How To Deal With Being Transmigrated As The Scumbag Ex-Wife - Chapter 40

40: Eternal Life Interview and Set Visit…

After scheduling Ming Yin’s set visit, Yu Qingjia chose a day with a lighter shooting schedule. She couldn’t just let Ming Yin “watch” her film—catching up was the priority, especially with an energetic child like Xiao Lizhi.

On the day of Ming Yin’s visit, a film column’s interview team arrived early at the Eternal Life set.

While guiding the actors’ emotions, Yu Qingjia was alerted by the reporters. Seeing the film column’s logo on the microphone, she paused, thoughtful.

The reporter’s eyes lit up upon spotting her, approaching quickly. “Hello, Director Yu! We’re from the film column. Can we interview you?”

Yu Qingjia’s first exclusive interview was with them. With some time to spare, she agreed, “Sure, but we’re tight on shooting today. Please keep it brief.”

Thrilled she consented, the reporter nodded eagerly. “No problem.” Scanning the warehouse set, he asked, “Mind if our crew films this for broadcast? It’s the first domestic VFX blockbuster, and we’d love to document the process.”

The set used extensive green screens and wirework—common techniques, nothing secret.

“No problem.” Yu Qingjia nodded.

Her quick agreement warmed the reporter’s smile. Without further ado, he signaled the cinematographer to start filming.

After focusing, the reporter dove in: “I heard Eternal Life is a VFX blockbuster adapting mythology. Can you share which myth?”

Yu Qingjia pondered briefly. “It’s not a direct adaptation. It borrows the worldview of mythological stories.”

The reporter didn’t quite grasp the difference but noticed the actors’ varied costumes—Tang Jin in modern attire, Shu Qing in ancient garb, practicing fight choreography under the stunt coordinator.

He asked, “The actors’ costumes span different eras. Is this a time-travel film like Dreams Across Three Lives?”

Dreams Across Three Lives followed a modern girl who time-traveled to the Han Dynasty, witnessing historical legends, falling for a deposed prince, and reuniting in the present after trials. Its novel time-travel element made it a box office champion despite mixed reviews, pioneering the genre.

“No,” Yu Qingjia denied. “I can’t say much, but the trailer will clarify. Eternal Life has no time-travel—it’s two parallel, interconnected worlds.”

The reporter felt a twinge of regret but knew to move on. “Audiences are curious. Star Making Plan and Look Up were so different, and now this leap to VFX. What inspired this shift?”

Yu Qingjia considered. “You’ve seen the Super Pet series, right? Classic VFX blockbusters. Hollywood’s mastered them, but domestically, we haven’t tried. I think our film industry should diversify. Directors should explore all genres, not just chase artistic depth.”

Her words surprised the reporter. In the industry, this sounded like a cash grab, cloaked in lofty ideals. Yet, he couldn’t deny her point—foreign blockbusters crushed domestic films, despite our good stories and directors. Shouldn’t we adapt?

“Our film industry isn’t mature, and VFX is one part. Some directors can skip it, but we shouldn’t stifle its growth,” she continued. “A healthy industry balances art films and commercial ones, not suppressing either.”

An industry with only art films or only commercial films was unhealthy. A thriving one offered diverse choices for audiences.

Influenced heavily by European cinema, domestic disdain for Hollywood’s commercial model mirrored her past world.

The reporter’s smile grew sincere. “Your words are insightful. Thank you for the interview, Director Yu. Wishing Eternal Life a box office hit!”

Yu Qingjia shook hands politely, letting her assistant escort them out. Watching the team leave, she turned to check the crew’s prep when a soft, squishy body hugged her leg. A sweet, childish voice chirped, “Xiao Yu’s awesome!”

Looking down, she saw Xiao Lizhi in a cat onesie, her big, clear eyes sparkling, her chubby face beaming.

“Xiao Lizhi’s here! Where’s Mommy?”

Yu Qingjia scooped her up, scanning around. A tall figure approached in a chic camel coat—Ming Yin, her elegance unmatched, a striking presence.

That presence now walked toward her, a faint fragrance trailing.

Yu Qingjia subtly inhaled, smiling naturally. “When did you arrive? I didn’t see you.”

“During your interview.” Ming Yin said, smiling, taking Zhizhi from her arms. Zhizhi pouted, unhappy, but stayed quiet, nestling in Ming Yin’s arms, gazing longingly at Yu Qingjia.

Seeing Zhizhi’s reluctant eyes, Yu Qingjia was about to offer to hold her when Ming Yin said calmly, “Xiao Yu’s got work. Didn’t we agree not to cling?”

Zhizhi rubbed against Ming Yin’s neck, whining playfully. Set down, Ming Yin said, “You’re too big now. Mommy can’t carry you.”

Zhizhi: ???

Yu Qingjia caught Ming Yin’s hint, not to coddle Zhizhi like before. But Zhizhi’s pitiful look, paired with Ming Yin’s composed expression, made her chuckle. “If we don’t hold her now, we won’t be able to later.”

Emboldened, Zhizhi straightened, glaring at Ming Yin. “Mommy’s mean!”

Ming Yin only ruffled her hair. Noticing someone hesitating behind Yu Qingjia, she said, “Looks like work’s calling. We won’t disturb you.”

Following her gaze, Yu Qingjia saw assistant director Chen Xuan, who seized her attention. “All teams ready, Director Yu. Check?”

The interview had delayed her, and though today’s schedule was light, tasks remained. With no time to chat, she told Ming Yin, “I’ve got to shoot. Feel free to look around with Xiao Lizhi or stay here.”

“Watch Xiao Yu work?” Zhizhi peered, her cat hat nearly falling off.

Yu Qingjia pinched its pink ears, laughing. Ming Yin’s gentle voice added, “We’ll stay. I’ve never seen a film shoot.”

As Xiao Shao returned from escorting the reporters, Yu Qingjia asked her to take Ming Yin and Zhizhi to the rest area, heading to the shooting zone.

After checking everything, Yu Qingjia sat by the monitor, eyeing the actors. “All teams, ready! Action!”

The clapperboard snapped, starting the next take.

…

Xiao Shao led Ming Yin to Yu Qingjia’s usual rest spot, typically unused as she rarely rested.

Thanking Xiao Shao politely, Ming Yin sat with Zhizhi, who curiously watched the green screen setup. About to speak, her mouth was pinched shut by Ming Yin’s fingers.

Zhizhi glared, but Ming Yin shushed her with a finger to her lips. Zhizhi nodded, promising silence. Ming Yin released her, tapping her mouth.

Grinning, Zhizhi looked at the set.

Ming Yin scanned the shoot—a VFX scene with actors gesturing at invisible foes, comical yet intriguing. Glancing at Zhizhi, whose cheeks puffed to stifle laughter, Ming Yin swiftly covered her mouth, muffling a giggle.

Realizing she needed to stay quiet, Zhizhi pursed her lips. Ming Yin let go, and Zhizhi clamped her hands over her mouth, her dark eyes sparkling with joy.

Seeing her, Ming Yin turned back to the set, her gaze landing on Yu Qingjia by the monitor.

It was her first time seeing Yu Qingjia at work—captivatingly commanding, a queen orchestrating the crew with calm authority. Different from their usual interactions, yet mesmerizing.

Staring at her near-perfect profile, Ming Yin bit her tongue lightly. As if sensing her, Yu Qingjia turned, their eyes meeting. Surprise flickered in her gaze, melting into a soft smile.

Ming Yin smiled back, but Yu Qingjia, flustered, looked away. Ming Yin’s smile faded, her lips pursing.

Zhizhi, meanwhile, hopped off the chair, darting toward Yu Qingjia with her cat ears bouncing.

Ming Yin’s eyes shifted, and she followed.

Catching the charging Zhizhi, Yu Qingjia laughed to the crew, “Not my kid, so no photos, please.”

The crew understood—industry folks often shielded their kids from the media to protect their privacy, especially since this wasn’t Yu Qingjia’s child.

“Don’t worry, Director Yu, we won’t shoot.”

“Wow, this little cat’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Is this President Ming’s daughter? So cute!”

Facing enthusiastic crew members, Zhizhi wasn’t shy, flashing sweet smiles and greeting politely. Charmed, they offered snacks, filling her onesie pockets until they bulged. Ming Yin, trailing behind, graciously bought drinks for the crew.

Ming Yin’s fame was less public than Shen Ru’s. If Shen Ru was Shenji’s face, Ming Yin was Mingyue’s behind-the-scenes power.

The crew had seen her photos online, assuming magazine shots were edited. Seeing her in person, her stunning elegance outshone actresses, her poised aura breathtaking.

Her daughter, resembling her, inherited that beauty.

But… Ming Yin visiting Yu Qingjia’s set with her daughter—

Wait!

If they recall correctly, Yu Qingjia was photographed with a lover at a film festival, with a child whose silhouette matched Zhizhi’s.

So, it was Ming Yin with her then?!

Realization hit, and their glances at Yu Qingjia and Ming Yin grew subtle, exchanging knowing looks with sly smiles.

“What’s so funny? Camera’s not even set.” Yu Qingjia said, frowning, catching a crew member’s suggestive grin. Noticing their odd looks, she opened her mouth to clarify but thought better of it.

Explaining she and Ming Yin weren’t lovers was foolish and awkward.

Pretending ignorance, she scanned them. “All set?”

The crew scattered, busying themselves.

Even with her mild demeanor, Yu Qingjia’s authority was undeniable. Her drama wasn’t for gawking.

Ming Yin lowered her eyes, hiding a smile, her lips curving slightly.

Zhizhi trailed Yu Qingjia like a shadow, watching her direct the set . At the rest area, her attention shifted to actresses in ancient costumes. “The sisters are so pretty!”

The actresses, smitten, wanted to cuddle her, making space. Zhizhi happily sat among them.

Seeing her blend in, Yu Qingjia relaxed, worried they’d find filming dull. Repeated takes were exhausting.

Noticing her relief, Ming Yin said, “First time seeing a film shoot. It’s interesting.”

“Glad it’s not boring,” Yu Qingjia smiled. “If this take passes, we’ll wrap for the morning. Let’s grab lunch.”

Ming Yin chuckled. “Not boring. Reports are far duller.”

Thinking of Yu Qingyi’s desk piled with reports, Yu Qingjia nodded, laughing.

Seeing her radiant smile, Ming Yin’s pupils shrank. Clenching her hand, her voice tightened. “How does VFX work? Just pasting images in post?”

At the industry question, Yu Qingjia explained simply, mindful Ming Yin wasn’t an insider.

But Ming Yin didn’t hear a word, her gaze drifting to Yu Qingjia’s moving lips, recalling the nearly three-hour video on her tablet. Her cheeks warmed.

Noticing Ming Yin’s flushed face, Yu Qingjia blanked, her mouth agape. A second later, realizing how silly she looked, she cleared her throat, looking away guiltily.

Also uneasy about the video, Ming Yin coughed, hearing Yu Qingjia do the same. Thinking she’d been caught staring, her heart raced, but seeing Yu Qingjia look elsewhere, her ears red, Ming Yin relaxed, a faint joy in her dark eyes.

Yu Qingjia felt something for her.

Oblivious to Ming Yin’s thoughts, Yu Qingjia clapped. “No resting! Let’s nail this take and eat!”

The film column’s Eternal Life interview caused a stir in the industry. As the reporter predicted, directors criticized Yu Qingjia’s “lofty” words as a cover for profiteering, calling her commercial film stance nonsense.

Renowned director Zhao Xian commented, “A film without artistic depth gaining popularity is concerning. Directors must guide audiences’ aesthetics and values. Yu Qingjia’s words are utterly irresponsible. I hope she realizes film is art, not a money-making tool, or her spark will fade.”

Zhao Xian, a Eurasia Film Festival grand prize winner, two-time best director, and frequent jury member, was a domestic champion of European cinema.

His critique, shared online, puzzled netizens until they watched the Eternal Life interview, sparking heated debates:

“Enough with ‘depth’ and ‘art.’ Since when is taste superior? I love popcorn blockbusters—what, no viewing freedom?”

“I’m with the Second Princess. The industry needs diversity. Audiences should choose, not have tastes forced on them.”

“Zhao’s right. Take Bi Yan’s youth trilogy, trash. It set a bad example for students. Directors should take responsibility!”

“Both make sense, but Zhao went too far. Second Princess’ films have solid values. Accusing her of profiteering? As if Zhao’s films are free. No one’s nobler. /Smile”

Online, fans of Second Princess and Zhao Xian clashed, neither side yielding.

Zhao Xian’s long career and accolades earned him devoted fans who looked down on Yu Qingjia, a mid-career upstart, despite her two films, urging her to respect veterans.

Second Princess fans were livid. If Chen Ruo hadn’t urged restraint, stressing Yu Qingjia’s dislike for online feuds and preference for proving herself, they’d have battled Zhao’s fans.

Amid the debate, a sharp-eyed netizen spotted something in the interview video.

“@LittleJiujiuV: What did I see?! At 5:21, isn’t that Mingyue Group’s CEO behind Director Yu?”

This sent Ming Yin’s admirers hunting. At 5:21, someone briefly entered the frame behind Yu Qingjia, quickly stepping out, but the HD lens caught her face clearly.

It was Ming Yin, Mingyue Group’s CEO.

So, President Ming visited the Eternal Life set?