After Transmigrating Back, I Became My Own Stand-in - Chapter 6

Shi Xu couldn’t understand it.

The year she left this world, people were still using flip phones. Now, the touch of a full-screen smartphone felt great, facial recognition was convenient, and searching for a person was incredibly easy.

The content about Shen Tianqing was endless. While other celebrities had lists of “associated people” or “related partners,” the column for Shen Tianqing’s romantic life was empty. She hadn’t even had a single officially recognized relationship.

Shi Xu didn’t understand why Shen Tianqing was so obsessed with her.

The hospital room was on the 40th floor, offering a view of the skyscrapers. This was still S-City, but aside from a few landmarks, almost everything had changed. Winter was cold, but the room was warm. Shi Xu, dressed in hospital scrubs, performed hand rehabilitation every day. She was recovering faster than before. During this time, other artists from the same company came to visit.

In Meng Heng’s memory, there were no close friends. Most visits were “plastic” (fake)—exchanging pleasantries while subtly trying to gauge one thing: Does your benefactor still want you?

The fact that Meng Heng’s benefactor was Shen Tianqing was a high-level secret. While many artists had standard company contracts, the company didn’t usually interfere with personal “choices.” Yao Fangfang had mentioned an actor who had multiple benefactors at once; as long as it wasn’t exposed, it was fine, but exposure meant the end of the road.

However, the shortcut was too tempting. There were always people who sacrificed themselves like moths to a flame.

While hospitalized, Shi Xu caught up on a decade’s worth of knowledge and watched many of Shen Tianqing’s films. She still viewed the woman through a nostalgic filter, thinking of her as that shy, quiet kid who didn’t like to talk.

With her discharge scheduled for tomorrow, Shi Xu was bored. She asked Yao Fangfang to find her some “resources.” After all, her search results were full of questions like: “High-def uncensored version of ‘Flee’?”, “Paying well for full version of ‘Flee’!”, and “Urgent! Homework due! Can someone share the clip from ‘Flee’ where the female lead swings the whip?” It made her curious.

When she actually saw the film—which featured high-intensity, “violent aesthetics”—Shi Xu was stunned. It was explicit and wild, and the female lead was gorgeous. Yao Fangfang had managed to get a collector’s edition DVD. The two of them huddled in the room while the studio was in a meeting, secretly watching the “adult film” shot by their own boss.

Yao Fangfang was the one trembling, terrified of being disciplined by the manager. Shi Xu, however, watched with extreme focus. The fall from height had made her look thinner, but it seemed to have knocked away her confusion. Every time Yao Fangfang met her gaze, she felt she couldn’t hold it; those eyes seemed to possess a natural magic.

“Xiao Heng, what do you think? My friend who studies abroad bought it. I had to work so hard to get her to lend it to me.”

Shi Xu: “I’ll reimburse you later.”

Yao Fangfang was a bit of a money-grubber, but she also knew her artist wasn’t wealthy. Though Shen Tianqing had paid off the last of Meng Heng’s debts, Meng Heng still had a pack of blood-sucking family members.

The film’s plot involved urban exploration: a story about a “student” who was actually an agent and a “noble lady” who was also an agent. Because of the nature of the film, it wasn’t as rushed as a typical adult movie. The scenery was beautiful, and the production design was high-quality.

Yao Fangfang had heard of the film’s fame but had never seen it. She was curious and excited, letting out an “Oh!” every now and then while glancing at Shi Xu. She found her artist expressionless, yet watching very seriously.

Especially during the intimate scenes—which were aesthetically beautiful and made Yao Fangfang a bit embarrassed—Shi Xu actually let out a yawn.

Yao Fangfang: It’s so stimulating!! It’s making me too embarrassed to speak!

Shi Xu was analyzing the lighting and camera angles. She wasn’t a professional, but after following a director-host in one of her previous system missions, she had learned quite a lot.

The female lead’s moans were very charming, making Shi Xu (a lesbian herself) give a small smile. The male lead was handsome with a clear age gap—he even seemed a bit “pure.” Shi Xu felt the casting was excellent and the visuals were a perfect ten.

Just as she noticed Yao Fangfang looking at her as if she wanted to say something, the door was pushed open.

The first person to enter was a woman in a long trench coat. Her hair was pinned back with a pearl clip, revealing an exceptionally unique face. It was an extraordinarily beautiful face with a style so eye-catching that one couldn’t help but look twice.

Shi Xu instinctively looked up. The woman tilted her head and let out a “Yo.” “You really can see now?”

Yao Fangfang scrambled to her feet as if she had seen a ghost, spilling her popcorn as she frantically searched for the remote. Her cowardice was visible to the naked eye.

The door being open let in a draft of cold air from the hallway. The woman who entered looked arrogant. Behind her was an assistant-looking woman (Tao Yi), who was staring in shock at the movie playing on the screen. It was exactly the climax of the film—a close-up full of passion, where the female lead’s tears of ecstasy slid down the corner of her eye, adding to her allure.

“Just recovered and you’re already watching my film?”

The voice had briefly brushed past Shi Xu’s ears when she first returned to this world. Hearing it today, she realized she couldn’t even remember the old Shen Tianqing’s voice. She just stared at her.

Shi Xu didn’t know what Shen Tianqing looked like on the day she returned, but she knew that at this moment, the woman before her was completely separate from the little girl in her blurry memories. She had grown up and changed immensely. If no one had reminded her, Shi Xu wouldn’t have even recognized her.

Perhaps because Shi Xu’s gaze was so undisguised, Shen Tianqing looked back. She had almond eyes—when she was a child, they looked round and incredibly cute. Now that she had matured, they were still “sweet” in shape, but her temperament and expression gave off an aggressive vibe. It wasn’t a sharp aggression, but it had a certain force to it. Even though Shen Tianqing looked very thin—her coat outlining a fragile frame—she felt powerful.

“Scared stupid?” Shen Tianqing laughed.

Yao Fangfang finally found the remote. Just as she was about to turn it off, Shen Tianqing walked over and snatched it. “Don’t. Keep watching.”

The atmosphere turned stiff. To put it simply, people here feared her and didn’t enjoy being around her. In other words, she was quite “unlikable.”

But Shen Tianqing was used to it. She was a likable child once, but halfway through her life, she encountered a “brutal excavator” (Shi Xu’s death) that cut off the path she was supposed to take. She had changed direction.

Now, she reached out and tapped the space between Shi Xu’s eyebrows, then traced a path down, naturally tracing her features. “Recovering well. The injuries are all healed.”

Her touch was lingering, the warmth of her fingertips burning on Shi Xu’s face like aged liquor. Shi Xu closed her eyes under the heat.

In the hallway, Yao Fangfang asked Tao Yi in a whisper: “Assistant Tao, why did Director Shen come so suddenly?”

Tao Yi pushed up her glasses. “Does Director Shen need a reason to come here?”

Back in the room, seeing the face looking intact, Shen Tianqing’s mood improved. The fact that the girl tactfully closed her eyes made her previous irritation dissipate. This was indeed a whim; half an hour ago, Shen Tianqing had been in a shouting match during a meeting at Melon Entertainment.

Her partner, Lin Chi, had told her to rein it in: “The resources you’re giving Meng Heng are too biased. On one hand, you won’t let people find out who she belongs to, but on the other, you’re throwing money to push her. It makes things difficult for me.”

Shen Tianqing was used to acting overbearingly. Meng Heng was the substitute she had worked so hard to find; it felt like finding something she had lost, so she was determined to be more attentive.

“What’s difficult for you? I, Shen Tianqing, will push whoever I want to push.”

Lin Chi, the producer of her works for many years, knew all about Shen Tianqing’s extravagance. Every time they checked a film budget, Lin Chi looked pained—she had developed the face of a miser at a young age.

“Weren’t you ‘pushing’ her before? Didn’t you say just giving her a little something was enough? What, have you actually fallen in love?”

That sentence pierced Shen Tianqing. Everyone in the meeting knew that Shen Tianqing’s “love” involved no physical desire; it was a cold, detached displacement of affection.

Shen Tianqing’s face dropped immediately. Another friend, Yan Muyu, who had been happily gossiping while drinking coffee, put down her phone to mediate: “Lin Chi, just give it a rest. She has the final say anyway. If she wants to be good to Meng Heng, let her. It’s not like Meng Heng isn’t making money.”

Lin Chi snorted. “She actually wants me to shove Meng Heng into a variety show. Normally that’s fine, but the cast is already set and promotion starts next week, and now she pulls this stunt.”

They eventually agreed to pull some strings. Shen Tianqing, still full of fire, left the office. She hadn’t seen her “canary” in a while. During this time, Tan Tan was at the family home. Shen Tianqing had nothing to say to Tan Tan; their relationship was mediocre. She knew her “love” had nothing to do with Tan Tan anymore—though strictly speaking, Tan Tan was the one who facilitated the “fate.”

However… Shi Xu had been so miserable back then, and Tan Tan couldn’t escape the blame.

Sitting in the elevator, Shen Tianqing thought of Meng Heng. That face that looked a bit like Shi Xu’s. It’s good to see her. But seeing her made her heart hurt even more.

Shi Xu could feel Shen Tianqing’s grip getting stronger. She opened her eyes and unexpectedly met the other woman’s gaze. She saw eyes shimmering with moisture, filled with an intense hatred mixed with other emotions—something fierce.

Shen Tianqing let go of her hand. “Did I give you permission to open your eyes?”

Shi Xu felt helpless. What kind of master-servant play is this? Lunatic. “I’m sorry.”

Meng Heng’s personality was timid before Shen Tianqing. Shi Xu mimicked it perfunctorily.

Shen Tianqing could feel the change in her. She attributed it to the trauma of the fall; after losing her sight and regaining it, the girl had become bolder. She thought of Lin Chi’s words: “How can a person invest without wanting to ‘attain’ something?”

Attain? What she wanted to attain was Shi Xu, but that person was dead and turned to ash. She couldn’t find her anywhere. For twelve years, she hadn’t even dreamed of her once.

Shi Xu was so heartless. Back when they were filming, she had been indifferent to her, yet because of her personality, she couldn’t leave her alone and still looked after her. Shen Tianqing had fallen deep into that swamp-like tenderness, never expecting to be trapped in it for a lifetime.

She stared at those eyes. Meng Heng truly had a good “skin.” Phoenix eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, and well-shaped eyebrows even without makeup. It was just that she was usually too boring.

For some reason, Shen Tianqing suddenly thought of Shi Xu’s gaze. So calm, like still water, yet hiding a massive danger—by the time you realized it, you were already caught in the whirlpool.

She is luring you.

An unexplained surge of irritation hit Shen Tianqing. She suddenly leaned down and bit the girl’s lip.

Shi Xu frowned in pain. She heard Shen Tianqing’s voice, seemingly struggling to restrain a surge of emotion, saying through gritted teeth:

“Don’t look at me like that. A stand-in needs to have the self-awareness of a stand-in.” Shen Tianqing’s own lips were stained with blood, radiating a sense of despair.

As Shi Xu went to wipe the blood from her lip, Shen Tianqing grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up.

“I’ve arranged a variety show for you. Don’t embarrass me.”