Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: The First Day the Villain Became Emperor~

Chu Ke only ended up taking three days of leave. On the 9th day of the first lunar month, she boarded a plane with Wen Qingyun, preparing to return to work on the 10th.

Indeed, they were in the same business class cabin. Wen Qingyun’s role as the second female lead was scheduled to start filming on the afternoon of the Lantern Festival, and she planned to fly there on the day for the opening ceremony.

After three hours of transit from the flight to a private car, the two arrived smoothly at the dormitory. The first thing Chu Ke did was open the windows for ventilation and start a vigorous deep clean. Wen Qingyun had no interest in labor; after helping Chu Ke change the bedsheets, she sat cross-legged on the bed playing with her phone.

Once Chu Ke finished cleaning the bedroom, Wen Qingyun shifted her position to observe this small room of less than twenty square meters. When was the last time she was here? Counting back, it seemed to be about three months ago.

Wen Qingyun pulled out a chair and sat down, immediately spotting a Forbidden City cat figurine on the desk. This gift was something Wen Qingyun had personally pulled from a blind box, so she remembered it. After stroking the small cat’s head, she picked up a 2025 calendar and began flipping through it.

Turning to the March page, Wen Qingyun found that the 21st was circled in red pen. After a moment of thought, a smile flashed in her eyes. That day was her birthday; Chu Ke had marked it so early—was she already preparing a gift?

Wen Qingyun found a red pen in the pen holder, flipped to May, and circled May 16th in red as well.

After cleaning the room, Chu Ke took a quick shower, then went out with Wen Qingyun to shop for groceries and cook dinner.

“Aren’t you going to the hotel yet?” Chu Ke only realized the issue when she saw it was already 9:30 PM.

“Why go to a hotel?” Wen Qingyun countered, sitting lazily on the sofa. “You’re my girlfriend; of course I’m staying with you.”

Chu Ke instinctively looked at the bedroom. “But my bed is only 1.5 meters wide. It’s a bit small for two people.”

It wasn’t their first time sharing a bed, so Chu Ke wasn’t shy about it anymore. Her surprise stemmed purely from the fact that Wen Qingyun’s sleeping posture was… “adventurous.” Accustomed to a two-meter king bed, would Wen Qingyun really not fall off a 1.5-meter bed in the middle of the night? After all, several times when Chu Ke woke up, Wen Qingyun was right on the edge, nearly dragging Chu Ke onto the carpet with her.

“How about I go to the hotel with you?” Chu Ke suggested. “I can get my things ready and go straight to work tomorrow.”

“Mm-hmm? Not welcome in your dorm?” Wen Qingyun raised an eyebrow, her contrary nature surfacing. “Or is there a secret in your bed?”

A helpless smile appeared on Chu Ke’s face. “The floor is hard and the carpet isn’t thick enough. If you aren’t worried about falling off, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Don’t worry, I just like sleeping near the edge. I won’t fall,” Wen Qingyun vowed confidently.

Chu Ke hesitated for three seconds before choosing to believe her. She even reflected on herself—they had only shared a bed a dozen times; perhaps she hadn’t observed closely enough and had misunderstood Wen Qingyun.

As it turned out, Chu Ke’s worry was well-founded.

Accustomed to the vastness of a king bed, Wen Qingyun was teetering on the brink by midnight. Fortunately, her long legs were strong enough to kick back against the air before she hit the floor, allowing her a narrow escape back onto the mattress.

“What’s wrong?” Chu Ke asked groggily, sensing the movement.

“Nothing, just felt a sudden chill,” Wen Qingyun lied through her teeth, placing a hand over Chu Ke’s eyes to usher her back to sleep in the most primitive way.

The next day, after seeing Chu Ke off to work, Wen Qingyun didn’t waste a second and started looking at houses. She planned to buy one before she left. Even with her help, it would take time for Chu Ke to rise through the ranks; she wouldn’t leave Anshan County for at least five years. Under this premise, purchasing a house with high-quality interior design was essential—especially the bed. It had to be two meters!

Wen Qingyun would absolutely not allow Chu Ke to discover the truth about her terrible sleeping posture. Never!

…

“Chu Ke, get ready. The Secretary wants you to go with him this afternoon to visit ‘five-guarantee’ households (elderly/disabled living alone).” Someone from the Secretariat arrived with unexpected news.

Realizing that such clerical work fell under her responsibility, Chu Ke regained her composure. The Director probably hadn’t returned to work yet, and the Secretary couldn’t order him around, so the task defaulted to her.

Chu Ke nodded. “Understood. Do I need to prepare anything?”

“Nothing specific. Just dress appropriately. A reporter will be following; it will appear on the local news,” the secretary said, her gaze a mix of complexity and envy. She added a hint of advice: “Chu Ke, the Secretary wants to groom you. You must seize this opportunity.”

“Okay, thank you,” Chu Ke responded. Even after the secretary left, a trace of doubt remained in her eyes. This kind of opportunity shouldn’t have fallen to her even if the Director was absent. She hadn’t sent any expensive gifts to the leadership, let alone built a connection with a top official like the County Party Secretary.

Wait… a connection… could I be…?

Chu Ke was quite sharp. After a brief shock, she guessed where this opportunity came from. Recalling the advice and warnings Ms. Wen Feishi had once given her, her hand tightened on the desk. Whether it was to help more girls in the mountains or to stand confidently beside Wen Qingyun, she had to work even harder.

…

Wen Qingyun was highly efficient. Within a single day, she narrowed it down to three suitable properties. After discussing with Chu Ke for half an hour that evening, she finalized the purchase. Since Chu Ke was part of the system, the procedures went quickly. By the time Wen Qingyun left to film, Chu Ke had a 180-square-meter property under her name.

Before leaving, Wen Qingyun kissed her girlfriend’s cheek, then lowered her head to leave a visible mark on her neck. “I’ll have a designer send over a few plans for the house. You pick one you like.”

“Okay,” Chu Ke nodded obediently. “The Director just messaged me. The Deep in the Mountains production team added a 5-million-yuan donation in the name of the show and the four guests, including you, for infrastructure in the villages around Shishu.”

“Mm, Yue Xing is probably afraid I’ll cause him trouble, so he’s trying to get on my good side,” Wen Qingyun recalled the director she disliked. However, she didn’t intend to respond. Sometimes complete silence is more terrifying to those with a guilty conscience. “If he donates more, just take it and use it as intended. If he asks if I know, give him an ambiguous answer and let him guess.”

Wen Qingyun had seen too many men like Yue Xing in the industry. Any man with a bit of power usually wanted to play the “casting couch” game. Many had made hints to her in the past; they were likely trembling now that her identity was public.

…

With Ms. Wen Feishi as her backer, Wen Qingyun’s filming process was incredibly smooth. If she hadn’t been so demanding of her own acting, the director wouldn’t have dared to ask for many retakes. Being respected and pampered felt good, but some people were still too stupid—knocking on her door in the middle of the night trying to offer “services.”

If it were a female star, Wen Qingyun would keep her cool and have her assistant send them away while reiterating her status. But why were men coming? Her sexual orientation had been public for a long time; she practically had “I like women” written on her forehead. Why were men still so confident? Wen Qingyun was annoyed; she felt “tainted” by the mere association!

[Wen Qingyun V: Certain male artists, stop coming to ‘recommend’ yourselves at night. I like women, and I have a girlfriend!] [Wen Qingyun V: Female artists, don’t come either. I have no intention of two-timing. I love my girlfriend very much!]

After two angry Weibo posts, Wen Qingyun called the director and told him to cut the role of the male artist who knocked on her door and let him finish his scenes and get out by tomorrow.

The netizens were sharp. Combining the midnight posts with next-day rumors, the identity of the male artist was quickly exposed, and he was effectively erased from the industry soon after. Seeing her ruthless handling of the situation, the remaining cast became very well-behaved.

Time flew by mid-March. Wen Qingyun didn’t have many plans for her birthday, intending to finish filming as scheduled. Chu Ke, however, had mapped out the dates early and scrounged together a five-day break to rush to the film city. As for a gift, Chu Ke had struggled before deciding to learn from a woodcarving master in the county. Her skills were limited, and a realistic portrait was too hard, so she settled for carving a set of “chibi” versions of Wen Qingyun.

“So, this is why your hands feel all bumpy and scarred?” Wen Qingyun pulled Chu Ke’s collar, bringing her onto the bed.

“I’ve learned now, I won’t get hurt like this next time…” Chu Ke’s face was beet red. Even after many times, she couldn’t overcome her habit of blushing intensely before Wen Qingyun.

“Even if there isn’t a next time, it doesn’t stop me from punishing you this time,” Wen Qingyun smirked, taking Chu Ke’s right hand and guiding it down her abdomen.

“Don’t…” Chu Ke blushed furiously. She didn’t want to feel her own slightly rough fingertips in that way.

“Really no?” Wen Qingyun stopped obediently. “Sometimes, you have to experience things yourself to perform better later, right?”

Chu Ke understood the subtext and fell into a state of extreme inner conflict.

“Continue?” Wen Qingyun asked patiently.

Finally, she received an almost inaudible “Mhm” from her blushing girlfriend.

Wen Qingyun was very satisfied with the “home-delivered” birthday gift. Thus, when it was Chu Ke’s birthday, she returned the favor by finishing her filming early to celebrate Chu Ke’s 25th birthday in Anshan County. Her gift was pragmatic: a 10-million-yuan investment to open a crop processing plant in Anshan to drive poverty alleviation. Additionally, she gave her a necklace with a ring attached, lest her girlfriend keep doubting their future.

Wen Qingyun’s life didn’t change much with a girlfriend; she filmed scripts she liked, rested when tired, and split her time between staying with her mother in the capital and her new house in Anshan County.

To Chu Ke, Wen Qingyun was like a wandering wind that no one could stop. Thus, Chu Ke worked hard to become a lush, sturdy tree, so that when the wind passed her, it might linger for a moment to see the leaves dancing for it.

Chu Ke succeeded. While Wen Qingyun was rooted in a film set as a lead actress, Chu Ke was promoted to a full section-level position for her outstanding results. Two years later, through various talent programs, she became the Deputy County Magistrate.

The lead role Wen Qingyun had spent a year polishing won her a prestigious Best Actress award that same year, fulfilling the grand promise she had once casually made to Sister Xiao. “Good Wind Studio” transformed into “Good Wind Entertainment,” boasting over a dozen agents and more than fifty artists.

At age thirty-two, Chu Ke was promoted again to Vice Mayor while concurrently serving as the County Party Secretary—the top leader of Anshan. She worked tirelessly to erase the “son-preference” label from Anshan, turning it into a county where tourism and industry thrived over three years.

Of course, a big reason Chu Ke could realize her ambitions was the backing of Ms. Wen Feishi. Wen Feishi admired Chu Ke’s drive and sincerity; she didn’t want such a person to be buried because of gender or orientation. Using long-accumulated favors, she helped Chu Ke become Mayor at thirty-five.

Compared to Chu Ke’s steady climb, Wen Qingyun lived a leisurely life. Time left few marks on her face. Even after her fortieth birthday, she looked no different from a star in her twenties—still brilliant, free, and an unstoppable wind. After winning her second Best Actress award, she grew bored with acting and started discovering new talent, spending money on scripts she liked and having her team produce them.

She noticed some directors liked to insert their own “baggage”—either a miserable alcoholic mother or changing scripts to give the spotlight to a male nurse with ten minutes of screen time. This displeased her, leading to a ten-year plan to train female directors.

She also tried her hand at directing, making several semi-documentary shorts to teach things that shouldn’t be “trivia.” For example, the X-ray diffraction photo of DNA crystals was taken by a woman, and those who followed merely claimed the Nobel Prize for her work. Or about Wang Zhenyi, an astronomer and mathematician from the Qing Dynasty who had been erased. Or that the first programmer was a woman.

Finding out these facts shocked her. Seeing netizens’ worldviews refreshed, Wen Qingyun collaborated with UN Women to compile the contributions of outstanding modern women into a multi-language publication. With her mother’s help, the book became a recommended reading for youth. Education, after all, starts with the children.

Ms. Wen Feishi retired from the front lines at sixty-five, transferring most of her shares to Wen Qingyun, making her the Chairman of Red Stone Group. The presidency was handed to Xiao Ran and Li Yue, talents trained by Ms. Wen. Wen Qingyun only had to appear for meetings; the rest of the time, she just waited for the dividends.

Wen Qingyun had no interest in children and didn’t adopt as she got older. However, she continued to donate to help girls, pulling them into her fold once they became successful. Seeing her daughter still so vibrant in her fifties, Wen Feishi turned to Chu Ke, who was now a provincial-level deputy.

“Chu Ke, I suspect Qingyun will never change this personality regardless of her age. I leave her in your care.”

“I will take care of her, Mom.” Chu Ke had long shed her naivety in the political arena. After their wedding on an island, she had officially started calling them Mom and Dad.

…

When the villain role-play progress reached 100%, Wen Qingyun could choose to leave the world. If she chose yes, the system would clone her data to live out the “villain’s” life via big data calculations. However, Wen Qingyun lived out a complete, brilliant life before choosing to leave.

Both Wen Qingyun and Chu Ke had the best medical resources, but it was normal for the older one to leave first. Wen Qingyun was satisfied with this; she hated being the one left behind to say goodbye. If not for Chu Ke’s company, she would have left the day Ms. Wen Feishi passed away.

[Space-time leap complete! Congratulations to the host for successfully completing the task!] The Villain System’s voice reappeared. [Detection shows the host is physically and mentally healthy. Would you like to continue taking tasks?]

“Is my performance currently ranked first?” Wen Qingyun asked.

[Within this department, the host’s performance is unrivaled, the undisputed number one. Across all departments, the host is currently tied for first with an employee from the Protagonist Department.]

“Tied for first?” Wen Qingyun’s competitive spirit instantly peaked. “Give me the next task.”

[One moment. Searching worlds… Space-time coordinates selected. Please prepare for the leap…]

…

“Your Majesty, the time for the morning court has arrived. Will Your Majesty move to the Hall of Supreme Harmony?” A clean female voice came from her side, causing Wen Qingyun, who was feigning sleep with closed eyes, to slowly open them.

Wen Qingyun didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she quickly scanned the memories of this body.

The first Empress of the Great Qian Dynasty, the only daughter of the late Emperor and the Empress Dowager. She was a legitimate princess who was deeply loved. Due to her innate divine strength and extraordinary military talent, she became the Grand Commander of the Front Army at fifteen, holding command over the forty-eight guards of the capital camp.

When the late Emperor fell ill at eighteen, he was persuaded by the Empress (now Empress Dowager) to name his only legitimate daughter, Wen Qingyun, as the Crown Princess, resolving to hand the throne to her. Although the late Emperor loved his wife, he still had a full harem; besides the child with the Empress, he had eight sons and six daughters with other consorts.

Once the heir was chosen, the late Emperor attended one final court session to announce the news, allowing Wen Qingyun to ascend the throne legitimately. He fell into a coma immediately after and passed away three days later.

Following the principle that a country cannot be without a ruler for a single day, Wen Qingyun ascended the throne before the Emperor’s coffin. She was eighteen, months away from her nineteenth birthday. However, the late Emperor’s eldest son was twenty-four and already had a son and two daughters.

The princes only began their rebellion after the Emperor’s death, insisting that the Empress Dowager had forged the decree while the Emperor was delirious and that Wen Qingyun was not the intended heir.

Wen Qingyun did not indulge them. Before the seven-day mourning period was over, she sent the capital guards who had already pledged loyalty—the Golden Crow, Feathered Forest, and Tiger Guard—to arrest them. Anyone involved in the rebellion, whether through action or mere verbal support, was decapitated. Heads rolled in the capital, and blood flowed like a river.

All eight sons of the late Emperor, along with their wives, children, and in-laws, were executed. Even infants in swaddling clothes were not spared; it was a dead end for all of them. Other officials were sentenced to the execution of three generations based on their involvement.

The officials and censors couldn’t sit still. They knelt at the palace gates in the middle of the night, pleading for the Empress to withdraw her decree and reinvestigate. Wen Qingyun ignored them, letting them kneel. Only after the executions were carried out three days later did she emerge in mourning clothes, lamenting her “helplessness.”

“The late Emperor has just departed, and they dare to disobey him. If I do not punish them, how can I face the late Emperor’s trust?”

“Go home and rest, my dear ministers. If you disagree with my actions, go and speak with the late Emperor. If he visits my dreams and tells me to spare them, I shall do so.”

After dropping those words, she swaggered away and began a period of mourning for thirty-six days.

Counting the time, today was exactly the tenth day after the mourning period ended.

The civil and military officials had accepted the deaths of the princes and began arguing over the vacant positions. They had no choice; while Wen Qingyun didn’t have many cronies in the court—only two female officials she had promoted to Grand Secretaries—she held absolute military power. She had long ago stuffed her twelve childhood study companions into vital military positions.

Wen Qingyun herself was the Grand Commander of the Front Army, controlling local garrisons while acting as the head of nearly 270,000 soldiers in the three major camps around the capital. Not to mention, the commanders of the Imperial Guard and the Brocade Guard had long since surrendered to her.

To put it bluntly, even if the late Emperor hadn’t named her heir, she could have killed all the princes and ascended the throne anyway. This was why the ministers could only kneel and beg; when Wen Qingyun refused to listen, they were utterly powerless.