After Transmigrating Back, I Became My Own Stand-in - Chapter 2

Shi Xu didn’t expect the girl to be so resolute. In fact, Meng Heng left so happily it was as if her own death was something worth celebrating with gongs and drums.

While the Mainframe was processing the paperwork, Shi Xu chatted with her. The girl was twenty years old and a minor celebrity.

Inside the space, everything was snow-white, and even the chairs appeared transparent. Meng Heng noticed that Shi Xu’s coat wasn’t even worn properly; it was draped casually over her shoulders. Actually, this style would have shown off a figure well if worn correctly, but on her, it somehow projected an air of transcendent, “immortal” grace.

“A minor celebrity?”

Shi Xu’s face was strikingly handsome at first glance. Sitting next to her, Meng Heng felt a bit embarrassed. Because her idiot “Sugar Mommy” benefactor loved Shi Xu exclusively, Meng Heng had once accidentally seen a photo in Shen Tianqing’s wallet taken from exactly this angle.

As expected, the real person was clearer than the photo—she truly had an unforgettable look.

But this person is dead, Meng Heng thought, becoming sad again. Shi Xu reached out and patted the top of Meng Heng’s head. “You can still change your mind.”

Meng Heng shook her head. “No. I want to experience a different kind of life.”

Shi Xu gave a light laugh. Compared to Meng Heng’s youthful skin, she was far more mature. Sometimes a person’s life experience can be glimpsed through their appearance; perhaps it was the effect of time, but every movement of her brows made one’s breath hitch.

“Different? Is being a celebrity not good?”

Shi Xu had worked for the Mainframe of this space for many years. As a “Quick Transmigration” task-taker, her performance was excellent—ranked first in evaluations every year. Her year-end bonuses were several times that of other systems. Unfortunately, she had few material desires; spending money within the system felt pointless, so she had a massive amount of savings.

She casually handed Meng Heng a Sea Salt Cheese Matcha drink produced by the Mainframe. “Try it. It’s new.”

Meng Heng took the cup. Despite her “black-and-red” (infamous) public persona, she wasn’t actually as arrogant as the haters claimed. “It’s not good. It’s very boring.”

She took a sip and looked at Shi Xu. The other woman’s gaze was full of tolerance, and she had an “approachable handsome” look that made it impossible to keep one’s guard up.

“Actually…”

The procedures on the Mainframe’s side were public; they could both see the progress of the data transfer just by looking up. The revolving lantern of memory chips—all of it was going to be given to Shi Xu. Everything from Meng Heng’s short life.

“I was only able to become this famous because I was ‘kept’ by someone…” She lowered her head. The “black-and-red” path was hard to walk. Her “vicious but sweet girl” persona was designed by the company’s top team, but it didn’t actually suit her. She had naturally affectionate eyes that could turn cold in an instant, but that kind of persona was too difficult for the original Meng Heng to pull off. The team had to settle for a different style.

Shi Xu took a bite of a Cheese Grape popsicle bought from the mall while using her other hand to calculate her assets on the floating screen.

“Kept?” Her voice was muffled because she was still biting the popsicle, but she didn’t sound the least bit contemptuous—instead, she sounded quite curious. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me? I’m about to take over your identity.”

Meng Heng bit her lip. She looked at the profile of the woman eating the popsicle and thought of a day when Shen Tianqing had lost her composure. That kind of hysteria was the opposite of her usual well-dressed public image, yet it matched her reputation perfectly.

Shi Xu had been dead for twelve years. The Mainframe implied that Shi Xu had actually experienced much more than twelve years—perhaps decades or centuries across countless worlds.

Does she… still remember Shen Tianqing?

Meng Heng didn’t know much about her benefactor’s private gossip, as Shen Tianqing’s friends rarely mentioned Shi Xu’s name. The entertainment industry today was even more obsessed with money and status than it was ten years ago; the “artistic integrity” of the early years felt like a rare treasure.

Shi Xu had studied opera since childhood. She came from a Wudan background (female roles specializing in martial arts), focusing on Daomadan (warrior women). She was once the most famous performer of female roles in the Kun Opera Society. Such a person was a disciple of the national first-class artist Mr. Song Yi. Gifted with immense talent, she was already touring internationally with exchange groups in her teens. By all rights, she should have been a rising star in the opera world with a limitless future.

Her physical grace was the icing on the cake for her acting. Her encyclopedia entry mentioned that Shi Xu herself didn’t care much for the entertainment world; she only did cameo roles for friends. Later, after a series of misfortunes, she filmed many projects to earn money—both good and bad. Directors of that era adored her. Everyone thought that era was the peak of martial arts cinema, not realizing it was actually the setting sun.

With Shi Xu’s passing, a new era began. And she became a legend.

“Do you still remember Shen Tianqing?” Meng Heng asked cautiously.

Strings of data flew under Shi Xu’s fingers. The system staff group chat was throwing her a farewell party. Everyone knew 6900 Shi Xu worked like a madwoman just to go back, and they all assumed she was so determined because someone was waiting for her—after all, that was the case for most “desperate” system workers.

Every time Shi Xu denied it, people said she was just acting cool.

These strings of data were Shi Xu’s experiences over the years. It was ironic that a person with a pathetic love life—who had even been cheated on—was actually a “Gold Medal Romance System” worker. She turned “Bad Endings” into “Happy Endings” and was even gifted banners of gratitude by her hosts for “bringing the dead back to life.”

In reality, her own emotions were a mess, and she was unlucky to the core, leading to a total defeat. Just as she was about to make it through, she died. Shi Xu’s life was a complete prank played by fate.

Her friend Xin Xiaoxuan—whose face she could barely remember—used to say she was “blinded by lust,” making the kind of mistake even a foolish king would make: thinking she had met a fairy when it was actually a fox spirit.

Processing her data, Shi Xu shook her head at the question. “I don’t remember. Who is that?”

Meng Heng lowered her head, awkwardly pinching her fingertips. “If you don’t remember, then forget it.”

Shi Xu: “It’s fine. I’ll have to get familiar with everything when I get there anyway.”

At that moment, the Mainframe sent over a photo of the scene where Meng Heng fell off the stage. It was high-definition, bloody, and unbearable to look at.

Shi Xu winced. “That must have hurt. You’ve suffered, little sister.”

Meng Heng looked like she was going to cry again. Shi Xu laughed, “It’s okay. It won’t be so bitter anymore. Look, I’m giving all of this to you.”

Shi Xu was generous. She transferred her ID number along with everything under her name to Meng Heng. She had built everything from scratch in this space, and the cruelty of this place was self-evident. It was like a giant factory where everyone chosen was a “factory girl,” working 24/7 without rest. An annual leave was just a brief break after successfully completing a world.

Meng Heng: “Thank you.”

Shi Xu: “You’re welcome. Continue then. Although I’ll be able to see your memories later, it might be more interesting if you just tell me.”

Meng Heng: “Uh… my benefactor is twenty-nine this year. She is one of the owners of Melon Entertainment…”

Shi Xu: “Oh ho! A ‘Dominant CEO,’ and quite young too.”

Meng Heng: “…and also a director. Her family is very rich, but she has a terrible temper. She’s very sarcastic and likes to… mistreat me.”

Shi Xu: “Can you elaborate on this ‘mistreatment’? In what way?”

Meng Heng watched the woman beside her squint her eyes. Her fingers were long and beautiful; it was hard to look away when she tapped the screen.

“No, no, no… she and I have never done that…”

Shi Xu: “This ‘Big Brother’ is no good then!”

Meng Heng: “…It’s a woman.”

Shi Xu: “Rich women are keeping ‘little sisters’ now? That works too. If it were a male benefactor, I’d have to figure out how to get rid of him.”

Meng Heng: “…” Are you actually more pleased that it’s a woman?

Shi Xu: “If it’s a woman, at least I can be a bit more gentle.” She ate her popsicle bite by bite; she looked tough and lacked any “softness” in personality, and she ate very quickly.

Meng Heng: “You don’t need to be gentle to her.”

Shi Xu: “How so?”

Meng Heng: “…Her personal hobby is giving me homework.”

Shi Xu: “She has that kind of ‘kink’? Fine. What homework? You should have graduated high school; it can’t be SAT prep, can it?”

Meng Heng: “It’s training… opera scripts, acting classes, things like that. There’s homework for all of it.”

Meng Heng turned pale just mentioning it. Shi Xu, however, found it quite interesting. She finished the account transfer, watching her interface go from blue light to gray. Finally, she looked at Meng Heng. “It’s okay. From now on, you have me.”

Shi Xu wanted to chat more, but the Mainframe had completed the handover. The countdown for the transmission had begun.

She and Meng Heng walked in different directions. As they parted, Meng Heng hesitated before saying: “Teacher Shi, you must protect yourself.”

Shi Xu: “?” Is assassination legal now?

The transmission was fast, accompanied by the Mainframe’s voice:

[Due to an unknown attack, memory package loading is experiencing lag…]

[Compensation functions have been issued…]

[Wound repair function loading…]

[Temporary rapid repair of blindness caused by physical damage…]

[ID 6900, thank you for the glory you have created over the years.]

She fell into a darkness identical to the one she felt when she died years ago.

In the early morning, Shen Tianqing’s car entered the hospital via a private lane. Although security was strict, countless reporters could still be seen outside.

Tao Yi looked at the woman in the back seat. Just as she was about to wake her up, she realized Shen Tianqing was already awake. The basement lights were a cold white, but the interior car light was warm. Shen Tianqing’s hair seemed to have a filter over it, softening her overbearing aura slightly.

Her appearance was no longer as harmless as it was twelve years ago. The “cuteness” Shi Xu had once praised had evolved into perversity. Day after day of longing had almost hollowed her out, so even in a heavy, high-quality coat, she still looked fragile and lonely.

But no one dared to underestimate her.

As the elevator went up, Tao Yi was still checking the news about Meng Heng. As a minor celebrity who had been kept by Shen Tianqing for nearly a year, Tao Yi could feel the “iron-blooded” nature of Shen Tianqing’s supposed neglect.

This one was more extreme than any before her. It was plunder, it was suppression—it was as if Shen Tianqing wanted to tear out the girl’s soul and take over her body just to summon that long-lost spirit.

The elevator stopped at the VIP floor. Someone was there to meet them, bowing to Shen Tianqing. Shen Tianqing’s thick-heeled boots made a dull thud on the floor. The silence on this floor made Tao Yi even more afraid to speak.

She felt her boss was angry. This was her third year with Shen Tianqing, yet she still couldn’t predict the woman’s temper. “Fickle” would be an understatement; Shen Tianqing was “colorful shades of black.”

Doctors followed Shen Tianqing to report on Meng Heng’s condition. It had been three hours since she was admitted. An artist’s brush with death generated massive traffic that the platforms were unwilling to give up. Many groups were trying to infiltrate the hospital.

Since this hospital was under Shen Tianqing’s second older brother, it wasn’t easy to get in.

“Over an hour ago, Miss Meng Heng’s condition improved slightly. Initial judgment is that there’s no…”

There were several doctors. Shen Tianqing interrupted: “She didn’t die, right?”

The doctor choked for a moment, then shook her head. “But intracranial hemorrhage can lead to complications.”

Shen Tianqing glanced at her. “Such as?”

She was still wearing her gala coat, her hair flowing behind her, jet black and shiny. Her eyebrows were long and thin—specifically, they were “broken” eyebrows (a slit style), which made the small mole at the end of her right brow even more obvious.

“Slurred speech, aphasia, or temporary blindness and amnesia, etc.,” the doctor said.

Shen Tianqing gave an “oh.” “That’s not important. How is her face? Is she disfigured?”

Tao Yi couldn’t help but twitch her lips. She remembered the first time Shen Tianqing met Meng Heng; she had looked like a bandit snatching a commoner’s daughter. Her eyes, usually uninterested in everything, had suddenly lit up. If Tao Yi didn’t know her boss’s strange sexual preferences—and that she usually preferred to “do it herself” because no one else satisfied her—she would have suspected her boss was going to lay hands on Meng Heng right then.

But Shen Tianqing did lay hands on her—she brought Meng Heng, who was then a bottom-tier idol in a small company, back to Melon Entertainment. Then she began her bizarre “cultivation” hobby, seemingly sparing no effort this time, even sending the girl to learn opera.

The amount of money spent made Tao Yi’s heart ache. Unfortunately, Meng Heng was a “useless straw bag”—she had the face of the one Shen Tianqing was obsessed with, but none of the spirit. Still, since she’d been snatched, Shen Tianqing spent the money, even if she didn’t care much about the studio’s arrangements.

Her malicious nature was obvious: she was just looking for a substitute.

Shi Xu’s stand-in. A replica of the beloved.

Upon hearing the doctor say there was no disfigurement, Shen Tianqing laughed, her mood noticeably improving. “That’s good then.”

She entered the hospital room. At that moment, Shi Xu—now inside Meng Heng’s body—struggled to move a finger.

This hurts way too much.

She opened her eyes and could see nothing, but she could feel people surrounding her. In the darkness, a pair of slightly cool hands grabbed hers, and an intimate “Baby” reached her ears.

Shi Xu: Holy crap, what the hell? Is it always this cringy?

Tao Yi had a kind smile on her face, thinking: Here we go again, the boss really loves to act.

Meanwhile, Shen Tianqing gripped Shi Xu’s hand, leaned close to her ear, and whispered:

“Did you think you could escape me just by dying?”