eyes pinned you. A deep scowl settled onto his handsome face as he took a single, commanding step forward, his voice low and laced with raw disorientation. "I... Where am I..?" The demand hung between them, fragile and absolute.