Her twin sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes, before scowling at their mother.
"Let her breathe! She just woke up."
"Don't interfere," their mother snapped, though without true harshness. "If she wants to survive in the entertainment circle, she can't waste a single day."
Entertainment circle. The words jolted Ruyi's memory. Right, this body wasn't only the Shen family's daughter. She was also an actress.
And a D-list actress, at that.
By the time she was dressed, she was practically shoved into the waiting car where her assistant sat with a stack of papers, coffee, and an expression of pure exasperation.
"Miss Shen, do you realize how long I've been waiting? The director nearly called someone else for the shoot!"
Ruyi winced, taking the coffee like a guilty student caught skipping class. "Sorry… I overslept."
Her assistant sighed but softened slightly. "Just… try to focus today, alright? You're not Jiang Yuanzhi, but you still have your name. Don't waste it."
At the mention of Jiang Yuanzhi, her heart clenched, not with longing, but with the bitter irony of comparison. He was an A-list actor, celebrated and untouchable. She was a D-list actress, barely a footnote in the industry. They had once been promised to each other, but in every way that mattered, they lived in different worlds.
And now, she thought with quiet determination, she would carve her own place in that world without him.
Shen Ruyi sat inside the car and inhaled the crisp morning air, the sun just barely brushing the skyline with gold. For a moment, she paused, taking a deep breath as if trying to anchor herself before entering the world she now inhabited, not her own life, but of this body's life.
Her mother, standing at the entrance of the estate, waved briskly. "Remember your posture, Ruyi. You're representing the Shen family today, so behave accordingly."
Ruyi nodded lightly, forcing a polite smile. "I understand."
Her twin brother, leaning casually against the doorway, grinned at her with his usual mixture of mischief and protectiveness. "Don't let that superstar near you too closely, alright? I'll be checking your social feeds later."
She laughed softly, though her stomach tightened at the mention of Jiang Yuanzhi. "I'll be careful," she said, her tone neutral yet weighted with unspoken meaning.
With a final wave, she started the car. The journey to the filming location was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the assistant's occasional reminders of schedules, makeup times, and wardrobe fittings. Shen Ruyi found her mind wandering, rehearsing both the script lines and the careful social poise the original Shen Ruyi must have maintained.
When they finally arrived, the set loomed ahead, an impressive reproduction of a royal palace courtyard, painstakingly detailed to match the period drama aesthetics. Towers of scaffolding, lighting rigs, and costume racks littered the area. Crew members bustled in every direction, shouting directions or adjusting cameras, while extras in elaborate costumes flitted around like pieces of a living painting.
Despite the energy, the atmosphere felt heavy. Whispered conversations, nervous glances, and the subtle tension of anticipation clung to the air like dust. Everyone seemed on edge, as if stepping onto the set was a delicate balance between artistry and politics, ego and authority.
Ruyi made her way to her designated seat, a simple chair near the wardrobe and script table. She laid out her belongings carefully, straightening the folds of her costume and smoothing her hair even though it would soon be covered by makeup and accessories. Her hands were steady, though inside her heart churned a familiar storm: the sense of being an outsider, simultaneously protected and scrutinized.
Her father's influence had secured her place here. Without it, she would likely have been overlooked, another D-list actress forced to settle for small parts, extra roles, or background appearances. The irony was bitter; she owed her position to someone else's connections, yet she would have to perform as a character whose fate mirrored the life she now found herself living.
Shen Ruyi opened her script and began to read through the lines again, deliberately taking her time. Today marked the start of filming, and also the day the story would come alive, and the first confrontation between the Empress and the lead characters would be captured on camera.
She glanced down at the synopsis of her character, the Empress, and frowned. A Villainess.
The word felt sharp, bitter, almost like a blade pressed against her chest. Yet, as she read further, the story unfolded with uncanny parallels to her current existence.
The Empress, the script detailed, had been chosen as the rightful wife of the Emperor, a position of honor and responsibility, a life surrounded by wealth, titles, and political power. Yet, her heart was not aligned with her duty. The Emperor adored the Noble Concubine Shu, a woman of remarkable grace and charm, whose courage and loyalty in battle earned the attention of both the court and the people.
The Empress, for all her virtue, was ignored. Her sacrifices were unacknowledged, and her loyalty was dismissed as a show. She governed the palace, maintained the order of the court, and bore the burdens of the throne, but none of it mattered in the eyes of the one she loved most. Her voice was unheard, her efforts going invisible.
Shen Ruyi's fingers traced the printed words, her mind racing.
The Emperor neglects the Empress. Because the white moonlight in his heart, Concubine Shu was always the one who captivated him. He does not see her efforts, her loyalty, her heart.
Her chest tightened, and her stomach coiled in a familiar ache. The parallels were undeniable. Jiang Yuanzhi, the idol she had adored from a distance, the man who could make the world stop with a single glance.
He also ignored Shen Ruyi, or at least, the original Ruyi's existence, while the world gazed at him with open hearts.
She exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the connection settle. The Empress's tragedy was now hers to embody.