The living room was peaceful. Sunlight filtered through the windows. A warm, savory smell drifted from the kitchen where Gu Xin was stirring soup with the precision of a battle strategist.
The babies—Ji Xiyue and Ji Xiyang—were gnawing on their plush star-shaped rattles on the pymat, occasionally trying to eat each other’s socks.
Xiao Yu, five months pregnant and extremely round in the middle, was lounging on the couch like a bored emperor, rubbing his belly and muttering about foot cramps.
And Ji Yuxi?
Ji Yuxi was about to throw the TV through the ceiling.
On the screen was the long-awaited live-action adaptation of Ji Yuxi’s first novel—Emperor’s Harem: The Rise of the Ruthless Heroine. The very same story that had made him famous across the star system.
But now…
“What in the seven fming suns of Alpha Centauri IS THIS?!”
Ji Yuxi’s hands were shaking. Not from weakness, no. From pure, uncontrolble RAGE.
The so-called heroine on-screen was currently gasping dramatically every five seconds and getting saved by the male lead like she didn’t even know how to walk, let alone rule an empire.
“SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE KICKING BUTTS AND TAKING THRONES, NOT BLUSHING AT EVERY STIFFLY-POSED MAN WITH A SIX-PACK!”
Xiao Yu peeked at the screen from his side of the couch and grimaced. “Wow… that acting has the emotional depth of dry bread.”
“Dry bread is a delicacy compared to this!”
The so-called vilin, a character Ji Yuxi had lovingly written as a clever political mastermind, was now reduced to a background character who only appeared to say “I’ll get you next time!” and twirl his mustache
“HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A MUSTACHE!”
Ji Yuxi pointed at the screen like he was accusing it of murder. “And why does everyone whisper their lines like they’re trying not to wake up a baby?!”
Ji Xiyang, sitting nearby, blinked at the screen and then dramatically fell backward as if fainting in protest.
Ji Xiyue cpped like it was theater.
“Even my sons are reacting! Look at them! They can smell the mediocrity!”
Gu Xin calmly dled soup into bowls, his apron reading “Meat Me at the Counter”—a cheesy pun from his new business that Ji Yuxi loathed but also secretly admired.
Since Xiao Yu had to stop teaching after the pregnancy got too heavy, Gu Xin had gone all-in and opened a natural meat shop in their local district. It became a massive hit.
In a world where b-grown nutrients were the norm, real meat—hunted, prepared, and sold fresh—was luxury-level indulgence. And people paid big credits for it.
Gu Xin made so much that Ji Yuxi was now comfortable referring to them as:
“The family next door to the rich people. But with a better garden.”
Xiao Yu, though round and hormonal, was weirdly peaceful.
Perhaps it was the soup.Perhaps it was Gu Xin’s doting.Perhaps it was the fact that no one called him “wife” anymore… except Gu Xin, which didn’t count.
“You know,” Xiao Yu said, sipping his soup, “you could’ve said no to selling your novel rights.”
Ji Yuxi paused mid-rant.
“Excuse me, I was lied to! They promised high production values and faithful adaptation! What I got was a visual crime scene!”
Xiao Yu shrugged. “Then don’t sell next time.”
Ji Yuxi’s eyes lit up. “You’re right.”
He stood abruptly, knocking over a pillow.
“I won’t sell. I’ll MAKE.”
Xiao Yu blinked. “Make what? More pillows? A passive-aggressive poem for the director?”
Ji Yuxi’s grin widened.
“No, Xiao Yu. I’ll make my own drama company.”
Xiao Yu stared at him, soup halfway to his mouth. “…I take it back. Sit down.”
In the past six months, thanks to continuous fan gifts, overseas publishing deals, and royalties from digital adaptations of his books, Ji Yuxi had made over 7 million star coins.
He was, for the first time in his life, capital-R Rich.
And he wasn’t going to spend it all on more imported pears. Not this time.
He was going to make his own production company. One that would:
Adapt his novels the way he wanted.
Cast actors who could actually act.
Include dramatic close-ups, without forgetting character logic.
And finally, give his readers the ruthless empress they deserved.
“I’m going big,” Ji Yuxi decred, striking a pose with a baby on each hip like an interstelr queen. “And no one’s going to stop me.”
Ji Xiyang chewed on his sleeve.
Ji Xiyue drooled on his colr.
They were clearly on board.
“…You know, this is either going to be a huge success or the biggest dramatic disaster since your craving phase,” Xiao Yu said.
Ji Yuxi turned to him. “Xiao Yu, I appreciate the support.”
“I didn’t say I supported it.”
“Too te. It’s happening.”
Xiao Yu sighed and took another sip of soup. “Just promise me one thing.”
Ji Yuxi blinked. “What?”
“Don’t name the company something ridiculous like ‘YuxiVision.’”
Ji Yuxi looked offended. “It was going to be ‘YuxiVerse.’”
Xiao Yu put down his bowl. “I give up.”
Later that evening, Ji Yuxi sat down at his computer, a baby on each knee and a vision in his mind.
A production company of his own. His drama, his vision. Real characters. Real stories. None of that discount space soap opera nonsense.
He would honor the stories of Earth’s past.
He would showcase Guides and Espers with brains.
