How To Deal With Being Transmigrated As The Scumbag Ex-Wife - Chapter 31

31: “This Isn’t Just for Xiao Lizhi, But for Yourself.”

Answering Ming Yin’s call, Yu Qingjia heard Xiao Lizhi’s teary voice, and her heart clenched. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

On the other end, Xiao Lizhi sniffled pitifully. “Yinyin won’t let me play with you, but I miss you.”

“…”

Yu Qingjia felt relieved yet pained.

This was between her and Ming Yin. She’d tried to keep Xiao Lizhi out of it, but now the girl was the one hurting.

Hearing no response, Xiao Lizhi’s tone grew anxious. “Did you and Yinyin fight? Please forgive her, she’s so silly.”

Yu Qingjia, weighed down by her thoughts, nearly laughed at the childish voice. Shifting the topic, she asked, “How’d you get Mommy’s phone? Did she let you call?”

From the other end came Ming Yin’s faint call of “Zhizhi,” followed by the sound of Xiao Lizhi running and objects rustling. She whispered, “No, I took it when Yinyin wasn’t looking. She’s looking for me now—if she finds me, she’ll be mad.”

“Hm…” Yu Qingjia murmured, feeling a bit lost.

“Please forgive her, okay?” Xiao Lizhi pleaded, on the verge of tears again. “Xiao Yu—”

“I…”

Before Yu Qingjia could find the right words, Xiao Lizhi gasped, and the call abruptly ended.

Ming Yin wouldn’t take it out on her, would she?

The thought unsettled Yu Qingjia. After a moment, she told the driver, “Head to Mingyue Building.”

Some things needed to be cleared up, dragging it out wasn’t good.

…

In the president’s office, a standoff unfolded.

Zhizhi, though intimidated, hid the phone behind her back, puffing out her chest, her eyes red as she stared at Ming Yin, cheeks puffed up, refusing to hand it over.

Ming Yin sighed inwardly and held out her hand. “Give Mommy the phone.”

Zhizhi didn’t answer, instead asking, “Did you do something to make Xiao Yu mad? Apologize to her!”

Ming Yin felt helpless. “Why isn’t it her making me mad?”

“Because you’re fiercer than Xiao Yu.” Zhizhi said, mimicking a stern face. “Xiao Yu’s so considerate, she wouldn’t upset anyone.”

Before, she’d called her gentle and pretty—now she was less considerate and super fierce compared to Xiao Yu?

Ming Yin was almost exasperated by her own daughter but still scooped her up, saying gently, “I didn’t make her mad.”

She had just been too hasty, doing something foolish.

Zhizhi eyed her suspiciously, like a chubby little fox. “But you won’t let me play with Xiao Yu.”

Kissing her plump cheek, Ming Yin reached behind her, easily retrieving the phone. Without it, Zhizhi wrapped her arms around Ming Yin’s neck, planting a sweet kiss. “Mommy~”

Seeing her attempt to charm, Ming Yin tapped her nose. “Yes, Mommy was wrong for stopping you from finding Xiao Yu.”

Zhizhi’s eyes lit up, and she kissed Ming Yin’s cheek hard. “I knew Yinyin was the best!”

Ming Yin teased, “Better than Xiao Yu?”

Zhizhi giggled, shouting, “Yinyin’s the best, Xiao Yu’s second!”

What a sweet little bundle!

Ming Yin set Zhizhi on the sofa and checked the phone’s call log. Sure enough, the top entry was Yu Qingjia.

Zhizhi couldn’t even read her own name—how did she recognize Yu Qingjia’s, which was more complex?

Pinching her cheek, Ming Yin asked, “How did you know it was Xiao Yu?”

Her phone also had Yu Qingyi’s contact.

“Xiao Yu’s name is the hardest!” Zhizhi pouted, accusingly. “Copying it made my hand tired.”

Ming Yin paused, then asked, “Can you write Mommy’s name?”

“Yup!” Zhizhi raised her hand eagerly. “I can! I copied them together!”

Ming Yin kissed the top of her head, amused. “Good. Let’s eat soon, but practice your writing first.”

Back at her desk, Ming Yin got a message from the receptionist:

“Miss Yu Qingjia is here to see you.”

Though unexpected, it made sense.

No wonder Zhizhi adored her, she was truly gentle.

In the elevator, Yu Qingjia pondered what to say to Ming Yin. When the doors opened on her floor, she pushed aside her jumbled thoughts and stepped out.

At the office door, she knocked and entered.

Ming Yin was at her desk, working, while Xiao Lizhi—

—was hunched over the coffee table, scribbling.

Ming Yin glanced up, her expression natural. “You’re here. Let me finish this document, then we’ll eat.”

The casual response caught Yu Qingjia off guard, yet it felt right—this was Ming Yin’s style.

She quietly sighed in relief.

Hearing her, Xiao Lizhi looked up, her dark eyes sparkling. Dropping her pen, she ran to Yu Qingjia, bouncing and reaching for a hug. “Xiao Yu!”

Bending down, Yu Qingjia scooped up the soft bundle, smiling. “Are you hungry, Xiao Lizhi? Let’s eat soon.”

“Super hungry!” Xiao Lizhi clung to her, not mentioning the call, whining playfully, “Can I eat extra today?”

Yu Qingjia poked her soft, round tummy—such a great feel. “Ask Mommy.”

Xiao Lizhi had grown taller since they met, but her chubby face hadn’t changed.

Ming Yin glanced at her daughter, exasperated. “Not too much, it’s hard to digest at night.”

“Hmph!” Xiao Lizhi huffed, burying herself in Yu Qingjia’s arms.

Ming Yin looked surprised, catching Yu Qingjia stifling a laugh, her own eyes warming with amusement.

Sitting on the sofa with Xiao Lizhi, Yu Qingjia glanced at the writing board. The crooked characters were unmistakable: “Yu Qingjia,” “Ming Yin,” and “Xiao Lizhi,” with a small heart between “Yu Qingjia” and “Ming Yin.”

Seeing Yu Qingjia’s gaze, Xiao Lizhi hurriedly covered the board, panicking. “Don’t look, don’t look!”

The heart made Yu Qingjia’s feelings complex. Noticing her expression, Xiao Lizhi quickly erased it, saying, “I scribbled it—you didn’t see anything, okay?”

Seeing her anxious eyes, Yu Qingjia softened. “Yup, I saw nothing.”

Xiao Lizhi relaxed and resumed practicing.

…

After dinner, Xiao Lizhi climbed into the car, and Ming Yin buckled her seatbelt. Watching from the side, Yu Qingjia kept thinking about what to say to Ming Yin.

Closing the car door, Ming Yin didn’t head to her side but walked toward Yu Qingjia.

Seeing her intent to speak, Yu Qingjia pulled out two premiere tickets and handed them over. Ming Yin took them, and Yu Qingjia said, “As promised, a little surprise. Come if you have time.”

Glancing at the tickets—dated for next Monday, Ming Yin nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“About what we discussed the other day,” Ming Yin paused, then said generously, “If it’s troubling, pretend I never said it.”

Yu Qingjia chuckled. “As if it’s that easy to forget, I’m not a fish with a seven-second memory.”

She knew Ming Yin meant not to distance herself from Xiao Lizhi over this. It tugged at her heart, had Ming Yin ever considered herself?

Ming Yin’s expression turned serious. “Then I hope you’ll think it over. I wasn’t joking.”

Her deep, dark eyes made Yu Qingjia look away, clearing her throat. “Actually, I think you should consider yourself more.”

Ming Yin hadn’t expected this, her brows furrowing slightly. How had she not?

“You’ve done so much for Xiao Lizhi, but this isn’t just about her—it’s for you too.” Yu Qingjia said earnestly.

Xiao Lizhi’s reckless birth mother and Shen Yiruo caused the mess, yet Ming Yin bore it all, prioritizing Xiao Lizhi’s feelings when it concerned her own life.

Looking into Ming Yin’s dark eyes, Yu Qingjia said sincerely, “You carry too much. At least with a partner, I hope you’ll think of yourself. Xiao Lizhi will grow up, find love, and start her own family. The one who stays with you for life is your partner.”

Ming Yin froze. Everyone knew this, but Yu Qingjia was the first to say it to her. Her heart felt warm and slightly sour, like it had been soaked in bittersweet water.

She gazed deeply at Yu Qingjia, then smiled. “I think I like you even more now.”

Yu Qingjia’s heart skipped, and she shrugged helplessly. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Seeing her dodge, Ming Yin didn’t press that it wasn’t a joke, saying instead, “I’ll think it over.”

Yu Qingjia quietly sighed in relief, though a pang of regret lingered—if only…

No, don’t think about it.

Catching her expression, Ming Yin pursed her lips, hiding a slight smile. She stepped forward and hugged Yu Qingjia briefly.

A gentle, fragrant scent hit her, and Yu Qingjia stiffened as Ming Yin’s hair brushed her neck, tickling.

“Thanks. See you at the premiere.”

Winning the Sakura Award made Look Up the most anticipated film. When the premiere date was announced, reporters scrambled for tickets, knowing the high ratings from Yu Qingjia’s prior film channel interview meant exclusive premiere coverage would draw massive attention.

The premiere’s lineup included the Look Up crew, plus big-name Xinghui and Tianyue stars. Unlike the Star Making Plan’s mandated attendance, these stars came willingly.

Though Yu Qingjia didn’t win Best Director, Look Up took the festival’s top award. Who wouldn’t want to work with such a promising genius director?

Actors were plenty, but great directors were rare—they had to build ties with her.

At the Premiere Backstage

“Director Yu, lift your head a bit—wow, this look is perfect~”

Yu Qingjia was used to all sorts of people. The makeup artist’s flamboyant tone was partly for show, a work necessity.

She cooperated calmly. Hearing a commotion behind, someone said, “Sister Pan, here for Director Yu?”

Without looking up, Yu Qingjia opened her mouth slightly. “Something up?” Then she heard Pan Xing’s anxious tone. “I had something to tell you, but you’re probably busy.”

Sensing her tone, Yu Qingjia glanced at her. Despite the flawless makeup, Pan Xing’s tension was evident.

A Best Actress winner shouldn’t be this nervous over the crowd, something was wrong.

“If it’s not urgent, let’s talk after the premiere,” Yu Qingjia said.

Pan Xing hesitated but nodded. Seeing Yu Qingjia’s concerned gaze, she forced a smile, but her eyes betrayed panic.

Whatever spooked Pan Xing wasn’t simple.

…

At the Premiere

When Yu Qingjia appeared with the cast, waiting reporters aimed their cameras, eager for the Q&A session.

After the host warmed up the crowd, the much-awaited interview began—

Reporter A: “Director Yu, what’s your box office prediction for Look Up?”

Her last “quit if it doesn’t hit a billion” quip had paid off for them, and they weren’t letting this chance slip.

Knowing they wanted a sensational headline, Yu Qingjia didn’t need the buzz. Look Up’s box office wouldn’t surpass Star Making Plan—distributors estimated 800 million, boosted by the Sakura Award.

She thought, then said, “Maybe around 500 million.”

The room fell silent, then buzzed faintly.

What? It won the Sakura Award, the festival’s top prize, with rave reviews from foreign media and magazines. Why was Yu Qingjia so unconfident?

Reporter A pressed, “Does this mean you think audiences won’t like this kind of film?”

The question shifted the cast’s expressions—this was a trap, echoing Zhou Jin’s old Weibo claim that “low box office means people don’t get it.”

Yu Qingjia glanced at him calmly. “People go to theaters to relax and have fun. Look Up suits quiet, introspective moments. I believe everyone enjoyed the joy of solitary reflection.”

The cast, initially uneasy, relaxed, some smiling faintly.

Try to trap Director Yu? Keep dreaming.

The reporter wanted to push, but the mic was taken away.

The next reporter stood, and seeing his malicious gaze, Yu Qingjia sensed trouble.

Sure enough, Reporter B asked venomously, “Director Yu, you’ve collaborated with Pan Xing multiple times post-divorce. Rumors say she has dirt on you. Your thoughts?”

Normally, staff would cut the mic for such questions, citing a malfunction, and remove the reporter. But somehow, the sound stayed on.

The entire venue heard it clearly, a tense undercurrent stirring. One wrong move from Yu Qingjia or Pan Xing, and they’d be swept into controversy.

Pan Xing nearly rolled her eyes but restrained herself.

Yu Qingjia, cooler-headed, gave the reporter a chilly glance. “I’ll watch from my seat.”

The room: …???

Reporter B frowned, about to speak, but staff forcibly took his mic. As he tried to grab it back, Yu Qingjia spoke again. “I know what you want me to say, but sorry—Pan Xing and I are friends despite the divorce. I work with her because I admire her talent. We’ll keep collaborating.”

Pan Xing won Best Actress, a proof of her skill.

“Also,” Yu Qingjia’s expression cooled, “this is Look Up’s premiere. I won’t answer questions unrelated to the film.”

The troublemaking reporter was escorted out. Whispers filled the venue, and the host quickly shifted topics to calm the mood, skipping the Q&A to start screening Look Up.

As the film played, the room hushed.

When Look Up began, they realized Yu Qingjia wasn’t exaggerating. The opening pulled them into a bleak, oppressive world.

Even those disliking such heavy films were drawn in, following Pan Xing’s character, Lin Rui, as she faced trials chasing her dreams, seeing their own struggles in her.

When Si Lingyou’s Shen Yiruo sabotaged Lin Rui out of jealousy, some cursed aloud, breaking others’ immersion, though they were soon pulled back in.

When Si Lingyou’s character appeared, Ming Yin froze, then smiled faintly.

This was her “little surprise,” wasn’t it?

Hearing someone curse “Shen Yiruo,” Ming Yin realized her intent, her lips curving slightly.

A nearby viewer, furious at “Shen Yiruo,” saw Ming Yin smiling and found it baffling, scooting away.

This President Ming looked like a fairy but had such odd taste, laughing at that?

When the film ended, they emerged from that heavy, chaotic world.

Only then did they grasp Yu Qingjia’s words—Look Up was for introspective viewing, not casual entertainment, so its box office sales wouldn’t match Star Making Plan.

…

After the premiere, Yu Qingjia finally got a moment alone with Pan Xing.

“What’s going on?” She handed her a cup of tea. “You don’t look good.”

Pan Xing swallowed, hesitating. “I don’t know—maybe it’s my imagination, but I feel like someone’s been following me lately.”

A flash of realization hit Yu Qingjia, Shen Ru. She’d nearly forgotten this wildcard.

“Have you hired bodyguards?” she asked, then reconsidered. “Actually, let me arrange some for you.”

Shen Ru, the story’s protagonist, operated covertly. If Pan Xing’s bodyguards were Shen Ru’s plants, it’d be like sending a sheep to a tiger.

Pan Xing’s expression eased, and she exhaled. “I was worried you’d think I was paranoid.”

“If it was paranoia, you wouldn’t have waited until now,” Yu Qingjia said, giving her a reassuring look. “Being cautious isn’t bad.”

Pan Xing smiled, pressing her forehead. “Thanks.”

Yu Qingjia teased, “No need. You’re the lead actress—if something happens, where do I find another?”

Though joking, it warmed Pan Xing’s heart.

Netizens eagerly awaiting Look Up’s premiere checked media reports and reviews, wondering if Yu Qingjia would make another bold claim. Instead, they saw headlines—

“Look Up’s Box Office Doubts: Party Fun or Solitary Reflection?”

“Premiere Clash: Yu Qingjia Addresses Cheating Rumors”

“What Does a Sakura Award-Winning Look Up Really Say?”

“Look Up: A Masterpiece Beyond Star-Making, Yet Unlikely to Win Audiences”

…

Praising Look Up as great while predicting low box office left netizens thinking the media was schizophrenic. “Unlikely to win audiences”? They were ready to buy tickets, yet before release, they were deemed uninterested?

This sparked defiance. The more the media claimed audiences wouldn’t like it, the more they wanted to see what this “contradictory” film was about.