The Empress Faces the Crowd

The day of Lin Wanrou’s discharge arrived under a bright, pitiless sun. The hospital staff whispered as she walked the corridor, her steps steady despite the IV drips and wheelchairs she passed. She wore a simple dress Mei Ling had brought: ivory linen, modest, yet tailored to her figure with an elegance that belied its simplicity.

Her posture was perfect, her chin tilted at an imperceptible angle that made her appear taller, commanding—even regal.

“Miss Lin,” Mei Ling murmured nervously as she pushed open the doors leading outside. “There are reporters waiting. A lot of them. Do you… want to sneak through the back?”

Wanrou’s lips curved faintly. Hide? An Empress does not sneak like a thief.

“Open the doors wide,” she instructed.

The moment sunlight spilled across her figure, a storm erupted.

“Lin Wanrou, did you really attempt suicide again?”

“Are you seeking sympathy for a career revival?”

“Your sister Lin Qingyao will be attending the Golden Iris Gala tonight—are you jealous of her success?”

“Do you have anything to say to the investors who called you a disgrace to the Lin family?”

Microphones thrust forward. Cameras flashed mercilessly, capturing every angle.

Mei Ling’s face went pale. She tried to shield her with a bag, but Wanrou raised a graceful hand.

“Step back, Mei Ling.”

Her voice was calm, yet it carried across the crowd with a weight that made the nearest reporters falter. Slowly, deliberately, she removed her sunglasses.

Her eyes—dark as obsidian, sharp as a falcon’s—meet the sea of cameras. The crowd quieted, stunned. This was not the trembling, tear-streaked girl they had hounded months ago. This was someone… different.

“I have only one thing to say,” Wanrou began, her tone regal. “The Lin Wanrou you knew is gone. From this day forward, I will not bow to ridicule nor flee from shadows. If the world wishes to watch me, then watch closely—because I will rise higher than any of you dare to imagine.”

The words were not shouted. They were spoken softly, but with such conviction that the entire press line froze, their pens hesitating.

Some laughed nervously, whispering about delusion. Others scribbled furiously—headlines already writing themselves.

Wanrou, however, did not linger. She turned, her every movement graceful, and slid into the waiting car Mei Ling had arranged. The door closed, shutting out the chaos, but the echoes of her declaration lingered in the air.

---

Inside the car, Mei Ling stared at her with wide eyes. “Miss Lin… what you just said… it’ll be everywhere by tonight.”

“Good.” Wanrou’s gaze drifted to the city skyline flashing past. “A ruler’s first act is to announce her return. Now, they will watch.”

Mei Ling swallowed hard. For the first time since she’d worked for Wanrou, she believed.

---

That evening, the entertainment industry’s most prestigious event, the Golden Iris Gala, unfolded in glittering splendor. The city’s elite gathered under chandeliers that resembled cascading stars. Every actress, every socialite, every businessman of worth was there.

Lin Qingyao, radiant in a crimson gown, was the darling of the night. She walked the carpet on the arm of none other than Jun Lianhe, the Silver Emperor himself. Cameras adored her, journalists fawned, and whispers praised the Lin family for having such a jewel.

But amid the glamour, murmurs spread like wildfire: “Did you hear what Lin Wanrou said this morning? She claimed she’ll rise again.”

“How laughable. She can’t even secure a C-list role.”

“Still… the way she spoke… it was different.”

Even absent, Wanrou’s presence loomed.

---

Meanwhile, in a quiet penthouse overlooking the gala venue, Wanrou sat with Mei Ling, watching the broadcast on television. Her eyes lingered on Jun Lianhe—the man whose aura was cold steel wrapped in silver silk.

“That one,” Wanrou murmured, sipping her tea. “Jun Lianhe. The empire of this era bends partly to his will, does it not?”

Mei Ling nodded quickly. “Yes, President Jun controls the Jun Consortium. They say nothing in the entertainment industry moves without his approval. Even the Gala tonight—his company is one of the main sponsors.”

Wanrou’s smile was slow, deliberate. “Then fate has brought us onto the same stage already.”

Mei Ling shivered. She couldn’t tell if her mistress’s words were ambition or prophecy.

---

Across the city, in the gala’s VIP lounge, Jun Lianhe sipped his wine, aloof to the flattery surrounding him. His assistant whispered in his ear, “President Jun, the media is buzzing about Lin Wanrou. They say she declared her comeback.”

Jun’s eyes, sharp as tempered steel, flickered briefly with interest. “Lin Wanrou? The so-called fallen star?”

“Yes, sir. Many think she’s mad. But… her words are everywhere already.”

Jun swirled the wine in his glass, thoughtful. He had seen countless people crumble under the spotlight. Yet the reports described not despair, but composure.

Interesting, he mused. Perhaps the broken phoenix has a spark left after all.

He glanced at Qingyao beside him, smiling brightly at the cameras. But for the first time that night, it was another name that lingered in his mind.

---

Back in her penthouse, Wanrou set the teacup down and rose, her figure framed against the vast city skyline.

“Mei Ling,” she said softly, “tomorrow we begin. I will need information—about the industry, about the Jun Consortium, about every path that leads to influence in this world.”

Mei Ling hesitated. “Miss Lin, this world is… ruthless. It’s not like the dramas you’ve read. To reach the top—”

Wanrou turned, her gaze fierce yet calm. “I was betrayed by ministers and princes. I was killed by my own blood. Do you think paparazzi and greedy executives frighten me?”

Mei Ling’s lips parted, then closed. She bowed her head. “Yes, Miss Lin.”

Wanrou looked out at the city again, her eyes gleaming like twin flames.

“This world will learn,” she whispered, a vow to the night itself, “that an Empress does not fade. She reigns—always. And soon, they shall witness my return in splendor.”

Outside, the city pulsed with neon light, unaware that its stage had just gained its most formidable player.

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