Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 37

Sang Baili tapped the table, the corners of her lips curling up involuntarily. She chuckled softly and replied, “What about the photo from earlier?”

Shen Shuangjing typed earnestly, “Oh, that photo? Do you think it looks good? Do you think the crew’s outfits would be suitable for daily Weibo posts?”

AAA Beautiful Boss: I think it would be better to use a different one.

Big Whale Eats Little Whale: ?

In linguistics, a single question mark can convey various meanings, including a rhetorical question, doubt, skepticism, disdain, or a genuine inquiry. But Sang Baili didn’t need to ask to know that Shen Shuangjing was really just asking if she looked good—the Weibo post was just an excuse, unimportant. What mattered was getting praised.

Beautiful.

To emphasize her sincerity, Sang Baili didn’t copy and paste the word from earlier. She typed it out again and clicked send.

Shen Shuangjing saw the word “Beautiful” appear in the chat window, followed immediately by a document from Sang Baili. Puzzled, she opened it and realized it contained practical tips for filming on set, neatly organized by category.

AAA Beautiful Boss: Read this and get some rest.

After reading it, Shen Shuangjing replied with a simple “Okay.” No further messages arrived. She scrolled through her WeChat moments for a while, then suddenly craved a warm, fragrant cup of pearl milk tea and posted about it.

The comment count immediately increased by one.

 Director Guo Yu:  Absolutely not.

 Shen Shuangjing, backing down:  I was just thinking about it.

 Director Guo Yu:  Don’t even think about it.

Unwilling to challenge Guo Yu’s authority, Shen Shuangjing forcibly banished the fragrant milk tea from her mind. She put down her phone, pressed the bedside switch, leaving only a warm-toned ceiling light on.

The hotel’s soundproofing was excellent, the walls feeling like they were padded with thick sponges, completely isolating her from outside noise.

A profound silence settled over the room.

Leaning against the headboard, she was enveloped in a fuzzy pajama set, her long hair cascading over her shoulder onto her chest. The soft light accentuated her exquisitely refined features, making her eyes and brows appear even more striking.

She pulled  The Art of Interpreting Dialogue in Performance  from the bedside table and flipped to the page she had finished reading the previous night. Her focused gaze gradually drifted into a daze.

Based on personal experience, professional books were the best sleep aids when she wasn’t particularly tired—bar none.

Slightly drowsy, she turned the page when a thought suddenly occurred to her, sparking her curiosity.

Picking up her phone again, Shen Shuangjing searched online for the “tips” Sang Baili had sent her, but no results appeared.

Could it be that my sister compiled all this herself?

Even though the notes might not have been specifically prepared for her, Shen Shuangjing’s heart began to race slightly.

Suddenly, the days felt slow, so slow that she grew weary of the quiet, empty hotel room and began to miss the days at home with her cat.

Directed by a renowned director, starring a constellation of stars, and backed by a massive production team, Night of the Murder Chase had been generating immense buzz since filming began. The hype only intensified as rumors swirled online. Despite the crew’s efforts to prevent unauthorized filming, leaks frequently surfaced. According to insiders, even a single leaked photo of the Third Female Lead could fetch over a thousand yuan, while shots of her interacting with the Female Lead could command prices exceeding ten thousand yuan.

Online, fan groups engaged in fierce, behind-the-scenes battles for their idols’ screen time, creating a constant storm of drama. Yet, the crew remained unfazed, maintaining their daily filming schedule like clockwork.

One day, after an hour of shooting, Guo Yu casually reminded the staff to stay focused, mentioning that the film’s primary investor might be visiting the set.

Visiting the set?

The staff knew exactly what that meant: the investor was coming to scrutinize the film’s quality.

A collective groan rippled through the crew, but no one dared slack off. They immediately braced themselves, preparing to handle the investor’s sudden visit.

Before the investor arrived, nearly a thousand cups of milk tea were delivered for the entire crew—an unexpected treat that instantly erased any lingering complaints. Staff members eagerly lined up to claim their drinks, rushing to post photos on social media with captions like, “Who hasn’t had their first winter solstice milk tea yet?”

The milk tea was charged to Sang Baili’s personal account. Special Assistant Sheng had requested a list to tally the orders before placing them, ensuring no one was missed—including the lead actors, the director’s team, and even the cafeteria ladies.

“The lead actors can’t have any,” the director coughed, glancing at Sang Baili.

Wealth cannot corrupt, poverty cannot break. Even when the largest investor was treating everyone to milk tea, Sang Baili remained steadfast in protecting her lead actors’ complexions and figures, refusing to compromise.

Sang Baili’s chestnut-brown curls were pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wore a short, white puffer jacket that couldn’t conceal her innate radiance and charm.

She smiled warmly, her voice alluring, “I ordered sugar-free, pearl-free options for the actors.”

Guo Yu thought resentfully, Even sugar-free has calories! When you were Best Actress, you probably wouldn’t dare touch this stuff either.

He was about to gently suggest Sang Baili take the extra milk tea with her to avoid waste when she continued, “I heard the filming is running behind schedule. We’ve only shot about a third of the script, but we’re already half a month behind schedule…”

Every day of filming was a financial drain. Guo Yu’s heart sank as worst-case scenarios flooded his mind, ultimately settling into a bleak resignation. It’s over. I’m being replaced. The director who had threatened to fire actors for poor performances was now about to pack his bags and take the high-speed train home.

A biting wind whipped through the air, freezing Guo Yu’s heart into a block of ice.

Sang Baili continued, “Good things take time. I believe in this project and have decided to personally invest additional funds.”

The suspended block of ice crashed back into Guo Yu’s chest.

His mouth formed a perfect “O,” his jaw nearly dropping. The cold wind rushed into his stomach, causing him to shiver before snapping his mouth shut. Tears welled in his eyes, though none escaped despite his desperate attempts to squeeze them out. He wanted to tear open his chest and offer his heart, saying, “President Sang, you can rest assured. I will repay your faith with box office success.”

Her naturally alluring, narrow eyes held a hint of uncertainty as Sang Baili asked, “Oh, right, we were interrupted earlier. The actresses can drink sugar-free milk tea, right?”

Guo Yu replied, “Of course! Filming is hard work; they’ll burn off the calories quickly. Besides, you were thoughtful enough to order sugar-free. I’ll have a cup later too. Let me thank you on behalf of the entire crew.”

Guo Yu looked at Sang Baili with the eyes of a kindred spirit, thinking, President Sang always understands art, understands filmmaking. She, Guo Yu, wasn’t being opportunistic; she was simply making the kind of decision every seasoned director would make.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Sang Baili’s gaze swept across the film set. She pursed her crimson lips and casually asked, “Is Shen Shuangjing not here?”

“She took the day off to shoot a commercial,” Guo Yu replied, momentarily surprised. “Do you two know each other?”

Guo Yu immediately regretted her question. In this industry, curiosity could be a dangerous thing.

Sang Baili nodded, subconsciously suppressing the disappointment she felt. Without concealing their connection, she said, “Yes, we know each other. It’s nothing, just a casual inquiry. I thought I might see her while I was here, but since she’s not here, it doesn’t matter.”

Guo Yu, oblivious to her expression, remarked casually, “Shuangjing has a remarkable talent. Before filming began, I watched some of her acting clips and was initially worried. But after directing her first scene, I knew we were in good hands.”

Sang Baili’s eyebrows furrowed imperceptibly, her composure recovering with a speed Guo Yu couldn’t detect.

She recalled Shen Shuangjing’s question about her acting experience, mentioning she had never acted before. Sang Baili knew Shen Shuangjing had acted before and had assumed she meant she lacked experience as a Third Female Lead. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, a buried nerve deep in her mind suddenly twitched, leaving her with a vague, inexplicable sense of unease.

“President Sang, are you alright?” Guo Yu asked, noticing her absentmindedness.

Sang Baili buried her doubts like a seed in her heart, smiled, and replied, “I’m fine.”

After a pause, she added, “Director Guo, I just stopped by on my way back from a business trip. I still have work to attend to, so I should get going.”

Guo Yu tried to persuade her to stay. “In such a hurry? Why not take a look at our set before you leave?”

Film sets were all the same, and Sang Baili had little interest. Her only regret was missing the chance to personally witness Shen Shuangjing receiving the warm milk tea she had craved so deeply the previous night.

Still, she could imagine the scene: the joy overflowing from those bright, almond-shaped eyes.

“No need, Director Guo,” Sang Baili said. “I trust you. But I do need a favor…”

By the time Shen Shuangjing finished filming the commercial and returned to the set, it was already evening.

After wrapping up a scene, Guo Yu called her over. “The investors visited this afternoon and treated everyone to milk tea. I saved yours. Would you like it hot or cold?”

“Hot,” Shen Shuangjing replied, having already seen the crew showing off their milk tea on social media. She asked, puzzled, “Can milk tea from this afternoon still be hot?”

Guo Yu nodded. President Sang had specifically instructed her to find a heated保温箱 to keep it warm, ensuring it would taste as fresh as if it had just been made.

As she called for a crew member to fetch the sugar-free milk tea, Guo Yu’s eyelid twitched. In a flash, she remembered something from long ago: President Sang calling her late one night to ask why the Third Female Lead had suddenly been replaced.

At the time, Guo Yu hadn’t been optimistic about the new actress. Powerless against the influence of capital, she had no say in the matter. When Shen Shuangjing was eventually brought back, Guo Yu had secretly admired President Sang’s decision.

Wait a minute…

Shen Shuangjing… the Third Female Lead replacement… President Sang’s late-night call… Their relationship…

…Could it be?

Guo Yu’s eyes flickered with three parts shock, three parts confusion, and four parts disbelief as she hesitantly looked at Shen Shuangjing, overwhelmed by the suspicion that had surfaced in her mind.

She seemed to have stumbled upon an extraordinary secret.

Guo Yu’s gaze was too blatant to ignore. Shen Shuangjing turned to meet her complex, dazed stare, tilting her head in confusion. “What are you thinking about, Director Guo?”

Guo Yu remained silent, her soul feeling as if it had been sucked away.

Shen Shuangjing waved her fingers in front of Guo Yu’s face, teasing, “Director Guo, don’t look at me like that—you’re scaring me. I know I’m incredibly charming, but I’m already married.”

Guo Yu snapped back to reality. “You’re married?” he asked sharply.

Shen Shuangjing tilted her head back. “I’m already married.”

Guo Yu’s mind turned to mush. He nearly jumped up to demand, You’re married? Then what… what… what’s your relationship with President Sang?!

“Y-y-you…”

Shen Shuangjing took a sip of her milk tea, her heart brimming with happiness.

Hot milk tea is definitely the way to go in winter.

After swallowing, she asked, “What’s wrong with me?”

Why is Director Guo stuttering?

Who ate the Director Guo who could scold actors for five minutes straight without pausing for breath about their lack of professionalism?

Guo Yu struggled for ages, his face flushed crimson. Finally, he managed, “Nothing. President Sang ordered the milk tea during her visit. We can’t offend our investors, so we’ll let you indulge for today. But after this, no more sneaking off to the hotel to order it.”

Shen Shuangjing denied it. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t order anything. I didn’t sneak any.”

But her attention was focused on the first part of Guo Yu’s statement: Sang Baili had bought the milk tea?

As if hearing her thoughts, her phone screen lit up with a new message:

AAA Beautiful Boss: Ordered milk tea on my way back from a business trip to visit the set. Remember to drink it when you get back. I wasn’t sure which place was good, so I got it from your usual spot.

Big Whale Eats Little Whale: Thank you, Boss! Got it! So good! Fully recharged! Image.jpg

AAA Beautiful Boss: If you’re fully recharged, then get back to filming and earn back the billions I invested! I’m really counting on you.jpg

Big Whale Eats Little Whale: Hao xian, hai hao wo bu shi zi.

AAA Beautiful Boss: ……

Shen Shuangjing covered her mouth, laughter spilling from her lips. Guo Yu looked at her suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

Shen Shuangjing shook her head, took a sip of her milk tea, glanced at the label, and commented, “Hmm, it’s a bit sweet. How much sugar did they put in?”