After Becoming the Mother of the Scumbag Stand-In Female Lead - Chapter 53

In the hospital, Si Zhong looked at Si Ying, who was quietly doing her homework beside him, and sighed slowly.

Yesterday, he had received a text message from the school—Si Ying’s midterm exam results.

Several subjects had failing grades.

Though he knew it wasn’t entirely Si Ying’s fault—her previous living conditions hadn’t provided her with a good education, and that family had hindered her studies—he still felt frustrated.

Over the past year, he had been tutoring Si Ying little by little, and her grades had shown improvement in the last exam. So why had they dropped again this time?

Today, as usual, Si Mu had the driver bring Si Ying to the hospital to keep him company while she claimed to be working overtime at the office, only calling briefly to inform him.

Si Zhong was somewhat displeased. He didn’t understand why his well-intentioned advice—urging Si Mu to build a happy family—had upset her so much.

Overtime… overtime…

Was the CEO of a company really so busy that she couldn’t even rest on weekends?

Si Zhong suspected it was just an excuse.

And…

His gaze fell on Si Ying again, and his dissatisfaction with Si Mu grew.

Si Ying’s declining grades were partly Si Mu’s responsibility.

She must not have been tutoring Si Ying properly. Otherwise, why would her grades drop after only staying with Si Mu for a short while?

“Ying, tell Grandpa honestly—has Aunt Si Mu been working late every night since you moved in with her?”

Si Ying, who had been focused on her homework, turned her head at the question. Recalling her recent interactions with Si Mu, she nervously picked at her fingers.

“Auntie… has been very busy with work.”

Gradually, Si Ying had noticed that ever since Sheng Yunjin stopped appearing, dinner had become takeout brought by the driver, and Si Mu never joined her.

Sometimes, Si Mu came home very late. Several times, Si Ying deliberately stayed in the living room doing homework while waiting for her, but Si Mu didn’t return until after 10 p.m.

Wanting to spend more time with Si Mu, Si Ying would show her the problems she couldn’t solve. But each time, Si Mu would simply write out the solution and ask if she understood.

Even when some steps were unclear, Si Ying, out of insecurity, would nod and say she understood.

Day after day, their interactions never lasted more than twenty minutes.

…

Si Zhong snorted coldly. He felt he understood his granddaughter less and less.

Hadn’t the company stabilized long ago? Wasn’t she making enough money? Yet Si Mu still poured all her energy into her career. Was she planning to remain alone for the rest of her life?

“Did she use work as an excuse to avoid tutoring you, like I asked?”

His voice was low and stern. Si Ying didn’t know why he was suddenly like this, but she sensed his anger was directed at Si Mu.

“…No, Auntie did teach me.”

She handed her draft notebook to Si Zhong.

Several pages bore Si Mu’s handwriting.

Watching him flip through the pages, Si Ying bit her lip in silent disappointment. “It’s just… I’m too slow to understand the steps she wrote…”

And… she had wasted Si Mu’s time.

Several times when Si Mu returned from work, Si Ying could see her rubbing her temples wearily.

Yet despite her exhaustion, Si Mu would still patiently walk over and ask if there were any problems Si Ying couldn’t solve.

Si Ying longed to spend more time with this gentle and patient version of Si Mu, so even when she noticed Si Mu’s fatigue, she couldn’t bring herself to shake her head and say no.

…

Si Zhong noticed Si Ying’s sadness and patted her head gently. “Xiao Ying, don’t be so hard on yourself…”

As he spoke, an idea suddenly occurred to him, and he suggested softly, “How about Grandpa hires you a tutor? After school, the tutor can help you with your studies.”

Si Ying quickly shook her head at this, her gaze flickering with unease.

“I… I don’t want anyone else teaching me.”

If she got a tutor, she’d have even fewer reasons to spend time with Si Mu.

Perhaps sensing her reluctance, Si Zhong sighed. “You’re just too introverted. After all this time, you’re still so afraid of interacting with outsiders…”

After a moment of thought, he suddenly said, “How about we transfer you to another school? A better one.”

As a retired teacher, Si Zhong knew the teaching quality at nearby schools was roughly the same.

But Si Ying was already in middle school, and he was genuinely worried about her grades.

She couldn’t keep failing forever.

“…Transfer schools?”

Si Ying was stunned. She hadn’t expected Si Zhong to suddenly suggest such a thing.

The more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. Si Zhong picked up his phone from the nearby table, ready to call Si Mu.

Back when he was still working, he’d seen many parents transfer their children to private schools.

Rumors said those schools offered more comprehensive education, with teachers holding higher qualifications—some homeroom teachers even had PhDs.

At the time, Si Zhong had dismissed such claims as exaggerated. In his view, learning was the same everywhere—it all depended on the student’s willingness to study.

But now, perhaps out of excessive concern, he couldn’t shake his worries about Si Ying’s grades. After much deliberation, transferring schools seemed like a viable solution.

The call connected, and Si Zhong shared his thoughts with Si Mu, asking her to handle the matter.

…

In her office, Si Mu lowered her gaze to the design drafts she’d been working on. Upon hearing Si Zhong’s request, she showed no particular reaction.

“Alright, I’ll arrange for someone to take care of it.”

Her tone was indifferent, but to Si Zhong, it felt cold and uncaring, as if she had no concern for Si Ying’s situation.

Still, since he was relying on Si Mu to facilitate the transfer, he swallowed his dissatisfaction and didn’t press further.

Transferring to a private school mid-term would undoubtedly require connections or financial leverage.

Si Zhong had also heard that private school tuition was expensive—easily over a hundred thousand a year.

He glanced at Si Ying, who was silently watching him, then steadied his voice. “If there are any expenses, just let me know. This old man still has some savings.”

Si Mu rubbed her forehead in exasperation. Regardless of whether Si Zhong had the money, they were family—she would never dream of dipping into an elder’s savings for something like this.

Since her angry departure from the hospital last time, Si Mu had rarely communicated with Si Zhong. Now it seemed the old man was still holding a grudge against her.

But there was no helping it—Si Mu wouldn’t compromise with him on matters of marriage.

…

It being the weekend, Si Mu planned to instruct her secretary about this matter tomorrow.

Glancing at her phone, her voice remained cool yet carried a trace of resignation toward the elderly. “I’ll handle it properly. Don’t worry.”

After her words, silence lingered on the other end of the line.

Perhaps Si Mu’s attitude had somewhat softened Si Zhong’s mood, as his voice gentled when he continued, “Make sure to find a good school. Don’t just go through the motions because you’re busy with work.”

“Xiao Ying’s grades aren’t great, so you should pay more attention…”

Si Mu responded to each of the old man’s nagging remarks, but her focus had already shifted to the design drafts before her.

These were several couples’ ring designs she’d sketched recently. She planned to take photos later and send them to Sheng Yunjin to see which styles she preferred.

…

After half a month of theater rehearsals, Sheng Yunjin finally understood why Chen Yan had insisted on such lengthy training.

The entire script was actually adapted from Chen Yan’s own youthful experiences, albeit with changed historical settings and altered professions for the characters.

To be precise, the role Sheng Yunjin played was a combination of the young Chen Yan and Zhou Yuan—something Chen Yan had personally admitted when Sheng Yunjin returned to the rehearsal studio that day.

Sheng Yunjin had no particular reaction to this.

Of course, she knew—Zhou Yuan herself had said as much that day.

Now the development was that Zhou Yuan had joined the production too.

Chen Yan promised to revise the script into a dual female lead story by modifying the second female role without cutting the original female lead’s scenes.

When Sheng Yunjin heard this, she found it truly absurd.

After all, Chen Yan had always represented a rational, stern teacher figure in her mind.

But since Chen Yan assured her that her own character’s lines and scenes would remain largely unchanged, Sheng Yunjin had nothing more to say.

The second female lead role was originally played by Chen Yan herself anyway.

Now that Chen Yan was willingly revising the script and even giving her role to Zhou Yuan—while promising to complete the revisions within a week—no one else had grounds for objection.

Ultimately, this matter only affected Chen Yan herself.

It was simply a case of the willing leading the willing.

…

Though she’d acquiesced, Sheng Yunjin would no longer show Chen Yan the same reverence as before, blindly following every instruction.

She now realized Chen Yan’s purpose for the extended rehearsals had been to make her embody the role completely—to align her demeanor, movements, and even speech patterns with the female lead’s prototype: the young Zhou Yuan.

With Zhou Yuan actually present now and Chen Yan’s intentions exposed, Sheng Yunjin grew more rebellious.

She’d immerse herself in the role—but only during performances.

She’d stay true to the character—but refused to imitate.

She would only approach the role through the script’s descriptions and her own deep character analysis.

Chen Yan, aware that her script revisions had wronged Sheng Yunjin first, tolerated these minor displays of temper.

Moreover, she recognized that her previous approach had indeed been too extreme.

Even without imitating Zhou Yuan, Sheng Yunjin still performed this role exceptionally well.

She truly grasped the essence of the character in the script with remarkable precision.

This was what pleased Chen Yan the most.

Because she genuinely hoped this play would be a success.

…

The training schedule was set for ten days of work followed by two days off. On the second rest day, Sheng Yunjin went to Xu Ziqiu’s film set to begin shooting her supporting role scenes.

Her hand had completely healed, with not even the slightest scar visible on her skin.

…

Since Sheng Yunjin still needed to rehearse for the play, Director Wu arranged for her scenes to be shot consecutively, aiming to finish them all within these two days.

The first scene was a confrontation between Sheng Yunjin and Xu Ziqiu.

The supporting female character, having heard that the male lead had a new girlfriend, was indignant and flew back from abroad specifically to intervene.

In her mind, the only woman worthy of being her brother’s partner was the deceased “White Moonlight.” She believed her brother should take responsibility for her death and remain alone for the rest of his life.

…

This scene depicted the supporting female character barging into the female lead’s workplace, demanding she break up with the male lead.

When the female lead refused, the supporting character, in a fit of anger, revealed that the male lead had once been with the “White Moonlight,” claiming he would always love her most, hoping to discourage the female lead.

But to her surprise, the female lead already knew everything and even turned the tables, persuading the supporting character to let go of her obsession—ultimately driving her away in frustration.

…

The filming went smoothly, and Sheng Yunjin felt this character was truly one-of-a-kind.

She didn’t go out of her way to torment the female lead; she simply stated the truth as she knew it, hoping to convince her to leave the male lead.

Yet in the end, it was she who was swayed by the female lead’s words. Compared to her brother, it was clear that she, the sister, was the one clinging more stubbornly to the memory of the “White Moonlight.”