Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 33

“Hey, new face! What’s your name?”…

Shen Shuangjing was having a day of almost mystical good luck.

When she arrived on set, the director was absent due to personal reasons. Instead, she was greeted by the assistant director, whom she had met briefly during her audition. The assistant director, a mild-mannered man, initially looked surprised at the pimples on her face. After asking a few concerned questions and learning that they weren’t permanent and wouldn’t cause disfigurement, he refrained from further comment.

The only thing Shen Shuangjing hadn’t anticipated was being informed upon arrival that she wouldn’t be needed for filming for the next few days.

The specific filming schedule and content would have to wait for Director Guo’s return to make the final decisions.

Two days passed in a blur.

Guo Yu returned from his hometown after settling family matters and instructed Shen Shuangjing to be on set by 10 a.m. the next morning.

Shen Shuangjing arrived ten minutes early. The crew was currently filming a scene where the female lead, Jiang Mei, has a heated argument with her superior while reporting on her work.

Director Guo stood backlit on a waist-high stone pedestal, gesturing wildly as he coached Jiang Mei through the scene.

Catching sight of her out of the corner of his eye, Director Guo raised a hand, his long, slender fingers gesturing inward, signaling her to wait.

A few minutes later, during the mid-shoot break, Director Guo approached Shen Shuangjing with the script in hand.

His eyes, though small, focused sharply, scrutinizing Shen Shuangjing’s face in a deliberate sweep, as if assessing the value of a commodity.

Shen Shuangjing met Director Guo’s gaze steadily.

For the past two days, she had taken her medication on time, sticking to a diet of boiled vegetables and eggs. She hadn’t dared to eat anything else, and the blemishes on her face had long since cleared, restoring her skin to its previous flawless, porcelain-like perfection.

The prolonged silence grew unsettling. Shen Shuangjing’s heart began to race, her body stiffening into a statue-like rigidity.

The air seemed to freeze, each minute stretching into an eternity.

The last time she had felt such intense pressure was when she returned to campus after her freshman year’s National Day holiday. Their class advisor had placed a scale on the podium, forcing each performance arts freshman to weigh themselves publicly—a public execution of sorts.

After what felt like an age, Guo Yu finally spoke, his voice measured and deliberate: “You don’t photograph well.”

Shen Shuangjing didn’t react immediately. “Huh?”

“I’ve watched your audition video,” Guo Yu said, removing his glasses and wiping the fog from the lenses with a tissue. He continued calmly, “Your bone structure doesn’t match your facial features. Your facial contours are too soft, your features are large for your small face, and they don’t translate well on camera. The camera can’t accurately capture your appearance.”

Shen Shuangjing’s eyes flickered, trying to discern from Guo Yu’s calm, expressionless face whether he was satisfied or dissatisfied with her.

Guo Yu was only slightly shorter than Shen Shuangjing, with an equally tall and slender figure like a model. His hair was neatly combed behind his ears, giving him an air of professional charm.

He then asked, “What have you been doing these past two days while I was away?”

Shen Shuangjing pulled a blue soft-cover notebook from her shoulder bag and handed it to Guo Yu.

“Since there were no scenes scheduled for me these past few days, I’ve been observing the other actors filming and jotting down the techniques and insights I’ve learned.”

Opening the notebook, Guo Yu found pages filled with notes on the experiences and observations she had gathered while watching the lead actors film.

The weather had reached its coldest point of the year, the air thick with frosty white vapor. Shen Shuangjing wore a thick, ankle-length black down coat, her small chin buried in a red scarf, her fingers exposed to the frigid air, turning crimson with cold.

On the first day, she had worn gloves, but after taking notes for a while, she found them too bulky. Returning to the hotel at noon, she stuffed them back into her suitcase and never used them again.

Guo Yu read through the entire notebook, from the first line to the last, then closed it and returned it to Shen Shuangjing.

His expression had softened from its initial sternness, his warm, mellow voice carrying a hint of subtle satisfaction. “We won’t be filming your scenes this week, but I’m glad you’ve been coming to observe and learn every day. Tonight, go to Qile Bar on the next street and ask for the owner, Qi Le. She’s a friend of mine, and I’ve already spoken to her. Spend a week working as a bartender there, then write a character biography for the Third Female Lead. Once I approve your biography, we can start filming your scenes.”

Her advice echoed Sang Baili’s earlier guidance: to truly embody the Third Female Lead, Shen Shuangjing needed to immerse herself in the character’s circumstances and emotions.

This emphasis on the character’s life experiences and the need for actors to resonate with their roles aligns with a performance system widely used by contemporary actors—the Stanislavski System.

This system prioritizes experiential acting, requiring actors to become the character, live as the character, and fully inhabit the role to accurately express the character’s emotions and thoughts.

Shen Shuangjing asked, “Can I submit the character biography as soon as it’s finished?”

Guo Yu raised an eyebrow. “So confident?”

The winter sunlight cast a soft, tranquil glow across Shen Shuangjing’s face, bathing her features in an almost ethereal warmth.

She smiled. “I already know how I’m going to write it.”

Guo Yu glanced at her striking beauty, lifted his chin noncommittally, and said, “We’ll see when you’re done.”

The director’s skeptical gaze ignited Shen Shuangjing’s competitive spirit.

A character biography was no challenge for her—she had a university-educated mind.

Two days would be enough.

Two days later, Shen Shuangjing submitted her character biography. Guo Yu flipped through a couple of pages before returning it to her, his tone uncompromising. “At least fifty thousand words.”

“Back already?”

Qi Le, the bar owner, had a youthful, doll-like face that belied her age, making her look like a minor who had wandered into a den of vice.

She gazed at Shen Shuangjing with a teasing smile, her words dripping with amusement. “I swear, if you can’t finish that character biography, you’ll end up stuck here as a waitress for life!”

The bar’s gaudy decor featured lifelike crystal chandeliers and gold wallpaper that resembled distant lighthouses, contrasting sharply with the dark red carpet. The cheap opulence was glaringly obvious.

This wasn’t a proper bar; there were no standardized uniforms. Shen Shuangjing wore her own white shirt, her spine ramrod straight, a star-shaped brooch pinned to her chest—the only way to distinguish staff from patrons.

The top two buttons of her shirt were undone, her dark hair tucked behind her neck, revealing the delicate, porcelain-white skin beneath.

Leaning against the second-floor railing, Shen Shuangjing watched the men and women dancing and swaying in the dance floor below, feeling a profound sense of loneliness amidst the revelry.

Hearing Qi Le’s words, she looked up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have time for the biography. Director Guo said if I don’t finish it within a week, I’m out of the crew.”

Character biographies might seem easy to write—simply detailing a character’s background, experiences, and motivations based on the script. But Director Guo clearly expected Shen Shuangjing to dig up the names of the Third Female Lead’s ancestors for three generations, requiring a 50,000-word biography.

Even without that, thoroughly understanding the character’s life would provide ample material.

The real challenge was how to empathize with the character in just one week, piecing together a complete and nuanced life from mere fragments in the script.

The bar owner blinked, her laughter shaking like a blooming flower. “Don’t worry, I’m happy to take you in. Room and board included, and a monthly salary of 10,000—how does that sound?”

News spread quickly in small towns. Within an hour of Shen Shuangjing’s arrival two days ago, customer traffic had doubled, everyone eager to see the beautiful new waitress.

Shen Shuangjing scoffed at the offer of 10,000 yuan.

She replied steadily, “I might consider it… if it were a million.”

The owner laughed and cursed, “Get out of here! With a million, you could rent all the shops on this street and make me work for you!”

Shen Shuangjing smiled lightly, but her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts churning like muddy water as she fretted over how to properly portray the Third Female Lead.

Now that she had the character’s work environment, how could she more quickly align her emotions and mindset with the Third Female Lead?

The bar’s atmosphere allowed her to experience the character’s feelings, but she still lacked a certain imaginative leap.

She needed to imagine herself as the Third Female Lead, not just playing the role as an actress.

Shen Shuangjing’s current state was like seeing the character standing right before her, yet a veil of mist always separated them. She couldn’t break through the haze, couldn’t truly see the character.

Just as she was pondering this, a regular customer approached the owner. “Sister Lele, I could see your gums from across the room! You’re grinning so wide, did you win the lottery?”

The owner glanced at her with a smile, playfully scolding, “What? Can’t I laugh if I didn’t win the lottery?”

“Of course, of course! Even the King of Heaven himself couldn’t stop our Sister Lele from laughing. Your mom was a genius, knowing you’d love to laugh and giving you such a cheerful name.”

“Hahaha, keep that quiet! My mom loves hearing compliments. If she finds out, she’ll be floating on cloud nine again!”

Shen Shuangjing watched the owner’s smiling face, her expression shifting.

A sudden realization.

She knew how to take the first step toward fully embodying the Third Female Lead.

When you think of someone, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

Perhaps it was her looks, or perhaps it was her personality.

But when mentioning someone, their name could never be overlooked.

A name is a person’s calling card.

Looks fade with age, and personalities can change, but a name accompanies a person from birth to death, remaining constant throughout their life.

Always the same.

Therefore, to truly embody the character, her first step should be to abandon her own name.

“Boss, I’m going to start working now,” Shen Shuangjing said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she prepared to greet customers. She waved goodbye before leaving.

The boss waved back. “Go ahead and get busy.”

Sigh!

Why does such a beautiful waitress only stay for a week? I’ll have to ask Lao Guo if he knows any actors looking for a career change who might want to work here. Room and board included, and the base salary is negotiable.

A regular customer glanced over casually, his eyes widening in surprise. He nudged the boss with his elbow. “Hey, new face here. What’s her name?”

The boss replied nonchalantly, “You can call her Xiao…”

Before he could finish, Shen Shuangjing interrupted with a smile. Her pure, luminous eyes shone like wild lilies illuminating the darkness, and the dimples at the corners of her lips were both captivating and alluring. “I’m Zhong Zhong.”