Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 50

“I know,” Shen Shuangjing said, “they’re afraid I’ll run away.”

The variety show aired on schedule three days after filming.

Shen Shuangjing sat in front of the television, cradling a bowl of fruit.

Wuyun curled up on the rush mat beside her, a laptop open in front of him. The tip of his tail swayed back and forth in sync with the flickering images on the screen, which showed the exact same facial cleanser commercial playing on the TV.

The moment the show began, the online viewership surged to hundreds of thousands, and the screen was flooded with bullet comments like a blizzard.

Every time Shen Shuangjing appeared on screen, Wuyun would let out a soft meow.

When he saw his owner enter the dressing room and emerge as a rabbit mascot, Wuyun yawned lazily.

No shots of his owner.

Shen Shuangjing chuckled, setting the crystal bowl on the table. She scooped up Wuyun, who was lounging by the sofa, and cradled him in her arms, pressing a kiss to his soft back.

A kitten who doesn’t recognize its parent deserves a kiss!

The edited program only aired highlight clips. Shen Shuangjing watched the screen in shock, her hand flying to her forehead as she saw herself brawling with the cat puppet, claws extended and teeth bared.

Why didn’t they cut this part out?!

Wuyun tilted his head, watching the scene of the cat puppet—presumably one of his own kind—being chased around. He meowed and purred in confusion.

This cat is a disgrace to the feline community!

He desperately wanted to leap into the screen and retaliate on behalf of the puppet.

The comments section had already exploded with laughter, the screen flooded with “hahaha”s.

Shen Shuangjing pulled out her phone and solemnly drafted a Weibo post:

“Official statement: Fighting is not part of the puppet’s job. Please do not misunderstand or imitate this behavior.”

The comments section buzzed with activity:

I never imagined you were such a childish Xiao Shen!

The moment you picked up that stick, I knew the cat puppet was doomed.

All hail the Queen of Brawls!

“Ah…”

Shen Shuangjing buried her burning cheeks in Wuyun’s belly, flustered to the point of rambling nonsense. “Let’s move. Let’s go to a planet where no one knows us and start over.”

This episode of Work Within Work had the highest viewership of the season, even surpassing the ratings of other variety shows airing at the same time. The ratings peaked the moment Sang Baili appeared on screen.

Sang Baili publicly declared on the show that she would no longer act, yet countless fans and casual viewers still hoped for her return.

Sang Baili’s meteoric rise to fame had been a phenomenon, sweeping through the entire entertainment industry. In the years since her departure, the industry had lacked an artist with her level of national recognition. People not only missed that bygone era but also longed for her presence.

Shen Shuangjing watched the episode intently, her sharp eyes noticing that the wedding ring on Sang Baili’s ring finger had been digitally removed. The slender, jade-like fingers appeared clean and unadorned in the close-up shots.

Later, her interactions with Sang Baili were completely cut from the final edit, leaving her wondering if someone had instructed the editors to do so.

Leaning forward to eat a slice of strawberry, Shen Shuangjing opened the Trending Search list. She had underestimated how hilarious the puppet fight would be; the hashtag had shot up to second place, just behind #BestActressSangFocusingOnBusinessNoMoreActing#.

Suddenly, as Shen Shuangjing scrolled through hashtags related to herself, her finger froze.

In the comments section, several Weibo burner accounts with default avatars and gibberish usernames were spamming malicious comments about her.

“Who is this woman? Why is she always buying trending searches?”

“Talentless hacks with connections should get out of the entertainment industry!”

“I hate resource-grabbing celebrities. When did third-rate artists with no actual work start trending?”

The malice seemed like a snarling beast, roaring out of the screen and lunging at her.

Someone had even photoshopped her obituary photo, cursing her to die quickly.

Shen Shuangjing gripped her phone tightly, her knuckles turning white.

She had always known that the entertainment industry required her to stand on a stage and be watched by everyone, but seeing this raw malice firsthand felt like vines were constricting her heart, leaving her barely able to breathe.

She calmly reported some of the most abusive comments, but when she saw the line “third-rate artist with no actual work,” even knowing it was malicious propaganda, she couldn’t refute it.

She sent screenshots of the malicious insults to Meng Manli, who replied that she was already handling it. Shen Shuangjing had recently shown signs of gaining popularity, blocking the path of other similar celebrities, so their rivals had hired a smear campaign to discredit her.

Sister Manli: Don’t take it to heart. If people are attacking you, it means you’re truly becoming famous.

Big Whale Eats Little Whale: QAQ

Meng Manli didn’t understand the emoji, so she looked it up online and learned it meant “crying.” Shen Shuangjing had never needed her to worry before, but today she was crying. It seemed she was genuinely hurt. Meng Manli awkwardly tried to comfort her artist.

Sister Manli: Don’t be sad. I’ll help you strike back.

Her tone sounded like a ruthless underworld boss.

A dozen minutes later.

Big Whale Eats Little Whale: OWO OK!

Shen Shuangjing let out a satisfied burp, the bowl of pork rib and rice cake soup in front of her now empty.

The glaringly malicious comments had been completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care, but there were things she valued more. Rather than dwelling on the lies and slander being thrown her way, she preferred to remember the warm messages and sincere encouragement from her fans.

That was the true purpose of her scrolling through the comments section.

As dusk deepened, Sang Baili returned to the villa after working overtime, carrying a bag of sugar-roasted chestnuts in her right hand. The chestnuts were still warm, their caramelized aroma filling the air.

Finding Shen Shuangjing absent from the living room, Sang Baili quietly pushed open Wuyun’s door. Shen Shuangjing lay asleep on the cashmere rug, half-covered by a thin blanket, a cat teaser clutched in her hand.

Her sleep was light; she stirred as Sang Baili stood before her.

Shen Shuangjing instinctively looked up, her gaze colliding with those mesmerizing eyes.

Still groggy from sleep, her consciousness momentarily sank into that sea of tender affection. But she quickly regained her composure, realizing that the tenderness was merely a thin layer of ice floating on an unfathomably deep ocean.

“You’re back?” Shen Shuangjing’s voice was soft with sleep, a hint of delight flickering in her gentle eyes. “The sugar-roasted chestnuts smell heavenly.”

Sang Baili’s eyes curved into a smile, her features radiating charm. “Just bought them. They’re still warm.”

Shen Shuangjing sat up cross-legged, her slender fingers reaching for the greaseproof paper bag. She began peeling the chestnuts.

Winter was the perfect time to cozy up indoors with sugar-roasted chestnuts, something Shen Shuangjing had been craving for weeks but hadn’t found a vendor selling them.

She had casually mentioned it to Sang Baili the day before, and tonight, Sang Baili had brought them home.

As Shen Shuangjing contentedly devoured one chestnut after another, Sang Baili suddenly leaned in, encircling her wrist. “Keep eating,” she murmured.

Shen Shuangjing, puzzled, continued peeling chestnuts.

A moment later, a red string was tied around her wrist.

Shen Shuangjing: “?”

She raised her wrist high, holding it up to the chandelier on the ceiling. The thin red string seemed utterly ordinary.

Back in school, she had seen girls wearing red strings on their wrists, blessed by monks at temples after their families had sought them out.

Could this be a string Sang Baili had obtained for her?

But she remembered the red strings worn by those girls always had leaf-shaped pendants as decorations, unlike the bare string Sang Baili had tied around her wrist.

Shen Shuangjing: “Did you go to a temple?”

Sang Baili: “No.”

Shen Shuangjing shook the red string on her wrist. “Then what is this?”

Sang Baili replied, “A red string. When harvesting ginseng, they always tie a red string to it to prevent it from running away.”

Shen Shuangjing popped a chestnut into her mouth, a few stray strands of hair clinging to her brow. Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a world-shattering secret that no third party could overhear, she said, “Since you’ve discovered my secret, I won’t hide it any longer. I’m not a ginseng spirit; I’m a human who loves sugar-roasted chestnuts.”

Sang Baili smiled faintly. “I know. I just don’t want you to run away.”

With the red string tied, she wouldn’t escape.

Shen Shuangjing considered this. “I wouldn’t run away.”

Having accumulated so much wealth in this world, how could she bear to abandon it all?

It would be a terrible loss.

Sang Baili’s eyes, as clear as autumn waters, lifted slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. She nodded in satisfaction. “Don’t pick them.”

Dressed in a peacock-blue skirt suit, pearl earrings swaying beside her neck, she squatted barefoot beside Shen Shuangjing. “You’re trending today.”

“You saw it?” Shen Shuangjing asked, her tone odd.

Sang Baili suspected they were talking about different trending topics. She had seen many comments praising Shen Shuangjing’s strong variety show presence and had liked them all using her burner account.

“What’s wrong?”

Shen Shuangjing explained everything, then declared defiantly, “The only label I accept is ‘third-rate celebrity with no notable works.’ The rest are nonsense.”

A blanket draped over her shoulders, her nightgown clung to her curves, its lace hem cascading in layers like a thin silver fringe rippling across the sea.

After a long, silent gaze, Shen Shuangjing sighed, her facade crumbling. “I have no real achievements,” she confessed, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Will people always look down on me?”

Though she tried to appear indifferent, a sliver of unease lingered in her heart.

She had never confided in anyone, but now, a flicker of vulnerability and uncertainty slipped through, like a clam revealing its soft flesh.

Sang Baili gently stroked the crown of her head. “You’ll have them soon. Director Guo’s film will be released in less than six months. Everyone will see you in a new light.”

Shen Shuangjing clutched the chestnut in her hand, her eyes flickering slightly. “But even if I have good works, some people will still see me as just a variety show personality, right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a variety show personality.”

Sang Baili didn’t sense any despondency in Shen Shuangjing’s words. Instead, she found herself captivated by the actress’s momentary vulnerability, relishing the opportunity to comfort her. A secret sense of satisfaction bloomed within her.

It was like adopting a proud, aloof cat. After days of feeding and gentle coaxing, the creature finally softened, sheathing its sharp claws and exposing its soft belly—an immensely gratifying sight.

This was a privilege reserved solely for its owner.

Harboring such thoughts, Sang Baili felt like a villain with dark intentions, yet she couldn’t resist wanting to capture and preserve these moments of Shen Shuangjing’s dependence on her.

She peeled a chestnut and held it to Shen Shuangjing’s lips, tilting her chin slightly. “You can be an actress with both excellent variety show skills and outstanding acting ability. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Many people use ‘variety show personality’ as a derogatory term, looking down on them because those actors lack substantial work to back them up. But once you’ve established yourself at a high enough level through your work, your natural charisma will become an asset that enhances your reputation.”

Sang Baili added, “You’ve done everything right so far.”

Flowers bloomed in Shen Shuangjing’s heart. She hugged Sang Baili tightly. “You’re even more comforting than Wuyun.”

She now possessed the courage to forge ahead, even if the path ahead was strewn with thorns and shrouded in darkness that threatened to engulf her.

Sang Baili blinked. “How does Wuyun comfort you?”

Shen Shuangjing replied matter-of-factly, “By petting cats.”

She would nibble on the little cat’s paws, one by one.

Sang Baili explained, “Hugs and gentle strokes can also suppress cortisol secretion and promote relaxation.”

This wasn’t limited to cats.

She demonstrated by slowly stroking Shen Shuangjing’s slender, delicate back.

Shen Shuangjing flinched as if electrocuted, but her back quickly relaxed under the soothing touch, like melting spring snow. Her breathing gradually slowed.

It was an addictive sensation, like a gentle sea breeze caressing her face on a summer day, or like a small creature sheltering in a warm cave during a storm, finding safety and belonging.