Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 3

“Yu Cheng! Yu Cheng!” someone called out from below, their voice growing increasingly urgent. When Yu Cheng ignored them, they exclaimed, “What kind of mind-altering drug has that instant entertainment Ji Zhaozhao fed Yu Cheng?”

“Isn’t Yu Cheng always like this?” a teammate consoled her. “She was already acting like a big shot back at the company.”

“I really don’t understand why the company sent her here. Aside from her looks, she’s utterly useless.”

Hearing this, Ji Zhao chuckled.

Song Jiangjiang, completely baffled, asked, “What’s so funny?”

Ji Zhao glanced at Yu Cheng.

In her previous life, Ji Zhao had practiced martial arts, though only at a basic level. Even so, her senses were sharper than those of ordinary modern people. And as a military general, Yu Cheng’s hearing would undoubtedly be even keener than hers.

As expected, Yu Cheng frowned. “Your Majesty hasn’t drugged me.”

“…Use my name,” Ji Zhao said.

“This subject dares not,” Yu Cheng replied.

Song Jiangjiang’s lips twitched. “Are you two playing some kind of game? Am I part of it?”

Ji Zhao straightened up. The chair was made of a transparent material—hard but more comfortable than the Dragon Throne. The only problem was its height; she awkwardly realized her feet couldn’t touch the floor.

After briefly resenting the original owner’s height for two seconds, Ji Zhao composed herself. “Alright, you two work for the same company. Let’s see what’s going on.”

Yu Cheng reluctantly turned back.

“Honestly,” Song Jiangjiang sighed, still utterly confused after witnessing the whole exchange, “I’ve heard Yu Cheng is notoriously difficult to handle. Yet she obeys you so readily!”

“Boss!” Song Jiangjiang clasped her hands in respect. “Allow this humble woman to pay her respects.”
Ji Zhao raised her hand slightly. “You may rise.”

Song Jiangjiang’s admiration grew. She knelt on the chair, leaning forward to shake Ji Zhao’s hand. Ji Zhao stared at her hand for a moment before calmly taking it.

Song Jiangjiang shook Ji Zhao vigorously. “Cover me! Cover me!”

Cover her? What does that mean?

Ji Zhao smiled politely and agreed with a condition. “On one condition.”

Song Jiangjiang puffed out her chest. “You want me to hop like a frog and whistle at the same time? Boss, don’t worry, I can hop like a frog and recite tongue twisters at the same time.”

This was exactly what Ji Zhao wanted to hear. Suppressing her excitement, she clapped her hands with feigned restraint. “Impressive.”

“But I have a tiny request,” Song Jiangjiang said, pinching her thumb and forefinger together. “A very, very tiny one.”

“Speak.”

Song Jiangjiang rubbed her palms together, her bright blue eyes curving into crescents. “Can I pinch your cheeks?” Her eyes sparkled with longing. “They look so soft… they must feel…”

“No,” Yu Cheng’s cold voice cut in, curtly rejecting Song Jiangjiang’s request.

Song Jiangjiang pouted. “The flower guardian has arrived.”

But Ji Zhao said, “Yes.”

Song Jiangjiang’s eyes lit up.

Ji Zhao smiled.

Her first lesson as the Crown Princess had taken place in the Imperial Study. At only seven or eight years old, she had been full of childish energy. Just moments before being dragged to the study, she had been braiding hair and playing with rouge with the palace maids.

The Grand Tutor, a stern elderly woman, stood about three feet tall and told Ji Zhao, “Your Highness may be young, but you must not neglect your studies.”

Her loose bun swayed as she shook her head, her voice crisp and clear. “This Princess hasn’t neglected her studies at all! I go to the Imperial Schoolroom every day and always get top marks!”

The Grand Tutor shook her head. “Those studies will be mastered by others on Your Highness’s behalf. What you need to learn is how to control these people.”

“How do I control them?” Ji Zhao asked.

“By combining kindness and authority,” the Grand Tutor replied.

Ji Zhao had learned well. Now she no longer needed to control Song Jiangjiang, but she still needed her. Making friends never hurt anyone, and a little cheek pinch was hardly worth refusing.

Having “graciously bestowed” this kindness, she shot Yu Cheng a pointed glare, neither harsh nor gentle.

For overstepping and making decisions on her behalf, a glare at Yu Cheng served as a display of authority.

Yu Cheng watched Song Jiangjiang gleefully pinch Ji Zhao’s cheek, a flicker of resentment crossing her eyes. Her gaze toward Song Jiangjiang carried a hint of murderous intent. A chill ran down Song Jiangjiang’s spine, and she quickly withdrew her hand, then grinned mischievously. “What a soft cheek!”

Ji Zhao had never had her cheek pinched before. Uncomfortable, she puffed out her right cheek, which had been pinched. Deciding to change the subject, she asked Yu Cheng, “Why did they come looking for you?”

Yu Cheng replied, “To remind me not to run around on stage during my performance.”

Ji Zhao chuckled. “So you’re… quite the restless spirit, aren’t you?”

This is intriguing.

Everyone in the court knew Grand General Yu Cheng was rigidly disciplined and the most loyal and obedient subject. She had stepped onto the battlefield at fifteen, carved out a glorious military career, yet never boasted of her achievements. When Ji Zhao summoned her to the Imperial Study, Yu Cheng would stand quietly, remaining silent unless spoken to.

Having been reborn into such an unruly role, will Yu Cheng’s true nature be discovered?

Ji Zhao’s expression sharpened. “Then don’t run around.”
Yu Cheng nodded. “Your Majesty… rest assured.”

Ji Zhao hummed in acknowledgment and continued chatting with Song Jiangjiang.

Yu Cheng quietly lowered her gaze to her shoes for a moment, then finally couldn’t resist looking up at Ji Zhao.

She thought, Your Majesty has a lovely smile, but as a ruler, one mustn’t appear too approachable. The Grand Tutor spent half a year correcting this “flaw” in Your Majesty. Now that we’ve moved to this new world, perhaps she’s regained her smile.

When Ji Zhao spoke to Song Jiangjiang, her face held a gentle smile, framed by a shallow dimple and bright, radiant features.

It reminded Yu Cheng of the day Your Majesty came of age. Dressed in crimson riding attire embroidered with golden dragons, she had galloped over and called out in a clear voice, “Esteemed Minister Yu, do you dare compete with me?”

That day, she had hunted down a leopard.

Lost in thought, the studio suddenly fell silent. Then, a wave of enthusiastic applause erupted from the stage. Yu Cheng instinctively stood up, shielding Ji Zhao behind her, her sharp gaze snapping to the stage.

“…You’re blocking my view,” Ji Zhao said.

Fortunately, Yu Cheng’s seat was elevated. Peering over her shoulder, she saw a scantily clad woman emerge from the aisle, holding something in her hand. The woman waved cheerfully, her smile radiant, but the object in her hand was hard to make out.

Yu Cheng warned, “Watch out for hidden weapons!”

Ji Zhao asked, “Do you mean the paper she’s holding?”

Yu Cheng replied, “It looks very sharp.”

“Aaaaaah, Cheng Feiwan! My goddess!” Song Jiangjiang shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. She turned excitedly to Ji Zhao and said, “I’ve heard for ages that Cheng Feiwan was the initiator of this talent show, and I never thought I’d actually see her in person!”

Cheng Feiwan.

Ji Zhao had reviewed her background. Cheng Feiwan was said to be the captain and center position member of a well-known girl group in China. This year marked her tenth anniversary since debuting, and she held a high standing within the industry, widely recognized as one of the top ten idols.

These terms were all unfamiliar. Ji Zhao had to read the entire section and have Pei Jia explain it before she understood.

The show initiator was like an imperial envoy—no official position, but wielding real power. She oversaw everything, from the trainees’ daily lives and mental health to their singing and dancing training. She was the guiding light on the path to debuting.

Cheng Feiwan raised her microphone to signal the trainees to quiet down. “Hello, trainees! Welcome to Debut! Girl. I’m Cheng Feiwan, the initiator of this program.”

To streamline the process, Cheng Feiwan also took on the role of host.

She introduced the mentors one by one:

“Vocal mentors Jiang Yan and Ruan Qing, dance mentors Ding Chuan and Lin Mengxi, and songwriting mentor Jiao Ye.”

Each mentor was a top achiever in their field, akin to a Top Scorer.

In this era, free from war and famine, even rain could be artificially summoned. People could soar through the skies on airplanes, reducing a journey that once took ten days to a mere few hours. With more time on their hands, people increasingly turned to entertainment.

This led to the rise of talent shows. The mentors’ role was limited to teaching; after the initial assessment, they did not participate in subsequent voting. The voting power rested solely with the audience.

After the mentors’ introduction, the trainees performed company-assigned routines. The mentors then graded their performances and assigned them to respective classes for theme song rehearsals.

Ji Zhao glanced at Yu Cheng a few extra times.

Thank goodness Yu Cheng isn’t like those rigid court officials who despise performers, she thought. Otherwise, who knows what kind of scene she’d be making right now?

Yu Cheng seemed to sense her gaze and turned around.

Yu Cheng’s eyes burned with intensity. “If Your Majesty doesn’t want to endure this humiliation, I can lead you out of here.”

Ji Zhao: “…And have us immediately apprehended by security?”

Yu Cheng: “I can take them.”

Ji Zhao remained expressionless. “Then we’ll be caught on camera, the footage will go viral, and we’ll become infamous overnight.”

Yu Cheng fell silent for a moment before asking, “Can we take down this… network?”

Ji Zhao: “Shut up.”

Yu Cheng: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She turned back to listen. If Your Majesty told her to shut up, she would shut up. There must be a reason behind it. Worst comes to worst, she could always perform in Your Majesty’s place.

She was skilled in dance—martial arts dance.

There were simply too many trainees. Even with each group’s performance limited to three minutes, combined with the commentary and rating process for each individual, it was nearly 1 AM by the time the entertainment segment began.

Pei Jia was so drowsy she could barely keep her eyes open, yawning repeatedly. “Boss Ji, your neck must be craning in pain up there. Are you close with Yu Cheng from Firefly Agency? Why is she kneeling to you today?”

Ji Zhao glanced at her reflection and murmured, “We had a connection in our past lives.”

Pei Jia’s yawn froze. “No way, Boss Ji?”

“What?” Ji Zhao asked.

Pei Jia leaned in close to Ji Zhao. “They say idols have to sell themselves. Why are you going out of your way to find someone else when I’m right here? What about me? Who’s going to sell themselves to me? We’re in the same company, but you’re ignoring me? Maybe I should just pack my bags and go home!”

Ji Zhao frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She reminded Pei Jia, “If you leave now, you won’t get paid.”

Pei Jia whimpered, “You Scrooge!”

Ji Zhao instinctively knew this wasn’t a compliment, but since she didn’t fully grasp the insult, she ignored it and simply said, “Don’t get nervous during the performance. And absolutely no complaints about unpaid wages on stage.”

Pei Jia: “…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ji Zhao sighed inwardly.

After ruling as Empress for nearly half a lifetime, to think she’d one day find herself singing on stage… It was truly… She clenched her fists, suddenly feeling a flutter of anticipation.

She’d loved listening to opera since childhood and had even secretly used the opera troupe’s makeup to paint her face once. Of course, the Grand Tutor caught her red-handed and confined her to her chambers for half a month. That incident marked the end of her opera days.

“May We Live Long” is a slow song that puts a tremendous strain on the singer’s vocal skills. The original singer’s voice was angelic, and when Ji Zhao began to sing, the entire hall fell silent. After the chorus, Pei Jia’s ethereal vocals pushed the song to an even higher climax. Even Jiang Yan, known for her perfectionism, shook her head and sighed, “I see the future of China’s entertainment industry.”

Pei Jia pulled Ji Zhao forward to bow. “Thank you, Teacher Jiang!”

Ji Zhao stumbled slightly, her brow furrowing. Before she could protest, Cheng Feiwan, one of the judges, asked, “Have you prepared any special talents? Would you like to showcase them?”

Pei Jia: “Uh…”

She had entered the talent show half-heartedly, thinking it would be a struggle just to make it through the first round. She hadn’t prepared anything to stand out, so naturally, she had no special talents to showcase. As for her boss…

Pei Jia stole a glance at Ji Zhao. Since waking up after the fall, she thought, Boss Ji seems to have forgotten even what a special talent is.

“I heard Boss Ji of Timely Entertainment is skilled at the guqin!” Suddenly, a voice called out from the trainee seats. “We’d love to see that! Boss Ji, show us your skills!”

The woman speaking was a colleague of Yu Cheng’s, with a neat, ear-length bob dyed purple. Standing on a raised platform, she met Ji Zhao’s gaze and said, “I wonder if we’re fortunate enough to hear it. Don’t you agree, everyone?”

The crowd eagerly chimed in, “Yes, yes!”

Some whispered, “If it’s a special skill, wouldn’t it be listed somewhere? I don’t remember anyone in our class being good at the guqin. Will Ji Zhaozhao be able to save face?”

Cheng Feiwan smiled and raised the microphone. “Is what she’s saying true?”

As if!

The short-haired woman smirked inwardly. She knew Ji Zhaozhao had dabbled with the guqin for a mere two days as a child before losing interest. There was no way Ji Zhaozhao could still play. For her to actually perform today would be nothing short of a miracle!

“Mm,” Ji Zhao replied, her tone calm yet carrying a faint hint of amusement. “Indeed, it would be a blessing for all present to hear me play.”

The short-haired woman blinked in confusion.

“Where is the guqin?” Ji Zhao asked.

A faint smile appeared in Yu Cheng’s eyes, the runner-up.

*******

Emperor Jiaxi of the Great Qi Dynasty, skilled in the guqin, once composed a piece to pray for the nation’s prosperity. A single melody moved the world, inspiring millions to write verses in its honor.

When the Emperor went on tour, the streets emptied as people flocked to catch a glimpse.

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