I was a top-tier star in the modern music scene. The moment I opened my eyes, I was a tone-deaf laughingstock at an ancient palace audition. And to top it all off, the stone-faced emperor, who despises music, personally picked me to be his empress?
The concubines are waiting to see how long this “off-key empress” can hold on to the emperor’s favor, while he waits for a chance to catch my father and brothers in a compromising situation. I strike back by starting a palace gossip paper and organizing square-dancing in the imperial garden, turning the cold palace into a startup incubator.
As for spending the night with the emperor? I give him a heartfelt, off-key rendition of “The Qinghai-Tibet Plateau,” only to watch the tyrant’s gaze grow hazy... “My beloved consort, sing it again,” he rasps.
Later, I use my “demonic voice” to help him put down a rebellion, and fill the treasury with the concert business model. He can only pull me close in exasperation. “It seems I can’t cure this insomnia of mine without that awful voice of yours.”
