How To Deal With Being Transmigrated As The Scumbag Ex-Wife - Chapter 19

19: Please Support the Official Version, Little Angels!…

The competition between Star Making Plan and Beacon Beauty drew massive attention. Beacon achieved a stellar 70 million yuan opening-day box office, while Star Making Plan barely crossed 10 million yuan, the lowest among Lunar New Year films.

Unless the film’s quality was exceptional, at this rate, recovering the 30 million yuan investment would be tough.

Industry insiders often say a film needs to earn three times its budget to break even. After theater splits, special funds, marketing costs, and taxes, only about 34% of the box office goes to the production company. For Star Making Plan to break even, it needed 100 million yuan.

Even with Beacon’s growing negative reviews, its team wasn’t fazed, they had already won. Star Making Plan was done for.

Netizens following both films were stunned by the numbers.

“Sigh, if the second princess quits the industry, I might miss her. If she doesn’t, well… heh /smile.”

“I remember tons of people under Yu Xing’s Weibo saying they’d support Star-Making. Is this their support? /husky.”

“It’s brutal, but I can’t help it, hahahahaha. Also, where are the fish fans?”

“Seriously, where’d the fish fans go? Why aren’t they supporting their second princess?”

Online mockery targeted Yu Qingjia’s overconfidence, dragging Pan Xing along.

Some netizens went to Yu Qingjia’s Weibo to jeer, only to find the comments filled with praise—not from bot accounts but from normal users with years of activity.

What was going on?

…

Yu Qingjia learned from Chen Ruo’s call that her top fans were crying in group chats. They’d brought family to support the film, found it amazing, and promoted it tirelessly, expecting a strong opening. The dismal first-day box office crushed them.

As die-hard fans, they were furious at other fans’ lack of support and at the public’s bias, dismissing Star-Making as trash without watching it. Such prejudice, such arrogance!

Yu Qingjia wasn’t panicked. Most of her original self’s fans were drawn to her looks or personality, not her work. Many loyal fans, knowing her average talent, had unfollowed her when she announced her directorial pivot. If even fans doubted her, how could skeptical netizens believe in her?

Despite premiere-goers’ efforts to promote the film, most stayed cautious, leading to the low opening.

Yu Qingjia joined the fan group to comfort them, urging patience. It was only the first day. If one person loved the film and shared it with friends, it could snowball.

The upset fans, touched and ashamed that Yu Qingjia had to console them, rallied. They vowed to drag friends to theaters and write reviews on Maomi Ratings.

Unlike Douzi Ratings, where anyone could score, Maomi required ticket purchases, ensuring fairer audience feedback.

Keen observers noticed the films’ true quality wasn’t as simple as box office suggested. On Maomi, Beacon Beauty scored 7.4 after its debut, while Star Making Plan hit 9.8. On Douzi, Beacon Beauty got 8.3, but Star Making Plan languished at 3.7.

Beacon Beauty received mixed reviews online. Early Maomi posts gave it three stars, citing a messy storyline, though these were soon buried by five-star praise. By day three, negative reviews resurfaced.

In contrast, Star Making Plan earned glowing, detailed Maomi reviews—highlighting emotional highs, lows, and gratitude to Yu Qingjia for a great film. Positive buzz grew over time.

This could be explained: Beacon had a larger audience, leading to varied opinions, while Star Making’s viewers, mostly Yu Qingjia or Pan Xing fans, gave supportive scores for their film debuts.

As people debated the film’s true quality, a Weibo topic emerged: #What’sBadAboutStarMakingPlan

Netizens who assumed it was trash clicked eagerly to bash brainless fans, only to feel tricked.

The topic was started by You Xiaomei, the sharp-tongued critic who’d raved about Star Making Plan and urged fans to see it.

She was shocked when Xinghui’s manager asked her to critique the film’s flaws after she watched it with family. She listed “downsides” like: “Yu Qingjia, a natural beauty, plays a plastic surgery ad model—isn’t that scamming?” Was that a flaw? Or a backhanded compliment?

Another: “The film’s too emotional, ran out of tissues. They didn’t provide any. Bad review.”

Was this a joke?

Da Hua Movies also posted under the hashtag, analyzing Star Making Plan’s story and cinematography seriously. His only critique? The director’s techniques were too polished, lacking personal style. He concluded that if this great film didn’t succeed, it was due to arrogant netizens dismissing it without watching.

Intrigued, some netizens planned theater visits, while others waited for more reviews.

Then, Star Making Plan’s second-day box office shocked everyone: from a mere 10 million yuan opening, it soared to 40 million yuan, maintaining a Maomi score above 9 with growing praise.

At this pace, Star Making’s final numbers might shine. Meanwhile, Beacon’s total reached 210 million yuan, but its daily box office dipped, with complaints about its quality piling up.

By day three, Star Making Plan’s daily box office hit 80 million yuan, topping the Lunar New Year films, with a steady 9+ Maomi score and overwhelming praise. This surge caught industry attention, prompting theaters to increase screenings, fueling further growth.

Seeing the stats, Yu Xing was stunned and confused. “Wasn’t this film dead? How’d she pull it off?”

Yuan Jing, calmer, asked, “Have you seen the Star Making Plan?”

Yu Xing blinked, incredulous. “Why would I watch it? That’s just boosting their numbers.”

Yuan Jing’s eyes flickered with disappointment. He shook his head. “Go watch it. The editing and cinematography are meticulous. It deserves this box office.”

…

While the internet buzzed about Star Making Plan, Yu Qingjia celebrated at home with her parents and Yu Qingyi.

On premiere day, her parents dragged her to a private theater screening to support the box office. Old Yu, amazed at his daughter’s talent, was moved. Madam Yu hugged Yu Qingjia, crying.

But the first-day box office chilled Old Yu’s heart. He’d planned to add employee perks to boost it, his daughter had made bold claims; he couldn’t let her lose face.

Yu Qingjia talked him out of it.

By day four, the box office crossed 100 million yuan, surpassing Beacon Beauty, a stunning comeback.

This was a resounding slap to those who’d dismissed Star Making Plan as trash. From 10 million on day one to 130 million yuan daily by day four—if that was a flop, what counted as a good film?

“WTF, is the movie really that good? I don’t buy it.”

“I thought Tianyue was inflating the numbers and wasn’t gonna watch, but my girlfriend dragged me. Honestly, it’s great. Compared to it, Beacon Beauty’s garbage.”

“I don’t get people refusing to watch. It’s not plagiarized, no controversial actors. Why not give a good film a chance?”

“The box office is at 270 million yuan now. Think it’ll hit 1 billion yuan?”

“Hard to say, but with this quality, 500 million yuan is no issue.”

“Waiting for Grumpy Bro’s livestream /husky.”

As Star Making’s box office soared, some sour voices emerged:

“The director’s skilled, but the film’s too commercial. Hope they pursue art more.”

“Another talent poisoned by capital. Hope they realize film’s an art.”

“The techniques are mature, with unique shot transitions. The director’s talented but shouldn’t sell out for box office.”

These comments implied two things: Yu Qingjia wasn’t the real director, just a figurehead, and the “true director” was too commercial, tainting cinematic art.

Yu Qingjia ignored them. They’d never find this “true director” they imagined, left to sulk in corners. Fans defended her anyway.

“The masses love it, who are you to judge?”

“Why so bitter? Show us your skills.”

“You call it art, so you’re the artist?”

…

“No surprise she’s my daughter, her first film’s this good! Zhou Jin and Yuan Jing, old as they are, can’t match her!” Old Yu slurred, drunk and grinning like a Buddha.

Madam Yu sighed, exasperated. “Why did you drink so much so early?”

“I’m happy!” Old Yu shook his head slowly, his fond gaze giving Yu Qingjia goosebumps. Then he floored her:

“My little girl quietly found a wife. A stepchild’s fine—raise her well, and she’ll see you as her real mom.”

Yu Qingjia: ???

What are you talking about?

Still processing, she heard him mumble, “I worried your condition would keep you single, but you found someone so fast. Not bad, my girl.”

Madam Yu, instead of stopping his drinking, turned to Yu Qingjia with a teasing smile. “You didn’t tell us you’re dating. If living at home’s inconvenient, just visit sometimes.”

When did I start dating?

And what’s this about a young child?

In a flash, Yu Qingjia pieced it together, shooting a sharp glance at Yu Qingyi, who was eating and nearly stabbed her nose with chopsticks.

“Why are you looking at me?” Yu Qingyi frowned. “Did I get it wrong?”

For once, Yu Qingjia saw her sister’s similarity to the brat—both jumping to conclusions. She barely restrained the urge to strangle her.

Gritting her teeth, she said, “I’m not dating Ming Yin. We’re just friends. Her daughter likes me, and I like her daughter. That’s it.”

She didn’t know how long she’d stay in this world, dating would only hurt someone.

Madam Yu and Yu Qingyi exchanged a look. Old Yu, head on the table, was snoring lightly.

Madam Yu quickly said, “Oh, our mistake. Friends are great too. Invite her over sometime.”

Seeing their knowing glances, Yu Qingjia knew exactly what they were thinking. She sighed, “I’m serious. Ming Yin loves her wife, and with my condition, I don’t know when it’ll act up. I’m not dating or marrying to avoid burdening anyone. Drop those ideas.”

Madam Yu grew anxious. “You’re fine now, aren’t you? I won’t push, but you need to find someone. How can you not?”

Yu Qingyi, sipping juice, was unfazed. “Mom, let her be. She’s stubborn. If she says she won’t date, let’s see how long she lasts.”

Yu Qingjia snapped, glaring. “I’ve been married. You don’t even have a partner.”

“Cough—” Yu Qingyi choked, shooting her a warning look.

Yu Qingjia smirked, unfazed.

Bring it on, let’s hurt each other!

Madam Yu intervened. “Both of you need to find someone, got it?”

Before they could reply, Old Yu, supposedly asleep, boomed, “Your mom’s right!”

The three women jumped. Glancing over, he was snoring again.

Yu sisters: …

Star Making Plan’s comeback stunned many. With overwhelming praise, people shared it on social media, making it seem like everyone was watching. The box office kept climbing.

In its second week, Star Making plan maintained a daily average of 100 million yuan , crushing other Lunar New Year films. By day ten, the total box office broke 1 billion yuan, and Yu Qingjia’s premiere claim was dug up.

Meanwhile, Beacon Beauty, once the frontrunner, stalled at 500 million yuan, with its latest daily take under 10 million and theater screenings slashed—a dismal contrast to Star Making Plan.

When Star Making Plan hit 1 billion yuan, Yu Qingjia posted on Weibo:

“@YuQingjiaV: Star Making Plan has surpassed 1 billion. Thank you for your support. I’ll keep working hard to make more great films.”

This contrasted sharply with Yu Xing’s earlier taunts. He’d mocked her before winning; she, victorious, didn’t retaliate. Their maturity was clear.

Netizens highlighted this, making Yu Xing’s words look laughably ironic now.

“So, who’s the donkey in a crown, and who’s the horse? /thinking.”

“Not to pile on, but Yuan Jing dropped the ball. The story’s a mess, put me to sleep /smile.”

“Who would have thought a 10 million yuan opening could turn around like this? What a drama /cackle.”

“Yu Xing called her a donkey, look who’s the ass now.”

His comment section overflowed with mockery, but he went silent, playing dead despite the roasting.

Netizens found him pathetic—big talk before, mute after the slap. Tsk tsk.

Tianyue’s official Weibo reposted Yu Qingjia’s post, with the top comment reading:

“Congrats to Tianyue for shining! Yuan Jing’s new film stepped on his old employer, pretty low.”

Surprisingly, Tianyue’s official account responded:

“We regret not renewing with the three directors. We wish them success at Huayue and more great work.”

Netizens praised Tianyue’s class. The trio had badmouthed Tianyue, yet Tianyue, victorious in the box office battle, stayed gracious, unlike Huayue’s petty poaching attempts.

Fish fans, who’d backed Yu Qingjia, were overjoyed.

“I knew Xiao Yu was the best! Congrats on Star Making Plan for hitting 1 billion!”

“1 billion yuan! Xiao Yu’s amazing! Go, Star Making Plan!”

“Xiao Yu’s so talented. I believe she’ll make even better films!”

“Sobbing, this movie’s so good. Xiao Yu’s awesome, Xingxing’s acting is stellar. Third watch done.”

Online sentiment overwhelmingly praised Star Making Plan and Yu Qingjia. Even her detractors had to admit it was a great domestic film.

Two weeks post-release, the box office dipped as the Lunar New Year ended, a normal decline. By then, Star Making’s total hit 1.43 billion yuan, the only Lunar New Year film to cross 1 billion, with projections suggesting even higher.

Learning it reached 1.43 billion, Yu Qingjia rushed to Xinghui with a new script to meet Yu Qingyi.

Since Star Making Plan’s turnaround, Yu Qingyi was all smiles, treating her warmly.

“Sister, I want to make a new film.”

“Go for it. We’ll arrange it. How much investment? Is 50 yuan million yuan enough?”

“Plenty, thanks!”

With the president’s approval, Yu Qingjia met Manager Zhang in production. Unlike his initial reluctance, his stern face now forced a warm smile as he read the script.

Scripts don’t guarantee success—directors shape them, and editors finalize the product. Still, Zhang read it diligently, giving Yu Qingjia flashbacks to a teacher checking homework.

Though wary of her rapid pace, with Star Making’s 1.43 billion precedent, Zhang trusted her. Doubters had been proven wrong, would he question the second princess now?

The new film, Look Up, reflected Yu Qingjia’s ambitions. As a director, she wanted one commercial hit to prove herself and one artistic pursuit for awards, alternating between the two.

She asked for 50 million yuan but needed only 10 million to shoot, excluding marketing.

After settling with Zhang, Yu Qingjia began assembling the creative team. Her speed didn’t go unnoticed at Xinghui, sparking whispers—

With Star-Making still in theaters, was “Director Yu” actually a studio or ghost director?

Those who’d worked with her clarified: no studio, no ghost. Yu Qingjia had real talent.

Now, people called her “Director Yu,” not “Sister Xiao Yu.” A 1.43 billion debut earned her the title—otherwise, many domestic directors wouldn’t qualify either.

Despite clarifications, belief varied.

While Yu Qingjia prepped Look Up, Star Making Plan’s final box office landed at a staggering 1.73 billion, boosting Tianyue, Xinghui, and industry optimism.

Xinghui’s analysis revealed Mingyue Group’s contribution to Star-Making’s box office. Yu Qingjia recalled Ming Yin’s dinner invite via Zhizhi, thinking it was just friendship. She felt ashamed, Ming Yin had heavily supported her.

Seeing Mingyue’s contribution, Yu Qingyi, recalling her sister’s “just friends” claim, gave her a knowing look.

A 60-million yuan “friendship”? She’d love a few of those.

“What’s that look?” Yu Qingjia sighed. “She loves her wife. Stop guessing.”

Yu Qingyi frowned. “How do you know?”

Personal matters like that, would Ming Yin share? That’s awfully close.

“She told me,” Yu Qingjia said casually, pulling out her phone to message Ming Yin. They’d only spoken once since the 1 billion yuan milestone, when Ming Yin congratulated her. She hadn’t seen Zhizhi in nearly a month.

Opening Ming Yin’s WeChat, Yu Qingjia was about to type when she caught Yu Qingyi’s cryptic look. Suddenly, messaging felt like crossing a line.

But recalling Ming Yin’s box office support, she felt her hesitation was petty. Steeling herself, she sent:

“When are you free? I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

5:00 PM, Shuangqing Kindergarten

A black SUV parked by the road. Yu Qingjia, in a cap and mask, stepped out, spotting Zhizhi among the kids waiting for parents.

Zhizhi was animatedly chatting with another girl, both adorable and eye-catching.

The teacher moved to stop her, but Yu Qingjia removed her mask. “I’m here for Ming Shenli.”

She’d arranged dinner with Ming Yin and headed to Mingyue Building, only to learn Zhizhi was at kindergarten. Not wanting to disturb Ming Yin’s work, she volunteered to pick Zhizhi up.

Recognizing her, the teacher blinked.

Isn’t that Yu Qingjia?

Hearing her name, Zhizhi glanced over, her big eyes lighting up. She rushed into Yu Qingjia’s arms, nuzzling her face. “Xiao Yu, I missed you!”

Yu Qingjia was touched. Even with kindergarten and new friends, Zhizhi still adored her.

After confirming with Ming Yin over the phone, the teacher let Yu Qingjia take Zhizhi, waving goodbye with a smile.

Settling Zhizhi in a car seat, Yu Qingjia slid into the car. The driver merged into traffic, heading to Mingyue Building.

“Is Xiao Yu done with work?” Zhizhi asked, beaming. She hadn’t seen Xiao Yu in ages—Mommy said she was busy, and kindergarten kept her away, but now Xiao Yu was here!

Yu Qingjia’s heart twinged. A pampered child, yet so understanding about adults’ busy schedules.

She’d overlooked that kids usually ask such questions of parents.

Patting Zhizhi’s head, she smiled. “Not yet, but I missed Xiao Lizhi, so I came to pick her up.”

Zhizhi’s face fell at the first half, but lit up at the second, her soft voice shy. “I missed you too.”

Seeing her pink cheeks, Yu Qingjia kissed her face. Zhizhi froze, twisting her hands like candy swirls, then whispered, “So, we’re not playing the game anymore?”

Yu Qingjia blinked, about to ask what game, but Zhizhi’s hopeful, nervous eyes stopped her. She hedged, “Well, that depends on Mommy.”

Zhizhi nodded, pouting slightly. “Okay, we’ll keep playing until Yinyin says stop.”

Relieved Zhizhi didn’t press, Yu Qingjia vowed to ask Ming Yin what this “game” meant.

…

Though Yu Qingjia offered to treat Ming Yin, she only ordered for Zhizhi, sipping tea herself.

Staring at the tea, Yu Qingjia sighed. “I shouldn’t have invited you to dinner. It feels insincere.”

Knowing Ming Yin didn’t eat after 6 PM, this was thoughtless.

Ming Yin’s lips curved. “Sincerity’s my call.” Her dark eyes softened, landing on Zhizhi, happily eating. “I don’t eat, but she does.”

Yu Qingjia, about to ask about the “game,” paused, seeing Zhizhi, and shelved it.

“I haven’t congratulated Director Yu on the box office haul.” Ming Yin said, smiling, raising her cup.

Yu Qingjia clinked cups humbly. “Thanks to your support.”

She’d wished her the Lunar New Year crown before release; now, actually winning, she was so modest.

Ming Yin found it amusing. “No need. It’s just employee perks. Mingyue’s contribution to the 1.73 billion isn’t much.”

Yu Qingjia disagreed. “It’s not just that, it’s your trust and support!”

The words grew formal. With anyone else, Ming Yin might’ve been bored, but Yu Qingjia’s half-joking, half-serious tone sparked her own playfulness. “Luckily, you didn’t let Ming’s trust down.”

Yu Qingjia paused, then laughed. Ming Yin could joke? It felt like uncovering a hidden gem.

Zhizhi, swinging her little legs, looked up at the laugh, crumbs on her nose. Her big eyes crossed to see them, her dazed look making both women chuckle.

Zhizhi tried wiping her nose, smearing more crumbs. Frowning, she looked pitifully at Ming Yin.
Ming Yin gently wiped her face with a handkerchief. Zhizhi, unable to see the crumbs, beamed. “Thanks, Yinyin!”

As dishes arrived, Zhizhi ate independently, her chubby cheeks puffing like a hamster’s, wiggling happily at tasty bites.

“I heard you’re prepping a new film?” Ming Yin asked suddenly.

Yu Qingjia, watching Zhizhi, took a beat to respond. “Yeah, I just transitioned. One film won’t last long.”

Ming Yin studied her. “Did you know Shenji Entertainment’s looking to invest in films?”

At “Shenji,” Yu Qingjia’s appetite waned. “Really?”
Ming Yin’s eyes twinkled. “With Director Yu’s 1.73 billion debut, who wouldn’t be jealous?”

Star Making Plan’s 30 million budget yielded 1.73 billion, a return rate to make anyone green.
Yu Qingjia had estimated 1.4 billion yuan, attributing the extra to Pan Xing’s star power. Recently, Pan Xing mentioned getting tons of offers and endorsements, joking she’d never been this hot.

Back to business, the box office proved the market’s potential. Who wouldn’t want a piece? But Shenji was trouble, Shen Ru was a ticking time bomb.

Yu Qingjia mused, “Shen probably doesn’t care for me. I’m curious which director catches her eye.”
Even if Shen was jealous, Tianyue’s approval mattered.

Film investments seem lucrative, but many bankrupt investors. Only the successful eat; others can’t even recover costs. Hundreds of films are made yearly, how many get released? How many succeed?

Rushing in could mean ruin.

Ming Yin, less versed in entertainment, said, “Yu will warn you if needed.” She avoided the topic, as Mingyue didn’t deal with the media.

They tacitly dropped Shen Ru.

After dinner, Yu Qingjia bid farewell to Ming Yin and Zhizhi.

In Ming Yin’s arms, Zhizhi tried kissing Yu Qingjia goodbye but was hindered by thick clothes.

Seeing her struggle, Yu Qingjia leaned in, feeling a warm, wet peck. She returned one, catching Ming Yin’s unreadable, dark gaze.

Her heart skipped, a feather-like tickle stirring within, leaving her unsettled.

Yu Qingjia quickly looked away to the reluctant Zhizhi. “I’ll come see you when I’m free.”

“Really?!” Zhizhi’s eyes lit up. “I’ll wait for you!”

“Alright, it’s getting late.” Ming Yin interjected, cutting off her little milk bun. “What should you say?”

“Um, bye-bye, Xiao Yu.”

“Bye-bye, Xiao Lizhi.” Yu Qingjia smiled, nodding at Ming Yin. “Drive safe.”

As the black SUV pulled out of the parking lot, Yu Qingjia returned to her car.

Zhizhi pressed against the window, gazing longingly at Yu Qingjia until she vanished. Turning back, before Ming Yin could comfort her, Zhizhi perked up, consoling herself, “Xiao Yu said she’ll come see me.”

Ming Yin hesitated, then couldn’t help saying, “Xiao Yu’s not your mommy.”

Normally, Zhizhi would argue fiercely, but she just nodded absently. “Mhm, she’s not.”

Ming Yin: …

A few days in kindergarten, and she’s changed?

Zhizhi, holding her face, sighed like a little adult.

Sigh, I should mention Xiao Yu less, or Yinyin will get jealous again. When will my hide-and-seek with Mommy end?