The Emperor's Comfortable Throne

The throne room of the Imperial Palace was designed to intimidate. Golden dragons coiled around vermillion pillars, jade tiles caught sunlight like frozen stars, and incense spiraled upward in perfect harmony. The entire chamber radiated ancient power and dignity.

Mingyu took one look and yawned.

"They moved my favorite pillar," he muttered. "The old one had just the right curve for mid-morning meditation."

The court officials, arranged in precise rows like particularly well-dressed dominoes, watched in horror as he casually strolled forward. Protocol dictated nine bows, six pauses, and at least three poetic references to the emperor's divine mandate.

Mingyu managed a lazy wave.

"Young Feng," he called out to the Emperor, who sat rigid on his dragon throne. "You've got your grandfather's nose. But your great-aunt's sense of interior design. She also put the comfy chairs too far from the tea table."

The entire court gasped. Li Xuan looked ready to freeze herself into an ice statue from embarrassment. Rui Lin bit her lip to hide a smile. Elder Yan's brush snapped from writing too frantically.

Emperor Feng the Luminous, thirty-fourth ruler of the Celestial Dynasty, Sovereign of the Four Directions, and Lord of Ten Thousand Years, blinked.

"Great-Uncle Tiger?" he said, suddenly sounding much younger.

"You remember! Though I prefer 'Comfortable Uncle Tiger' these days."

The formality in the room cracked like thin ice. The Emperor stood, ignoring his advisors' collective apoplexy, and descended the throne steps.

"But... you disappeared after my ascension ceremony! The records say you told my father you were 'going for a quick nap' and then vanished for three years!"

"Has it been three years?" Mingyu scratched his belly thoughtfully. "Found this really nice spot under a plum tree. Time gets fuzzy when you're comfortable."

The Emperor laughed, then caught himself, trying to regain his imperial dignity. But Mingyu was already making himself at home, somehow finding the one patch of sunlight that made the ceremonial hall feel like a cozy tea room.

"Now then," he said, settling down, "about these Night Beasts. They're being very inconsiderate of proper resting hours."

The Emperor's face darkened. "They've been emerging across the empire. Our best warriors can barely hold them back. The Imperial Astronomers say the stars themselves are disturbed."

"The stars," Mingyu nodded sagely, "are notorious light sleepers."

Before anyone could decipher that statement, the ground trembled. Darkness seeped through the jade tiles like spilled ink. The court officials scattered as shadows began to take form.

"Oh dear," Mingyu sighed. "They really have no sense of timing."

Night Beasts, larger and more terrible than the ones they'd faced in the village, rose from the shadows. Their forms twisted with ancient malice, eyes burning with hungry stars.

But something was different about them here, in the heart of imperial power. They moved with purpose, almost... ceremonially.

"Finally," a voice echoed from the darkness, "the Tiger shows himself."

A figure emerged – tall, elegant, wrapped in robes of living shadow. His face was beautiful in the way that midnight is beautiful: dangerous and infinite.

"Minister Chen?" the Emperor gasped.

"Once," the figure smiled. "Before I remembered who I really was. Before I remembered the old wars, the ancient compact... and how a certain tiger cheated us of victory with a well-timed nap."

Mingyu stood, his usual drowsiness replaced with something older, something that made the air itself hold its breath.

"Ah," he said. "Night Lord Wei. Still bitter about that? It was three thousand years ago."

"You turned our final battle into a bedtime story!"

"It was getting late. Everyone was cranky. A good nap solved everything."

"You put our entire army to sleep!"

"And didn't everyone feel better afterward? Some of your generals still send me thank-you notes. Well, nightmare messages, but same principle."

The Night Lord's shadows writhed. "The compact is ending. The seals are breaking. And this time, Tiger, you cannot simply... nap your way to victory."

Mingyu stretched, his golden light beginning to fill the hall. "Watch me."

Chaos erupted. Night Beasts lunged from every shadow. Li Xuan's frost met darkness in glittering arcs. Rui Lin's flames carved paths through the shadows while Bao Ping, showing surprising skill, used his wok to reflect sunlight into the creatures' eyes.

"The light!" Elder Yan shouted from behind a pillar. "They're weakest in direct illumination!"

"Notes later, running now!" Aunt Bao called back, somehow managing to hit three beasts with her ladle while protecting her dumpling basket.

The Emperor himself drew an ancient sword, its blade glowing with the light of imperial authority. But all eyes were on Mingyu and the Night Lord.

They moved like old dancers remembering steps from millennia ago. Where the Night Lord was all fluid grace and deadly precision, Mingyu... well, Mingyu looked like he was trying to find a comfortable position while occasionally deflecting world-ending attacks.

"You've grown soft," the Night Lord hissed.

"Comfortable," Mingyu corrected, dodging a shadow spear with a move suspiciously similar to rolling over in bed. "There's a difference."

"The old powers are waking. The ancient hungers stir!"

"Have they tried a light snack before bed? Does wonders for night cravings."

Their battle wove through the throne room, shadow and light dancing in patterns older than the empire itself. But something was strange about Mingyu's movements. He seemed to be... arranging things.

"What is he doing?" Li Xuan whispered to Rui Lin.

The fire dancer's eyes widened. "He's redecorating."

Indeed, each lazy dodge, each seemingly random step was shifting the flow of battle. Pillars of light, reflected off disturbed tiles, began to form patterns. The Emperor's sword, guided by subtle nudges, cast its radiance in precise angles.

The Night Lord, too late, realized what was happening.

"No," he snarled. "Not again!"

"Like I said," Mingyu smiled, finally settling into what looked like a perfect napping position, "watch me."

The light in the throne room shifted, aligned, and suddenly every shadow had a purpose, every darkness a place to rest. The Night Beasts found themselves caught in a web of illumination that felt... comfortable.

Terrifyingly comfortable.

"What... what is this?" the Night Lord's voice was already drowsy.

"I call it the Imperial Nap Formation," Mingyu yawned. "Been setting it up since I helped design the palace. Three thousand years of architectural feng shui, all for this moment."

One by one, the Night Beasts began to sway. Even the Night Lord's fearsome form started to blur.

"You... can't... this isn't..."

"Shh," Mingyu said soothingly. "Everyone needs rest. Even ancient evils. Even hungry shadows. Even grumpy old friends who hold three-thousand-year grudges."

The last thing the Night Lord saw before succumbing was Mingyu's gentle smile.

"Sweet dreams," the Tiger said. "We'll talk more after a good rest."

And just like that, the throne room was filled with sleeping shadows, peaceful darkness, and one very satisfied tiger.

"Well," the Emperor said into the stunned silence, "I suppose we should prepare guest rooms?"

"And midnight snacks," Mingyu nodded. "They're always hungry after a good nap."