Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 32

The night sky was completely dark, and cars streamed along the road, carrying with them the unique tranquility of the night. Streetlights cast fleeting shadows, illuminating Sang Baili’s exquisitely sculpted profile and highlighting the subtle variations of light and shadow around her lips and eyes.

The warm breath she exhaled condensed into fleeting white mist that vanished in an instant. Sang Baili glanced sympathetically at Shen Shuangjing, her crimson lips parting slightly as she said, “I’m thinking, if those red bumps on your face don’t clear up by tomorrow, Director Guo will probably throw a fit on set.”

It’s often said that actors earn a living with their looks.

In the industry, to meet the production company’s demands for flawless protagonists on screen, post-production teams routinely use software to digitally enhance actors’ faces frame by frame. Ten-level filters and excessive skin smoothing have become common knowledge.

Fueled by distorted aesthetic standards and the prevailing trend of heavy-makeup filters, production companies sometimes overlook actors’ natural appearances, instead investing heavily in post-production to digitally perfect their faces frame by frame.

However, Night of the Murder Chase doesn’t rely on male and female leads with striking looks as its selling point. Instead, it focuses on a suspenseful, plot-driven narrative, requiring only realistic and natural portrayals of its characters. Without post-production enhancements, filming close-ups puts actors’ natural skin and facial features to the ultimate test.

Director Guo was renowned in the industry for his exacting standards with actors. Though Sang Baili hadn’t worked with him personally and their acquaintance was superficial, she had heard stories of Guo Yu making a top male star repeat a single scene over a hundred times to achieve the perfect shot.

Shen Shuangjing closed her eyes briefly, mentally lighting a candle for herself. “Heaven above, earth below, bear witness. Your humble servant vows to balance her diet for life, neither seeking wealth nor indulging in idle luxury. I only pray that Director Guo will show mercy tomorrow and spare this humble woman, who has both elderly parents and young children to care for.”

Sang Baili pressed the car key, and the two-seater supercar parked by the roadside flashed its lights. “Though I may have painted Director Guo as a man-eating demon, you certainly haven’t shortchanged yourself.”

Shen Shuangjing blushed. “A monk never lies. My sincerity is my greatest virtue.”

Sang Baili smiled, flicking a strand of her long, wavy hair behind her ear to reveal a glimpse of her stunning beauty. “Based on my past allergy experiences, the medication should clear it up in about a day.”

She gripped the Rolls-Royce door handle, the ring on her ring finger catching the light with a mesmerizing glint. “How long did your last allergic reaction take to resolve?”

Shen Shuangjing’s footsteps paused momentarily, her nerve endings tingling with heightened sensitivity. A flicker of wariness flashed in her eyes as a suspicion began to take shape in her mind.

Was Sang Baili testing her?

Shen Shuangjing’s fingertips twitched inside her coat as countless thoughts raced through her mind.

Sang Baili possessed a keen, perceptive mind honed by years of acting experience. She could detect the slightest movements and expressions, allowing her to accurately discern hidden emotions and personalities. Unless someone was a professional at concealing their true self, no subtle gesture could escape Sang Baili’s watchful eyes.

In the entertainment industry, Shen Shuangjing was a novice compared to Sang Baili. In life, she lacked several years of experience. Whether she told the truth or a lie, Sang Baili would likely sense something amiss from her expression.

Though she hadn’t yet devised a strategy for responding if Sang Baili was indeed testing her, she could always use her allergies and discomfort as an excuse to stall for time.

Her mind raced through possibilities, imagining Sang Baili’s reactions to each potential answer. On the surface, Shen Shuangjing merely curled her lips into a slight smile, betraying no hint of nervousness. “I can’t quite remember.”

Sang Baili’s gaze locked onto her eyes, but Shen Shuangjing felt those mysterious, luminous eyes piercing straight into her soul. Her gaze flickered away.

Sang Baili withdrew her gaze and said, “You don’t have many allergic reactions, so it’s normal you wouldn’t remember.”

Her tone was casual, as if she had asked the question on a whim, without insisting on an answer or intending to continue the topic.

This suited Shen Shuangjing perfectly. She was eager for Sang Baili to drop the subject of her allergy history. She released her grip to open the car door, and as a gentle breeze brushed past, she noticed her palm was already damp with sweat.

The streetscape outside the window blurred past at high speed: the bright moonlight, scattered streetlights, and speeding vehicles—countless scenes obscured by the night, twisting into mottled, kaleidoscopic shadows that flickered past like frames of a film.

Shen Shuangjing blinked, then yawned.

She had taken medication at the hospital, and now that the effects were kicking in, her S-type pheromones surged. Drowsy, she leaned back in her seat and drifted off to sleep.

Sang Baili gripped the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the windshield ahead, but her peripheral vision kept drifting toward the passenger seat.

Taking advantage of a red light, Sang Baili leaned over and adjusted Shen Shuangjing’s seatbelt, which had slipped off her shoulder.

Shen Shuangjing slept soundly, her head tilted to the side, her neck forming a graceful curve. The small mole on the tip of her nose glowed like a vibrant begonia.

Sang Baili paused, her nostrils catching the crisp, pure, woody scent emanating from Shen Shuangjing.

The fragrance was faint, yet deeply familiar.

It reminded her of the damp, cold air left behind after winter seawater had receded from the fine black sand beach. Sang Baili had first encountered this scent at the duty-free shop in Iceland’s airport. Struck by its perfect encapsulation of the vast, romantic atmosphere she had experienced there, she impulsively bought it and carried it thousands of kilometers back to Huaguo.

She hadn’t seen the Northern Lights, nor had she visited Black Sand Beach, but she wanted to share with Shen Shuangjing the invigorating, quietly smiling essence of that cold, boundless land.

The scent Shen Shuangjing wears is one I chose. The unspoken meaning behind those words ignited like a spark, setting ablaze the most sensitive nerve endings in Sang Baili’s brain.

Her eyelashes fluttered briefly, the shadows they cast obscuring the darkness deep within her pupils. In a flash of memory, Sang Baili recalled a lavish banquet where a wealthy businessman had ostentatiously paraded his shapely young mistress. Throughout the evening, he incessantly boasted about how he had personally selected every detail of her appearance, from her hairstyle and clothing to her shoes and stockings. The crowd fawned over him with praise, while he proudly embraced his mistress, basking in their admiration.

At the time, Sang Baili had believed Shen Shuangjing to be a control-obsessed, morally corrupt pervert. Now, however, she detected a different nuance.

Beep-beep!

A car horn shattered the silence of their confined space, and the overwhelming image receded like a receding tide. Suppressing the subtle unease in her heart, Sang Baili gripped the steering wheel and accelerated away.

By the time Shen Shuangjing woke up, Sang Baili had just parked the car. She pulled up the handbrake and teased, “You woke up at just the right moment.”

Shen Shuangjing’s breathing was light and even. She removed her mask and tucked it into the bag beside her.

Still not fully awake, her vocal system failed to load properly. Hearing Sang Baili’s words, she offered a warm smile, like a tamed, docile creature.

Sang Baili simply gazed at her, and all her weariness vanished, her heart feeling as if it were filled with soft, fluffy feathers.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for Shen Shuangjing’s medical records and medication. But before her fingertips could touch the file, Shen Shuangjing’s hand moved first, grasping the records.

Sang Baili looked up in surprise. The previously drowsy woman’s eyes now held only a clear, alert gaze.

She’s nervous, Sang Baili thought.

Ever since the doctor at the hospital had asked about her allergies from a year ago, Shen Shuangjing had been tense and uneasy, as if hiding a great secret.

Is there something she doesn’t want me to know?

A heavy stone seemed to sink in Sang Baili’s heart, dragging her down. Her fingers froze above the junk drawer for a moment before she withdrew them, her expression unchanged.

She never pried into others’ affairs. If Shen Shuangjing didn’t want to talk, Sang Baili wouldn’t badger her for answers.

But now that she had noticed, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Shen Shuangjing was hiding something.

She gazed into those clear black-and-white eyes, so close yet feeling as if she were caught between reality and illusion, unable to distinguish dream from waking.

The world had forgotten this quiet corner.

In the dimly lit, cramped, and private compartment, their warm breaths mingled intimately.

It felt like flirting.

Yet Sang Baili felt Shen Shuangjing was distant, so distant that she feared the woman might vanish with a blink, never to be found again, no matter how thoroughly she searched every corner of the world.

She would never find another Shen Shuangjing exactly like this one—so clever, so vibrant, so alive.

But the thought was absurdly strange. The moment it arose, Sang Baili dismissed it.

Shen Shuangjing was right in front of her. How could she vanish? Even if she did disappear one day, Sang Baili’s status and wealth would make finding her effortless.

Yet, a nagging unease persisted in her heart, one she couldn’t quite understand. It stemmed from Shen Shuangjing’s hidden secrets, from her inability to be completely honest.

The greatest distance in the world lies between hearts.

Sang Baili gripped her own hand tightly, seeking reassurance through the warmth and softness of her skin, trying to dispel the phantom fears that haunted her mind.

She couldn’t help but ask, “If I were to disappear one day, would you still recognize me?”

Why this sudden question?

But Shen Shuangjing understood how the night could make even the most rational people turn sentimental. Without giving it much thought, she didn’t notice how similar this question was to those asked by young lovers consumed by insecurity.

After a moment of earnest contemplation, she replied, “Yes.”

She knew the haughty, languid tilt of her sister’s chin when she was deep in thought, her myriad charms, and every expression, every inch of her flesh.

Reciprocity demanded a response. Shen Shuangjing asked, “What about you, Sister? If I were to disappear one day, how would you recognize me?”

Sang Baili answered, “The mole on your nose, your radiant spirit, and your undeniable cuteness.”

A small question mark popped up above Shen Shuangjing’s head, a hint of bashfulness in her voice. “Even if my face is covered in blemishes and I look utterly hideous, you’d still think I’m cute?”

Sang Baili wanted to explain that by “cute,” she meant Shen Shuangjing’s uniquely charming soul.

As for the pimples and bumps, she couldn’t bring herself to associate such things with cuteness.

But just as she was about to speak, she met Shen Shuangjing’s bright, earnest gaze and found herself unable to say a word.

Sang Baili suddenly realized that, because of Shen Shuangjing, even those dense clusters of bumps now seemed pleasing and even endearing to her.

It was as if anything about Shen Shuangjing—no matter her appearance or form—would strike her as cute.

Because this was Shen Shuangjing, the person with the world’s most uniquely charming and fascinating soul.

How could this be?

Sang Baili mentally reviewed a list of names, picturing their faces: tall, short, fat, thin. She confirmed that her aesthetic preferences hadn’t shifted.

Only with Shen Shuangjing did her consistent sense of beauty undergo a seismic transformation.

Refusing to believe it, Sang Baili scrutinized Shen Shuangjing, her gaze sweeping over her features. Yet she couldn’t maintain eye contact with those clear, innocent eyes for more than a few seconds. Pressing her lips together, she hastily averted her gaze, her earlobes flushing crimson.

Completely defeated.

She still found her cute.