Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 40

Waking from a nightmare, Shen Shuangjing felt a cold sweat prickling her back.

She glanced at the clock on the wall: 1:30 AM.

A filming session was scheduled for later that day. If she could fall back asleep, she’d have enough energy for the shoot. But sleep eluded her.

Every time she closed her eyes, vivid scenes from the horror movie she’d watched the previous day flashed through her mind—oppressive and terrifying.

Even her nightmare had featured the movie’s killer chasing her.

Her mood soured, and sleep remained out of reach.

Several unread messages popped up on her phone, all from the same number. Shen Shuangjing tapped to open them. They were from her adoptive father, demanding money after she’d ignored his calls.

“Your brother has a talent for esports. We’re enrolling him in an interest class—50,000 yuan for twenty days, with a chance to sign with a pro team. Remember to transfer your earnings to support him. The account number hasn’t changed.”

Shen Shuangjing frowned. Ever since she started working, her adoptive parents had been constantly demanding money. She’d kept only enough for daily expenses each month, sending the rest—enough to support the family for years to come.

The reason he was asking for money now was undoubtedly because her adoptive father had gambled away the previous transfer.

Her adoptive father was a gambling addict and greedy. He was asking for 50,000 yuan, but the actual registration fee was likely less than 20,000.

But Shen Shuangjing wasn’t the original owner of this body. She wouldn’t give him even 20,000 yuan.

She’d sooner believe she was Wu Zetian than believe her “brother” had any talent for esports.

Besides, her impression of him was far from favorable. When the original owner was a child, her brother, spoiled by their adoptive parents, repeatedly beat and verbally abused her, demanding she get out of their house.

The adoptive parents often withheld food, starving her for two or three days at a time.

Shen Shuangjing couldn’t feel any affection for such a family, nor would she ever repay them.

The original owner had naively hoped to buy familial affection with money after she started working, but it was all just a mirage.

Shen Shuangjing scrolled through their past text messages. The exchanges between the original owner and her adoptive father were brief: he’d ask for money, and she’d reply that she’d already transferred it.

Last Lunar New Year, when the original owner texted to say she wanted to come home for the holiday, her adoptive father replied that he’d recently consulted a fortune-teller who said that if his daughter stayed away for six months, it would benefit his son’s future success. To be safe, he told her not to come home for a year and just keep sending money as usual.

Shameless!

Shen Shuangjing cursed inwardly, tempted to block him immediately. After a moment’s thought, she typed out a reply.

“No, I’m worried my money might taint my luck and affect my brother’s future success. I won’t transfer any more. To be safe, let’s not contact each other for now. It’s better for everyone.”

Shen Shuangjing repeated her adoptive father’s words verbatim, then added him to her blacklist.

The world instantly became peaceful.

Compared to the pretense of familial affection, Shen Shuangjing unhesitatingly chose to embrace the cold, hard reality of money.

Speaking of which, how much money had she earned since transmigrating?

Shen Shuangjing brewed herself a cup of warm water with lemon slices, took a sip, walked to her desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote a title:

“Reborn to Earn: No Amount Is Too Much”

Below the title, she listed numbered categories and began calculating her total earnings using her banking app, from the moment she transmigrated into this world until now.

This included money earned from her contractual marriage, acting roles, variety show appearances, and more.

When she finished tallying, the figures were followed by strings of zeros.

Shen Shuangjing felt deeply satisfied, her mind filled with nothing but a fervent love for money.

Comparing the sources of her wealth, Sang Baili’s contributions far exceeded her earnings from acting.

Shen Shuangjing couldn’t help but smile.

Today, she felt especially fortunate to have encountered a boss who was beautiful, generous, and required so little of her—all right from the moment she transmigrated.

The daytime shoot was a chase scene.

Shen Shuangjing’s character accidentally stumbled upon a drug deal between wealthy businessmen in a bar. Panicked, she turned to flee, but inadvertently made a noise, alerting the men. Before the bodyguards could react, she yanked open a hidden door and fled down the stairs.

In the shot, the slit of her green dress flashed like vibrant spring foliage, a fleeting glimpse of color.

The camera tracked her descent, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing in the background. Shen Shuangjing, wearing nude stilettos, moved with the lithe agility of a cheetah, vanishing in an instant, leaving only her captivating silhouette to brush past the eyes of the two pursuing bodyguards.

After several rehearsals, Shen Shuangjing had memorized her movements perfectly. During the actual take, she moved with effortless grace, like a fish in water.

She navigated the labyrinthine staircase with steady steps, landing firmly on the final tread. Turning to confirm she wasn’t being followed, she faced the camera crew waiting below, her expression a mix of terror and relief.

But the scene wasn’t over yet.

The next moment, Shen Shuangjing didn’t relax after shaking off the bodyguards. She continued sprinting down the alleyway. The cameraman, however, seemed to be daydreaming, his backward steps lagging behind her movements. Unable to react in time, Shen Shuangjing tripped and fell to the ground.

That evening, Shen Shuangjing sat on the sofa, knees bent, applying iodine to her wound. She winced at the sharp sting when a knock came at the door.

Remembering Meng Manli’s promise to deliver the variety show contract, she rose from the sofa, slipped on her slippers, and went to answer the door.

Expecting her manager, she found a woman wearing a mask and baseball cap standing outside.

Shen Shuangjing paused, her lashes lifting slightly. “A stalker?” she asked.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, her voice distorted by the mask. “Have you ever seen such a beautiful stalker?”

“Do stalkers come in pretty and ugly versions?” Shen Shuangjing retorted, sizing her up. She shook her head. “Besides, with that mask, how would I even know if you’re pretty?”

The woman fell silent, speechless.

Just then, the door to the neighboring room opened. The resident, about to leave, glanced suspiciously at the woman’s furtive demeanor. Sang Baili lowered her head, only making herself look even more suspicious—her furtive behavior hardly suggesting good intentions.

The neighbor, who had been about to leave, stopped in their tracks, their gaze sharp as lightning. They reasonably suspected that the beautiful woman next door was being stalked by someone with malicious intent.

The neighbor decided to stay and observe further.

Sang Baili avoided their gaze, her fingers curling into her palm as she tugged irritably at Shen Shuangjing’s sleeve.

It was good that her little one was cautious, but not recognizing her? She hated to admit it, but her feelings were hurt and she felt a pang of disappointment.

“Let me in first,” Shen Shuangjing said, her knuckles faintly flushed as she gripped the doorknob with one hand. She glanced down at Sang Baili’s slender fingers, her gaze lingering briefly on the woman’s embarrassed eyes. Under Sang Baili’s furious glare, she finally relented, grabbing Sang Baili’s wrist and pulling her inside.

With a bang, the door slammed shut, sealing them off from prying eyes.

Slipping into the room, Sang Baili tore off her mask, her eyes practically drilling holes into Shen Shuangjing’s back. “You didn’t even recognize me?”

Shen Shuangjing, her back still turned, opened the shoe cabinet and pulled out a pair of unused disposable slippers. “Guess whether I recognized you or not?”

Sang Baili: “?”

Shen Shuangjing turned, pressed the slippers into her hand, and met her gaze with an unperturbed expression. “I don’t let strangers into my room.”

Sang Baili gritted her teeth, her eyes darkening as she caught the hint of amusement in Shen Shuangjing’s eyes. “You did this on purpose.”

Shen Shuangjing’s eyes softened into an innocent, guileless look. “I was just surprised. I didn’t expect you to come looking for me.”

After all, Sang Baili had to travel quite a distance to reach her current residence. They had just seen each other yesterday, yet Sang Baili was already back today.

Even long-distance couples rarely met as frequently as they did.

A faint crease formed between Sang Baili’s brows. “I heard you were injured.”

Shen Shuangjing blinked in surprise. “Who told you that?”

Though injured, the injury was minor. She hadn’t even sprained her ankle, just scraped her skin. It wouldn’t affect filming—she’d gotten lucky. Yet Sang Baili had rushed over as if she were on her deathbed.

Did someone unreliable spread the wrong information?

“It doesn’t matter who told me,” Sang Baili said, pushing aside the anxiety that had gripped her since hearing about Shen Shuangjing’s injury. “Is it serious? Where are you hurt?”

Shen Shuangjing extended her wrist and lifted her lower leg, revealing the scrapes. “It’s nothing serious—just superficial abrasions. Some antiseptic and time for scabs to form will do the trick.”

The iodine-soaked wounds glowed crimson, startlingly vivid. Sang Baili’s pupils constricted slightly, the faint metallic tang of bl00d seeming to linger beneath her nose.

She hadn’t intended to come. She’d planned to call and check on Shen Shuangjing, but by the time reason returned, she was already in a car heading to the hotel, standing at Shen Shuangjing’s room door.

Sang Baili rubbed her fingertips together. “I was worried your injury might be serious. It would be hard to explain to Grandma next time we see her.”

Shen Shuangjing returned the iodine to the first-aid kit, closed the lid, and looked up at Sang Baili, a mix of amusement and exasperation in her eyes.

Lies—thy name is woman.

Does Grandma Sang even know her granddaughter has crafted this persona for her?

“You can relax now,” Shen Shuangjing said.

Sang Baili felt her earlier words sounded like a lame excuse. Annoyed, she pressed her lips together and was about to turn away when a slender hand gripped her wrist, pulling her back with surprising force.

Shen Shuangjing’s left arm wrapped around Sang Baili’s waist, her hand resting against her side. The delicate fragrance emanating from Shen Shuangjing enveloped Sang Baili like soft, flowing silk, clinging to her from head to toe.

Gazing into Shen Shuangjing’s clear, almond-shaped eyes, Sang Baili felt a sudden, inexplicable tension. She pressed her palm against Shen Shuangjing’s chest. “What are you doing?”

Shen Shuangjing rested her chin on Sang Baili’s shoulder. Though the embrace was light, her heart felt a warmth that belied its gentleness.

“Thank you, Elder Sister,” she murmured. “I’m so happy you came to see me.”

She declared Sang Baili to be the kindest person in the world to her.

Everyone else only wanted her money, but Sang Baili didn’t care about her wealth—she cared about her!

Sang Baili blinked, meeting Shen Shuangjing’s curved, watery gaze. Suddenly, she asked, “Did you drink your ginger soup today?”

Shen Shuangjing hissed, a guilty flush rising on her cheeks. “No.”

But she remembered she hadn’t promised Sang Baili she would drink it every day.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m used to this temperature from filming in summer clothes all the time.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she sneezed.

Shen Shuangjing: “…Someone must be talking about me behind my back.”

Sang Baili punctured her stubbornness with a deliberate, unhurried tone. “I’ll make you a bowl. You should at least drink a few sips.”

Hearing that Sang Baili would personally make it for her, Shen Shuangjing’s large, round almond eyes lit up. “Okay!”

After drinking the ginger soup, Shen Shuangjing felt a warm glow spread through her body, her complexion improving noticeably, her lips taking on a lovely pink hue.

She twirled a strand of her hair, which had been washed the night before. Though her hair wasn’t oily, the fall had left her covered in dust, so she needed to wipe herself down and wash her hair.

Wiping herself down was easy enough and quickly done.

Washing her hair, however, was more complicated. She needed to lather, rinse, and repeat, but her injured hand couldn’t get wet. Shen Shuangjing filled a basin with warm water in the bathroom, letting her long, silky hair float like seaweed within it. She squeezed out some shampoo, lathering it with one hand before applying it to her hair. The slippery suds snaked down her wet strands as she flicked a stray strand away from her temple, only for the treacherous foam to slide into her eye.

Shen Shuangjing: “!!!”

The stinging foam brought tears to her eyes, plunging her vision into darkness. She groped for a towel but knocked over the basin instead.

A loud crash echoed through the room.

Adding insult to injury.

Misfortune never comes singly.

Shen Shuangjing waved her hand forward, but found nothing to grasp or lean against. Instead, she knocked another bottle to the floor, freezing in place, terrified that she would be the next to fall.

After a few seconds, she heard the door open.

Shen Shuangjing squeezed her eyes shut, her fair, delicate face tilting slightly. “Sister?”

Sang Baili pushed the door open and saw the fallen towel and Shen Shuangjing standing motionless.

Sang Baili paused. “I’ll get you a fresh towel.”

“Okay,” Shen Shuangjing replied. “Be careful, the floor’s wet.”

A moment later, Sang Baili returned with a dry towel, approached her, and gently wiped her face.

Afraid of getting her pajamas wet while washing her hair, Shen Shuangjing had changed into a low-cut bathrobe. Now, with her head bowed, her slender, taut neck was exposed to Sang Baili’s gaze, resembling the finest white porcelain glaze.

Or a flower veiled in misty rain.

Sang Baili felt a soft dizziness wash over her. “All done.”

Suddenly, another hand grasped the towel in Sang Baili’s hand.

Long, slender fingers, slick with foam, forcefully slid between hers. The warmth made Sang Baili stiffen involuntarily.

Shen Shuangjing’s eyes remained closed as she guided Sang Baili’s hand to rub the towel against her eyelashes.

“Itchy,” she murmured.

The word was spoken so softly, like a bubble bursting in mid-air.

Sang Baili’s gaze lingered on her, silently tracing the curve of her high nose, the crimson beauty mark, and her full lips. Even without consciously breathing, she could detect the damp, shampoo-scented air.

She couldn’t quite discern whether the fragrance came from the shampoo spilled on the floor or from the captivating scent emanating from the nape of the girl’s neck.

Faint yet utterly pervasive, it filled the entire space.

Shen Shuangjing’s reflection swam in Sang Baili’s eyes. The dizziness seemed to intensify, rendering her speechless.

Clutching the towel tightly, she took two deep breaths.

But the fragrance, like a root drawing nourishment, threatened to permeate her entire being.