Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 2

Silence reigned in the dressing room.

Death by decree was Ji Zhao’s strongest urge.

The once noisy dressing room had fallen silent, everyone staring in stunned silence at Yu Cheng. She knelt with perfect, graceful posture, her slender back straight as a board, her voice heavy and forceful. Though she spoke to Ji Zhao, her gaze deliberately averted, too afraid to meet the other woman’s eyes.

This flawless, almost robotic etiquette could only belong to her father, the First-Rank Grand General, Esteemed Minister Yu.

What was she doing here?

“What’s going on?” Pei Jia heard the commotion and pushed through the crowd. Spotting Boss Ji again, she quickly moved to stand beside her. “Who’s this?”

Ji Zhao thought to herself that every era had its own attention-seeker. Yu Cheng’s kneeling might have gone unnoticed in ancient times, but in this modern age of equality, it stood out like a sore thumb. She cleared her throat. “Get up first.”

“Yu Cheng! Are you crazy?” At that moment, someone rushed in from outside the dressing room, reaching for Yu Cheng’s arm. “The cameras are still rolling!”

Yu Cheng ducked slightly, evading the woman’s hand.

The woman froze, then turned to Ji Zhao. “Do you know each other?”

“Don’t be rude!” Yu Cheng stood up, taking a respectful step back. “This is…”

Ji Zhao cut her off. “Yes… we do know each other.”

She nodded slightly at the newcomer, took a step forward, and whispered to Yu Cheng, “Stop causing trouble. Stay put. I’ll explain later.”

Yu Cheng glanced around furtively, then nodded.

Ji Zhao shot Pei Jia a look.

Understanding the unspoken message, Pei Jia stepped forward to smooth things over. “Hahaha, I’m just a little emotional after not seeing her in so long. It’s fine, don’t mind me.”

The trainees who had witnessed the entire spectacle felt like they’d been on a roller coaster.

From the initial shock—”Is this some hidden segment from the production team?”—to the subsequent bewilderment—”Even if it is a hidden segment, what’s with this act? What’s the point?”—to the final realization—”Oh, it’s just a reunion of old friends. The world’s a strange place, huh? To think someone so good-looking could be so… unconventional.”

Some of the more perceptive trainees began to speculate.

“Is this all just a script? Will it actually air?”

“Are they already hyping up pairings? Selling idols on the first day? This is insane!”

“What’s going on? Are stupid characters suddenly in demand this year? Should I switch to that? Or just randomly pick someone and start peddling idols?”

Fortunately, the production team arrived just in time, informing the trainees to proceed in groups to the Self-Rating Room to select their own rankings. This completely diverted everyone’s attention.

As the name suggests, self-rating involves assessing one’s own level based on personal ability.

Generally, this becomes the audience’s first impression of the trainees: whether they’re overconfident, modest, deserving of their reputation, or self-aware. All of this is revealed through the self-rating process.

Pei Jia stood in front of Ji Zhao, blocking Yu Cheng’s intense gaze. “Boss Ji, it’s our turn.”

Ji Zhao hummed in acknowledgment.

She shot Yu Cheng a measured glance. The short skirt and exposed midriff—this Grand General’s attire was utterly inappropriate. She’d have to give her a proper dressing-down later.

“Everyone’s dressed so seductively,” Pei Jia fretted as soon as she stepped out of the dressing room. “The dancing acts will definitely be girl group routines. We’re just singing, and we have no chance of winning. Should we just go home?”

The original owner and Pei Jia had prepared a purely acoustic performance of “May We Live Long.” Over the past few days, Ji Zhao had watched numerous girl group performances online. While she couldn’t comprehend their aesthetic, she had to admit that their stage presence was far more competitive than the original owner’s planned performance.

Fortunately, Ji Zhao had no musical skills to speak of, but the song was simple enough. With the original owner’s exceptional voice, she could manage the beginner-level rating stage.
The Self-Rating Room was brightly lit.

Pei Jia, still young and barely out of high school when she was signed to Timely Entertainment Company, spent most of her days shuttling between the company and her dorm. This was her first time on such a large-scale program, and everything seemed novel and exciting to her.

“Look, there are stickers here! A, B, C, D, F—hey, where’s E?”

“Do we have to choose one now?”

“I think my current level should at least be a C!”

In stark contrast to Pei Jia’s excitement stood Ji Zhao, who remained silent and observant.

She tilted her head back to study the lights: This illumination is excellent, much brighter than the Night Pearls.

She leaned closer to the camera: Is this what Pei Jia called a camera? It’s much larger than the ones in the dressing room, a big black lump standing here—it could be used for self-defense.

She picked up a paper covered in unfamiliar symbols and shook her head: This calligraphy is hideous, even worse than Esteemed Minister Yu’s.

Yu Cheng, a military general, had received a basic education in the Imperial Study during his youth, enough to read and understand the fundamentals, but he fell short of true scholarly knowledge. Yet Ji Zhao found herself drawn to reading Yu Cheng’s memorials.

The reason was simple: Yu Cheng never minced words, and her memorials were concise and easy to read.

“Boss Ji,” Pei Jia said, sticking a C-shaped sticker on her shirt, “which one are you picking? How about we both choose C and debut together at the top spot!”

“I’ll take this one,” Ji Zhao said, picking up her own sticker.

A. She liked the shape; following the straight line led straight to the peak.

Pei Jia gave her a thumbs-up. “I love your confidence!”

After the self-rating session, they could enter the recording hall to choose their seats. The dimly lit, not-too-long corridor suddenly brightened at the end, revealing the legendary stage. Ji Zhao also heard trainees who had already chosen their seats talking.

“Wow! It’s Timely Entertainment Company!”
“I heard Ji Zhaozhao, the company president, is personally here for the auditions.”

“Is it too late to kiss up to her now? Hahaha!”

Ji Zhao looked up.

There were 108 trainees, and naturally, 108 seats. The trapezoidal seating arrangement sloped downward, with a single, golden chair at the very top, looking more imposing and grand than the others.

Isn’t that her Dragon Throne?

Pei Jia sighed beside her. “Wow, the C-position is so luxurious! But isn’t it a bit too high?”

Someone teased, “Want to go up and sit in it?”

Pei Jia quickly shook her head and waved. “No, no, no! I’m afraid of heights. Hehe, I’ll just pick a spot in the middle.” She turned to Ji Zhao. “Boss Ji, do you want to sit with me?”

Ji Zhao replied, “I have a seat.”

“Huh?” Pei Jia asked.

When did she get a seat?

Ji Zhao walked forward.

Each step was steady and composed.

Whispers rose behind her.

“Wow! She’s going for the C-position?”

“I adore her! Can I vote for her?”

“She looks even more beautiful from this angle. Who understands?”

Ji Zhao reached the top, turned, and sat down. The hem of her skirt stirred a gentle breeze as she settled into her seat, her posture perfectly poised. After a moment, noticing all the beautiful eyes watching her, she offered a faint smile.

At that time, Ji Zhao had no idea about something called a “Confessional” interview, where her choice of the C-position would be highlighted and broadcast alongside her explanation.

During the Confessional, the photographer asked, “Why did you choose the C-position?”

Ji Zhao countered, “The seat I chose?”

After receiving a definitive answer, Ji Zhao responded with a calm, “Oh, so that’s the position they’re saving for me?”

Her matter-of-fact tone sparked widespread debate after the first episode aired. Some were appalled by her arrogant declaration of her beauty, while others adored her audacious demeanor, creating over a dozen accounts to vote for her.

Of course, this was all after the fact. Naturally, Ji Zhao chose the C position. Amidst the mixed emotions of the trainees, only Yu Cheng genuinely believed it was as it should be.

She positioned herself second, right below and to the right of Ji Zhao.

This was so she could be close enough to protect her.

As time passed, more trainees entered the studio, filling the empty seats and gradually filling the studio with chatter. Finally finding a moment, Yu Cheng turned to her. “Your Majesty.”

“…” Ji Zhao paused, then asked again, “Are you really Yu Cheng?”

Yu Cheng lowered her gaze. “Absolutely, without a doubt!”

A flicker of humiliation crossed her eyes. “Though this subject wears strange attire, I am still a Grand General of the Great Qi Dynasty!”

“Hmm…” Ji Zhao pondered. “Look up.”

Yu Cheng raised her head.

Ji Zhao scrutinized her carefully.

Yu Cheng was the most renowned Grand General of the Great Qi Dynasty, a First-Rank Official. Ji Zhao was accustomed to seeing her in full armor, and the sudden sight of her beauty was somewhat disorienting.

Yu Cheng smiled. “I never realized how beautiful you had become, Esteemed Minister Yu.”

Yu Cheng’s eyes flickered slightly.

Ji Zhao gave an order. “Look at me.”

Yu Cheng kept her eyes downcast. “This subject dares not.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Ji Zhao shifted her posture, noticing newcomers curiously gathering on the stage. “Don’t you understand where you are yet? I’m not the Emperor, and you’re not a General.”

She asked Yu Cheng, “When did you arrive?”

Yu Cheng replied, “Two days ago.”

Ji Zhao fell into contemplation.

So she arrived around the same time as me. She pressed further, “Were you also just standing around with your sword, basking in the sun, when you closed your eyes and opened them here?”

Yu Cheng paused. “Standing around with my sword, basking in the sun?”

Ji Zhao nodded. “Exactly.”
Yu Cheng hesitated. “Don’t you remember what happened before?”

“What happened?” Ji Zhao sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes slightly. “That day was just an ordinary day, wasn’t it? Oh, the sun was a bit brighter than usual.”

She remembered the Imperial Astronomer’s Office predicting a celestial alignment of the seven planets, promising clear skies across the realm.

But seeing Yu Cheng’s expression, it seemed she might have remembered incorrectly?

Yu Cheng composed herself and shook her head. “No, nothing happened.”

Ji Zhao instinctively knew Yu Cheng was lying.

But then again, they weren’t in the Great Qi Dynasty anymore. She wasn’t the Emperor, and Yu Cheng wasn’t a general; there was no longer a lord-subject relationship. Even if Yu Cheng was lying, it had nothing to do with their current situation.

If Yu Cheng didn’t want to hide it, she would eventually tell her.

“Um, excuse me,” the girl seated third to Ji Zhao’s left finally couldn’t stand it anymore. She glanced between Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng, waving her hands wildly in confusion. “Are you two… acting in a play? Did you get lost on set or something?”
The third girl’s skirt had even less fabric than Yu Cheng’s, accentuating her striking figure. Her long, deep blue hair, as dense and beautiful as seaweed, framed her large, curious aquamarine eyes.

Ji Zhao looked down and saw the name tag and self-assessed rating pinned to Song Jiangjiang’s waist.

Song Jiangjiang, A.

Ji Zhao’s heart stirred. “You’re Song Jiangjiang?”

Song Jiangjiang acted as if they were already acquainted. “Yep! You know me?”

Ji Zhao leaned sideways, propping her face in her fist. “So, can you really jump like a frog while whistling? Is that true? Can you show me?”

Song Jiangjiang: “……?”

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