Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 5

Her heart pounded erratically…

Sometimes, having perfect vision wasn’t a blessing. Shen Shuangjing gazed up at the woman’s smooth, elegant facial contours and fell silent.

She wished she could shrink into a tiny seed, bury herself in the ground, and sprout anew.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Sang Baili spoke slowly, her voice tinged with rare confusion: “What are you doing?”

What am I doing? That was a tricky question, depending on when you started watching.

Shen Shuangjing paused. “Burning calories to lose weight.”

Sang Baili looked unconvinced. “…?”

“…?”

Unable to come up with a better excuse, Shen Shuangjing gave up and stated the truth: “And reinforcing my lines at the same time. Two birds with one stone.”

Sang Baili, surprisingly, accepted this outlandish explanation. Suppressing a smile, she suggested, “We have a treadmill at home. It would be easier to memorize your lines while running.”

The same scenario—losing weight and memorizing lines—would seem perfectly normal on a treadmill. But rolling around on the floor while reciting lines? That was performance art.

Shen Shuangjing’s slender fingers gripped the bedsheets, her cheeks flushed. She mumbled, “You’re so clever.”

But next time, she would lock the door.

Once and for all.

Sang Baili couldn’t help but chuckle, showing no intention of leaving. “Have you had dinner yet? It smells like something’s cooking in the kitchen.”

Shen Shuangjing cleared her throat. “I’m on a diet, so I’m skipping dinner. The porridge is for you, as a late-night snack.”

Sang Baili’s delicate features and affectionate eyes curved slightly, a hint of spring stirring within them.

“Thanks. I’m actually a bit hungry from working late.”

“Then eat it while it’s hot,” Shen Shuangjing replied.

Heaven and earth could bear witness: she hadn’t been trying to drive Sang Baili away out of embarrassment or annoyance. Sang Baili had simply gotten hungry first.

“No rush,” Sang Baili said, crossing her arms as if oblivious to Shen Shuangjing’s unspoken message. “In a few days, once Grandma’s condition stabilizes, I’d like you to come with me to visit her.”

Visit Grandma?

The plot from the original novel was finally unfolding.

In the original story, Sang Baili’s grandmother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, with only about a year left to live. Her greatest worry was her granddaughter’s unmarried status. To ease the old woman’s mind, Sang Baili had chosen the original body—a woman with no connections and easily manipulated—and decided to enter into a contractual marriage with her.

The original body never won Sang Baili’s affection, but she had a knack for charming the elderly. She had quickly won over the grandmother, bringing her comfort and joy, and the old woman was delighted with her as Sang Baili’s wife. As a result, Sang Baili had merely kept a running tally of the original body’s foolish actions, delaying her final move against her.

During their first meeting, the original owner had thoughtfully prepared a gift for the old lady. Upon seeing it, the old lady was so moved that she burst into tears and immediately took off her family heirloom jade bracelet to give to the original owner.

Shen Shuangjing had no desire for someone else’s family treasure, but she knew proper etiquette dictated that one should always bring a gift when visiting an elderly person. However, she had no idea what the original owner had given the old lady. Perhaps the author had simply been lazy, unable to come up with a plausible excuse, and had bluntly written, “She gave a gift.”

Simple and crude.

Reading casually is enjoyable in the moment, but afterward, your mind feels empty.

Shen Shuangjing sought external assistance. “Right, what should I bring when I visit her?”

Sang Baili’s expression softened momentarily, her smile like snow after a storm. “You don’t need to bring anything. Grandma will be overjoyed just to see you.”

That was true enough.

Shen Shuangjing pressed her temples in frustration, lost in thought.

Sang Baili grasped the doorknob. “That’s all I wanted to say. I won’t disturb you while you’re rehearsing your lines. I’ll leave now.”

With that, she thoughtfully closed the door behind her.

Though she hadn’t said anything extra, Shen Shuangjing couldn’t shake the feeling that Sang Baili had deliberately given her ample private space to do something… unspeakable?

Thump.

Shen Shuangjing closed her eyes and collapsed onto the bed, giving up entirely.

Sang Baili walked into the living room, where the crystal chandelier cast shimmering light across the spotless space.

She ladled herself a bowl of white fungus porridge and noticed a vase of vibrant roses had appeared on the corner cabinet directly in her line of sight.

Though the addition of another person hadn’t changed her daily routine, she sensed subtle shifts occurring in the background.

Lifting the green-glazed spoon, Sang Baili bowed her head and took a sip. The porridge was sweet and creamy, with the smooth texture of white fungus and the rich sweetness of jujubes. The warmth seemed to melt away the fatigue from her long days, and the sugar gently eased her tension.

It felt like a warm, comforting embrace, the energy spreading from her heart through her entire body, illuminating even the darkest corners of her soul.

Time flowed quietly, a rare moment of tranquility. Free from work thoughts, Sang Baili opened her phone and scrolled through her friends’ posts. Seeing photos of gourmet meals, she recalled the public display of affection at noon and smirked, snapping a photo of her white fungus porridge.

Though she didn’t understand Fang Han’s need to show off her girlfriend’s cooking, who hadn’t eaten a meal prepared by their lover before?

Childish.

Selecting the photo, she sent it to Fang Han.

No ulterior motive—just returning the favor.

Ding-dong.

The flirtatious moment was interrupted by a notification sound. Fang Han closed her eyes briefly, savoring the moment before leaning in to kiss those cherry lips again. But the mood had dissipated. She gave her lover an awkward smile and, unable to resist any longer, picked up her phone.

Who is it?

Doesn’t this person have a nightlife?

Oh.

It’s Sang Baili.

That explains everything.

Out of consideration for their years of friendship, Fang Han didn’t leave the message unread. She replied with a resentful tone:

Mountain Valley Letter King: …What are you doing at this hour?

Sang: Nothing much, just something my wife made.

The flight attendant sister adjusted her camisole strap, covering her half-exposed curves, her eyes still shimmering with lingering passion. She glanced at Fang Han’s phone and pouted playfully, “Who is it?”

Fang Han answered vaguely, “Nightlife is a woman who eats late-night snacks.”

“……”

The flight attendant sister’s eyes softened with sympathy. “You should reply to her first.”

Fang Han shook her head. “There’s nothing to reply to.”

Cooking during the day was a romantic gesture, but cooking at this hour wasn’t about midnight snacks—it was about what they were doing in bed.

A mischievous glint sparked in Fang Han’s eyes as an idea formed. She grinned wickedly. “Darling, do you have any good resources you could send me? My friend wasn’t too impressed with the wedding gift I prepared last time. It’s time for a new one.”

The flight attendant tapped her phone and smiled. “It’s a compressed file, so it’ll take a while to download, but it has every genre you could want. You’ll be satisfied.”

Fang Han received the file and forwarded it to Sang Baili, then casually tossed her phone onto the floor, ready to enjoy the long night ahead.

Mountain Valley Letter King: Watching a movie is better than sleeping tonight. You’re welcome.

Sang Baili received the compressed file but wasn’t interested. She’d rather spend her time processing documents and boosting the company’s market value.

In the middle of the night, she got up for a drink of water and passed Shen Shuangjing’s room. Through the crack in the door, she saw a light shining inside, a stark contrast to the dark, silent hallway.

Her footsteps faltered, and she paused for a long moment, listening for any sound from within.

Hesitating briefly, she curled her knuckles and knocked lightly on the door. “Shuangjing, are you asleep?”

No response.

Sang Baili gently pushed the door open a crack and whispered into the air, “If you’re asleep, I’ll turn off the light for you.”

The room was silent.

Her gaze swept across the room, pausing on the girl in bed. Her brow was furrowed slightly, her cheeks flushed, and her dark lashes lowered, obscuring her eyes. Sang Baili strode quickly toward the bed.

Everything before her was real.

Shen Shuangjing saw the Old Dean sitting in the courtyard, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, while children laughed and played, skipping rope, swinging on swings, and playing “eagle catches chicks,” creating a lively scene.

“Grandma?” she called out involuntarily, her bright black eyes filled with disbelief.

What’s happening?

Have I traveled back again?

Something felt off, but Shen Shuangjing couldn’t dwell on it. The overwhelming emotions of longing and joy instinctively seized her full attention.

The sprightly Old Dean turned at the sound of her voice, smile lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes as she waved. “Xiao Shuangjing is back.”

Hearing that familiar voice, Shen Shuangjing’s carefully restrained emotions finally broke. She rushed over, knelt down, and hugged the Old Dean, who was sitting in a rattan chair, her voice choked with emotion. “Grandma, I’ve missed you so much.”

The Old Dean smiled warmly, her gaze calm and gentle as she stroked Shen Shuangjing’s hair. “Why were you gone for so long this time? Did you face any hardships out there, Xiao Shuangjing?”

“No hardships,” Shen Shuangjing replied.

The silhouette of the beauty flashed through her mind, but explaining her sudden engagement in another world would take more than a few words, so she decided to keep it hidden for now. “I was filming a variety show out of town. The high-speed train journey alone took two days round trip. Don’t you remember?”

The Old Dean chuckled. “How could I forget? Xiao Shuangjing’s first variety show—it’s etched in my heart.”

Shen Shuangjing smiled. “I even rescued a little girl who fell into the water during the filming. She looked so tiny, about the same age I was when I first came to the orphanage. Time flies—I’ve grown up in the blink of an eye, and you’ve got white hair now.”

“We can’t defy aging,” the Old Dean said, producing a small cloth pouch from her pocket like a magician. “Xiao Shuangjing’s bravery deserves a reward.”

Shen Shuangjing’s lips curved upward as a coconut candy was placed in her soft palm.

Aside from the day she was first brought to the orphanage, coconut candies were only given out by the Old Dean to children who had earned special praise.

“Thank you, Grandma,” Shen Shuangjing said.

The Old Dean’s smile widened. “Now that you’ve received your reward, Xiao Shuangjing, it’s time for you to go home.”

Shen Shuangjing’s eyes widened, a flicker of panic rising in her heart. “Grandma, I don’t understand. Where do you want me to go?”

The Old Dean’s gaze softened with reluctance. “Go back. Return to the world where you truly belong.”

Shen Shuangjing’s grip on the Old Dean’s hand tightened abruptly. “This is my home.”

“Xiao Shuangjing, this place will always be your home, but your connection to this world has run its course. You can’t stay with Grandma anymore. Don’t worry about me; Grandma will live to be a hundred. You’ve suffered enough in that other world. May you find peace and happiness, free from all worries.”

A blinding white light flashed, and Shen Shuangjing’s eyes snapped open at Grandma’s startled cry.

Cold sweat drenched her.

It was just a dream.

She knew she had already died in her original world. Perhaps her conversation with Sang Baili earlier about visiting the elderly had triggered this dream.

Her head throbbed dully, and her body felt weak, as if she were floating in the clouds, unable to touch the ground, or as if she were sitting too close to a bonfire, her skin burning from the heat.

Discomfort and palpitations.

Even the slightest movement sent sharp, aching pain through her bones, as if they were being shattered.

“Don’t move. You have a fever.”

Sang Baili sat by her bedside, removing the hot towel from her forehead with one hand. After a while, the towel had become thoroughly heated. She tossed the used towel into a basin of cold water nearby, wrung out another cold towel, wiped the sweat from Shen Shuangjing’s neck and cheeks, and placed the fresh towel on her forehead.

Throughout the process, Sang Baili operated with only one hand, her movements awkward and slow.

Shen Shuangjing finally noticed that Sang Baili’s slender, porcelain-white left hand was tightly clasped by her own, rendering it immobile. The back of Sang Baili’s hand, as delicate as a work of art, was so thin that the pressure left faint pink marks.

Sang Baili’s hand looked frail, its knuckles clearly defined, yet her palm felt soft and yielding, like cotton, making it seem almost irresistible to squeeze.

The curtains were drawn tight, obscuring whether it was day or night outside. But Shen Shuangjing had a vague intuition that Sang Baili had been caring for her for quite some time.

“Th… thank you,” Shen Shuangjing rasped, the two words struggling to escape her throat.

“It’s nothing. Save your energy and don’t talk too much.”

The moment Sang Baili realized Shen Shuangjing’s condition was deteriorating, she had called the family doctor. While waiting for the doctor to arrive, she focused on physically cooling Shen Shuangjing down, as her fever was dangerously high.

In her feverish sleep, Shen Shuangjing seemed to be having nightmares, her rest deeply disturbed. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she clutched Sang Baili’s hand tightly, muttering incoherently. At one moment, she called out for “Grandma,” and the next, she begged for coconut candy.

Before the doctor arrived, Shen Shuangjing drifted back into a restless sleep.

In her feverish dreams, she vaguely heard voices and felt someone coaxing her to take medicine. When she woke the next day, her fever had broken.

Though no longer in pain, she still had a stuffy nose and a foggy mind. Her voice sounded nasal, and her head felt heavy.

By the time she got out of bed, Sang Baili had already left for work, leaving a bowl of porridge on the table for her.

Growing up in a harsh environment, Shen Shuangjing had rarely experienced such care. She rarely even got sick; whenever she did, she’d just take some medicine and tough it out. As long as it wasn’t life-threatening, she considered it a minor ailment and never bothered going to the hospital.

Sipping the porridge, she noticed the sticky note Sang Baili had left on the table, reminding her to eat. Her heart skipped a beat, likely a lingering effect of the fever.

Sang Baili didn’t return until evening.

She had specifically told Shen Shuangjing not to bother with dinner, having already ordered takeout from a restaurant on her way home from work.

It was a light Cantonese meal.

But Shen Shuangjing had no appetite and wasn’t particularly hungry. She took small sips of millet porridge, focusing on filling her stomach.

Weakened by illness and anemia, her rose-like lips were a pale pink, and her long, delicate lashes drooped against her eyelids, giving her eyes a pure, harmless look.

Sang Baili took a bite of milk-infused water spinach. “Why did you suddenly get a fever? Did you catch a chill last night?”

Shen Shuangjing replied weakly, “Maybe.”

“Did you leave the window open?” Sang Baili asked. It was easy to catch a cold on autumn and winter nights if you didn’t close the window properly.

“I closed it,” Shen Shuangjing insisted.

A corny joke popped into her head, likely due to her fever-addled mind. Without thinking, she blurted out, “Maybe President Sang was just too intimidating this morning. It was like being in an air-conditioned freezer.”

Her voice sounded muffled and congested.

Sang Baili slowly raised her gaze. “…Did I freeze you?”

Shen Shuangjing realized what she’d said and wanted to bite off her own tongue.

How dare you!

Joking with the Villain? Do you want to be shark bait?

But Shen Shuangjing’s sharp wit was hard to suppress. She continued, “Mm-hmm.”

It’s okay, though. Sick people taste bad—all viruses. Even sharks wouldn’t eat me.

Sang Baili’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile. Her long lashes shimmered like gilded dust in the sunlight.

A hint of mockery flickered across her crimson lips.

“Trying to scam me?”

Shen Shuangjing lowered her head and took a sip of millet porridge, her gaze lingering for a few seconds on Sang Baili’s moist, rosy lips. She pursed her own lips and deliberately shook her head. “I wouldn’t dare.”