Her Majesty The Empress Has Made Her Debut In The Center Position [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 7

As the saying goes: “On dark and windy nights, murder and arson run rampant.”

In the Great Qi Dynasty, anyone who insulted the Emperor or slandered his reputation would typically be exiled to the borderlands, and execution after autumn harvest wasn’t beyond possibility. Though such incidents were rare during the Jiaxi era, no one dared to act so brazenly.

Of course, this was the 21st century, where murder and arson were crimes. Yu Cheng was her subject, and she had a duty to keep her in check.

And so, Ji Zhao emerged from around the corner.

Tong Wei and Tang Ge hadn’t expected Ji Zhao to be here. Their already trembling hearts skipped a few more beats. They screamed inwardly, though Ji Zhao looked cute, completely like a little girl, and seemed incapable of splitting bricks with her bare hands. But why did she still seem as scary as Yu Cheng? Aah!

Ji Zhao glanced at them briefly before striding toward the door. “Return, Yu Cheng.”

Yu Cheng agreed and hurried after Ji Zhaozhao.

Left behind, Tong Wei clenched her fists. She’d expected Ji Zhaozhao to snap back at her, threaten her, or at least mock her. She never imagined Ji Zhaozhao would simply ignore her!

She whirled around and shouted, “Ji Zhaozhao!”

Ji Zhao stopped walking.

After a moment of silence, she frowned. “I have to get up early tomorrow. If you have something to say, make it quick.”

Tong Wei gritted her teeth in fury and took two steps forward. “What are you trying to pull? Do you even think you’ll get another chance to record? Remember that cousin of yours, Ji Jing? I heard everything today! He told the producers that if you don’t withdraw, he’ll pull his funding!”

Cousin Ji Jing?

Ji Zhao searched her memory.

“Oh, right,” she said. “I remember.”

As mentioned earlier, Ji Zhaozhao was the least favored branch of the Ji Family. Orphaned at a young age, she’d been neglected by her grandfather, the family patriarch, who favored male heirs and blamed her for the deaths of his son and daughter-in-law. Thanks to her substantial inheritance, she’d raised herself alone.

Later, when she was sixteen, she was summoned to the main family to learn business management. That’s when she first clashed with her cousin, Ji Jing.

Ji Jing was a jealous man with a petty heart, his deep-seated misogyny driving him to constantly scheme against Ji Zhaozhao. As a result, she spent half her time at the family estate confined to a dark room writing self-reflections. She even gave him the nickname “Jijing,” which means “chicken essence” but also sounds like a pun on his name. When he discovered this, they fought, and he kicked her out.

Though Ji Jing wasn’t particularly talented, his grandfather’s preference for male heirs propelled him to amass countless companies, making him a highly sought-after bachelor.

If he succeeded, how could she ever make her debut and turn the tables?

Ji Zhao nodded thoughtfully, giving Tong Wei an approving look. “I didn’t expect you to be of any use.”

Tong Wei froze, watching Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng disappear into the dark hallway. Only then did she react, jumping up and shouting, “What do you mean by that?! Did you think I was giving you intel? I was gloating! GLOATING, do you understand?!”

Tang Ge cautiously reminded her, “They’re already gone.”

Tong Wei: “……”

This infuriates me!

Ji Zhao and Yu Cheng descended to the third floor.

“Has Your Majesty reached a decision?” Yu Cheng asked.

Ji Zhao remained silent.

“Yu Wangmeng might be able to help,” Yu Cheng suggested.

“Who is Yu Wangmeng?” Ji Zhao asked.

“Yu Cheng’s father,” Yu Cheng replied.

Ji Zhao: “……”

She sighed helplessly. “What’s your relationship with your father like?”

Yu Cheng thought back. “He’s spoiled and arrogant.”

Ji Zhao: “Then don’t be too distant when mentioning him to outsiders. We don’t want anyone noticing something’s off.”

Yu Cheng: “Understood.”

“As for that Jijing,” Ji Zhao continued, “I need to think about it some more. For now, go take a bath, then get some sleep. You’ll need your strength to protect me later, got it?”

Though Yu Cheng desperately wanted to refuse, she simply said: “Yes, ma’am.”

Chen Xingzi and Shen Yican were already asleep, their sleep so sound they remained undisturbed even under the watchful gaze of so many cameras. By the time Ji Zhao finished her bath, the last light in Room 309 was turned off.

Ji Zhao lay in bed.

******

Back at the palace, a candle always burned in the bedchamber all night, which she found disturbing. One night, while the palace maids were asleep, she secretly got out of bed and blew it out. That night, she slept especially well.

In this quiet darkness, she could think freely.

As she pondered, an idea gradually formed.

And she gradually drifted off to sleep.

She was woken by noise, though she couldn’t pinpoint the source. The clamor came from all directions, loud and chaotic, making her morning grumpiness peak. Listening more closely, she realized it was the theme song of the show.

Wu Nai Wo Feite.

Pei Jia had explained that it meant “Never Fading,” echoing the slogan of this season’s talent show: “Passion Never Fades!”

Ji Zhao closed her eyes, then sat up.

The Class A uniform provided by the production team—a pink short-sleeved shirt and trousers—was neatly folded beside her pillow. And… Ji Zhao stared at the black lace-trimmed undergarment, its shape unmistakable, feeling somewhat speechless.

In their time, women wore simple, practical dudou. Though made of minimal fabric, they were straightforward and convenient.

This—what Pei Jia called a “bra”—was proving quite troublesome to put on.

First this, then that, then this again—it’s such a pain. Ji Zhao stared at the bra for a while before hearing Chen Xingzi from the lower bunk across from her say, “The camera’s covered up, so you can just change.”

Ji Zhao nodded.

“Where’s Yu Cheng?” Chen Xingzi asked.

“Yu Cheng?” Chen Xingzi repeated.

She exchanged a glance with Shen Yican, who was brushing her teeth while pacing the room, then leaned forward and asked Ji Zhao, “Are you close with Yu Cheng?”

“Not particularly,” Ji Zhao replied.

Chen Xingzi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “She was up at five, running around, folding your clothes, putting toothpaste on your brush… Look,” she nodded toward the table. “She brought you breakfast.”

Ji Zhao glanced at the table. It was all the same food she’d praised the day before.

Yu Cheng really went out of her way.

“She’s so good to you,” Chen Xingzi remarked.

Ji Zhao decided to skip the bra for now. She climbed out of bed and slipped on her slippers. “It’s just what she should do.”

Ji Zhao had grown accustomed to being waited on since childhood, so she didn’t think much of it. Back in the palace, ten maids used to help her get ready every morning. She felt suffocated by all that attention. Now that it was just Yu Cheng, she actually preferred it.

Just as she finished washing up, Yu Cheng returned.

The theme song was still playing, echoing through every corner of the estate. The trainees had grown accustomed to it, treating it as background music while they went about their tasks.

Ji Zhao sat at the table by the window, admiring the endless view of the estate’s grounds. “Where did you go?” she asked Yu Cheng.

Yu Cheng replied, “I went… I went for morning practice.”

Ji Zhao glanced at her.

Yu Cheng was dressed in light gray athletic gear, her long hair tied back in a high ponytail that framed her clean, pretty face. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her nose, and her demeanor exuded the spirited aura of a Grand General.

Satisfied, Ji Zhao said, “Sit.”

Yu Cheng sat down.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Ji Zhao asked.

“I just had it downstairs,” Yu Cheng replied.

Her eyes drifted to Ji Zhao’s unmade bed, its covers rumpled from restless sleep. The disheveled state clearly indicated poor sleeping habits. In her military camp, anyone who neglected their appearance would receive thirty strikes. But here…

Yu Cheng walked over to help Ji Zhao fold her quilt, noticing the class uniform still lying beside her pillow. The only thing out of place was… She averted her gaze and asked Ji Zhao, “Is the uniform hard to put on?”

“Hmm?” Ji Zhao replied absently. “A little. Could you help me put it on later?”

Yu Cheng licked her lips. “…Yes.”

“You two…” Chen Xingzi and Shen Yican, who had rushed back to fold their quilts after breakfast, listened to this exchange and felt goosebumps. Chen Xingzi teased, “Yu Cheng, you’re being way too biased! You only bring breakfast to Zhaozhao even though we’re all roommates. That’s so unfair!”

Shen Yican merely remarked meaningfully, “Selling yourself off might get you attention for now, but in the long run, you’ll need real skills.”

Ji Zhao took a sip of soy milk without looking up. “Who said that? She still has her dad.”

Shen Yican: “……”

After the roommates left, Ji Zhao closed the curtains, casually tossed her nightgown into the laundry basket, and picked up the bra beside her pillow. She muttered quietly, “Did you notice how hard this is to put on? Do you know how?”

She made to lift Yu Cheng’s shirt, but Yu Cheng didn’t flinch, letting her lift the thin layer of her sportswear.

“It’s a ginger color,” Ji Zhao said, running her fingers over the lace trim. She liked the pattern, a design she’d never used before. Though intricate, it didn’t seem overly fussy, and the pale skin peeking through the lace only seemed more beautiful in the hazy light. “Why is it softer than mine?”

Yu Cheng replied, “I have more in my suitcase.”

Ji Zhao shook her head. “But the sizes are different. These are way more complicated than dudou.”

As she spoke, she tucked her long hair up, turned her back to Yu Cheng, and handed herself over. “It’s uncomfortable to wear all night, and impossible to put on in the morning. The buttons are so tiny and in the back—it’s such a pain.”

“Indeed,” Yu Cheng replied absently. She helped Ji Zhao fasten the garment, her gaze falling to a few stray strands of hair caught between her fingers. The silkiness of the hair made her fingertips tremble slightly. She quickly fastened the last button and said, “There.”

Her voice carried a faint hoarseness she didn’t notice.

Ji Zhao adjusted the angle and slipped on Class A’s pink uniform. “Still, not wearing it is the most comfortable.”

She turned her head. “Aren’t you going to take a shower and change? What time is it now?”

Modern time is measured in a 24-hour format. The trainees, fresh to this environment, weren’t yet attuned to the new system, but were amazed by the progress of the times and the development of technology. They marveled at how the great invention of the clock had saved so much time.

Yu Cheng said, “We still have fifteen minutes until we need to gather.”

Starting today, they would begin practicing their theme song. Instructors would teach them dance and vocal lessons, and the rest of the time would be spent on self-practice. The schedule was packed.

Especially for Class A, with tight deadlines and heavy workloads. By the time they finally finished class, it was already past mealtime.

Pei Jia, however, had sacrificed her lunch break to save Ji Zhao a portion of the last meal. Amid the envious gazes of her Class A classmates, Ji Zhao ate contentedly, and casually asked Yu Cheng to bring her a can of cola from the convenience store.

Pei Jia had said carbonated drinks bring happiness, and she decided to try it.

After everyone else left, Pei Jia leaned in mysteriously. “Zhaozhao, when did you get so close to Yu Cheng?”

Ji Zhaozhao picked up a handful of shredded potatoes and put them in her bowl, then ate a mouthful of rice. She answered evasively, “I asked you to stay because I have something to ask you. You have to answer honestly.”

Pei Jia’s attention was easily diverted. “What is it?”

Ji Zhao said, “Tell me more about Timely Entertainment.”

Ji Zhao had been worried that Pei Jia would suspect her, but Pei Jia interpreted it herself: “You’re asking employees for their opinions and making improvements? I didn’t expect you to be such a good boss! I think the biggest problem with our company is that we have too few people.”

“Too few people?”

“Exactly! Just you and me as employees, and you’re also the CEO, handling legal and financial matters. The legal guy seems to have too much free time; he’s even taking on side jobs. As for finance, his most important task each month is collecting rent!”

“Collecting rent?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you know our company makes money from collecting rent? We own half a floor in the best office building in the city! When are you finally going to pay me?”

In modern society, with its high population density and expensive real estate, especially in city centers where every square inch is valuable.

Indeed, even a weakened giant remains formidable. Although Ji Zhaozhao wasn’t favored by the Ji Family, she was still wealthy. While her liquid assets were limited, her total wealth was substantial. No wonder they said liquidating her assets could secure her a comfortable life for the rest of her days.

Ji Zhao nodded thoughtfully. “I have no further questions.”

“Wait!” Pei Jia protested, undeterred. “I have a question! About my salary—my salary—my salary!”

Ji Zhao took a sip of egg drop soup. “You’ve only been at the company for less than three months. Your full salary will be paid out in one lump sum after three months, but that’s only six thousand yuan. I’ll advance you some money when we get back to the dorm.”

Pei Jia held out her hand. “Wait!”

Ji Zhao looked up. “Hm?”

“Six thousand for three months… that’s two thousand a month.” The life drained from Pei Jia’s eyes as she stood up like a wandering spirit, mumbling, “Two thousand a month… two thousand… two thousand… I’m such cheap labor… waaah! I need to pack and go home! Two thousand… two thousand…”

Yu Cheng walked in with a bag. “Coke.”

Her sharp ears picked up Pei Jia’s mutters. “What’s wrong with her?”

Ji Zhao shrugged. “No idea.”

After a short lunch break, it was back to training. Ji Zhaozhao had a good foundation and no trouble singing, but dancing while singing was the problem. She spent four hours breaking down the movements before she could finally perform the whole routine smoothly.

That’s when someone from the production team came to get her.

Everyone was resting. The eight members of Class A, having spent a day together, had already bonded and were chatting while sipping water. A staff member pushed the door open and called out, “Ji Zhaozhao, come here for a moment.”

Yu Cheng was the first to stand up. “What is it?”

Ji Zhao tugged at the hem of her shirt, gesturing for her to sit back down. “It’s nothing serious. Just wait here and don’t do anything rash.”

Yu Cheng looked composed and confident. Orders from a superior couldn’t be disobeyed. No matter how worried she was, she had no choice but to stay put and listen to the other trainees tease her.

“No way? You can’t even leave?”

It was meant as a joke. If this made it into the highlight reel, it might even earn her some CP fan support and a few extra votes.

But Yu Cheng only nodded. “I can’t leave.”

The trainees were shocked by the bold move. Meanwhile, Ji Zhao passed by Class B and called out to Pei Jia, who was slacking off. Pei Jia jogged to catch up. “What’s up? Are you dropping out of the competition?”

Of course, no one answered her.

Ji Zhao had chosen to bring Pei Jia for one simple reason: in negotiations, going alone could be imposing, but having a subordinate by your side put more pressure on the other party. As for why Pei Jia over Yu Cheng…

Yu Cheng’s presence would put too much pressure on the opponent, making negotiations difficult and increasing the chances of them reneging later.

The staff member led Ji Zhao and Pei Jia out of the practice building, following the estate’s pebble path straight to a wooden cabin by the creek. “The Organizer’s representative is waiting for you inside,” they said.

“The Organizer’s representative? Why isn’t the Organizer himself here?” Ji Zhao stood her ground.

The staff member seemed caught off guard by the question, momentarily stunned. Does Ji Zhaozhao already know what the Organizer is planning? she wondered. “He can speak for the Organizer,” she explained. “You can discuss everything with him.”

Ji Zhao nodded and pushed the door open.

The cabin was small and simply furnished: a table with two chairs, and a two-seater sofa by the window overlooking the creek. A carpet lay beneath the sofa, supporting a small round table with a vase of flowers.

Lilies.

Behind the desk sat a short man in round glasses. He started to greet Ji Zhao, but she had already pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting.

Pei Jia stood beside her, wide-eyed and clueless, like a mascot with no idea what was about to happen.

Ji Zhao crossed her legs. “I know why you’re here.”

The eyes behind Round Glasses widened. “Y-you do?”

Ji Zhao remained calm. “You want to talk about me withdrawing from the competition, right? Let me think of an excuse…” She paused. “I’ll just say my body hasn’t fully recovered from the fall, so I have to withdraw out of regret.”

“How did you know?” Round Glasses blurted out.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that I won’t withdraw.”

Ji Zhao leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. She narrowed her eyes at Round Glasses. “I know about Ji Jing’s ultimatum. If he really pulls out, he’ll have to pay the penalty, right?”

From what she understood, these penalties were usually minimal, and the organizers wouldn’t risk offending a major investor over such a small sum.

Ji Zhao held up three fingers. “But you have a third option.”

Round Glasses was completely taken in by her rhythm. “What?”

Ji Zhao sat up straight. “You know I have a company—Timely Entertainment. Even if it’s not doing well now, the foundation is still there. If we put our assets up as collateral, we could get at least ten million. Do you really need Ji Jing’s money?”

Round Glasses swallowed hard. “Aren’t you afraid people will call you ‘Royal’?”

Ji Zhao frowned slightly. “I am Royal.”

Pei Jia suddenly burst into a violent coughing fit. Bending over and covering her mouth, she whispered, “The ‘royal’ in the talent show refers to trainees with connections and backdoor sponsorships.”

Ji Zhao hummed in understanding. “Well, that’s how others see it anyway.”

Pei Jia paused, startled. “What do you mean?”

“My relationship with Ji Jing is a family matter. To outsiders, it looks like my brother sponsored the show, and naturally, they see me as the ‘royal’ one. So whether it’s Ji Jing or me, the perception is essentially the same.”

She steered the conversation back on track. “So, what about the organizers? Isn’t a guaranteed profit too tempting to pass up?”

Round Glasses nodded.

He was tempted, but—

How could he not even have a name?! Who the hell is this ‘organizer’?!

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