I have a persona specifically for acting.

Song Wanzhuo didn’t come at the best time.

At the moment, Tong Zhao’s primary personality had lent control to Han Zhi, who said he wanted to lift some weights.

Tong Zhao also disliked the fact that her current body lacked any muscle tone and only appeared slim because she couldn’t gain weight. So, she agreed to Han Zhi’s small request, as long as he didn’t overdo it. She didn’t want to be a soft, puffy person, nor did she want to become a muscular, buff woman.

So, what Song Wanzhuo saw was a consort with an indifferent expression and eyes that, despite their starry brightness, had a cold undertone.

While exercising, Han Zhi tied her long hair into a neat ponytail.

In short, nothing about her looked like Consort Shen from *The Chronicle of Emperor Ming*.

He blurted out, “Tong Zhao, you’re training in the strength area too?”

Hearing someone call her name, Tong Zhao looked up at Song Wanzhuo.

The face was still the same face.

Her eyelashes were long and thick, like dark raven feathers, but the eyes beneath were cold, almost electric.

“Yes, Brother Wanzhuo.”

In the entertainment industry, seniority is important, and Tong Zhao was also used to calling everyone “brother” or “sister” when she met them, always observing proper etiquette. As soon as she spoke, Song Wanzhuo sensed something different again. “Brother Wanzhuo” and “Your Majesty” were both forms of respect, but in the show, when the consort called out “Your Majesty,” it was always with a soft, delicate southern accent, while the actress’s own voice was slightly deeper, with every pronunciation crisp and clear.

When Song Wanzhuo looked at her now, he didn’t feel the slightest flutter in his heart.

His sixth sense told him this wasn’t his consort!

But it was indeed the same person.

Suppressing his strange thoughts, Song Wanzhuo moved to the equipment next to Tong Zhao and started training, chatting with her intermittently.

“The audience says we have great chemistry together.”

“Brother Wanzhuo guided me well, so my subconscious easily got into character.”

“Hehe,” Song Wanzhuo liked being praised, but he also spoke frankly: “Your ‘id’ is quite distinct and charismatic. Your future on the stage is bright. Trust me, after this airs, when you audition for palace drama roles, even if it’s not the lead, you’ll at least snag a supporting role.”

Compared to traditional films, there are far fewer instances of unspoken rules or backdoor deals in instinct films now.

First, instinct films, when done well, are genuinely profitable and have especially high production costs.

Second, those who need to use backdoor connections generally have weaker “id” traits.

The roles left for these connected individuals are usually wealthy young ladies or gentlemen and seductively charming green tea characters, allowing them to perform in line with their true selves.

Or they would be cast in minor roles that, even if performed mediocrely, wouldn’t affect the overall situation.

Originally, the role of the Empress’s cousin was intended to be a mediocre vase character.

Unexpectedly, Tong Zhao’s surprising performance brought the character to life.

“Thanks, brother,” Tong Zhao smiled slightly, but her tone remained cool and detached. “But next time, I’d like to try a different type of role. I might not audition for palace dramas for a while.”

Hearing this, Song Wanzhuo’s face was full of disapproval.

After all, instinct films are different from traditional ones. There’s no need to rush to broaden one’s acting range. Especially for newcomers, it’s important to stabilize their “id” traits; at least that way, they can thrive within a particular genre. However, after a second thought, he gave her some solid advice: “You could try playing a femme fatale or a player type in a modern drama. That would suit you perfectly.”

Tong Zhao still smiled lightly. “Brother Wanzhuo really understands.”

This wasn’t Han Zhi pretending; it was because Tong Zhao’s different personas were almost arguing with each other in her mind.

Lady Chen, the Noble Consort: “I should always be the one on stage.”

Lady Chen, the Noble Consort: “I can make Zhao Zhao the most popular star among male fans! No man can resist me!”

Immortal Master Lu: “Only knowing how to seduce men has no future.”

The personas accumulated from other worlds also wanted their chance to appear and leave a bold mark in instinct films. Naturally, they weren’t willing to see Tong Zhao always acting in palace dramas, which was the domain where Lady Chen, the Noble Consort, could slay the entire field.

Lady Chen, the Noble Consort: “Anyway, Zhao Zhao’s first role was played by me. I’ve contributed to Zhao Zhao’s success! I’ve flirted with men for Zhao Zhao! I want to see Zhao Zhao!”

“But the role you played wasn’t the female lead.”

The war correspondent sharply hit the sore spot of Lady Chen, the Noble Consort.

The noble consort, after all, only played a guest role.

Tong Zhao massaged her buzzing head.

While she was dealing with the chaos in her mind, Song Wanzhuo finished his workout and left feeling refreshed.

Half of his happiness came from the endorphins of exercise, and the other half from resolving his inner conflict.

He called his agent and started rambling: “Old Zeng, I’ve interacted with Tong Zhao. I realized my little dilemma about falling for her because the role was so superficial. It’s nonexistent. She’s not my beloved consort—she’s my good bro!”

The agent was utterly bewildered.

“A good bro? Are you sure?”

He had watched the show, and the charm the Empress’s cousin displayed was exactly Song Wanzhuo’s type.

“Really, you haven’t met her in person. The more I talk to her, the more I feel like she’s a guy,” Song Wanzhuo mused, refining his description. “Not the kind of rough tomboy, but rather, she’s very refined and good-looking. But when we talk and interact, I subconsciously treat her like a bro—a cool, handsome dude.”

Something like this?

The agent was puzzled. “It’s good you didn’t develop feelings for her because of the role. Your fans want you to focus on your career and not get a girlfriend too soon.”

…

Since Tong Zhao’s scenes were interspersed within the main storyline, when Song Wanzhuo re-entered the pod, she was on a video call with the agent recommended by the director. The agent was a competent woman aged between 28 and 32, surnamed Chu, whom Tong Zhao respectfully called Sister Chu.

Sister Chu was quite friendly and didn’t put on airs or lay down strict rules just because Tong Zhao was a newcomer. She was straightforward about the contract. Tong Zhao didn’t have many demands; she was willing to fight for resources with her own abilities. She just wanted someone to help her arrange variety show appearances and promotions.

They discussed the contract details, and after reaching a consensus, they signed it.

One of the reasons things went so smoothly was that Tong Zhao remembered Sister Chu from her past life as quite capable, personally leading a top-tier male star to fame, without any particularly outrageous scandals. However, Sister Chu was the type who achieved success later in her career; in the original timeline, it would be a few more years before she met her benefactor.

After signing the contract, Sister Chu assured her that she would guide her well.

“I trust you,” Tong Zhao replied with a smile.

She wasn’t interested in clinging to powerful connections ahead of time. Instead, she wanted to become someone others would want to cling to.

For five consecutive episodes, the parts featuring Tong Zhao were particularly popular—this girl was just too interesting.

At first, people thought she was a master manipulator, a “green tea” expert. Typically, when an ordinary person enters the palace, they would be cautious at first, endure the scolding of seniors, and only take revenge after establishing themselves. But not Chen Pin. Her way of gaining a foothold was to use the other concubines’ bullying against her to cry to the Emperor.

When ordinary concubines played the victim, it was, “They’re so vicious; I’m so pitiful.”

When Chen Pin played the victim, it was, “They’re so vicious; Your Majesty is so pitiful.”

The audience knew her character was set up to be a bad woman, so watching her act cute and play innocent in the male lead’s arms was highly entertaining and had a great comedic effect. Some viewers, with time on their hands, clipped her coquettish scenes into GIFs and memes, finding her expressions to be quite theatrical. Even without sound, she was adorably charming, perfect for “cute” reaction memes.

Discussion threads related to “The Legend of Emperor Ming” sprang up like mushrooms after a rain, drawing in a wave of female viewers who came to learn the art of “green tea.”

However, after she established herself: Chen Pin stopped being “green tea.”

She became “black tea,” openly mocking and humiliating other concubines, becoming the little tyrant of the harem. Li Fei, who refused to believe this, relied on her higher rank to cripple a cat that Chen Pin was raising. Ostensibly, it was an accident, and she sent her head maid to deliver the dying, crippled kitten back to Chen Pin’s palace with a fake apology.

Li Fei wanted to disgust and humiliate her, and she also intended to scare her a bit.

It’s just a cat; what could Chen Pin possibly do?

Unexpectedly, Chen Pin turned hostile on the spot.

She immediately ordered the young eunuch, who was skilled in martial arts and bestowed upon her by Emperor Ming, to pin down the two palace maids who admitted to crippling the cat and were arrogant and overbearing. She demanded that they receive the same punishment as the cat—broken legs. Since senior maids represent the dignity of their masters, Li Fei was furious and stormed into Chen Pin’s palace to make trouble, only to find Emperor Ming already there.

Before Li Fei could cry and play the victim, the Dog Emperor provided a solution: “They’re just two palace maids. Drag them out and beat them to death to settle it.”

The maids’ hearts sank.

“Beating them to death is such a waste,” Chen Pin said, leaning on Emperor Ming’s arm in front of Li Fei. She leaned so close that half of her soft body was almost resting on him, making Li Fei inwardly curse her as a vixen. “The two maids said Snowball is just an animal, thinking I wouldn’t hold it against them. So, let’s let them live and die like animals. When Snowball’s injuries heal, then they can recover too.”

Humans can endure much more than a small cat.

In other words, even if these two maids had strong enough lives not to die, as long as the cat wasn’t fully healed, they’d be beaten to the same extent as her Snowball.

Too cruel.

The audience collectively gasped.

At the same time, this approach matched the newcomer’s “true self” perfectly—strong and fierce. She portrayed the scorpion-like beauty with vivid realism. If her “true self” were more mediocre, one could hardly imagine such a method of retaliation.

Emperor Ming agreed, ordering others to pick two new palace maids for Li Fei, while leaving the current two for Chen Pin to “play” with.

Chen Pin still felt it wasn’t enough. That night, she whispered in the Emperor’s ear on the pillow, successfully making him view Li Fei in a much worse light. The next day, her status was demoted from Li Fei to Li Pin—oh no, Yu Pin.

As for whether it was the “Yu” meaning “surplus” or the “Yu” meaning “a fish that’s destined to be eaten by a cat,” who could say?

Yu Pin thanked the Emperor for the decree and then vomited blood in anger.

…

[Too ruthless, too ruthless—is this the boldness of a favored concubine?]

[Was that necessary? It’s just a cat.]

[To the commenter above, animal cruelty has been a crime for five years now. Also, from a plot perspective, Li Fei’s actions were a clear provocation and humiliation of Chen Pin. In the face of imperial power, there really is no difference between a palace maid and a cat. Just enjoy the show and don’t overthink it.]

[You can only enjoy this kind of thing in movies and shows.]

[To those overanalyzing, hush! I love watching palace dramas where the villainous female lead crushes everyone! Go, go, go!]

While this controversial plot stirred debates in the discussion forums, the big data evaluations rated it as quite satisfying.

Viewers empathized with Tong Zhao’s character. If their pet had been crippled, they would be angry and upset too.

Slapping back in revenge felt good. Simple as that.

And when viewers feel satisfied, they will generously reward the show with high ratings and buzz.

It’s so exhilarating!

They want to keep feeling this thrill!

※

*The Chronicles of Emperor Ming* is not a palace intrigue drama, so an antagonist can’t survive until the very end.

When Tong Zhao re-entered the pod, she was filming the scenes where the imperial concubine’s fortune takes a downturn.

As an external relative to the royal family, the Chen family’s ambitions had always been high.

With the Empress unable to bear a legitimate son, they wanted to send another Chen woman into the palace. After the Empress, driven by sheer determination, finally gave birth to a young son, the Chen family even entertained thoughts of rebellion.

Of course, this rebellion was unsuccessful and served as a major trial for the protagonist, Emperor Ming—one of the main plotlines of the show.

A major plotline cannot go wrong, so under the tense supervision of the crew, the Chen family embarked on their rebellion with some minor scares but no major mishaps. Predictably, they were lured out and completely taken down by Emperor Ming, who had foreseen the plot all along. The whole family ended up in prison, and the Empress requested to be deposed.

Being another daughter of the Chen family, Tong Zhao’s character became the target of everyone’s ire.

The other concubines in the harem watched with snide comments, eager to see her downfall.

The crime committed by the Chen family this time was too severe. Her father was one of the main culprits, guilty beyond pardon. The Empress, in the end, was only spared the disgrace by being granted white silk for a dignified end.

As Tong Zhao’s character was nearing her exit, the director was very satisfied: “I’m sure many viewers who watch this show will remember her vividly.”

A distinctive “true self” is very well-received.

Thinking about fulfilling the wish entrusted by the goddess, the director felt particularly gratified.

Concubine De, the first to kick someone when they’re down, pretended to express regret in front of Emperor Ming, saying that the harem would become lonely without the imperial concubine.

Emperor Ming frowned:

“What nonsense are you talking about? I never intended to have her executed.”