Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 40.1

Emperor Jiaxi was an avid hunter and always looked forward to the Imperial Autumn Hunt. Traditionally, skilled riders had their own cherished horses, but the Emperor couldn’t show favoritism, so he never had a personal mount.

This allowed Ji Zhao to tame any horse with remarkable speed.

The promotion candidate’s horse was no exception.

The promoted trainee either clung to the saddle or screamed, while even those with some riding skill barely managed to stay upright. Aside from Zheng Dongqing, only Yu Cheng remained calm and composed.

“Whoa~” Zheng Dongqing paced alongside Ji Zhao on her own horse. “Your horse looks the wildest.”

Ji Zhao stroked her horse’s head. “Want to swap?”

Zheng Dongqing grimaced and declined firmly. “When I was little, I fell off a horse while learning to ride and was laid up for two months. Ever since then, I’ve only liked gentle little foals.”

Song Jiangjiang was still sprawled across her horse, wailing melodramatically:

“I fell in love with a wild horse, but my home has no grasslands…”

The person leading Song Jiangjiang’s horse sighed helplessly. “Trainee, if you don’t move around, the horse won’t move either. It’s very well-behaved, but you’re holding it too tightly. You’re suffocating it.”

Song Jiangjiang refused to let go. “If I don’t hold on tight, I’ll be the one suffocating.”

The staff member was speechless.

Compared to Ji Zhao and Zheng Dongqing’s gentle approach, Yu Cheng was much more direct. She vaulted onto her horse without giving it a chance to protest. With a squeeze of her legs, the horse’s reared hooves obediently lowered back down, and it began grazing contentedly.

The filming location was vast. Despite the ropes, the sprawling grasslands weren’t a private space, and many fans managed to sneak in. Though they couldn’t hear the conversations, the high-definition cameras clearly captured the trainees riding horses. Before long, the footage was all over the internet, giving everyone a glimpse of the scene.

…my silence is deafening

I can understand each show having its own “attention-grabber,” but I don’t understand when the entire show is one giant “attention-grabber”… My face is getting hot. I can’t even admit I follow this show.

I thought it was great! So creative! Those girls really cracked me up—how could such a giggly girl like Qiao Yue stop laughing the moment she got on a horse? Seeing Song Jiangjiang sprawled on the horse’s back nearly killed me—I felt like my life had been ruined…

What doesn’t Yu Cheng know how to do?! Is this what it means to be born into a wealthy family? If I’m not mistaken, she’s the only one who rides horses so skillfully. She really fits my stereotype of a Young Miss from a wealthy family.

Yu Cheng’s fans are blind, but I don’t blame you. See how a true queen rides a horse? [Ji Zhaozhao riding a horse]

Even though summer’s almost here, please don’t go streaking…

Perhaps the production team did it on purpose. After being “ruined” on horseback, the trainees who dismounted all looked a bit like they’d lost the will to live, leaving the eliminated trainees feeling a flicker of relief.

If that had been me, I would have thrown up all over the place.

Though the horseback riding had lightened the bitterness of elimination somewhat, a sense of sorrow still lingered. This round of eliminations had whittled the 108 trainees down to just 34. Many trainees had lost their teammates and roommates, and at the thought of it, many began to sob openly.

Ironically, it was the eliminated trainees who had to offer comfort.

“Come on, Young Miss, I’m the one who got eliminated. Why are you the one crying?”

“Enough already! We may be teammates, but we’re also competitors. If I get cut, your chances of debuting as a group go way up. So why are you crying? Give me a smile! …Or maybe don’t smile. Your smudged eyeliner is kinda scary.”

“You’ll carry my dreams forward. I’ll go out and vote for you!”

Audition shows are always like this—cruel, even. Everyone’s competing against each other, and you have to beat others to advance to the next round.

But people aren’t plants. After spending day and night together, feelings grow that no competition rules can erase.

Just as the trainees were wallowing in despair, the assistant director cleared his throat, embarrassed to interrupt. “Um… everyone, please don’t be so sad.”

The trainees glared at him through tear-filled eyes. “?”

The assistant director chuckled awkwardly. “Even though some of you are eliminated, the production team won’t send you away just yet. For now, please go with Director Zhou to film something else. You’ll be back later tonight for a bonfire party.”

“A bonfire party?” Song Jiangjiang wiped away her tears. “Now that gets me excited!”

Ji Zhao’s eyes lit up.

She had never attended a bonfire party before. Her cousin had once gone on an inspection tour to Mongolia and, upon returning, raved about the roasted whole lamb, the dancing and singing around the bonfire, making Ji Zhao’s eyes gleam with envy. Yet she had to pretend nonchalance, saying, “I see.”

After her cousin left, Ji Zhao would pace restlessly in her dimly lit bedchamber, her dreams filled with the aroma of roasted lamb.

After listening to Ji Zhao’s longing, Yu Cheng pursed her lips, then couldn’t help but ask, “Where did you learn to talk about ‘restlessly pacing’ like that? It’s so…”

Though seemingly crude, the phrase painted a vivid picture in Yu Cheng’s mind.

Ji Zhao replied, “It’s right in my comment section. Don’t you have one?”

Yu Cheng paused. “I haven’t checked it.”

“That’s your mistake,” Ji Zhao scolded. “Fans leave comments because they care about you. Even if you can’t read them all, you should at least glance through them. Back when I was reviewing memorials, didn’t I have to red-pen every single one?”

The important matters were manageable, but what really annoyed her were the local officials who kept submitting memorials about trivial matters, asking if she had eaten breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Some even went so far as to draw pictures of their meals and scenic views to present to her. Yu Cheng had never understood it before, but now she wondered if these ministers were just posting updates on their social media.

Yu Cheng said, “I’ll go back and check.”

Ji Zhao nodded. “Good girl.”

After the eliminated trainees left on the bus, the staff had already removed the chairs from seventy-five to thirty-four, tearing off the names so the trainees could sit wherever they liked.

The assistant director had originally wanted to ride a horse, but since he didn’t know how, he gave the stage to Cheng Feiwan.

Cheng Feiwan, however, had no desire to perform. She still preferred standing on solid ground. “First, congratulations to the thirty-four trainees here who have advanced to the next round! But what awaits you are even greater challenges. Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“If you’re not ready, is it too late to be eliminated now?”

“Stop talking so much!”

“For the next performance, to immerse both the trainees and the audience in the stage, we will cancel the live voting!” Cheng Feiwan enunciated each word. “And the content of the performance will be—”

An impatient trainee immediately asked, “What is it?”

Cheng Feiwan glanced off-camera.

The popularity of Debut! Girl Season 4 had surpassed everyone’s expectations, putting immense pressure on the production team. While tempted to capitalize on the success for quick profits, they couldn’t afford to sacrifice their reputation. To reward fans, they had added an extra performance to the usual competition format.

Though presented as a surprise, voting had been open online for days. With all the trainees actively browsing the web, everyone knew about it. The question was merely for dramatic effect.

Only the Assistant Director still believed they could keep it secret.

With the cat already out of the bag, the Assistant Director reluctantly nodded.

Cheng Feiwan immediately announced, “The theme of the performance: Best Partners!”

Best Partners—A week earlier, all seventy-five trainees (before the second ranking announcement) had been listed on the show’s official website for a public vote. Each trainee was paired with every other trainee, and viewers voted for which two they most wanted to see collaborate on a stage. The pairs with the highest votes would team up to perform a duet.

Voting closed early this morning, and the results are now being tallied. Since some high-scoring pairs can only advance one member, we’ll choose the second-most popular member from the advancing side, and so on.

“The final list for Best Partner will be revealed tomorrow,” Cheng Feiwan announced, waving her hand card to the right. “Tonight, we’ll spend the night on the grasslands. The production team has prepared yurts for you, with two people sharing one yurt based on your rankings. You can find your own yurt.”

“Meeting adjourned!”

Once Cheng Feiwan left, the trainees finally relaxed completely. Some even sat directly on the grass, their chatter turning into boisterous noise.

“What?! Shen Yican, we’re sharing a yurt?”

“The yurts for the Debut Spots are bigger—special treatment! Are they trying to make the lower ranks jealous to death?”

“Best Partner… Sounds fancy, but it’s just about selling sex appeal, right?”

“Wow, if girl groups don’t sell sex appeal, we’ll end up picking up trash at home! Get some self-awareness, okay? The business training our company gave us is finally paying off. Fans, send me some beautiful wives!”

“… Do you think you’re at a matchmaking corner?”

As the director had promised, the Mongolian yurt for the debut spot was indeed more luxurious, especially the ones for the top four—larger and more spacious than the dormitories. The entire yurt was carpeted with intricately patterned rugs, and a double bed faced the entrance. A folded Tom and Jerry rug rested on the wooden steps, looking both strange and adorable.

Ji Zhao surveyed the room and noticed cameras hanging in each corner. The Follow PD found a corner to sit down in, signaling for them to act naturally: “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Ji Zhao: “……”

Before long, Song Jiangjiang came to visit, saying she was afraid that spending too much time with Shen Yican would make Chen Xingzi’s fans, Shen Yican’s fans, and Shen Yican’s sole fans tear her apart. Then she hesitated: “Your CP fans won’t tear me apart, will they?”

Yu Cheng, who was shaking the production team’s milk tea to test it for Ji Zhao, heard Ji Zhao say coolly: “No, they won’t.”

Song Jiangjiang breathed a sigh of relief.

Ji Zhao added: “They’ll only say how happy and perfect our family of three is.”

“…I should go first,” Song Jiangjiang said.

“See you off,” Yu Cheng replied.

“…”

Yu Cheng really had a problem with her.

Song Jiangjiang walked out but then turned back. “Yu Cheng, come out here.”

“It’s not hot, and it’s not poisoned.” Yu Cheng handed the milk tea to Ji Zhao before turning to Song Jiangjiang, her eyebrows arching slightly. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” Song Jiangjiang said.

Yu Cheng’s pupils constricted.

Was Song Jiangjiang planning to confront her?

Over the past few days, besides checking the super forums for her and Your Majesty, Yu Cheng had noticed a separate super forum for Your Majesty and Song Jiangjiang. It had a significant number of fans, and the posts they made seemed quite plausible.

Your Majesty disliked women, but what about Song Jiangjiang? She had always been attentive to Your Majesty and even washed his clothes without complaint. Could she actually be interested in him?

Ji Zhao took a sip of her milk tea and exchanged a look with Song Jiangjiang.

Song Jiangjiang gave her a silent wink, promising to live up to the trust placed in her. Little did she know that Yu Cheng, who had just snapped out of her daze, witnessed this exchange, further solidifying her belief: Song Jiangjiang liked His Majesty, and His Majesty might not be entirely oblivious.

As a subject, she should wish them well.

With these thoughts weighing on her, Yu Cheng followed Song Jiangjiang out of the yurt, dodging the trainees bustling between tents and politely declining the Follow PD who offered to accompany them. As they ventured deeper into the grasslands, Yu Cheng suddenly stopped in her tracks. “I refuse!”

Song Jiangjiang, who had been mentally rehearsing how to broach the subject with Yu Cheng, froze. “Refuse what?”

Yu Cheng enunciated each word deliberately: “I refuse this marriage!”

The words hung in the air, but her emotions remained turbulent.

She was a subject, and she should wish them well. But this wasn’t the Great Qi Dynasty; they were on a talent show, and idols weren’t supposed to date. Her hands, hanging at her sides, clenched into fists. “How can you be together and face your fans?”

Song Jiangjiang was utterly bewildered. After a long pause, she managed a single syllable: “…Huh?”

Yu Cheng’s argument grew more convincing as she spoke. “Even as fans, they want to see you with Zhaozhao. Your Zhaozhao supergroup is only ranked 37th, with just 500,000 followers. Mine and Zhaozhao’s group has a million fans and is ranked second. Are you really treating them right?”

Song Jiangjiang: “……”

What on earth is she talking about?

Yu Cheng cut through the pretense. “Stop playing dumb.”

She turned to gaze at the yurt where Ji Zhao was staying. “I know you’ve been secretly chatting with Zhaozhao.”

“Oh,” Song Jiangjiang said.

Yu Cheng frowned. “Oh?”

“Ooooh,” Song Jiangjiang drawled, suddenly struck by inspiration. “I did chat with Zhaozhao, but it wasn’t secret. Why would I hide it?”

Yu Cheng clenched her fist. “You!”

“Are you jealous?” Song Jiangjiang asked.

Yu Cheng: “……”

Song Jiangjiang had already forgotten Ji Zhao’s request. That minor matter could wait until she’d sorted out Yu Cheng’s feelings. She stepped closer, meeting Yu Cheng’s eyes with a soul-searching question.

“Do you like Zhaozhao?”

The question was so direct that Yu Cheng felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. The feelings she’d carefully hidden suddenly overwhelmed her, and she stumbled backward two steps.

On the endless grasslands, Yu Cheng watched Ji Zhao emerge from a yurt. When someone spoke to her, Ji Zhao smiled, her shallow dimples framing a gentle, radiant expression that stirred Yu Cheng’s heart.

Thump, thump.

Her heartbeat grew increasingly frantic.

Do I truly like Your Majesty?

Who in the world wouldn’t like Your Majesty?

Your Majesty governed diligently and cared for her subjects. Her occasional stubbornness only made her more endearing. Though she grumbled about ministers submitting trivial memorials, she patiently annotated them with her vermilion pen, urging one minister to eat less meat, another to spend more time at home with family. Her nagging was warm and caring.

Who wouldn’t like Your Majesty?

Yet no one felt this way as selfishly and despicably as Yu Cheng, wanting to possess Your Majesty for herself alone.

She shouldn’t feel this way, but she couldn’t control it.

Perhaps it was fate that brought them both to this time and place. Your Majesty relied on her completely, trusted her utterly. Yu Cheng had believed this would last forever, until she saw Your Majesty chatting with Song Jiangjiang.

Once the flames of jealousy ignited, they spread like wildfire. By then, she could no longer hide them.

Yu Cheng remained silent, but Song Jiangjiang could guess most of what she was thinking just by looking at her face. With the air of someone who’s been there before, she sighed and patted Yu Cheng on the shoulder. “Even though I’ve never been in a relationship, I’m still been there before.”

Yu Cheng shook off her hand. “Been there before? What do you mean by that?”

Song Jiangjiang spoke with self-assurance. “I’ve read so many novels!”

Yu Cheng: “……”

Song Jiangjiang clasped her hands behind her back, pacing back and forth, and spoke with affected maturity. “Is it because you don’t want Zhaozhao to know?”

Yu Cheng didn’t want to discuss this with her. “What are you trying to say?”

“……” Song Jiangjiang said, “Oh, right. I’m just a concerned citizen. I don’t like Zhaozhao—no, I don’t mean that kind of like. I’m not gay yet!”

Yu Cheng seized on the key word. “Yet?”

Song Jiangjiang said, “Exactly! If I ever become a professional idol, I’ll have to perform with my teammates. Who knows what might happen during those performances? What if I suddenly become gay? Actually, I think there’s a good chance of that happening.”

Yu Cheng: “…… You’re going off-topic.”

“Oh, right.” Song Jiangjiang declared her loyalty. “So you can trust me.”

Yu Cheng: “What if you start liking girls and then end up liking Zhaozhao?”

Song Jiangjiang: “……”

Her words made too much sense!

Yu Cheng: “Hah.”

As expected, Song Jiangjiang fell silent, her guilt showing.

Realizing she’d been cornered, Song Jiangjiang quickly shook her head. “Even if I liked girls, it doesn’t mean I’d like Zhaozhao! Our group has three other members besides you two!”

Yu Cheng persisted stubbornly. “If you like girls, why wouldn’t you like Zhaozhao?”

Song Jiangjiang choked on her words.

Yu Cheng pressed further. “Zhaozhao is so great. How can you not like her?”

“You’re acting just like that toxic bitch!” Song Jiangjiang snapped.

Yu Cheng hmphed.

“Jiangjiang! Yu Cheng!” Zhou Yuting’s voice called from the nearby yurt. “We’re about to shoot the promotional photos. Hurry back and touch up your makeup!”

The production team had gone to great lengths to bring the crew to the vast grasslands and spent money renting horses, so they naturally wanted to make the most of it by first taking a set of promotional photos of the trainees on horseback.

Song Jiangjiang called back, “I know! I know!”

She turned to Yu Cheng and asked, “You like Zhaozhao, but does Zhaozhao like you?”

Yu Cheng pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Do you not know, or do you know she doesn’t like you?” Song Jiangjiang pressed.

“…She doesn’t like me,” Yu Cheng admitted.

Song Jiangjiang sighed. “I knew it.”

She looked up at the sky. “Ji Lian is straight? That’s cruel. It’s really cruel.”

“Do you want her to like you?” Song Jiangjiang asked.

Yu Cheng’s expression sharpened. “What are you implying?”

Song Jiangjiang waved an imaginary fan and stroked an imaginary beard, adopting an enigmatic air. “Love isn’t just about sincerity; it also requires strategy. So many people like Zhaozhao, and so many obey her every word. Why would she take notice of you?”

Yu Cheng: “Go on.”

Song Jiangjiang, frustrated, said, “You’re too perfect. If you want Zhaozhao to notice you, you need to do something extraordinary—be the most unique one! Be yourself! Make her realize that no one truly treats another person unconditionally well.”

Seeing Yu Cheng’s unflappable expression, she grew agitated. “Reject her! Do you understand?”

Yu Cheng understood.

But she refused to do it. “But I do treat Zhaozhao unconditionally well.”

Song Jiangjiang stamped her foot. “It’s a strategy! A plan! I’m not telling you to actually be mean to her! It’s an act! Get it? When we become stars, we’ll definitely have to act in dramas—so just pretend you’re in a drama!”

Yu Cheng nodded thoughtfully.

“Let’s hurry back,” Song Jiangjiang said as she headed toward the yurt. “By the way, did anything happen that night Zhaozhao got drunk? Did anything progress between you two?”

Yu Cheng’s eyes flickered.

Seeing this, Song Jiangjiang perked up, her gossip’s ears twitching. “What? What happened?”

Yu Cheng said, “I kissed her.”

Song Jiangjiang: “……”

You lesbians are terrifying!

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