After Transmigrating Back, I Became My Own Stand-in - Chapter 5

The treatment provided by the Mainframe didn’t cause Meng Heng’s body to recover at lightning speed. During the period when Shi Xu was both blind and amnesiac, absolutely no one came to visit her.

Meng Heng’s personal studio operated under Melon Entertainment. Its configuration was fairly standard; it didn’t have the “seven or eight assistants” rumored online who handled every aspect of her life.

Shi Xu felt that if Meng Heng’s manager ever sought a career change, she could try cross-talk comedy—it was the first time Shi Xu had met someone who could describe a medical condition with such a cheerful, entertaining flair.

Shen Tianqing hadn’t visited again since that day. Shi Xu was quite happy about this, as the woman gave her an incredibly cynical and eccentric vibe.

Her current life assistant, Yao Fangfang, wasn’t very old. She had a sweet voice and spent her free time sitting by the hospital bed chatting with Shi Xu.

“Xiao Heng, why aren’t you asking about your upcoming schedule?” Yao Fangfang had just brought up a fruit platter, the lid popping with a loud clatter.

Shi Xu kept her eyes open. The television in the ward was playing a recent variety show, and it sounded quite lively. Yao Fangfang felt that Meng Heng had become much quieter; previously, she felt like a typical young girl—despite earning money early, she had been quite pampered and delicate.

“Did you forget the manager already told me?” Shi Xu smiled. It had taken her several days to adjust to not having System permissions, but in a way, she enjoyed the feeling—no mechanical electronic voices or death-sentence progress bars. Even as a “blind bat,” she could peacefully enjoy the passage of time.

Even if the background music was the sound of medical equipment.

Yao Fangfang hummed in response and poked a piece of sliced mango toward Shi Xu’s mouth. “I almost forgot. Anyway, the company said to focus on recovery. Don’t be too sad about the film crew; Director Shen will definitely give you a better resource later.”

Shi Xu didn’t particularly like mangoes, but the original Meng Heng seemed to love them. These past few days, she felt like her entire world was mango-flavored.

Meng Heng had two assistants: Yao Fangfang, and another girl who had visited yesterday but was relatively quiet. Yao Fangfang’s mouth never stopped “de-bo-de-bo” (chattering), always mentioning random things that helped Shi Xu fill in the gaps of this world twelve years later.

“How ‘good’ a resource can Shen Tianqing give me?”

Shi Xu’s natural voice wasn’t actually sweet. In the past, Meng Heng had forced a high-pitched, delicate tone on variety shows, practically tattooing “I want to be a sweet girl” on her forehead. However, her physical features didn’t quite match that vibe. But because she had played the role for so long, she acted cloyingly sweet even in private. This sudden return to a normal tone was something Yao Fangfang was still getting used to.

Well, she’s lucky to be alive after falling from such a height, the assistant thought. A head injury, blindness, and partial amnesia—it’s understandable.

“A female lead role, surely,” Yao Fangfang replied.

Shi Xu: “That powerful, huh? Tell me some gossip about Director Shen, then.”

Shi Xu kept her eyes open, but they had no focus. Anyone walking in at this moment would see a beautiful, black-haired girl sitting on the bed. Because her face was pale, she looked quite pitiable. It was just that, upon closer inspection, this “sweet girl” wasn’t very sweet at all; she looked a bit “salty” (cool).

Yao Fangfang ate a piece of ice cake. It was December outside and snowing; she was shivering from the cold and didn’t understand why someone had sent this as a gift. She certainly wouldn’t dare give it to Shi Xu.

“I don’t dare say.” If Shi Xu could see right now, she’d see the cowardice on Yao Fangfang’s face.

Shi Xu remembered her two assistants whispering yesterday while she was resting. They both radiated a panic that she might “lose favor.”

“She wouldn’t have planted a listening device here, would she?”

Yao Fangfang: “No way. Director Shen isn’t that bored.”

Shi Xu: “Then tell me one.”

Yao Fangfang: “…”

What’s going on? Has Xiao Heng stopped fearing Director Shen after hitting her head? Didn’t we agree never to mention her? Is this the ‘beginning of love’? That’s even worse—falling in love with Director Shen gets you fired on the spot!

Shi Xu waited for a while but heard nothing. She turned her head, but since she couldn’t see, she could only shake it helplessly.

Shen Tianqing. The only thing she could remember was the outline of a sixteen-year-old girl. They had even filmed a movie together that year, but to Shi Xu, that wasn’t just “a past life”—it was countless lifetimes ago.

What did Tan Tan’s younger sister look like again? Why is the memory package I provided so low-resolution?

Yao Fangfang held it in for a long time before finally dropping a bombshell: “Director Shen’s… that ‘Kink-gate’ scandal was… really legendary.”

Yao Fangfang had joined the company through family connections, and the first artist she followed was Meng Heng. She felt Meng Heng was just a weak, helpless, and lucky person who was scouted by Shen Tianqing, which resulted in her being transferred to Melon Entertainment. Although the pay was better, Yao Fangfang lost her “nepotism” privileges; if she wanted money, she had to huddle in fear alongside her artist.

Shi Xu could hear the tremble in the assistant’s voice and found it a bit funny. She pursed her lips. After the soul-swap, Meng Heng’s formerly flighty temperament had been replaced by a subtle, indescribable attraction—an individual charm refined over many years.

“Kink-gate?” Shi Xu’s interest was piqued. Another “gate” scandal after all these years?

Yao Fangfang sighed and lowered her voice: “It was… back when Director Shen’s movie No Remaining Life was released. Someone caught a person delivering a gift to her—a full set of custom-made BDSM gear.”

Yao Fangfang coughed and cleared her throat. “The whole ‘alphabet’ circle type… oh, Xiao Heng, you were the one who told me this gossip! You said the source was super reliable, and now you want me to tell it back to you?” She complained. “What kind of person is Director Shen? Rich, beautiful, and talented, just a bit eccentric. For a woman, any hint of that stuff gets turned into a massive story…”

Shen Tianqing had a bad temper and a wealthy background; normally, people would steer clear of her. But she wasn’t a “straw bag” (useless). She debuted at sixteen in a martial arts film that was considered divine, then played a supporting role in another film, earning nominations and awards with ease—she had even complained that the prize money was only 20,000 TWD.

Just when everyone thought the “Young Miss” was truly going to conquer the acting world, she went off to study directing. Shen Tianqing’s uniqueness was that she specifically chose niche subjects. In her freshman year, she filmed an opera documentary that won awards abroad. While everyone expected her college work to surpass famous domestic directors, she went off to film “body art” (erotic) films.

Most adult films on the market are from a male perspective, often far from aesthetic and uncomfortable to watch. Her films weren’t “pure love” either; they turned the union of spirit and flesh into a form of “violent aesthetics.” The colors and soundtrack were a treat, and she broke into international nominations. When some deleted clips leaked back home, people found them incredibly stimulating. They dug up her history from her teens, and she became famous all over again.

Upon returning to the country, Shen Tianqing wasn’t quite as wild. Many directors are just names to the public, as most are middle-aged men. There was a gap in the domestic director pool, and female directors were few and far into between. The last highly famous one was Chen Caiwei. Many saw Shen Tianqing as Chen Caiwei’s successor. Her films were high-output, unique in style, enjoyed by both the refined and the popular, and possessed a captivating quality.

But that didn’t stop people from fighting tooth and nail to audition for her. Yet, after filming a few, Shen Tianqing seemed to find it boring. She partnered with friends to open a company and started making variety shows. Catching the livestream trend, she collaborated with a local station on a puzzle-solving livestream show that became an instant hit.

These credentials were all in her bio, but most people were more interested in the gossip—the most famous being the “Kink-gate” after the wrap party for her first domestic commercial film.

The Shen Tianqing of those years lacked the politeness she had during her acting interviews. She only showed a “good face” when her work was mentioned, leading many to have a grudge against her. Being caught receiving BDSM tools from a collaborating actor became the headline of the year, sparking all sorts of messy rumors. They said she was improper with her male actors, that she had “special hobbies,” that she used her family’s wealth to act out on set, intentionally torturing actors and even sexually harassing colleagues.

This kind of rumor was the most exciting to the public, especially with a young female director as the lead. Shen Tianqing didn’t bother to respond, but a reporter, not fearing death, blocked her car on the road. She didn’t stop; she kept driving forward as the reporter backed away. The camera was like a cannon, the crew’s faces glowing with the excitement of trying to capture a woman’s breakdown.

“Director Shen, does your family know about your ‘special hobbies’?”

“Do you do this to the male actors you work with…”

The engine roared. Shen Tianqing’s family background had been exposed, but the car she liked to drive didn’t match her usual style—it was a pink vintage model. Through the windshield, the entertainment reporter could feel her gaze: she didn’t look at him as a human being. Panicked, he backed up several steps, but the car charged. His colleagues watched excitedly, already composing headlines in their heads.

BANG.

The microphone dropped. The car slammed into a sycamore tree by the roadside. It was autumn, and the yellowing leaves rustled as they fell. Shen Tianqing got out of the car, dressed casually. She kicked the reporter who had fallen over from fright (even though he wasn’t hit) and admitted generously: “With a stunt like this, who doesn’t know my hobbies now?”

“So I’ll say it here: I don’t like men. Stop giving me these messy news stories.”

Yao Fangfang even found the old video. Shi Xu couldn’t see the footage, but she heard the voice—it was indeed familiar. It was the “sugar mommy” who had whispered “monologue” nonsense in her ear earlier.

She was caught between laughter and tears, unable to understand how that kid had grown up to be like this. Back when she was with Tan Tan, she had thought this little sister seemed cold but was actually quiet and soft-tempered, a crybaby who was pampered as the youngest. She had no family business to inherit, no need to struggle; she just needed to live comfortably. She could do what she liked, develop her hobbies, fall in love, and get married. That would have been perfect.

Though her ending with Tan Tan had been ugly, and she had stopped speaking of Shen Tianqing, time had shifted the stars. She had worked so hard to return from other planes, but the first person to give her such a profound sense of “the world has changed” was Shen Tianqing.

And she doesn’t seem like a normal person, Shi Xu thought. Does she like women because Tan Tan and I being together influenced her?

Shi Xu didn’t feel guilty—Shen Tianqing was never her responsibility. She just felt a sense of poignancy. The first person she met in this world who was connected to her former self had changed so much.

“Sigh, anyway, I think Director Shen is really tough in some ways. When she wanted to come out, she just came out,” Yao Fangfang chattered on. “But since Director Shen is so beautiful, Xiao Heng, you’re not getting the short end of the stick. Sigh, although her ‘kinks’ are explosive, I feel like they’re just rumors. Look, keeping people like you almost feels like she’s doing poverty relief.”

She slapped the table. “She’s a Bodhisattva!”

Shi Xu was jolted by the slap, unable to imagine her benefactor as a Bodhisattva.

Yao Fangfang sighed again. “But Xiao Heng, don’t be too sad. we can also use the benefactor as a springboard, can’t we? Besides, no matter how much Director Shen plays with substitute literature, she won’t find anyone who truly looks like Shi Xu.”

She started peeling an orange. The tart scent hit Shi Xu’s nose. Shi Xu froze. “What do you mean, ‘someone who looks like Shi Xu’?”

Yao Fangfang stuffed a segment of the orange into her artist’s hand. “The person Director Shen loves but can’t have is that actress, Shi Xu.”

Shi Xu: “Which one?” She suddenly felt a prickle of fear.

“The senior, Shi Xu, who died twelve years ago.”