Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 26.1

April should have been a warm spring month, but recent rains had cooled the air, bringing an unrelenting late spring chill. The wind, sharp as a knife, sliced through her collar, burrowing into her clothes.

Inside the wooden cabin, the air conditioning maintained a comfortable temperature, its gentle breeze descending from above.

Ji Zhao couldn’t help but glance at it twice.

The practice room’s air conditioner was a standing unit, and she’d heard Ji Zhaozhao’s family had central air. This was her first time seeing a wall-mounted unit in action. After watching it for a moment, she looked away and noticed the awkward expression on the girl opposite her.

Gathering her thoughts, Ji Zhao interlaced her fingers and leaned forward. “Are you saying… you’re Ji Jing’s sister, Ji Lin?”

Ji Lin rolled her eyes dramatically, answering with a retort. “My brother said you were putting on an act, and now you’ve actually gone and done it? We’ve met before—we’re relatives! Why are you acting like you’ve never seen a stranger before?”

Ji Lin was Ji Jing’s younger sister. Though also overlooked for being a girl, her parents were still alive, sparing her the hardships Ji Zhaozhao had faced. With little prior interaction, it was understandable that Ji Zhao wouldn’t remember her.

Ji Zhao asked, “Did you need something?”

Ji Lin looked at her incredulously. “Didn’t you tell my brother you don’t like talking to men and asked him to send a woman instead?”

Ji Zhao simply replied, “Oh.”

Ji Lin laughed in exasperation. “Just ‘oh’?”

Ji Zhao said, “I also drew two conclusions.”

Ji Lin’s curiosity piqued. “What conclusions?”

“Ji Jing is quite obedient.”

“…And the other one?”

Another one?

Ji Zhao smiled at Ji Lin. This nominal cousin of hers was so predictable, her every move exaggerated and her thoughts so easy to read. She should be even more obedient than Ji Jing. “He just doesn’t understand what people are saying.”

Ji Lin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean by that?”

As Ji Jing’s younger sister, Ji Lin absolutely respected him in daily life, regardless of what she might think of him privately. No one had ever dared to speak of Ji Jing in such a way, especially not Ji Zhaozhao, who was held in such little regard by their family!

Had Ji Zhaozhao eaten her heart out and drunk her courage dry?

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Ji Zhao said, her voice turning cold. “No matter what he told you to come talk to me about, I’m not interested, and I don’t want to waste my time listening.”

“You!” Ji Lin slapped the table and stood up. “My brother sent me here to talk to you out of respect. Do you really think that debuting as the center member of a show will change your fate? He could crush you as easily as squashing an ant!”

“And you?” Ji Zhao remained unfazed by Ji Lin’s anger. “Could he crush you too?”

Ji Lin panicked. “He’s my own brother! Why would he crush me?”

Ji Zhao gestured for her to sit down. “If you return empty-handed today, won’t he blame you?”

She continued coaxing her. “Ji Lin, in the Ji Family, I’m just like you. The resources you get are just the leftovers Ji Jing doesn’t want. But my situation is better than yours at least. At least I’m free.”

“At least when the Ji Family bullies me, I can comfort myself by thinking I just don’t have parents to protect me. What about you? How do you comfort yourself? By telling yourself your dowry will be generous when you marry? How generous? A day’s worth of Ji Jing’s extravagance? You say Ji Jing wouldn’t crush you, but he’s doing it every day!”

“Enough!” Ji Lin roared, trying to retort, but the words caught in her throat. Finally, she slumped back down, murmuring, “Enough…”

Ji Zhao softened her tone. “You must understand the concept of boiling a frog in warm water, right?”

Ji Lin’s eyes reddened, her lips trembling. “What are you trying to say? Are you trying to sow discord between Ji Jing and me? Do you need me to do something for you?”

Ji Zhao countered, “Do you really think I need to sow discord between you and Ji Jing?”

Ji Lin protested urgently, “I—”

Ji Zhao raised a hand to stop her. “I don’t need you to do anything for me. I just want you to understand that you should seize what’s rightfully yours. You deserve far more than what you’ve been given.”

Ji Lin’s expression shifted like a kaleidoscope. After a long pause, she cautiously asked, “Are you talking about… the inheritance?” Before Ji Zhao could respond, she scoffed, “I’m not even a son. I can’t carry on the Ji family line. When I marry, I’ll have to give birth to children for someone else.”

 “Why must I bear children for someone else?”

“…What do you mean?”

“What’s this ‘continuation of the family line’ thing? How is it passed down? Why can’t my own children carry it on?”

“Because any child I have won’t take the Ji name.”

“Then let them take the Ji name.”

Ji Lin stared blankly. “H-how can…?”

“Why not?” Ji Zhao looked at her stunned sister, perplexed. “What’s the problem? Is the Ji family living in some remote mountain forest? Did they not get the memo that the Qing Dynasty fell centuries ago?”

She even thought some people today were less enlightened than the citizens of the Great Qi Dynasty. In that era, the Empress reigned supreme, naturally making it a matriarchal society where women held immense power. Whether in business, politics, literature, or martial arts, women consistently outshone men in every field.

The low status of men was hardly surprising, given their inability to bear children. If they couldn’t even create life, what claim did they have to equal rights?

Seeing Ji Lin still dazed, Ji Zhao didn’t press further. She leaned back and said, “Tell Ji Jing I’m too busy to engage in petty power struggles with him right now. I’ll return after I’ve finished my work.”

 Ji Lin murmured, “Go back… and do what?”

Ji Zhao stood up with a radiant smile. “To deal with him.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the wooden cabin.

Ji Jing had likely had Ji Lin come talk to her to get her to withdraw from the competition. If her enemies didn’t want her to do something, it meant the actual benefits of doing it were even greater than she could see.

But she refused to withdraw. She was determined to secure the Center Position and debut!

As she pondered this, her path was suddenly blocked.

She froze, then looked up to see Yu Cheng standing in front of her, holding a cup of coffee. When Yu Cheng saw Ji Zhao looking at her, she silently stepped aside and offered the coffee.

Ji Zhao took the cup and took a sip. “After all that talking, I really was thirsty.”

“Why haven’t you gone back to the dorm yet?” she asked as she walked, Yu Cheng following her every step.

“I wanted to stay by Your Majesty’s side,” Yu Cheng replied.

Ji Zhao chuckled softly. “Lately, I keep feeling like I’ve forgotten something about what happened before. But when I think back, my memories are complete. Don’t tell me I forgot something that could get you executed for treason?”

Yu Cheng’s footsteps paused. “How could that be?”

 “Why wouldn’t I?” Ji Zhao sipped her coffee, finding Yu Cheng’s reaction utterly adorable. She couldn’t resist teasing her, “We just met here, and you immediately said you arrived too late to save me. So tell me, did you ever arrive too late and get me injured?”

After a moment of silence, Ji Zhao turned to look at Yu Cheng, who was standing two meters away, staring at her with a serious expression.

Ji Zhao: “?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “What’s wrong? I was just joking.”

“It won’t happen again,” Yu Cheng said.

“Huh?”

“I won’t let you get hurt.”

“…Oh.”

“And I won’t be late again.”

“If you keep staring at me like that, our fans will make a whole TV series out of this.” Ji Zhao pointed expressionlessly over her shoulder. “There’s a crowd of fans outside the fence, filming us right now.”

Yu Cheng stepped closer. “What kind of TV series?”

That night, a popular entertainment news post answered Yu Cheng’s question:

Fated Longing: Click to See the Predestined Past and Present!

******

 After a brief day off, the trainees of “Debut! Girl” were notified by the production team before lights-out: “Assemble downstairs at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”

They weren’t told what for, only that they’d be on camera and could wear makeup if they wanted, or go natural.

“I heard the weather forecast—there’s supposed to be a torrential downpour tomorrow,” Chen Xingzi said, gazing anxiously at the rain outside. “They wouldn’t make us go out in this, would they? This kind of weather is perfect for staying in bed and sleeping… especially if we had Wi-Fi…”

Shen Yican, sitting on the upper bunk with her long legs dangling, swung them lazily. “We’re filming.”

Chen Xingzi immediately flashed a forced smile at the camera. “I love training! I love dancing! I love singing! I love the stage! Don’t stop me—I’m going to train right now!”

“It’s probably filming,” Ji Zhao said, sitting at the desk and reading a history book she’d borrowed from Ying Tian. “I’ve seen previous episodes. Before the eliminations, there are usually at least three hundred-person games. If the rankings are announced the day after tomorrow, we’ll probably be filming games for the next two days.”

Chen Xingzi slapped her forehead. “Oh, right!”

She leaned over to peek at the book Ji Zhao was reading, then looked up at Yu Cheng, who was sitting beside her. She raised her hand and asked, “Zhaozhao is studying here, and you’re hovering over her. Isn’t that a bit much?”

Ji Zhao shot Yu Cheng a pointed glare.

Yu Cheng pretended not to notice.

Ji Zhao cleared her throat and pinched Chen Xingzi’s cheek. “This is called ‘Red Sleeve Adding Fragrance.'”

Chen Xingzi pouted, trying to swat away Ji Zhao’s hand. After failing, she pressed, “Red Sleeve Adding Fragrance? Where’s the fragrance? And how exactly do you ‘add’ it?”

Ji Zhao released her. “The fragrance isn’t the point. The point is the ‘Red Sleeve’—the woman.”

Chen Xingzi let out a knowing ah and glanced at Yu Cheng, then swayed dramatically. “Even though the ‘Red Sleeve’ is the point, Yu Cheng really doesn’t look like someone who knows how to grind ink.”

Ji Zhao stifled a laugh.

Chen Xingzi wasn’t wrong. Yu Cheng’s ink was notoriously poor. In the past, when the former Grand General was summoned to the Imperial Study, she would always change out of her military uniform into plain clothes, then silently and solemnly grind ink until her sleeves were stained black.

Eventually, the court officials couldn’t stand it anymore. They submitted a memorial stating that Grand General Yu’s border duties were arduous, and that during her leave, she should be allowed proper rest at home. They recommended another civil official, XX, to relieve Your Majesty of some burdens.

Before Ji Zhao could even finish reviewing the memorials, Yu Cheng submitted a memorial stating, “This subject volunteers of her own accord. This subject is willing to lay down her life for Your Majesty, sparing no effort.”

The entire court was speechless. Even grinding ink, and she’s already talking about laying down her life? Who are they all trying to impress?!

Yu Cheng clearly thought of this as well, examining the ballpoint pen in her hand. “What a remarkable invention.”

Chen Xingzi: “?”

The next day, as predicted, a torrential rainstorm poured down.

Raindrops fell like beads from a broken string, pattering on the leaves and swirling with the howling wind to batter the stained glass windows, their intricate patterns twisting and turning.

The thunderous roar announced the arrival of summer, a deluge spanning the heavens.

At the estate, the 108 trainees gathered downstairs promptly at 8 a.m. Though most were half-asleep, so drowsy they could barely stand and just a pillow away from unconsciousness, some still managed to hastily apply their full makeup.

Ji Zhao had previously been required to attend court at dawn, around 5 or 6 a.m., never arriving late or leaving early since her ascension to the throne.

But as the saying goes, it’s hard to return to frugality after indulgence. Having grown accustomed to waking up at 7 or 8 a.m. since arriving here, she could no longer revert to her previous routine. Now, exhausted and with a blank mind, she could only squint through half-closed eyes, barely processing the information.

The assistant director’s voice seemed to come from far away, blending with the whispered chatter of the trainees around me, making it hard to hear clearly.

“…I called everyone here to go to the City Stadium. We’ve rented out the volleyball hall, but we won’t be playing volleyball. Today, we’re going to play a game that I’m sure you’re all familiar with.”

“Tag? Help! This game gets really intense. It doesn’t fit my company’s image of a quiet beauty!”

“And it’s blindfolded… Dah mei you dah mei~”

“I love it! It’s perfect for getting some exercise. But how will we be divided into teams?”

The assistant director quickly answered the trainee’s question.

The teams would be divided according to the groupings from the first performance, but with fewer groups. Anyone who chose the same song would automatically become teammates. In other words, He Yumeng and her former rivals had now become teammates in the “Perfect Pair” group.

“Look at our fate! We’ve become allies after all.” After boarding the bus, where teammates sat together, Song Jiangjiang immediately tried to get closer to He Yumeng.

He Yumeng smiled politely: “…”

Who cares about the shadows in her heart?

Ever since losing the competition, He Yumeng had been plagued by nightmares for two consecutive nights. Each time, she dreamed of returning to the stage, transformed into a puppet controlled by Group A. After manipulating her, the group would set her ablaze.

The raging flames would burn her awake.

He Yumeng’s half-hearted attempts to fend off Song Jiangjiang’s enthusiasm proved futile. The latter stood up, leaned over the seat, and patted Wan Qi on the shoulder. “You’re the most athletic in your team, right? You didn’t even break a sweat during that opera performance.”

Wan Qi, who had vowed never to sing again after listening to Ji Zhaozhao’s opera vocals, remained silent.

Undeterred, Song Jiangjiang cheered, “Shao Ke, I’ve been dying to spar with you over rap! Let’s use this opportunity to bond—”

“Don’t say ‘we’,” Shao Ke retorted sternly. “You’re you, and we’re us.”

Across the aisle, Ding Yan reminded her, “We’re on the same team now. Anyone’s mood or mistake could affect the final outcome. We need to stick together. Come on, sing with me: Unity is Li Yiliang~”

 Shao Ke: “……”

He finally snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be the Chinese teacher?!”

Ding Yanyuan: “Actually, I’ve always had a music dream.”

So, as the bus carrying more than half the trainees headed toward the City Stadium, “Unity is Li Yiliang” blared through the speakers. Braving the torrential rain, the bus surged forward, lights turning green all the way.

The rules of the blindfolded name tag-ripping game were simple.

Divided into two teams, each participant had a cardboard name tag pinned to their back. Blindfolded and released into the production team’s designated area, the goal was to roam freely, capture opponents, and rip off their name tags. The team that tore off the most tags won. Those who lost their tags were automatically eliminated.

Upon arriving at the volleyball hall, staff members handed out team uniforms—fluorescent vests in hideous colors. Trainees who received the same color quickly formed small groups.

He Yumeng resignedly led her teammates toward the “Perfect Pair,” trying to keep their spirits up as they walked. “A man can be killed, but not humiliated,” she said. “If they want us as teammates, they might as well just kill us. It’s just a game anyway—don’t take it seriously. Just go through the motions.”

“Watch out for that Ji Zhaozhao,” Wan Qi warned. “She’s a master at brainwashing.”

Shao Ke scoffed. “Whether she tries to threaten or bribe us, it’ll all be useless! You guys better be the same!”

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