Not just as a role, but as a reflection of her current life. She realized, almost painfully, that the story she had been given was not merely fiction. It was a mirror.
The Empress sacrificed her happiness, her freedom, even her safety, for the sake of her duty. And yet, her love and loyalty were invisible, buried beneath the blind devotion the Emperor held for the Concubine.
Shen Ruyi felt her fingers clench around the edge of the script.
This is my life now.
A shiver ran down her spine, but it was not from fear, but from the cold clarity of understanding. She had been cast as the villainess in more ways than just one. On set, she would act the role as written: cunning, reserved, subtly antagonistic, a woman whose presence challenged the hero's path.
In real life, she had been painted in the same color, as a villainess too, despised by those around her, ridiculed by society, trapped beside a man who did not see her worth.
She adjusted her posture in her chair, letting her mind shift from despair to strategy. If the Empress could endure, so could she. If the Empress could turn tragedy into power, she could too.
The assistant nudged her gently, pulling her attention back to the present. "Miss Shen, the lead actor will arrive soon, and the director wants everyone ready for blocking."
She nodded, forcing her expression into neutrality, the mask that the original Shen Ruyi must have worn countless times. She could feel her pulse quicken, a mixture of anticipation and dread.
The main character has appeared on the stage.
Her eyes lifted instinctively to the doors through which he would enter.
And there he was, stepping onto the set, sunlight glinting off his perfectly styled hair, his posture effortless yet commanding.
Jiang Yuanzhi.
The world seemed to tilt for a fraction of a second, though she forced herself to sit upright and breathe evenly. He moved through the set with practiced grace, acknowledging the crew with a nod, yet never turning his gaze directly toward her. The air between them was heavy, electric, and impossibly tense.
Shen Ruyi's mind wandered briefly, tracing the similarities once more. The Emperor, the Concubine Shu, and the Empress, her life that now mirrored fiction, her pain that was scripted, yet she was conscious, aware, and capable of controlling her actions. The Empress's tragedy was now hers to reclaim.
She opened her script once more, reviewing her lines. The words, the subtle shifts in tone, the layered intentions, they were no longer merely a performance. They were a study in survival, in reclaiming dignity from a world that sought to deny it.
Every gesture, every expression, would be a message. Not to the audience, but to herself, and to him. Jiang Yuanzhi would see the strength she had inherited, a strength that the original Shen Ruyi never possessed.
The morning wore on, the set gradually filling with actors, extras, and crew members bustling into their places. The female lead, cast as the Noble Concubine Shu, would arrive shortly, and Ruyi could already feel the tension rising between them. Not just in the story, but in reality. The dynamics of the set, the hierarchy of fame, and the silent battles that were waged through glances, gestures, and reputations.
Shen Ruyi folded her hands neatly in her lap and forced her gaze downward.
The Empress endured the ridicule, but sorry, I won't be the same.
If someone dares to belittle me, I'll make them pay in blood!
For the first time since awakening in this body, she felt a strange calm. Her past life had been full of longing, obsession, and helplessness. Her current life offered something different: awareness, agency, and a strategy she could control.
Jiang Yuanzhi might be the adored hero, the center of attention, the emperor of this court of cameras and lights, but she, Shen Ruyi, was no longer the girl who cowered, who allowed herself to be ignored.
She would play her role. She would survive the filming, master the artifice, and learn to navigate the treacherous waters of this world.
The Empress's sorrow had become her own, but so too could the Empress's resilience.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a single thought lingered, sharp and undeniable: one day, the man who ignored her might finally see her, but not as the naive fiancée, not the D-list actress, but the woman she had become.
Though it might be too late by then.
Until then, she would prepare. She would study and endure, and she would survive, too. The filming would start soon, the cameras would roll, and the story would unfold, in one line, one expression, one scene at a time.
And Shen Ruyi would rise from the shadows of neglect, her heart beating with a quiet, defiant determination.
***
Shen Ruyi sat quietly in her designated chair, script open across her lap, fingers tracing the lines of the Empress's dialogue. Every word, every stage direction, held significance, layers of subtext, subtle shifts in emotion, unspoken resentment, and longing. She had been revisiting the script for the better part of the morning, organizing the key points, noting the motivations behind each line, and analyzing every scene where the Empress's presence might leave an imprint.
Her mind wasn't just set on the performance. It wandered to the uncanny parallels that haunted her life. The Empress, tied to an Emperor who ignored her sacrifices, was condemned to a role of loneliness and vilified by those around her.
Shen Ruyi could feel it in her bones. Yet, she knew her story wouldn't mirror the Empress exactly. She wasn't bound in the same chains.
"You know…" a voice emerged softly behind her, startling her into a subtle shift of posture.
She looked up to see the director, a middle-aged man with an intense gaze and sharp features softened by years of nurturing actors, standing quietly a few steps behind. His hands were clasped lightly behind his back, but his presence carried the weight of authority and experience.