Chapter 54: Empire and Beauty

"Beauty and Power of the Empire" is a palace intrigue drama, with its main filming scenes set almost entirely in the so-called harem; throughout the series, there are very few changes in location. Therefore, the production team rented a sprawling palace-style complex in the Imperial Capital Film City as their regular shooting ground. Otherwise, with so many people coming for auditions, there simply wouldn’t be enough spare rooms to accommodate everyone.

"Here, this is the script. Take a look first—the audition will begin soon. You’ll be trying out for the role of Consort Rou," Ding Ju handed a script to Chu Luoxi, speaking in a hushed tone.

Though the room wasn’t quiet, it wasn’t noisy either; speaking loudly would only draw unwanted attention.

"Consort Rou?" Chu Luoxi was surprised. It was just as Leng Daji had said: not the lead, but extremely important—indispensable, even.

In her previous life, she had watched "Empire" from start to finish, drawn in by the legend that even the minor roles were expertly played. She had wanted to observe and learn. Along the way, she found herself captivated by the plot.

"Empire," though fundamentally a classic women's palace drama, was not confined to the harem. The emperor was no longer a decorative, inconsequential figure as in typical palace dramas.

Empire and beauty—the title itself hinted at dual meanings. If it were merely a tale of palace intrigue among women, it could have been called "Beauty’s Scheme." Why add "Empire" if not for a deeper purpose?

In this series, the court and harem are tightly intertwined. It’s not simply about people coming and going, or private dealings; rather, what happens in court directly affects the harem’s power struggles, and the harem’s fortunes, in turn, influence the shifting tides of the court. This mutual rise and fall is exquisitely subtle. Family status, social life—it all gets entangled, and the complexity runs deep.

It is precisely this complexity that makes each character in the series vivid and full of life.

In such an environment, every move made by the women of the harem is logical and traceable. Those inexplicable plots to frame others, the petty malice that drives one to destroy rivals for no reason—such mindsets do not exist here. In fact, people who stir up trouble without cause are the first to perish; they’re not like those indestructible villains in other dramas who torment the protagonist time and again, only to be lightly punished.

Director Qiu Xian has never hesitated to let actors "eat their lunch"—to kill off their characters. The early episodes of "Empire" are tame enough, but as the story progresses, rarely does an episode pass without a death, sparking heated discussion among viewers.

Leading roles, supporting roles, extras—those who should die, die. Qiu Xian is like the grim reaper, never delaying the inevitable for the sake of suspense. Many find this satisfying; they say it fits with logic and common sense.

Chu Luoxi said nothing, burying herself in the script, then closing her eyes to rest. Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside, she was anything but tranquil.

The world of "Empire" is entirely fictional, with the harem hierarchy inspired by Ming and Qing dynasties: from top to bottom, one Empress and four Consorts is the standard.

The role she was vying for, Consort Rou, was one of the four—her status and significance were self-evident.

But after reading the script, Chu Luoxi realized the impression left by the previous portrayal of Consort Rou, from the drama she’d seen in her past life, was entirely wrong. Whether it was due to last-minute casting changes or Qiu Xian’s rare lapse in judgment, the actress who played Consort Rou had turned her into a weak, decorative figure, ultimately framed and killed, unable to defend herself.

Still, since Consort Rou was the first to die and had few appearances, even if she was a mere ornament, no one really criticized her. She left little impression on the audience.

Yet, from the script, Chu Luoxi saw that the role offered countless opportunities to shine. If performed well, the character would leave a deep mark on viewers’ hearts, perhaps even rivaling the popularity of the main cast.

As one of the four consorts, Consort Rou had the weakest backing; many other consorts had powerful allies who could easily crush her. Yet, she survived in the harem, secured her title, and gave birth to a young prince, raising him herself. How could such a woman be a mere ornament?

Chu Luoxi believed that Consort Rou was not only no flower vase, but rather a woman of considerable cunning and skill, adept at endurance. In the end, she became the target of all because she was too brilliant—she was the only woman to truly win the emperor’s heart. Ultimately, she lost because she fell genuinely in love with the emperor; otherwise, she would not have died so early.

Thinking of this, Chu Luoxi let out a soft laugh, finding it incredible. How could such a dazzling, wise, and elegant woman have been played as someone who only knew how to cry to the emperor, whose feelings for him were blatantly displayed, and who was finally sacrificed by the man she loved to quell a crisis? It was a waste of talent!

She had thought it odd when she watched the drama, but since Consort Rou was an inconspicuous supporting character, she paid little attention, assuming perhaps it was a deliberate exception to highlight the scheming of the other consorts. Now she realized that was never the case.

As Chu Luoxi delved deeply into the character’s psyche and discovered more of her brilliance, a commotion at the door signaled the arrival of Director Qiu Xian and his entourage.

Calmly opening her eyes, Chu Luoxi adjusted her posture, settling herself more comfortably.

Qiu Xian clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention, his manner unexpectedly gentle: "In a moment, those auditioning for Consort Rou should collect a number card from the assistant director, then proceed next door one by one. You’ve all read the script; as for what to perform, it will be decided by drawing lots."

It must be said, such importance for a single role!

With that, Qiu Xian swept out with his group, the scene grand and imposing, reminiscent of a king surveying his realm. But that was fitting—he was the highest authority in the crew, with no producer able to challenge him; naturally, he was surrounded by attendants.

Twenty-three? Chu Luoxi glanced at the number card Ding Ju had handed her, feeling nothing special. Unless there was some behind-the-scenes manipulation or a predetermined candidate, the order of auditions hardly mattered.

But so many people competing? Even more than she had sensed…

"Why are you looking at me like that? If there’s something you want to say, just say it," Chu Luoxi, amused yet helpless, caught Ding Ju’s intense gaze and awkwardly restrained expression.

"Hehe, um, do you feel confident?" Ding Ju finally voiced her curiosity, appreciating Chu Luoxi’s calm demeanor. As an assistant, not a manager, there were many things she had no right to ask, and this was overstepping. Still, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity, emboldened by Chu Luoxi’s easy-going nature; otherwise, she would have had to keep her questions to herself.

"Me?" Chu Luoxi arched her brow, her smile radiant and breathtaking, putting Ding Ju at ease despite her inexplicable feelings.