How To Deal With Being Transmigrated As The Scumbag Ex-Wife - Chapter 41

41: Nominated for the Jinhua Award

Discovering that Ming Yin visited the Eternal Life set, netizens sensed something juicy.

“Second Princess was photographed with a lover and a kid, and Ming Yin has a daughter. The affair partner decoded!”

“Kinda disappointed. Why would Ming Yin get involved with a married woman like Yu Qingjia?”

“Get lost, upstairs. Yu Qingjia’s been divorced for over a year. Even Pan Xing didn’t complain, and you’re playing moral police? Disgusting.”

“God-tier visuals, I’m sold! Just for their looks, Ming Yin and the Second Princess are a perfect match!!!”

With Ming Yin’s name in the mix, netizens shifted from Yu Qingjia’s clash with Zhao Xian to the low-profile, accomplished Mingyue CEO. Curious fans searched Ming Yin’s profile, stumbling upon her finance magazine cover, and were floored by her stunning appearance.

After the awe, they recalled Shenji CEO Shen Ru’s recent scandal. Both young, beautiful, and successful CEOs, netizens couldn’t resist comparing them.

“One’s into incest, the other’s chasing a married woman. Tsk, what’s wrong with the world? I’m still single!”

“Is it even an affair? The Second Princess didn’t betray Pan Xing. They just fell out of love. How’s this tied to Ming Yin?”

“Still defending? Your idol admitted to wronging Pan Xing. Just take the hit instead of yapping. /Munching popcorn”

“Laughable. When did Yu Qingjia admit to cheating? She felt guilty about Pan Xing’s feelings. She’s got it rough, work and love life both slammed. Honestly, compared to Shen Ru’s mess, Ming Yin’s nothing.”

Shen Ru, nearly free from online scrutiny, was dragged back for another roasting. Some comments, dripping with moral superiority, trashed Ming Yin, even attacking her for being an unwed mother, filled with disdain.

Netizens found it odd, unwed mother? That’s outdated.

A market-savvy netizen clarified: Mingyue and Shenji had long been rivals. Shen Ru’s scandal tanked Shenji’s stock, and now with Ming Yin linked to Yu Qingjia, Shenji’s fans were smearing her to drag her down too.

Realization hit. No wonder the comments sounded so absurd, accusing Ming Yin of being a mistress and mocking her daughter. It was Shen Ru’s attempt to sink her rival, refusing to let Ming Yin stay clean while she was mired in scandal.

Gross!

Online sentiment swung toward Ming Yin. To counter “Shenji’s trolls,” comments grew heated, some even suggesting Yu Qingjia and Ming Yin were genuinely in love, rooting for them to be together.

The logic was simple: Yu Qingjia’s flash marriage and divorce with Pan Xing lasted barely six months. Now, long divorced, she hadn’t gone public with Ming Yin, yet they clearly stayed close. Wasn’t this proof Yu Qingjia learned from her past, treating relationships cautiously?

Watching the online buzz, Lin’s serious expression hid a gleeful glint. She patted the PR manager’s shoulder. “Well done. Keep monitoring.”

The manager promised to track online sentiment, vowing not to let Ming Yin down.

Assistant Lin nodded, leaving the PR department.

She sighed inwardly. Ming Yin was strategic, using Shen Ru’s scandal to step into the public eye, softening potential backlash from being linked to Yu Qingjia. Wasn’t that proof of genuine feelings?

…

Buried in the set, Yu Qingjia only learned of Zhao Xian’s critique later.

Hearing Chen Ruo’s suppressed anger, Yu Qingjia, distractedly watching the lighting crew, said casually, “Let him say what he wants. With Tianyue backing me, I can’t shake the ‘commercial’ label, nor do I care to. My work speaks for itself, not him.”

Chen Ruo was still furious, not just as Yu Qingjia’s agent but as a film fan. Zhao Xian’s words belittled her taste, as if her favorite films were worthless trash. Many commercial films had depth, yet they dismissed them outright.

“It’s common,” Yu Qingjia said with a low laugh. “They’ve got a bit of that artsy superiority. Zhao Xian’s talent, he can afford it. But demanding everyone follow suit is harmful.”

Simple: not everyone could make deep, artistic films. Most ended up as unscreenable garbage. Audiences often wanted fun. If foreign blockbusters dominated, domestic films would be crushed, stunting the industry. In extreme cases, filmmakers might have to switch careers or starve.

Commercial films could counter foreign competition, funding the industry and giving art films room to grow.

Chen Ruo knew she shouldn’t vent to Yu Qingjia. Her calm words eased her anger. Thinking of something else, she chuckled, “Guess what? Online, everyone’s rooting for you and Ming Yin.”

Yu Qingjia’s hand shook, nearly dropping her phone.

The lighting tech glanced curiously. Yu Qingjia waved it off, stepping aside to take the call, her tone urgent. “What’s going on?”

Chen Ruo explained the situation. Yu Qingjia marveled at the twist but grew suspicious—

Was Ming Yin’s appearance in the footage intentional?

If so, the subsequent online shift might be her doing.

Yu Qingjia’s feelings were complex. She’d need to reassess their boundaries.

She liked Ming Yin but knew what was appropriate. The crew’s misunderstanding was fine—explaining to them would be awkward—but if everyone believed it, she had to clarify.

After hanging up, she checked Weibo. As expected, her comment section was flooded with talk of her and Ming Yin, ignoring her past “affair” and cheering their “relationship.”

The comments felt strange. Finding the interview video, she skipped to the mentioned timestamp. At the frame’s corner, someone appeared, head down, then glanced at the camera, quickly retreating upon realizing they were in shot.

Studying the footage, Yu Qingjia spotted a pink curve—likely Xiao Lizhi. Ming Yin probably pulled her back to avoid the camera, accidentally stepping into frame herself.

Her earlier suspicions were a misunderstanding.

Annoyed, she ruffled her hair, pondering how to clarify publicly when Chen Xuan called, “Director Yu, we’re ready.”

Sighing, she pocketed her phone, accidentally liking the video. She quickly retracted it, locked her phone, and hurried over.

Unbeknownst to her, the video’s title was “Ming Yin Visits Yu Qingjia’s Set, Spotted Together in Japan, Possibly Long-Time Lovers.”

Netizens noticed “Yu Qingjia liked this post” before she retracted it.

Netizens: ???

Was this the idol confirming it?

Fans, just starting to ship them, were ecstatic—their ship was real!

Veteran gossipers, skilled at screenshots, captured it before the like vanished.

Within half an hour, the news of Yu Qingjia liking the suggestive post spread, cementing Ming Yin as her girlfriend.

When Yu Qingjia wrapped the morning shoot and checked her phone to contact Ming Yin for a clarification, she saw missed calls from Chen Ruo, Yu Qingyi, and even her parents.

Filming required phones on silent to avoid disrupting takes or breaking actors’ focus.

About to return calls, she saw a news alert:

“Yu Qingjia Confirms Relationship with Ming Yin, Marriage Likely Soon”

Yu Qingjia: ???

What? She was just busy all morning, how did this happen?

When did she confirm anything? Marriage with Ming Yin?

Clicking the gossip article, she was thunderstruck. It highlighted that she liked the post about Ming Yin’s set visit and their Japan outing. Realizing it was the video she watched, she recalled accidentally liking it.

She wanted to slap herself. How could she forget to switch accounts? She used her official account for posts and a private one for browsing—basic protocol, and she blew it!

Staring at her phone, her appetite gone, she poked at her rice. A shadow fell over the table. Xiao Shao held out her phone. “Chen Ruo’s looking for you.”

Taking it, Yu Qingjia sighed. “What’s up?”

Chen Ruo cut to the chase. “You and President Ming decided?”

“…It’s a misunderstanding,” Yu Qingjia said weakly. “I was watching the video and accidentally liked it.”

Chen Ruo paused, then asked, “What’s your relationship with her?”

“Friends.” Yu Qingjia said, pinching her nose. “Her daughter likes me. We’re busy, so the visit was to catch up.”

Chen Ruo sighed through the phone. “Alright. Either clarify with Ming Yin or ignore the rumors.”

“My advice? Don’t bother,” she continued steadily. “The ‘slip’ excuse is tired. Clarifying might seem like you’re toying with fans. People support you two. With Ming Yin’s low profile, it won’t hurt your career. Friendship lasts longer than romance, and it clears your ‘cheating’ stain.”

Her logic was sound, but Yu Qingjia felt it was playing with fire.

Sighing deeply, she ruffled her hair. “I’ll talk to Ming Yin.”

Returning the phone to Xiao Shao’s, she messaged Ming Yin. With her busy schedule, a call might not connect. She needed to confirm Ming Yin’s availability.

Tossing her phone aside, with afternoon shoots looming, she forced herself to eat lunch.

Ming Yin saw Yu Qingjia’s message after a meeting, assuming it was about the online buzz. Crafting her response, she replied.

Soon, her phone rang.

Before she could speak, Yu Qingjia’s dejected voice came. “I did something stupid. I’m so sorry.”

Sensing it wasn’t what she expected, Ming Yin asked, “I was in a meeting. What happened?”

Yu Qingjia cleared her throat, explaining her accidental like, her voice growing guiltier.

Ming Yin smiled, keeping her tone neutral. “Will it affect your work?”

Hearing her concern, Yu Qingjia felt ashamed for suspecting her. Rubbing her forehead, she said, “Probably not. The issue is how to clarify.”

Ming Yin’s eyes dimmed, her voice steady. “How do you want to clarify? I’ll cooperate.”

Yu Qingjia faltered. She hadn’t figured it out. A friendly Weibo post might seem like a cover-up, especially after being photographed with Zhizhi and Ming Yin in Japan, fueling ambiguity.

The simplest clarification was one of them announcing a partner.

That’s why Chen Ruo suggested doing nothing.

Yu Qingjia gave a wry smile. “I haven’t thought of how to clarify.”

“Then don’t.” Ming Yin said calmly. “Neither confirm nor deny. It’s best for both of us.”

Her words stirred complex feelings in Yu Qingjia. She admired Ming Yin and didn’t want complications to taint their bond. Before she could speak, Ming Yin’s tone grew heavy. “They’re pushing me to find an ally.”

Yu Qingjia instantly understood, ally meant marriage.

Biting her lip, she hoped Ming Yin could find true love, a soulmate. Forcing a lighter tone, she said, “Maybe you’ll find true love?” But she knew the odds were slim.

Ming Yin chuckled, deepening Yu Qingjia’s unease. “I know them too well. If there was true love, I wouldn’t have waited this long.”

Yu Qingjia bit her tongue, the sting sharpening her mind. “What’s your plan? About the ally.”

Ming Yin’s voice softened. “I don’t want it, but some things happen regardless.”

Even a fool could hear her meaning. “You want my help?”

Unexpectedly, Ming Yin laughed. “No need for such a sacrifice. Just don’t clarify.”

Yu Qingjia, expecting complexity, laughed too, teasing, “How’s that a sacrifice?” Regretting the flirty tone, she pinched herself.

Ming Yin didn’t dwell, saying gently, “Then let’s not clarify.”

With the conversation there, Yu Qingjia couldn’t argue, hoping Ming Yin would find a suitable partner soon.

After hanging up, Ming Yin stared at her phone until it locked. Snapping out of it, she set it down, rubbing her brow.

…

With their agreement, they didn’t clarify, and the rumors gradually faded.

As Eternal Life’s filming wrapped after four months, actors left, and the Spring Festival neared—Yu Qingjia’s second in this world.

The crew got a day off for the holiday, resuming after.

At home, Yu Qingjia faced her mother’s affection, then questions about Ming Yin.

“You didn’t clarify,” Mrs. Yu frowned. “Are you with Ming Yin?”

Choking on her soup, Yu Qingjia swallowed. “No, it was an accident. I liked that post by mistake.”

Mrs. Yu’s face showed disappointment, swatting her hand. “All you do is work! Always filming. Next time, I’ll tell your sister not to fund you.”

Yu Qingjia laughed helplessly. She seemed busy but had breaks. After Eternal Life, she planned to rest. “It’s fine. My work’s not that tiring. I’ll rest after this.”

Mr. Yu, reading news, chimed in, “That commercial vs. art film stuff you said in the interview? It’s got potential.”

Excited, Yu Qingjia replied, “Of course. Younger directors are open, but the older generation’s too influenced. They see commercial films as an insult.”

Mr. Yu stroked his chin. “Your sister mentioned Eternal Life. If you pull it off, you’re Tianyue’s hero.”

Sipping soup, Yu Qingjia said, “It’s a huge investment. No guarantees. Don’t expect too much.”

Mrs. Yu, annoyed at their work talk, cut in, “Can’t you stop working at home? Not enough all year?”

Mr. Yu and Yu Qingjia shared a knowing smile, dropping the topic.

…

With Yu Qingyi abroad for business, it was just Yu Qingjia and her parents. The day felt like any other. Sitting on the porch, Yu Qingjia stared at the garden.

Mrs. Yu, coming downstairs, frowned at her in pajamas. “Still in sleepwear? Change!”

“Hm?” Yu Qingjia glanced at her robe, fine for home. “Are guests coming?”

Mrs. Yu smiled. “No.”

Yu Qingjia lazily turned back to the garden. “What’s wrong with this at home?”

Mrs. Yu’s tone was sly. “Fine, wear it. Don’t blame me later.”

Puzzled, Yu Qingjia looked at her mother, now sipping tea and flipping through a magazine.

Before she could ask, Mr. Yu rushed downstairs. “Honey, when are Ming Yin and Zhizhi coming?”

Yu Qingjia’s gaze snapped to her mother, who rolled her eyes. “Zhizhi’s my granddaughter, not a guest.”

Yu Qingjia laughed, exasperated. Knowing her mother’s stubbornness, she asked, “Why did you invite them?”

Setting down her cup, Mrs. Yu said seriously, “Ming Yin’s parents aren’t around, and Zhizhi’s so lively. Are you just gonna leave them alone for the holiday?”

Fair point. Yu Qingjia ruffled her messy hair, heading upstairs.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Yu asked.

“Changing!”

…

Before noon, Ming Yin arrived with Zhizhi, bearing gifts.

After chatting with Mrs. Yu, who happily kissed Zhizhi, Yu Qingjia greeted Ming Yin, and they sat, chatting casually.

“Hope this invite didn’t trouble you.” Yu Qingjia said, glancing at her parents feeding Zhizhi, her smile uncontainable.

Ming Yin, sipping tea, teased, “How do you know I didn’t want to come?” Her clear voice held playful amusement.

Yu Qingjia held her cup, its warmth seeping into her palm. Noticing Ming Yin looked thinner, she said, “So busy? You’ve lost weight.”

“It’s fine. Just no appetite lately.” Ming Yin replied, her eyes lowering. Steam rose from her cup, veiling her dark lashes, adding a fragile softness.

Her fingers whitened on the cup, the heat stinging until Yu Qingjia snapped out of her reverie. Switching hands, she asked, “Something bothering you?”

Ming Yin’s lashes trembled, a soft smile forming. “Nothing. Just the cold weather.”

Catching her mood shift, Yu Qingjia didn’t press, joking, “I’ve only heard cold weather makes you eat more.”

Ming Yin pursed her lips, silent.

Yu Qingjia’s smile faded. Ming Yin might want her to probe, but…

As if unaware, Ming Yin gazed at the garden, her eyes lost, like a child adrift in a rainy night.

The look reminded Yu Qingjia of home, dampening her mood. Was she truly stuck here?

Ming Yin, stealing glances, sensed her sudden melancholy, her heart tightening.

Why did Yu Qingjia feel so distant in her own home?

Zhizhi’s giggles echoed from the living room. Yu Qingjia looked over, eyes welling at the sight of her parents.

Blinking back tears, she shook off her sorrow and asked Ming Yin softly, “Tell me, maybe I can help?”

Ming Yin laughed, her eyes teasing. “You’re too caring.” A hint of vulnerability, and Yu Qingjia dropped her friend-boundary stance.

Caught off guard, Yu Qingjia said helplessly, “I’m a director. I can spot real from fake.”

Ming Yin smiled, her eyes curving, clearly in a good mood.

“So you’re happy now?” Yu Qingjia sighed faintly, her heaviness easing.

Ming Yin shook her head, looking pointedly. “The one who’s down isn’t me.”

Catching her meaning, Yu Qingjia dodged, smiling. “The crew only gets one day off for the Spring Festival. I’m the director, and they treat me like this.”

Ming Yin’s eyes darkened, gazing silently without responding.

Pretending not to notice, Yu Qingjia continued, “Compared to my sister, I’m lucky to get a day off, right?”

Seeing her forced smile, Ming Yin lowered her gaze, chuckling softly after a pause. “Pretty lucky.”

Yu Qingjia relaxed, tossing out another topic. Ming Yin followed naturally, both avoiding earlier tensions, their vibe subtle yet harmonious.

After four months, Eternal Life wrapped. At the wrap party, departing actors returned to celebrate, including Mo Lan.

Seeing Mo Lan again, Yu Qingjia noticed she seemed more authentic—not that she was ever fake, but her past perfection felt robotic. Now, she showed lively warmth.

Yu Qingjia wasn’t sure if this was tied to Yu Qingyi, but she hoped her sister stayed rational with Mo Lan. She’d rather Yu Qingyi be a player than be used.

After the party, Yu Qingjia took the film to Digital Light for post-production VFX. Familiar with VFX blockbusters, she knew it wasn’t just keying and compositing but involved modeling, lighting, rendering, color grading, and more.

During prep, she’d had the art team design models and textures, which Digital Light built into 3D assets, saving time. Still, rendering for Eternal Life would take a year, with VFX costs—especially labor—dominating the budget.

In post-production, Yu Qingjia’s workload lightened. She only needed to review VFX samples and give feedback until completion.

Before she could rest, she was notified to attend the Jinhua Award for Chinese-language films. Look Up was nominated for six awards, including Best Director.

The Jinhua Award, one of China’s top three film awards, was co-hosted by the Film Association and literary arts circles, a domestic authority.

Zhao Xian, who criticized Yu Qingjia, had won Best Director multiple times and a lifetime achievement award, understandable given his Eurasia Film Festival wins and jury role.

Star Making Plan Project and Look Up fell within the eligibility period, but only Look Up qualified.

Yu Qingjia didn’t care much about winning. The Jinhua Award wasn’t purely artistic, having awarded dual winners before, losing its original purity. She valued the audience-voted Haitang Award more, but it alternated with Jinhua, so she’d wait until next year.

With their box office success, she was confident one film would be nominated, unsure which.

When the Jinhua nominees were announced, online speculation about winners—like Best Feature, Best Actor, and Best Actress—began. Netizens unanimously agreed Yu Qingjia would take Best Director.

Look Up’s shine was undeniable, sweeping the Kyoto Film Awards and topping August’s box office, outclassing all nominees. She was a step from Best Director.

Surprisingly, Zhou Jin was also nominated for February 19’s “Special Attention Award,” a fair nod.

Pan Xing and Ke Shi were nominated for Best Actress and Best Actor, with Pan Xing, a Kyoto Film Festival Best Actress winner, favored to win.

At the news, the Look Up team reunited. Pan Xing and Ke Shi had changed noticeably, especially Pan Xing, now more composed. Star Making Plan and Look Up brought her fame, and she was savoring the spotlight.

Pan Xing smiled. “Congrats in advance for Best Director, Director Yu.”

Yu Qingjia waved it off. “Too early to say. They might not give it to me.”

Zhao Xian, a Jinhua favorite, had criticized her commercialism, a view shared by many industry insiders. Reviewing past Jinhua Best Director winners, she noted their preference for composition, lighting, and cinematography—aligned with the Eurasia Film Festival.

She’d seen the other nominees’ films and believed her craft was unmatched, but she wouldn’t bet on winning.

Ke Shi countered seriously, “I think you’ll get it. But if you’d return the trophy you owe me, that’d be even better.”

He meant the trophy Yu Qingjia promised at the film festival. She feigned exasperation. “Look at you, obsessed with a trophy’s worth. I’ll make you one.”

Ke Shi grinned. “Deal! I’ve waited half a year. If you don’t deliver it, I’m camping at your place.”
The leads bantered, rekindling their set camaraderie.

On March 11 evening, Yu Qingjia led the Look Up team down the red carpet, including Pan Xing, Ke Shi, and Si Lingyou, among others.

The Jinhua Awards were live-streamed. As Yu Qingjia and the team appeared, bullet comments flooded the screen, covering it entirely.

“It’s Yu Qingjia! The Look Up team is here!”