Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 23.2

After reading Ji Zhaozhao’s Weibo post, fans flocked to the live broadcast site, captivated by her unapologetic ambition and her self-assured choice of the Center Position. Within half an hour of the broadcast, Ji Zhaozhao’s follower count surged by 20,000.

Meanwhile, Ji Zhao and her group, having already handed over their phones, remained blissfully unaware of the online frenzy.

They followed staff members down to the basement level. The media room, freshly renovated by the production team, maintained the estate’s aesthetic, but everything inside was brand new. The carpet boasted intricate patterns, and when the electric sofa reclined, a replica of the Mona Lisa hung on the adjacent wall.

Song Jiangjiang whispered, “This is way too fancy! Even a big screen! It feels like we’re at a karaoke bar!”

Shen Xin collapsed onto the sofa. “Ahh, this is heaven! Now this is how humans should live!”

Zheng Dongqing said in a slightly arrogant tone, “It’s almost as nice as my place. Once the competition is over, you’re all welcome to visit my home. I guarantee you’ll have so much fun you won’t want to leave.”

Qiao Yue whispered worriedly, “Aren’t any of you scared?”

The teammates all froze. “Scared of what?”

Qiao Yue hadn’t expected her teammates to be so carefree. After a moment of hesitation, she explained, “I mean, what if the production team edits the footage in a misleading way, or what if our voting results aren’t good enough…”

“We’ll be eliminated?” Ji Zhao finished for her.

Qiao Yue nodded.

Ji Zhao ruffled her hair. “Every stage of the journey has its own beauty. Just enjoy the ride. If you worry too much about the future, you might miss the scenery and never reach the end.”

Qiao Yue felt her eyes welling up. “Zhaozhao…”

Song Jiangjiang timidly raised her hand. “What if you get eliminated this time?”

Ji Zhao smiled. “The viewers wouldn’t be that blind, would they?”

The teammates: “……”

What happened to that laid-back attitude? Enjoying the scenery? Where did all that go when it’s about you?!

As the teammates were still in disarray, a staff member walked in with a remote control and helped them turn on the projection. “Here’s the remote,” they said. “You can fast forward and rewind. I’ll come back for you in thirty minutes.”

The full video was an hour and a half long, but it only covered the first part of the Initial Evaluation stage. The footage of the stage performance wasn’t even finished. Song Jiangjiang took control of the remote and fast-forwarded through it all until they finally reached their company’s performance stage.

They watched for a minute.

“…Can we fast forward?” Song Jiangjiang asked.

Shen Xin sat up. “No! This is pretty exciting!”

Qiao Yue pointed out, “Your teammate stepped on your foot! Your adaptability is amazing—keeping your composure and continuing to dance like nothing happened. Jiangjiang, you’re incredible.”

Ji Zhao nodded. “She definitely deserves an A.”

Zheng Dongqing looked thoughtful. “I feel like I’m seeing a lot of details I missed during the actual performance. I made so many mistakes… they wouldn’t cut those in, would they? I’m really going to hold the director accountable…”

 Song Jiangjiang looked at Yu Cheng.

Yu Cheng returned the look with a puzzled expression.

Song Jiangjiang: “…You don’t want to comment unless it’s Zhaozhao, right?”

Yu Cheng: “Mm.”

Song Jiangjiang: “……”

Hypocritical self-righteousness!

Song Jiangjiang continued fast-forwarding.

To Zheng Dongqing’s relief, the camera wasn’t on her during her mistakes. To Qiao Yue’s relief, her performance was decent. Even though she later dropped from Class B to Class F, at least her first impression was good.

Fast-forwarding.

Until Ji Zhao played the guqin.

Yu Cheng sighed. “This melody belongs in heaven. How rare to hear it on earth.” Her gaze softened. “They’re blessed to have heard this song.”

Song Jiangjiang: “……”

Zheng Dongqing: “……”

Qiao Yue: “……”

Shen Xin: “……”

The first person to praise can’t praise too extravagantly, do you understand social graces? How are the rest of us supposed to follow up?!

The teammates choked on their words for a moment, then patted Song Jiangjiang on the shoulder. Forget it. Just keep fast-forwarding.

 They fast-forwarded through the entire episode without seeing Yu Cheng or Shen Xin. Song Jiangjiang guessed, “They’re probably in the next one, airing tomorrow.”

“It’s fine if we don’t watch,” Shen Xin said, nonchalant. “Whether we watch or not doesn’t matter anyway. It can’t be taken down or reaired, so whatever. We have extra training tonight, right? Should we get some rest?”

Yu Cheng also expressed indifference.

Since the participants themselves didn’t care, others stopped feeling sorry for them. When they called in a staff member to check the time, they found only twenty minutes had passed, leaving ten minutes of free time. Song Jiangjiang simply switched to a short video platform.

Short videos scroll by quickly, and time flew by in a blink.

The Perfect Pair reluctantly left the screening room, where the next group was already waiting, watching them enviously. “Having more time is so good. Look how relaxed they are.”

Ji Zhao passed by and casually asked, “How much time do you guys have?”

This question hit a sore spot. The six-member group collectively stared blankly. “Three minutes.”

The Perfect Pair: “……”

Song Jiangjiang: “My condolences.”

The other group: “……”

Nobody died!

The popularity of Debut! Girl was still growing, even if it hadn’t quite reached the heights of the first three seasons. This was enough to attract sponsors, and within just one night, the show had secured several new sponsorships.

 Ji Zhao’s popularity was soaring. During a break in training, she even recorded several voiceovers with her teammates.

By the fourth take, Ji Zhao finally spoke up and refused. She glanced at the script on the card and handed it back to the assistant director. “The public performance is coming up soon. Keep interrupting me like this is disrupting our team’s rhythm. I’m not doing any more.”

With that, she turned to leave for the practice room. Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, she paused again. “I came here to compete, not to do commercials. If you need more money, go to finance. Don’t take any random ads.”

The assistant director stood frozen in place, stunned. It wasn’t until long after the door closed that he stomped his foot in frustration. “She thinks she’s so tough, huh?!”

The Follow PD murmured beside him, “She’s always been tough.”

The assistant director glared. “Do you want me to kick her off the production team right now?!”

The Follow PD reminded him, “Ji Zhaozhao is currently leading in votes, with over ten thousand more than the second-place contestant…”

The assistant director choked on his words.

Inside the practice room…

After another run-through of the choreography, Song Jiangjiang slumped against the wall, disheveled and gasping for breath. She waved her hand dismissively. “I can’t do this anymore. If we keep dancing like this, I’ll kick the bucket before the public performance.”

Qiao Yue considerately handed her a bottle of electrolyte water. “Here, drink some of this.”

Song Jiangjiang sighed gratefully. “You’re the best, Yueyue.”

Qiao Yue anxiously watched as Ji Zhao twisted open the bottle cap and tilted her head back to chug the water. “Slow down! Drinking too fast won’t quench your thirst!”

Yu Cheng also grabbed a bottle from the cooler, twisted off the cap, and was about to hand it to Ji Zhao. But when Ji Zhao reached for it, Yu Cheng pulled her hand back.

Ji Zhao: “?”

Yu Cheng: “Let me have a sip first.”

Ji Zhao: “……”

After saying that, Yu Cheng lowered her head and resumed watching the dance rehearsal video she’d just recorded on her phone.

She’d borrowed the phone from the Follow PD. The gym only gave each group half an hour for rehearsals, so they had to mark their positions based on a scaled-down replica of the stage.

Song Jiangjiang, the most experienced among the six, had been leading the rehearsals, shouting in exhaustion and frustration. When Ji Zhao finished watching the video and turned to speak to Song Jiangjiang, she found Yu Cheng crouched in front of her instead.

Ji Zhao immediately understood what Yu Cheng wanted, but she still asked, “What?”

Yu Cheng offered her the water. “Drink this.”

Ji Zhao refused to take it. “Didn’t you want to drink first?”

Yu Cheng shook her head gently. “It’s not poisoned.”

Ji Zhao still refused. “What if it is poisoned? What if you die?”

Yu Cheng blurted out, “Then you’d be safe, wouldn’t you?”

 “How could I not—”

Before Ji Zhao could finish her sentence, Shen Xin, who had been listening to the whole conversation, finally couldn’t hold back. “It’s just a bottle of water! Look at the two of you! Even for shipping, this is too forced! Nobody ships forced pairings!”

Shipping.

This concept was no stranger to Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng.

After getting their phones, the first thing they learned about was girl groups.

Rumor had it that most fans of girl groups followed the bands to ship pairings. These pairings were any two members of the group paired together. If the two were actually a couple, that was a win. If not, fans would spread rumors to make them seem like one. In short, it was a group of adorable girls obsessed with other people’s love lives.

But contrary to this, idols—meaning the members of the girl groups—were forbidden from dating.

So Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng were baffled: Were they allowed to date or not? Later, after hearing their teammates’ chatter, they finally understood: Date, but don’t date. A “seemingly dating but not really” relationship was ideal.

Yu Cheng’s unwavering devotion to “selling the pairing” with Ji Zhao wouldn’t fly with fans!

Song Jiangjiang clicked her tongue. “If this gets aired, it might not even be as shippable as my pairing with Zhaozhao!”

Yu Cheng hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at her.

 Song Jiangjiang: “…I was wrong. You two really do make a perfect pair.”

Yu Cheng: “That’s not what I meant.”

“Who cares what you two mean!” Shen Xin stood up. “Let’s just do one last take and go to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow, remember? We’re the first batch, right?”

The rehearsal order matched the official performance schedule. Ji Zhao had drawn a coveted middle-of-the-road position, one that made others envious.

Even with such a prime spot, she still had to board the first bus to the stadium, which also served as an official tour of the venue where they’d be performing the next day.

The theme of this performance was group competition. The production team divided the stage in half, leaving space for the audience in between. While Group A performed, Group B watched from the stage without lighting. After Group A finished, Group B performed, and then both groups voted.

With the stage split in two, it became more manageable in size, making it easier for the performers to navigate. The half-hour run-through flew by. Before the buses arrived, the trainees sat in the audience to watch the other groups rehearse.

Song Jiangjiang couldn’t sit still, pacing two laps around the vast arena. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Ji Zhao yawned. “Excited about what?”

“This is my first time in such a huge venue!” Song Jiangjiang exclaimed.

Shen Xin frowned. “No way! You’ve never been to a big venue before?”

“You have?!”

“Have you never been to a concert? I’ve even been to a 100,000-person stadium like the Bird’s Nest. You—”

 “Shut up,” Song Jiangjiang said coldly, sitting numbly next to Qiao Yue. “You guys are all just sleep addicts. You disappoint me so much!”

Ji Zhao suggested, “Why don’t we find somewhere to do it again?”

The teammates: “…We’re sleeping.”

Yu Cheng watched her teammates instantly fall asleep, speechless for a moment. She whispered to Ji Zhao, “They’re just exhausted. We’ve been working nonstop for two days, and we have to get up early tomorrow for makeup, so—”

Before she could finish, a weight settled on her shoulder.

Yu Cheng stiffened. Ji Zhao found a comfortable spot on her shoulder and mumbled, “I’m tired too. Wake me when we leave.”

Yu Cheng’s gaze drifted. The deafening music from the stage blared, somehow drowning out something even louder.

After a long pause, she finally murmured, “Oh.”

The next day, a light rain fell.

The spring rain fell gently, slanting down and soaking into the verdant grass. Occasionally, swallows swooped low, chilled by the damp air, and perched among the overgrown weeds on the eaves.

Drip. Drip.

 The public performance was scheduled to begin at 7 PM. The trainees, who had been preparing for months, would first get their makeup done at the estate before heading to the venue. This arrangement served three purposes: first, it prevented over a hundred trainees from crowding the dressing rooms; second, it allowed them time to have a proper meal before the competition; and third—

Shen Yican approached the balcony door, cracked open the curtain, and quickly closed it again.

Chen Xingzi, whose face was tilted upward as the makeup artist applied her foundation, eagerly asked, “What’s going on? Did someone really come? Are they really stan sisters? Did they bring banners?”

“Can’t you stay still even while getting your makeup done?” Shen Yican replied, though she answered the questions: “There are stan sisters—more than one.”

Stan sisters referred to fans who used high-end cameras to photograph their idols, as well as the administrators of the idols’ fan clubs. The number of stan sisters present was also an indicator of an idol’s popularity.

This first public performance marked the debut of the trainees from Debut! Girl after the show’s launch. Consequently, many newly devoted fans and dedicated stan sisters had arrived, their cameras and long lenses ready to capture the moment.

The fans gathered outside the estate’s fence, braving the drizzle as they waited for the trainees to emerge.

“This wait is killing me,” said the girl with the umbrella and high ponytail. She was there to keep her friend, a die-hard stan, company. “Didn’t the scalpers say they were getting made up and styled? Even if they leave in shifts, they shouldn’t be out until this afternoon.”

“What if someone secretly goes to the convenience store for snacks?”

“What if a trainee secretly goes to practice and tries to outdo the others?”

“What if two girls secretly come out for a date?”

“…”

Did some weirdos slip into the crowd?

Whatever the case, the stans weren’t lacking in patience. If they couldn’t get a shot of the trainees, they snapped empty shots. If they were lucky, they might catch a trainee leaning out of the balcony for fresh air—still a unique view.

Just as patience was running thin, two figures emerged from A Dormitory Building, one after the other.

A sharp-eyed stan squinted. “Holy crap! It’s Ji Zhaozhao!”

Another, with poor eyesight but top-notch equipment, turned on the camera and zoomed in. “Holy shit! The one behind her is Yu Cheng!”

The crowd outside the fence erupted in excitement.

 “I can’t believe I got a shot of Ji Zhaozhao! My friend on WeChat is obsessed with her, but she’s overseas and couldn’t get any photos. She told me to get a few extra shots—this is a goldmine!”

“We need more of Yu Cheng too! She’s Yu Wangmeng’s daughter!”

“Are they like a convenience store duo? This is hilarious! I just remembered someone on the forums claimed Ji Zhaozhao likes coffee, but the store requires vouchers. Yu Cheng apparently hoarded all the coffee vouchers, leaving none for the other trainees.”

“No way! Did some crazy CP fan make that up?”

Just as the words faded, Yu Cheng pulled a stack of vouchers from her pocket, casually plucked one out, and handed it to the window. Moments later, a coffee was slid out.

A cold coffee, ice clinking in the glass, looking absolutely refreshing.

The stalker girls: “……”

Yu Cheng handed the coffee to Ji Zhao. “There are so many people taking photos of us outside. Should we ask them to leave?”

Each dormitory had its own makeup artist, and in 309, only Shen Yican had been done so far. Ji Zhao, waiting in the dorm, was getting drowsy. She’d planned to go to the practice room for a few more rounds of practice, but as soon as she stepped out, her feet took her to the convenience store instead.

Ji Zhao took a sip of coffee. “It’s no big deal. It’s just a stan.”

After a pause, she added, “Many stans are really nice to their idols. They take photos, edit them, and even promote them. I wonder if there are any for us two. If there are, we could even go over and say hi. I—”

She frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yu Cheng hesitated, as if holding back words.

Ji Zhao raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

After a moment, Yu Cheng reached out and gently touched the corner of Ji Zhao’s mouth. “You got a drop of water here.”

Ji Zhao didn’t bother wiping it off. “I can’t reach. Help me get it off.”

“…Yes,” Yu Cheng replied.

So, under the watchful eyes of the crowd and numerous cameras, Yu Cheng cradled Ji Zhao’s face and gently wiped away the droplet from the corner of her mouth. After finishing, she smiled at Ji Zhao. “All done.”

The stans gasped.

“But…” one of them blurted out.

The stan next to her, shouldering an ultra-long lens, exclaimed, “Are they dating?!”

The ponytailed girl, who had come with her friend, had shaken off her earlier boredom. She whispered excitedly, “Stop talking! Take a picture! Quick, take a picture! If this isn’t the US, I’ll change my name to yours!”

And so, on this misty, drizzling morning, Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng single-handedly turned all the fansites into Yuzhao CP fansites.

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