How To Deal With Being Transmigrated As The Scumbag Ex-Wife - Chapter 23

23: What’s Really Going On Between You and Xiao Jia…

The smooth filming of Look Up hit a snag after Si Lingyou officially joined the shoot. Despite repeated guidance, she couldn’t deliver, and Yu Qingjia began suspecting she was deliberately holding back. Each time her emotions were perfectly set, Si Lingyou reverted to square one the moment she faced Pan Xing.

“Cut!”

No surprise, another NG. Si Lingyou lowered her head guiltily, not daring to argue.

Pan Xing, her scene partner, felt helpless. If anyone else had many NG without progress, even her good temper would fray. But Si Lingyou’s issue was clear, she was starstruck.

Yes, starstruck. After a week of filming, Pan Xing confirmed Si Lingyou was her die-hard fan. Initially flattered, it became exasperating—her fan’s subpar performance meant Pan Xing got dragged into NG’s too.

(NG when filming means “No Good”.)

Despite Yu Qingjia’s spot-on emotional guidance, Si Lingyou couldn’t muster the required jealousy and spite opposite Pan Xing. Like a deflated balloon, her negative emotions fizzled, and her lines turned into exaggerated, fake malice.

After another NG, Yu Qingjia stared silently at Si Lingyou, making her spine chill with guilt. The crew, hearing no word from Yu Qingjia, stayed quiet, their eyes on Si Lingyou.

Yu Qingjia pursed her lips, her face expressionless. “Thirty minutes. One more take. If you can’t nail it, you’re out.”

“!”

Even with raw newcomers, Director Yu had never spoken so harshly, always guiding gently. This was the first time she’d laid down the law.

But it made sense, she’d coached Si Lingyou so many times. If she couldn’t step up, who could she blame? She’d had plenty of chances.

Si Lingyou’s face stiffened, her fists clenched, but she stayed silent.

“All teams, prepare.”

At Yu Qingjia’s command, the crew sprang into action.

Pan Xing glanced at the dejected Si Lingyou, sighed, and approached her. “You’re not classically trained, are you?”

Si Lingyou froze, about to respond, when Pan Xing continued, “If you were, you’d know to suppress personal feelings during acting and not project yourself.”

“If you can’t, we shouldn’t work together again.” Without looking at her, Pan Xing walked toward Yu Qingjia.

Yu Qingjia, adjusting the camera, saw Pan Xing approach, her expression neutral. “Here to plead her case?”

“No way.” Pan Xing laughed, shaking her head. “You should’ve replaced her already. She’s not cut out for this—too childish, no control. She’ll crash eventually.”

And crash hard.

Pan Xing’s words surprised Yu Qingjia. With her personality, she’d expected her to defend Si Lingyou.

Noticing her surprise, Pan Xing smiled wryly. “She’d be fine as a friend, but working together is exhausting.”

Yu Qingjia patted her shoulder consolingly. “Sweet burden, huh?”

Pan Xing smiled but didn’t agree.

Yu Qingjia sighed. She hadn’t expected Si Lingyou to squander such a golden opportunity to shine. Childish indeed—her actions, despite her admiration, were a hassle even for someone as patient as Pan Xing.

“She’s my uncle’s daughter—I can’t just ignore her,” Yu Qingjia said, glancing at Si Lingyou, who sat on a stool, trying to get into character. “But I won’t let her mess around. If it comes to it, I’ll replace her. My uncle didn’t want her in this industry anyway, and Xinghui has plenty of scripts if she’s serious about acting.”

Following her gaze, Pan Xing’s expression grew more helpless. “Here’s hoping the rest goes smoothly.”

Thirty minutes later

“…Who do you think you are?” Si Lingyou sneered at Pan Xing, her eyes brimming with disdain and jealousy, almost tangible. “If you can pull that off, that would be the real joke!”

“Cut!”

Si Lingyou froze, nervously looking at Yu Qingjia. She thought she’d restrained herself well. Was she really getting kicked out?

Yu Qingjia’s deep gaze met hers, her tone flat. “Come here. Look.”

Her tone made Si Lingyou uneasy. She had to admit, Yu Qingjia wasn’t always the warm, approachable figure she seemed. When expressionless, she exuded a pressure that unnerved even the most confident.

Si Lingyou trudged to the monitor, feeling like a student facing a stern principal, certain Yu Qingjia would coldly tell her to pack up. Her small face paled as she reached her side.

Yu Qingjia nodded towards the monitor. Like a scolded student, Si Lingyou obediently watched.

The playback showed her scene with Pan Xing. In close-up, her expressions were magnified. Initially, she thought she’d done well, but in the over-shoulder shot with Pan Xing, her performance felt shallow, even exaggerated.

Her heart sank. No way this would pass.

Watching Si Lingyou’s expression, Yu Qingjia decided it was enough. “Better than before.”

Si Lingyou exhaled, but Yu Qingjia added, “You can see this take’s unusable.”

“…I’m sorry.” Si Lingyou’s mood plummeted. “I—”

“Don’t apologize to me. You’re wasting everyone’s time.” Yu Qingjia cut her off. Si Lingyou bit her lip, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Yu Qingjia sighed. “Last chance. One more failure, and you’re gone.”

Si Lingyou’s eyes lit up, her tone resolute. “I’ll do better.”

Yu Qingjia waved her off without a word.

This girl had it too easy growing up, her one rebellion indulged by her parents. Without some pressure, she’d get too cocky.

“All teams, prep again. Sorry for the trouble.”

At Yu Qingjia’s words, the crew moved swiftly.

Si Lingyou’s manager hurried to distribute water and snacks, smoothing things over with apologies. Even if the crew was frustrated, the manager’s humility softened them. Filming often hit snags, it was just part of the job. Everyone was just trying to make a living.

While preparations resumed, Pan Xing approached Yu Qingjia again. “Knew you wouldn’t really kick her out.”

Yu Qingjia didn’t turn. “I’m giving her a chance. One more fail, and she’s out—or I am.”

“No way, Director Yu! If you go, what happens to the crew?” Pan Xing teased dramatically, then laughed. “You’re acting like Big Sister, you know?”

Yu Qingjia knew she meant Yu Qingyi disciplining the original host. Helplessly, she said, “If I’d known she’d be this much trouble, I wouldn’t have signed her.”

Who needs this kind of headache?

Pan Xing grinned mischievously. “Big Sister Yu said anyone can be a great actor, it’s up to the director to teach them.”

That was something Yu Qingjia told the Star Making Plan cast.

Amused by the jab, she huffed. “Guess I’m a good teacher then.”

Pan Xing piled on the flattery. “Absolutely, Director Yu’s so talented, destined to be a big-shot director.”

A blessing from the story’s heroine. Yu Qingjia smiled. “Thanks for the jinx.”

…

Another half-hour later, Si Lingyou’s performance finally clicked—not outstanding, but decent enough.

“Cut.”

Yu Qingjia raised her voice.

Hearing her, Si Lingyou held her breath. Pan Xing, noticing, found it amusing.

“Sound team?”

“No issues.”

Yu Qingjia glanced at Si Lingyou. “This take has passed. Prepare for the next.”

“Phew…” Si Lingyou exhaled, relieved.

Pan Xing chuckled, saying, “Great job. Keep it up.”

Si Lingyou nodded, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

She knew she could do it!

Seeing her reaction, Yu Qingjia rolled her eyes inwardly. The girl got cocky after one good take, she needed more grinding.

The collaboration between Mingyue and Xinghui progressed steadily. After the initial high-level meeting, others gradually left the conference room, but Yu Qingyi stayed, her gaze fixed on Ming Yin, calm and rational.

Sensing she had something to say, Ming Yin sent her assistant out and sat opposite Yu Qingyi.

“You and Xiao Jia… what’s really going on?”

Yu Qingyi felt compelled to ask. Even if her bratty sister claimed they were just friends, Ming Yin’s support for Star Making Plan’s box office and Xiao Jia staying over at her place weren’t lost on her. As the older sister, she had to look out for her, especially now that Xiao Jia seemed more mature. She needed to be even more vigilant.

Ming Yin caught her implication, slightly surprised but composed, considering Yu Qingjia’s personality disorder.

If she had a sister like that, she’d be extra protective too.

Thinking of Yu Qingjia’s vibrant face, Ming Yin’s dark eyes softened. Yu Qingyi, noticing, scoffed inwardly.

Her sister tried to fool her, claiming no marriage plans, when Ming Yin clearly had feelings.

“If you really like Xiao Jia, cut ties with your past.” Yu Qingyi said coldly, dropping her earlier courtesy. “She’s insecure about her personality disorder. If you’re serious, be sincere.”

Insecure?

Ming Yin was stunned, recalling Yu Qingjia’s reaction to being the ideal candidate, and understood.

Yu Qingjia was undeniably exceptional, her disorder barely a flaw.

Ming Yin shifted gears. “I don’t have anyone I like. I’ve explained Zhizhi’s situation to her.”

Yu Qingyi raised a brow, appreciating her candor, and warmed to her slightly. “That’s between you two, I won’t meddle. But if you want to be with her, treat her well.”

Ming Yin nodded slightly. “I understand.”

Satisfied, Yu Qingyi looked away. As a sister, she couldn’t interfere too much in Xiao Jia’s love life, but Ming Yin’s sincerity and care were enough.

…

Since Yu Qingjia’s “pack up and leave” threat, Si Lingyou’s attitude improved markedly. Her performances grew smoother and more natural, boosting filming efficiency. Even Pan Xing was impressed, and her manager’s smiles grew broader.

“Cut.” Yu Qingjia said, reviewing the monitor, then asked the sound team, “Any issues?”

Getting negative, she announced, “This take has passed. Prepare for the next.”

The crew swiftly shifted to the next setup.

Filming was over halfway done, but earlier delays meant they had to catch up. Prolonged shoots increased costs, and rising temperatures would make work grueling.

Yu Qingjia aimed to speed up, targeting a summer or National Day release. The crew was busy, actors diving deep into scripts to nail scenes within three takes, as resets took half an hour.

By the end of each day, Yu Qingjia was so exhausted she collapsed into bed, barely noticing time or seasons passing except for her thinning wardrobe.

After another grueling shoot, Yu Qingjia, drained, flopped onto her bed post-dinner. Her phone buzzed at the foot of the bed.

Grabbing it, she was surprised to see Ming Yin requesting a video call.

Her first video call from Ming Yin. Before her brain caught up, her body was already up, heading to the mirror. Checking her reflection, she decided she looked presentable, despite slightly messy hair from lying down.

Smoothing her hair, she accepted the call. The moment it connected, a chubby, fair face filled the screen, big black eyes lighting up. “It’s Xiao Yu!”

“Xiao Lizhi?”

Yu Qingjia beamed, trying to spot Ming Yin, but Zhizhi’s face, too close, dominated the screen, her round cheeks all she could see.

“Xiao Yu, I missed you!” Zhizhi chirped, puckering her lips for a screen kiss.

Yu Qingjia melted. The next second, the camera pulled back as Zhizhi reached out anxiously. Ming Yin, behind her, held the tablet higher, saying flatly, “Too close—it’s bad for your eyes.”

At Ming Yin’s words, Zhizhi lowered her hands, grinning at the screen, showing tiny white teeth, wiggling happily.

Ming Yin looked unchanged, wearing matching sunflower pajamas with Zhizhi, the youthful style softening her usual demeanor.

Yu Qingjia’s face broke into a smile. “Evening!”

“Evening, Xiao Yu!”

Zhizhi waved excitedly.

If she were there, Zhizhi would probably bounce over for a hug, Yu Qingjia thought.

Noticing she was being ignored, Ming Yin spoke. “Zhizhi, why did you want to call Xiao Yu?”

Reminded, Zhizhi looked eagerly at Yu Qingjia. “My birthday’s coming! Can you come to my party, Xiao Yu?”

Birthday?

Swamped with filming, Yu Qingjia had lost track of time, sleeping the moment she got home. Zhizhi’s reminder made her realize her father’s birthday was near too.

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

“May 3rd! I’m turning four!” Zhizhi held up four chubby fingers.

Next Wednesday. Yu Qingjia calculated quickly, but before she could speak, Ming Yin said, “If the crew’s busy, don’t worry about it.”

Zhizhi’s face fell, but knowing work mattered, she didn’t fuss, saying softly, “Okay, work’s important. If Xiao Yu can’t come, next time then.”

Yu Qingjia’s heart softened, about to respond, when Ming Yin cut in. “Don’t force it. Work comes first.”

With that said, what could she say?

Slightly exasperated, Yu Qingjia said, “I’m thinking about Xiao Lizhi’s gift.”

Zhizhi’s eyes lit up, leaning closer, blocking Ming Yin again. “A gift from Xiao Yu?”

A slender hand reached from behind, pulling Zhizhi by her round belly. Ming Yin’s tone was stern. “Didn’t I say not to get too close? It’s bad for your eyes.”

Chastised, Zhizhi stuck out her tongue but grinned at Yu Qingjia. “I’ll wait for Xiao Yu’s gift!”

Her joyful antics made Yu Qingjia’s lips curve.

Ming Yin patted Zhizhi’s leg. “You’ve seen Xiao Yu. It’s bedtime.”

Zhizhi’s disappointment was palpable, but unsure how to protest, she kissed the screen. “I’m going to bed. Night, Xiao Yu.”

“Night, Xiao Lizhi.”

After saying good night, the call didn’t end. The screen shifted, and Yu Qingjia guessed Ming Yin was leaving the room.

Footsteps and a door closing sounded, followed by another. The camera stabilized, showing Ming Yin on a sofa, soft lighting casting a warm glow, softening her features. Her dark eyes held a captivating sheen.

Yu Qingjia sensed an odd tension, quelling her fluttering heart to make small talk. “How have you been? Busy with work?”

“Same as always.” Ming Yin seemed to catch her nervous dodge, a faint smile in her eyes. “But you, President Yu, complained you’re too busy to answer calls.”

Yu Qingyi was discussing this with Ming Yin?

Were they that close?

Distracted, Yu Qingjia said, “Her timing’s off. She always calls when I’m shooting or asleep.” Mentioning this, she recalled the name change, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I made a small tweak in the new film. If you’re free for the premiere, come check it out—it’s a bit of revenge for you.”

Ming Yin was surprised, chuckling softly. “If Director Yu says so, I’ll make time even if I’m swamped.”

Catching the teasing tone, Yu Qingjia played along, grinning. “This little surprise won’t waste your precious time.”

They laughed, then got serious.

“Shen Yiruo hasn’t bothered you again, has she?” Yu Qingjia’s expression sobered.

At the name, Ming Yin’s face showed disgust, her brows furrowing. “Not yet. After their last failure, they’re lying low. Plus—” A glint of schadenfreude crossed her eyes. “Shen Ru’s recent investment flopped. Shen Wende humiliated her at the board meeting, and Old Lady Shen’s unhappy with her. Wende’s gaining support.”

What a delightful surprise—Shen Ru, the story’s lead, failing an investment?

Yu Qingjia perked up. “That’s juicy!”

Ming Yin nodded slightly. “Thanks to you, Director Yu.”

Yu Qingjia blinked, confused. What did this have to do with her?

Seeing her puzzlement, Ming Yin didn’t tease. “Remember Shenji Entertainment’s film investment?”

Yu Qingjia’s eyes lit up, guessing. “They invested in films and lost big?”

Ming Yin smiled, confirming. “President Yu told me. Shen Ru, jealous of Star Making Plan’s returns, hired big-name directors, but their projects hit issues and stalled. They poured in money but haven’t recouped a dime.”

Yu Qingjia had expected this. She’d heard of an investor, clueless about films, giving full control to a director who made an indulgent art piece. The investor was stunned by the result, which tanked in three days and got rejected by festivals, bankrupting them. They later haunted the film city, hunting the director who conned them.

Hiring famed directors wasn’t a guarantee. Big names often chased artistic vision, ignoring commercial viability. Investors wanted profits; directors wanted art. Misaligned goals meant films often flopped.

But since it was Shen Ru who got burned, Yu Qingjia laughed unkindly. “Not everyone can pull that off.”

After chatting, Yu Qingjia’s exhaustion hit, her yawns barely suppressed.

Seeing her tired, red-rimmed eyes, Ming Yin’s lips curved. “It’s late. I won’t keep you for too long.”

Yu Qingjia blinked, her mind sluggish. “Uh, goodnight then?”

“Goodnight.”

Sweet dreams.