Mistakenly Married a Substitute Wife, Falling in Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 6

Sang Baili gazed at Shen Shuangjing’s perpetually lowered, thick lashes, a silent smile playing on her lips.

Resting her cheek on a slender finger, her elbow casually draped over the armrest, she raised a delicate eyebrow and asked, “Do you remember what you did last night when you had a fever?”

Is she settling scores now?

Shen Shuangjing’s wrist twitched, nearly dropping her spoon into the bowl. “What did I do?”

“Looks like you don’t remember.” Sang Baili crossed her legs, abandoning the pretense of mystery. She drawled languidly, “After finishing your medicine, you used my hand as a tissue, rubbing against it incessantly.”

Like an insecure, clingy kitten, her soft black hair brushed against Sang Baili’s palm, her flawless face pressing against her hand until it grew warm.

When Sang Baili tried to withdraw her hand, Shen Shuangjing, still half-conscious, refused to let go, clinging to her like taffy, as if trying to meld into her palm.

The description conjured a hazy image in Shen Shuangjing’s mind, and she quickly recalled her embarrassing behavior.

Impressive courage.

Even tonight’s words were an understatement.

Give a sober Shen Shuangjing a hundred lifetimes, and she still wouldn’t dare recreate last night’s infamous scene.

Sang Baili smiled knowingly, her eyes warm with amusement. “You really do enjoy being affectionate, don’t you?”

“……”

Affectionate?

Who?

Shen Shuangjing’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief, her lashes fluttering as she vehemently denied it. “How could I? I don’t even know how to write the word ‘affectionate.'”

Having grown up in an orphanage, Shen Shuangjing had been cared for by the Old Dean, but with so many children to look after, the Old Dean couldn’t possibly attend to each one’s needs every day. From a young age, Shen Shuangjing understood that she could rely only on herself.

Affection, sentimentality—these were foreign concepts to her.

Even before she could write the characters for “strength,” she had learned independence and resilience, determined never to burden others.

Once, during a childhood outing to fly kites, Shen Shuangjing was accidentally knocked to the ground, scraping her knees and elbows until they bled. To avoid spoiling the fun, she simply shook her head and insisted it didn’t hurt and was nothing to worry about. In reality, the pain kept her awake all night, and the wounds took ages to heal. But she never told anyone, never had anyone to confide in or lean on.

Besides, just brushing her hand against someone’s—that hardly counted as affection, right?

It was all the fever’s fault, making her delirious.

She found a perfectly reasonable explanation for herself: “It must be the fever. I subconsciously wanted to be near something cold.”

Sang Baili smiled. Was she being unconsciously coquettish? It was as if no one had ever told her she could be coquettish, or perhaps she subconsciously believed herself to be a strong, independent woman who never needed to act that way.

With her keen insight into human nature, Sang Baili didn’t need much evidence to guess that the latter was more likely. A complex mix of emotions welled up in her heart as she recalled Shen Shuangjing’s feverish murmurs in the night, repeatedly calling out for “Grandma.”

Special Assistant Sheng’s investigation report revealed that Shen Shuangjing had been adopted as a child by foster parents. Described as timid and obedient, she had little connection with her grandparents, whom she saw only once a year in another province. It was hard to imagine what circumstances would lead her to call out for relatives who weren’t her closest family members in her feverish delirium.

Self-reliance is a virtue. The girl’s youthful face glowed with sincerity, her clear eyes sparkling with unwavering determination. This reminded Sang Baili of her own past—equally precocious and independent, her first instinct when facing hardship had always been to silently endure it. She had never cared when others called her aloof. Like resilient grass, she would bow in the wind, but after the storm passed, she would raise her proud head once more.

As time passed and circumstances changed, Sang Baili, after rationally reviewing her past, had long understood that admitting her need for reliance wasn’t a weakness. It was simply that her parents, preoccupied with their divorce during her youth, had neglected her, forcing her to mature prematurely and learn to be rational at a young age.

Sang Baili suddenly felt an impulse.

She walked over to Shen Shuangjing, knelt down, and scratched Shen Shuangjing’s sharp chin, as if comforting an insecure kitten.

Though she couldn’t travel back in time to comfort the eighteen-year-old Sang Baili, she could offer Shen Shuangjing a small measure of comfort within her means.

The scene replayed itself.

But tonight, Sang Baili was the one actively comforting the stubborn little kitten who insisted she didn’t know how to be affectionate.

Sang Baili’s eyes sparkled as she teased, “Doesn’t this feel like you’re being affectionate?”

Last night, Shen Shuangjing had been half-asleep, her eyes closed, looking exactly like a kitten enjoying the height of affection.

Shen Shuangjing stiffened instantly, her toes curling inward.

The hand pressed against her chin felt cool and refreshing, like a mint candy, carrying a faint, warm fragrance. The purple bellflower tattoo on her wrist peeked out, as if meticulously painted by a master artist, its sinuous lines both alluring and lifelike.

A blush crept up Shen Shuangjing’s neck, gradually spreading from her delicate, slender nape to the neckline of her jade-green nightgown.

This wasn’t watching her being coquettish; it was clearly teasing a cat.

How wicked.

Shen Shuangjing’s apricot eyes, gleaming with a dark luster, flickered. In a moment of inspiration, she grasped Sang Baili’s hand and rubbed her cheek against its bones, her long lashes nearly brushing the palm.

Tilting her head slightly, the girl’s face perfectly embodied the golden ratio of the three courts and five eyes, her bright eyes and radiant smile bathed in a soft, golden light. A charming dimple appeared on her pale cheek, like the radiant glow of spring, utterly captivating.

Her dark, luminous eyes reflected Sang Baili’s image, as if she were her entire world.

“Sister~”

Her sweet, melodious voice was utterly enchanting, as if it could melt into one’s very bones.

Sang Baili’s pupils contracted sharply, momentarily abandoning all pretense of composure.

The delicate lashes brushing against her palm, neither too light nor too heavy, felt like the softest feather, tickling its way into her heart.

Shen Shuangjing smiled slyly, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful grin. “Now this is what you call being coquettish, right? Best Actress Sister, how’s my acting?”

Sang Baili withdrew her hand, rubbing her fingertips together as if the lingering warmth still clung to them. She cleared her throat, her voice low and husky. “Good.”

Sang Baili was so immersed in the performance that she nearly responded.

Her gaze turned dark, radiating an unsettling intensity.

Shen Shuangjing felt like a small animal caught in a hunter’s sights, sensing a sudden and inexplicable danger.

“What’s wrong?”

Sang Baili snapped out of her reverie, her voice steady and devoid of any discernible emotion.

“I believe you’re not some enchanted kitten turned human,” she said.

Shen Shuangjing blinked, her cheeks flushing even hotter.

Since the founding of the People’s Republic, it’s been illegal for animals to transform into humans. Who would be a kitten turned human anyway?

Though she had proven her innocence through her efforts, why did she still feel like she’d been drawn into some kind of trap?

Shen Shuangjing had caught a viral cold. She initially thought a few days of medication would clear it up, but her fever returned every night, fluctuating despite fever reducers. On the fourth day, Sang Baili couldn’t bear to watch her suffer any longer and took her to the hospital for an IV drip.

Over the next two weeks, Shen Shuangjing’s face grew noticeably thinner, and her weight dropped to the director’s required number.

Her figure was now so slender she looked like she could be blown away by a gust of wind.

After another two weeks of rest, the day of her audition finally arrived.

During this time, she had been so focused on memorizing her lines and rehearsing the script that she hadn’t checked Weibo, unaware of the heated online discussions surrounding Night of the Murder Chase.

Night of the Murder Chase was adapted from the widely popular novel of the same name. In addition to the novel, there were also derivative works such as radio dramas, comics, and animations, maintaining its enduring popularity.

Ever since news of the novel’s film adaptation broke, anticipation had been building. Many fans worried that the casting and set design would ruin this classic crime novel, some even calling for the project to be abandoned altogether.

With the involvement of Guo Yu, one of the country’s top directors, the opposition and doomsaying diminished significantly. However, many original novel fans remained concerned that bringing their beloved “White Moonlight” literature to the big screen would tarnish its essence.

Beyond the strong female lead, the fans were even more anxious than the director about the casting for the second female lead, Bai Yue, and the third female lead, Zhong Zhong. Both characters had been individually debated online, maintaining high levels of engagement.

Finding the right actress for Zhong Zhong, the third female lead, proved even more challenging than casting Bai Yue, the second female lead, a gentle and graceful violinist with a delicate beauty. Zhong Zhong, whom the protagonist met while working undercover, was a woman struggling at the bottom of society.

In the novel, Zhong Zhong worked at a seedy bar, born into poverty and forced to sell her labor for survival. At the bar, she wore towering heels and heavy makeup, flattering customers with practiced ease. Yet beneath this facade lay an incongruous purity and simplicity, like a pearl buried in mud. Though she possessed an inherent radiance, passersby saw only the grime on her surface, misunderstanding and mocking her.

Even in death, she never escaped the heavy chains of her circumstances or the prejudices of others, remaining a tragic yet admirable character whom countless fans found impossible to forget.

Casting such a role required an actress who was neither too glamorous nor too plain. Someone too mature or seductive would feel out of place, while someone too ordinary would be instantly forgettable, failing to capture the “fresh and beautiful village belle” essence described in the novel.

She needed to embody a pure beauty, an indomitable vitality, and a spirit that remained undaunted by life’s hardships. Her eyes should shine like freshly washed cherries, always gazing at you with unwavering clarity.

What fans often failed to grasp was that film casting was far from simple. It involved complex negotiations between capital, popularity, and the actors’ established status. Sometimes, the true power lay not with the director, but with the financial backers.

Special Assistant Sheng entered the President’s office, her gaze lingering for a moment on the lunchbox on Sang Baili’s desk, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes.

Noticing her glance, Sang Baili calmly explained, “My wife prepared it.”

Special Assistant Sheng was one of the few who knew about President Sang’s arranged marriage. She had even investigated Shen Shuangjing’s background. Hearing this, she was puzzled.

She understood the logic, but the fact that the arranged wife was making heartfelt lunchboxes went beyond mere pretense. It was so convincing that even she almost believed the President and her wife were deeply in love and insisted on eating each other’s homemade meals for lunch.

Never one to mince words, Special Assistant Sheng blurted out, “Didn’t you already have lunch with President Gao from Lingyi Technology?”

A hint of wry amusement touched the corners of Sang Baili’s lips. “I did eat, but this was made by her personally.”

Shen Shuangjing had heard about Sang Baili’s lunch meeting and, fearing the business partner might not provide a meal, had prepared a lunchbox for her.

It contained sweet and sour fried eggs, eggplant with minced pork, garlic-infused chicken br3ast, and Wuchang rice decorated with a lamb pattern squeezed out of ketchup.

Shen Shuangjing’s attentiveness went far beyond this. For instance, she would add three or four tea leaves to boiling water, following Sang Baili’s drinking habits, and she had noticed many small habits in Sang Baili’s daily life that Sang Baili herself hadn’t even realized.

This level of care far exceeded what was stipulated in their agreement, inevitably making Sang Baili overthink.

Sang Baili knew there were only two possible reasons for Shen Shuangjing’s warmth and concern: either she was seeking emotional connection or material gain. Having already given Shen Shuangjing a million yuan, the more likely explanation was that Shen Shuangjing had developed a dependence on her after Sang Baili’s recent fever.

To remind Shen Shuangjing that their relationship was purely contractual, Sang Baili had deliberately transferred another hundred thousand yuan. Though this might seem cold and wound the budding feelings Shen Shuangjing harbored, that was precisely her intention. It was a roundabout way of signaling that Shen Shuangjing needed to face reality: such kindness could only be repaid with money, and Shen Shuangjing shouldn’t invest any inappropriate emotions in her.

Under normal circumstances, Sang Baili wouldn’t engage in trivial conversations with Special Assistant Sheng about who had prepared lunch. But Shen Shuangjing’s culinary skills were exceptional, rivaling those of a Michelin-starred chef, and deserved recognition.

Once their contractual marriage ended, she might consider hiring Shen Shuangjing as her personal chef at a premium.

As the company’s chief special assistant, Special Assistant Sheng’s mind raced, immediately grasping the President’s intention.

President Sang clearly wanted her to understand the importance of frugality and resourcefulness, emphasizing the need to conserve food and avoid wasting even a single grain of rice or a shred of vegetable. Even after finishing lunch, one should insist on clearing every last morsel from the plate.

Truly, President Sang was a model leader for the entire group, an example for all to emulate.

She would certainly share this lesson with her colleagues, encouraging them to follow President Sang’s example in cultivating virtuous habits and contributing to the company’s growth and prosperity.

Filled with admiration, Special Assistant Sheng declared, “President Sang, there’s a decision here that requires your attention.”

She presented two sets of documents.

“The casting for the female lead in Night of the Murder Chase, the major IP the company invested in last month, has reached a deadlock. The director believes both Vice President Xu’s distant cousin and Golden Elephant Award winner Jiang Mei are equally outstanding, making it impossible to choose. Given Sang Group’s status as the largest investor, they’ve requested your final decision.”

The explanation sounded perfectly reasonable, but in reality, choosing either candidate would offend the other. By passing the decision to Sang Baili, they could avoid taking sides and curry favor with her by letting her select her preferred female lead.

Sang Baili spoke with practiced ease, “Have the Operations Department and Project Investment Department collaborate on a report assessing the artists’ influence, acting skills, character, and any potential scandals. Choose the female lead with the highest overall score.”

The title Night of the Murder Chase sounded familiar. Sang Baili remembered Shen Shuangjing mentioning an audition for it, but she had completely forgotten that the Sang Group had also invested in the project.

After all the twists and turns, fate had once again made her Shen Shuangjing’s prospective boss.

Sang Baili crossed her arms and asked casually, “Is the audition for the third female lead in Night of the Murder Chase today?”

Special Assistant Sheng, who only handled matters directly related to Sang Baili, wasn’t familiar with the project’s details. After making a quick call to confirm, he replied formally, “It begins at 2 PM this afternoon.”

Sang Baili nodded. “I recall Night of the Murder Chase being the company’s most promising investment project this year?”

Special Assistant Sheng answered smoothly, “Yes, we’ve invested 280 million yuan.”

“Since it’s so crucial,” Sang Baili said, “let’s postpone the afternoon’s work and go observe the audition for the third female lead first.”

Sitting in the nanny van, Meng Manli hung up the phone, her expression turning tense and serious. She gripped Shen Shuangjing’s hand, as if about to announce some crucial news.

Shen Shuangjing’s own expression grew solemn. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did they already cast the role? I don’t need to audition?”

Meng Manli: “I heard a reliable rumor. The biggest investor will be at today’s audition.”

It’s like taking a final exam, and instead of the principal monitoring the classrooms with the worst or best grades, they specifically choose to supervise the exam in your classroom.

If you ask, it’s just fate.

Meng Manli scrutinized Shen Shuangjing from head to toe, then smoothed her hair. “I don’t know which scene you’ll be asked to perform. I didn’t have time to get you styled, and I’m not sure if the big boss will approve of your natural look.”

Shen Shuangjing’s beauty was different with and without makeup. Her bare face was delicate yet striking, radiating a pure, gentle charm like calm, green wave-like waters, resembling a camellia bud slowly unfurling. After careful consideration, Meng Manli decided against heavy makeup, opting to let her audition with her natural look.

Meng Manli stared at Shen Shuangjing’s face for a few seconds. “It’s fine that your recent weight loss has made you look a bit gaunt—it actually suits the character better. But your lips could use a brighter color. Did you bring lip gloss?”

Hearing this, Shen Shuangjing pulled out a color-changing lip balm from her shirt pocket, applied it, checked her reflection in the mirror, and glanced at Meng Manli.

Meng Manli smiled confidently. “That color suits you perfectly. It’ll definitely captivate the investor.”

Shen Shuangjing, acutely aware of her marital status and terrified of breaching her contract and incurring penalties, said, “I don’t need to seduce the investor. I just need them to believe I can play the third female lead well.”

Meng Manli nodded. “True. I heard the investor is married. If she developed any improper thoughts about you, that would be disastrous.”

Shen Shuangjing nodded. “I’m selling my talent, not my body.”

Meng Manli continued, “If she developed improper thoughts, who would settle for the third female lead? She’d demand the lead role from the investor, at the very least.”

Shen Shuangjing stared at her. “…Sister Manli, what happened to our principles?”

“Just kidding! Anyone who wants my artist will have to step over my dead body first.”

After the harmless joke, the tension eased, and Shen Shuangjing gradually relaxed, listening to the car’s music.

Upon arriving at the audition venue, they waited briefly before a staff member called Shen Shuangjing’s name.

Before she entered the room, Meng Manli clenched her fist and gave a thumbs-up. “You’ve got this! Go get ’em!”

Shen Shuangjing tensed up again, unable to force a smile. She nodded solemnly. “I will.”

She pushed open the door and met the gaze of the watery eyes inside.

Sang Baili sat calmly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Shen Shuangjing: “???”

Am I hallucinating?

I must have opened the wrong door.

Shen Shuangjing took a step back, closed the door, and calmly told Meng Manli, “Wrong room.”