Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 27

Shen Shuangjing pressed her slender legs together, inviting Sang Baili to lean closer.

Sang Baili braced herself on the sofa cushions and settled securely onto her sister’s lap, leaning back into Shen Shuangjing’s embrace. Her delicate waist and slender frame were almost completely enveloped by Shen Shuangjing’s figure.

After a long day of work, Sang Baili’s long, wavy hair had a slightly tousled, alluring look as it pressed against Shen Shuangjing’s chest. Lowering her head slightly, Shen Shuangjing’s high, straight nose brushed against the soft, chestnut-brown strands.

The fragrance flowed through her nostrils, carrying a warm, starlike fluffiness that gathered in her chest. Her sense of smell replaced her taste buds, repeatedly savoring the sweet aroma.

Eager to distract her sister from unpleasant thoughts, Shen Shuangjing lifted a strand of Sang Baili’s hair, trying to lighten the mood. “Your hair is so long and thick, there’s not even a part! ‘Beautiful woman, long hair.’ Tell me, Sister, why did you descend from the heavens?”

Sadly, her own hair wasn’t even half as long as her sister’s. She wondered how long it would take to grow it out, and for now, she could only satisfy herself by touching her sister’s hair.

Sang Baili’s watery eyes crinkled with laughter, revealing her first smile of the day. “Envious of a fairy’s hair volume?”

Shen Shuangjing heard the amusement in Sang Baili’s voice, her tone light and cheerful. She redoubled her efforts, her words flowing like a blossoming lotus: “I’m so jealous! Not just of your hair volume, but how every single strand is so perfect—it’s like a meticulously crafted work of art. If my hair looked like that, I’d post ten Weibo updates a day just to show it off!”

Her sincerity shone through her voice, her genuine admiration making Sang Baili smile again.

Sang Baili had always been confident in her appearance, but Shen Shuangjing’s compliments brought an unexpected warmth to her heart.

How can a child praise someone so beautifully?

Even a single strand of hair gets its own compliment.

Without turning, she could vividly imagine Shen Shuangjing’s clear, sparkling almond-shaped eyes, how dazzling they must be at this moment.

“Weibo?” Sang Baili said. “I haven’t posted in ages. Maybe two updates every six months, and those were always for promotional purposes.”

Since retiring from acting, she no longer needed to promote anything. She rarely logged into Weibo anymore; it was probably overgrown with weeds by now.

Shen Shuangjing counted the ways she used Weibo: “Besides promotions, I post about my daily life too. It’s like my personal diary now.”

Sang Baili’s interest piqued. “Can I see?”

Shen Shuangjing handed her phone over. “You can use mine directly. The lock screen password is the pattern ‘S’.”

Sang Baili took the phone but didn’t immediately unlock it.

She suddenly asked, “You wouldn’t mind if I just looked through your phone, would you? If there’s anything you’d rather I didn’t see, I can just not look.”

Her own Weibo account hadn’t been deleted, so she could have used her own phone, but she didn’t mention it, waiting demurely for Shen Shuangjing’s answer.

“No, you can look at anything,” Shen Shuangjing replied.

Her phone held no secrets beyond her bank balance.

Sang Baili smiled. “I’ll just look at Weibo.”

“I’m still logged in,” Shen Shuangjing said. “You can just go straight to my homepage.”

With permission granted, Sang Baili tapped into Shen Shuangjing’s Weibo homepage right in front of her.

The page was filled with diverse content, from trivial polls asking followers whether to wear a ponytail or let her hair down, to more substantial posts sharing her reflections on a day spent working as a server on the reality show.

Shen Shuangjing’s reflections were lengthy, structured like a three-paragraph essay. She wrote about the hardships she experienced, the lessons she learned, her impressions of the other cast members, and her gratitude to the production team.

In her final paragraph, she wrote: “When everyone lives earnestly, they emit a faint, glowing light. I once passed by and was illuminated by it, until I too became a glowing light. Filming has concluded successfully. May our paths cross again, for our future encounters are yet to come.”

Shen Shuangjing’s essays weren’t filled with flowery language; she simply wrote whatever came to mind. But her sincerity resonated deeply, earning her reposts and heartfelt replies from the production team and fellow guests.

Sang Baili clicked through every single one of Shen Shuangjing’s Weibo posts, examining them like colorful, translucent candy wrappers held up to the sunlight. Each one was unique, novel, and captivating.

Before she realized it, she had scrolled all the way to the very first post. Feeling like she hadn’t had enough, she checked the counter and realized she’d already read over seventy posts—not a small number. She had been so engrossed in Shen Shuangjing’s quirky and endearing thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the time passing.

“Is this a newly created account?” Sang Baili asked. The earliest post dated back just two months.

“Yes,” Shen Shuangjing replied. “The original account had too many unconventional photos, so I deleted it and started fresh.”

The new Weibo account represented a fresh start, filled only with her own stories.

Sang Baili placed her phone on the sofa, still feeling wistful. “Shen Xiaojing always has so many fresh things to share every day.”

Shen Shuangjing encouraged her. “You could share too, Sister! I’m sure many fans who miss you would love to see what you’ve been up to.”

Sang Baili’s desire to share had always been lukewarm. “I don’t really have anything to share,” she said. “Every day just passes by in a routine.”

Even when she did find something interesting, by the time she picked up her phone, the urge to share had faded, and she’d abandon the idea.

Shen Shuangjing countered, “There are things, Sister, you just don’t notice them. Like how blue the sky was one day, when the cafeteria suddenly changed its menu, or when the persimmon tree at the entrance of our neighborhood bore fruit. Interesting, beautiful things—you could share any of those.”

Shen Shuangjing’s description stirred a fleeting urge in Sang Baili to share. After a moment’s thought, she suggested, “I could post Wuyun going to the bathroom.”

A smile flickered in Shen Shuangjing’s eyes. She often roped Sang Baili into their “bad human” antics, sneaking peeks at the kitten’s private moments. The sight of Wuyun straining in secret was undeniably amusing.

It was indeed perfect content to rally the cat-obsessed masses for a collective dose of feline cuteness.

“No,” Shen Shuangjing said firmly.

“Why not?” Sang Baili protested. “A kitten going to the bathroom won’t get censored.”

Shen Shuangjing explained, “Because I’ve already posted photos of Wuyun. If you post too, people will easily figure out we live together, and then they’ll start digging into our relationship.”

Complicated. Troublesome.

Sang Baili disliked complications.

The complexity of keeping their marriage secret, and thus being unable to post photos of Wuyun on public platforms, was frustrating.

“Never mind,” Sang Baili said. “I didn’t really want to post them anyway.”

“You could post something else,” Shen Shuangjing suggested, “like your row of gleaming gold trophies.”

Sang Baili lazily brushed a strand of hair aside, the ends grazing the back of Shen Shuangjing’s hand. “That would be too showy. I wouldn’t dare walk alone at night anymore.”

Shen Shuangjing smiled warmly. “I could pick you up from work every day.”

Sang Baili raised an eyebrow. “You want to be my bodyguard?”

Shen Shuangjing shook her head, puffing out her chest proudly. “Not a bodyguard—a guardian knight! Protecting my beautiful sister.”

The corners of Sang Baili’s lips tilted upward. Shen Shuangjing’s words always struck a chord with her.

But what was the point of having a guardian knight when their relationship remained hidden?

Maybe we should have just announced it openly from the start.

The thought made her realize that an official announcement would have been simpler. Everything would be less complicated, unlike now, where every action required careful consideration and every move had to be shrouded in secrecy.

“Tien Lo Gu Niang stays at home,” Sang Baili said casually. “She doesn’t outsource her services. It would be easier to just go public and post photos of Wuyun.”

Shen Shuangjing startled. “No way.”

Sang Baili had only made a casual suggestion, but Shen Shuangjing’s immediate and unwavering refusal made her expression shift slightly, a subtle displeasure rising in her heart.

Her rose-like lips curved downward. “Why not?”

Could it be that I, a former Best Actress and current President, am being rejected?

Shen Xiaojing had better have a good explanation.

Shen Shuangjing replied, “Because…” Although it’s inconvenient now, it will make dividing things easier when the agreement ends.

Why is Sang Baili suddenly asking this? Is she testing my loyalty?

A loyal employee wouldn’t mention their true motives—wanting a clean break at the end—to their beautiful boss. She needed to phrase this with finesse.

Shen Shuangjing declared confidently, “I don’t want to freeload off my sister. If we went public, everyone would be chasing after me with resources. That won’t do at all. I run fast, but not to be chased by others.”

Sang Baili paused, her dark blue eyes crinkling with amusement, adding a touch of allure to her oval face. “Alright then. I’ll just wait and watch Shen Xiaojing climb to the very top, one step at a time.”

Shen Shuangjing replied modestly, “My goals aren’t too ambitious. I’ll start by winning one of each of my sister’s acting awards.”

Sang Baili had overestimated her self-control and underestimated Shen Shuangjing’s allure. Sitting on Shen Shuangjing’s lap for only a short time, every nerve ending in her body felt electrified, as if ignited by the heat radiating through their clothes.

It wasn’t enough.

She wanted to turn around and kiss her.

But Sang Baili remembered the scar on her face—unsightly and a hindrance to kissing.

If only I had dodged it.

Yet Sang Baili had deliberately refused to dodge.

Her mother, fiercely proud and image-conscious, always regretted her impulsive outbursts. Afterward, she would try to reconcile, fearing gossip and public scrutiny. But her attempts at damage control always came too late.

Sang Baili, however, wanted everyone to witness the consequences. A leader who acted impulsively and without foresight could never be truly effective.

Suppressing her chaotic desires, Sang Baili focused single-mindedly on work for several days. The mark on her face faded, restoring her ethereal beauty.

One evening, she attended a private dinner hosted by the CEO of Sang Group’s long-standing partner.

Shen Shuangjing initially worried, but Sang Baili promised to text her updates. Shen Shuangjing, seizing the opportunity, demanded hourly check-ins.

Sang Baili protested that she might be too busy, but every hour, she sent Shen Shuangjing a simple “Still doing well.”

That evening, Shen Shuangjing sat in the living room, reading her script while waiting for Sang Baili to return.

Sang Baili possessed a natural allure, and tonight she was dressed with particular sophistication and allure, her every movement radiating a captivating radiance.

Her cheeks flushed crimson, making Shen Shuangjing a little anxious. “Are you alright?”

Sang Baili let go of her luxury handbag, which landed on the entryway console. Her smile was unrestrained and bewitching. “I’m fine, just had a bit to drink.”

“Oh, good then,” Shen Shuangjing replied.

When her sister drank, she became different—a little willful, a little carefree. Perfectly normal.

Shen Shuangjing tucked in her bookmark, closed the script, and asked, “Want some hangover soup?”

“No soup,” Sang Baili said.

Shen Shuangjing tried coaxing her like a child. “Then how about some Coconut Candy?”

Sang Baili stood her ground. “No Coconut Candy. I need help.”

“Sure, what kind of help?”

Sang Baili smiled. “Come here. It’s awkward on the sofa.”

Shen Shuangjing approached her.

Sang Baili’s gaze, like tiny hooks, clung to Shen Shuangjing as she said with feigned distress, “Help me take off these stockings. They’re too tight.”

She was wearing a velvet bodycon dress paired with sheer, flesh-toned stockings that hugged her curves. The thin, translucent fabric clung to her slightly fleshy legs, which seemed to stretch endlessly.

Alluring and subtly provocative.

Her tone was serious, yet her words carried an incongruous, seductive undertone that made Shen Shuangjing’s breath catch in her throat and her scalp tingle.

A sudden urge to tear away her sister’s calm, unruffled facade surged within her.

Don’t overthink it, Shen Shuangjing warned herself, biting her lip. “Okay.”

Too smooth.

It was impossible to tell whether she was touching silk stockings or soft flesh. The jelly-like texture yielded easily under the slightest pressure.

Clingy, soft, and slippery as an eel.

She found the edge of the stocking but hesitated to touch further.

Sang Baili’s lashes fluttered lightly as she guided Shen Shuangjing’s hand to rest on her thigh.

Her entire palm pressed against the luminous white skin, feeling the warmth radiating from that spot gradually intensify.

Shen Shuangjing’s breath deepened. “Weren’t you going to take them off…?”

Sang Baili replied casually, “Tearing them works just as well.”

Normal, Shen Shuangjing repeated silently.

My sister’s had some wine. She’s just being a little willful.

A delicate blush crept across her face. “I’ll just take them off for you.”

Compared to tearing them, this overtly suggestive option suddenly made her seem like a proper gentleman.

In one swift motion, Shen Shuangjing’s hand slid down Sang Baili’s leg, her gaze reluctantly tracing the curve of her thigh. She quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed to linger.

When her sister got drunk, she became completely unreasonable. Though this was only the second time, Shen Shuangjing was already used to it.

Next time Sang Baili said anything while drunk, Shen Shuangjing wouldn’t be so foolish.

Sang Baili’s slender, bony foot arched as it emerged from the pile of silk stockings, like a beautiful snake shedding its skin—possessing the allure to effortlessly captivate countless hearts.

Shen Shuangjing helped her remove the hair tie from behind her head, letting her long hair cascade down. “If you don’t want hangover soup, Sis, go rest. I’ll exercise a bit more before turning in too.”

She had confirmed her role in Night of the Murder Chase and was scheduled for costume fittings tomorrow. A final workout tonight would ensure she looked her best for the shoot.

Sang Baili grabbed her hand, her expression still serious. “I want to exercise too. Let’s do it together.”

Shen Shuangjing blinked in confusion. “Together?”

Sang Baili leaned closer, whispering in her ear, her voice lingering with suggestive warmth: “A couples’ workout, you know.”

Shen Shuangjing: “?”

Sang Baili toyed with Shen Shuangjing’s palm with one hand. “I saw a traditional Chinese medicine doctor. He said I should exercise more to clear my internal heat.”

Shen Shuangjing’s face flushed crimson, her expression indescribable.

Was she just ignorant?

The “exercise” the doctor prescribed couldn’t possibly be the same kind her sister meant, right?