After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 102

Shi Nanbei never expected that someone who looked as aloof and mature as Zhao Xunyin would actually run a secret alt account just to post complaints on Weibo.

Did she have to be this childish?

All those things she’d said were just casual remarks—Nanbei hadn’t thought much of it at all. But Zhao Xunyin, who hadn’t shown anything on the surface, had actually taken it to heart so badly that she went to ask the internet for help.

Shin Nanbei’s feelings were complicated.

Hmm, childish or not, she had to admit—it was kind of cute.

The internet was buzzing nonstop. Although the vast majority of people were praising their “perfect love story,” there was always a certain group of professional contrarians determined to argue about something:

“Is ZXY washed up? Has she really sunk to this level just to scrape for attention?”

“I’m dying of laughter. People actually believe this kind of stunt? It’s obviously coordinated between her and marketing accounts. It’s only been a few hours and public opinion has already flipped【bye】. Capital is powerful.”

“Let’s be real—do celebrities really ‘accidentally switch accounts’? Everyone knows their Weibo accounts are managed by their team. They barely have any autonomy. And replying to random netizens with a burner account?【smile】

Convenient timing too—ZXY’s new drama is about to air, right?”

“Hot search is so embarrassing【smile】. As a passerby, I just want to ask—Is ZXY’s wife planning to debut soon? She’s on hot search every other day. Isn’t it awkward? I already saw during that variety show how desperate she was for attention. If she wants to be famous, just say it.”

“Poor ZXY, married a vampire of a wife. Ridiculous.”

“What ‘beautiful love’? Two women can’t love anything but a hammer.”

“Did your horse die? If she won’t love women, does she have to love you?”

“Curse all you want, but don’t drag people’s moms in. Curse their dads—bad genes.”

“Anyway, ZXY is really weird. Every time she has a new drama coming out, she stirs up trouble【wave】. Is she that desperate for hype?”

“I don’t know about hype, but I do know she’s desperate for love. Look at how late she got married. And the difference before and after marriage?【smile】 She’s head over heels, but her wife doesn’t react at all.”

“Her wife has no reaction +10086. Isn’t her wife’s family super powerful? Grandma’s from a nuclear research institute, grandpa worked in politics【doge】. What perfect love? It’s just mutual benefit. If her wife didn’t have that background, there’s no way she’d marry her and worship her the way she does.”

By this point, Shi Nanbei’s expression had fully turned into subway old man reading his phone + confused Black guy meme.

When did her family suddenly become “powerful”?

To be fair, her grandmother did work at a research institute for a few years before transferring to a university as a professor.

As for her grandfather, yes, he had technically “worked in politics” but didn’t village chiefs count as “politics” too?

Shi Nanbei really felt that people online had misunderstood her entirely. Honestly, she would love to secretly be a rich heiress whose parents were testing her by forcing her to live a low-key life—but the truth was, her parents would love that too. Her family was at best “comfortably middle-class,” and the distance between them and “powerful background” was roughly two solar systems.

So, Shi Nanbei replied to a netizen.

Nanbei-the-Hero replied to @CatWithAbs:

My family is not powerful. She married me mainly for my beauty and talent.

The moment she posted, the other side responded—clearly online:

CatWithAbs: @Nanbei-the-Hero Ha tui—who the hell are you?

Nanbei-the-Hero: Zhao Xunyin’s wife.

Two minutes later, she received a DM:

“Miss, do you have delusions? You, Zhao Xunyin’s wife?”

Apparently accustomed to encountering this type of person online, the other party immediately sent another message:

“Wake up, lady. Your Weibo is all about Yang Qiyue or Wu Yan, or voting for esports players. I really want to ask, do you like men or women?”

Shi Nanbei found this person very strange:

Does it matter whether I like men or women?

CatWithAbs:

Does it not matter? Aren’t you claiming to be Zhao Xunyin’s wife? How do you prove it? I could say I’m Zhao Xunyin’s dad.【smile】

Shi Nanbei was getting angry. She knew the person was a troll—but she’d never seen one so rude.

Prove she was Zhao Xunyin’s wife?

Easy.

Thankfully, after getting their marriage certificate, she’d been so excited she couldn’t sleep the whole night, flipping through it over and over and taking countless photos. If she’d had the guts back then, she might have posted them to her Moments to show off.

Now was the perfect time to use one.

So, Shi Nanbei decisively censored their personal info on the marriage certificate photos and sent them over:

If you don’t send me a photo of your household registration proving you’re Zhao Xunyin’s father today, I’ll sue you for spreading rumors and defamation.

After sending it, she waited three minutes but got no reply. Strange.

She sent another message:

Why aren’t you talking?

A red exclamation mark popped up in front of the message.

Shi Nanbei: “…”

So, she’d been blocked?

In her entire life, this was the first time Shi Nanbei had experienced being blocked.

Was this for real?

Can’t win an argument so you resort to blocking?

How shameless!

Fuming like a puffed-up pufferfish, she typed another long paragraph and hit send—

Only to get the same red exclamation mark.

Message rejected.

Shi Nanbei: “…”

Ugh, so frustrating.

She was just about to tap into the other woman’s Weibo account and leave a comment under her latest post when Zhao Xunyin’s call suddenly came in. Shi Nanbei didn’t hesitate and picked up immediately:

“Hello?”

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

Silence from the other end.

Shi Nanbei called out “Hello?” again—twice—thinking maybe the signal was bad. “Can you hear me? Hellooo?”

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

I can hear you just fine. It’s not the signal. I just haven’t figured out how to talk to you yet.

“I can hear you.”

One way or another, she had to face this. After giving herself several rounds of silent pep talks, Zhao Xunyin finally spoke.

“Oh. I thought your signal dropped. I’m at Grandma’s house now. Had dinner already. You? Did you eat? What did you have?”

As Shi Nanbei chatted, she walked over to the desk, sat down, and opened her laptop.

She needed to see what exactly the internet was saying about the two of them.

Zhao Xunyin’s voice sounded mostly normal, but if one listened closely, there was a faint awkwardness she couldn’t hide. “Mm, yeah. I ate. Just had a salad.”

Could she not be awkward?

If you anonymously posted on a gossip forum asking strangers how to get along with your wife—and then the entire internet found out—how exactly are you supposed to face said wife afterward?

Sigh. Regret.

“Another one of those veggie salads with nothing but leaves?” Shi Nanbei asked casually.

“Yeah.”

“That’s such a shame. Grandma made konjac-braised duck for me tonight, plus red-braised potatoes and stir-fried peppers with shredded pork. Everything was amazing! You’re always eating vegetarian stuff, and you can’t even have chili or seasonings because of work, how are you going to survive long term?”

Shi Nanbei understood it was for her job, but honestly—what kind of adult lives off rabbit food? It couldn’t be healthy.

As Zhao Xunyin listened to her, she noticed something: Shi Nanbei was talking to her the same way she always did, wandering from topic to topic, chatting with one line here and another there. No anger. No interrogation. No dramatic reaction to the online fiasco at all.

It had already been hours.

Was it possible Shi Nanbei still hadn’t gone online?

But that was improbable—Shi Nanbei was practically addicted to the internet. Forcing her offline for four or five hours would probably drive her insane.

“Ahem, so, did you, uh, see what happened online?”

Yes, asking outright was embarrassing. But Zhao Xunyin wasn’t the type to bury her head like a turtle, either. She was older; age had given her thicker skin and a sturdier heart. It wasn’t the end of the world—so she embarrassed herself a little in front of her wife. Big deal.

Take the hit and move on.

Life throws things at you; you deal with them.

If she got teased or disliked over this—well, it wouldn’t be the first time her wife disliked something she did. Better to bring it up herself than be blindsided later.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling anxious. She knew her wife too well. Calling Shi Nanbei “slow on the uptake” was sometimes giving her too much credit.

And low emotional intelligence usually came with the package.

So, Zhao Xunyin had mentally prepared herself for being mocked, disliked, or interrogated.

But completely beyond her expectations, Shi Nanbei was calm.

Completely, almost unnervingly calm—like the whole thing barely made a ripple in her mind.

Well, aside from discovering that her wife was, apparently, a little childish.

“I saw it. Why?” Shi Nanbei said.

“You don’t have anything you want to ask me?”

Zhao Xunyin hesitated. She really did want to explain why she used a burner account to post on that gossip site in the first place.

Mainly, the age gap between them was big, they’d married in a flash, and their early communication was practically nonexistent. She had absolutely no idea how to deal with a blunt, straightforward person like Shi Nanbei. That insecurity had driven her to seek advice from strangers online.

But how was she supposed to say that out loud?

What, was she supposed to tell her:

“Ah, I was desperately in love with you but didn’t know how to show it without seeming too obvious and losing face—because I’m a Best Actress, after all, and face is everything”?

If she said that, she’d die of shame on the spot.

Admitting it was painful, but it was true: once you’re of a certain age, face is more important than anything. If she had married someone around her age like An He had, she wouldn’t have cared this much.

But she and Shi Nanbei were simply too different. And their “imbalance” wasn’t like those typical older-younger relationships. Shi Nanbei was exceptional—independent, charismatic, and perfectly tailored to Zhao Xunyin’s aesthetic preferences. Zhao Xunyin was thirty-four, had dated plenty, had seen the world, lived through countless love stories.

And in the end, she fell hopelessly for someone thirteen years younger.

If people found out, it really was kind of embarrassing.

“What do I want to ask?” Shi Nanbei thought carefully. “Anything’s allowed? I can ask anything at all?”

“Yes.”

No matter what, better to rip off the band-aid.

“How many burner accounts do you actually have?”

Zhao Xunyin: “?”

She hadn’t expected that to be what Shi Nanbei cared about.

“Just one,” she replied.

Still confused, she asked, “Other than this, is there really nothing else you want to ask? Or anything you want to say?” She pressed her lips together, sounding a little uneasy. “I really did switch accounts by accident. And this has blown up pretty badly. When school starts tomorrow, you’ll probably be swarmed by reporters.”

She paused, then lowered her voice. “I’m sorry.”

It felt strange to apologize to a partner who was so much younger than she was, but this time, Zhao Xunyin truly had mishandled things. When they got married, Shi Nanbei had been very clear: all she wanted was to finish her studies quietly and become a doctor who could help people. Becoming a celebrity held zero appeal for her.

Shi Nanbei hated being disturbed.

Even though she had never outright said it, Zhao Xunyin could tell that the only reason she accepted that variety show was to spend more time with her.

After the show, Zhao Xunyin had pulled strings for months, slowly redirecting the media’s attention away from Shi Nanbei. Nanbei wasn’t part of the industry—shielding her from cameras was something fans, passersby, and even the press could understand. Zhao Xunyin thought she had handled everything well.

But she never expected this to happen.

And, it was really too explosive.

Knowing how entertainment tabloids operated, they would absolutely go camp outside Shi Nanbei’s school to ambush her for interviews.

The more Zhao Xunyin thought about it, the guiltier she felt. She was already planning to talk to her manager later and arrange a security team so Nanbei wouldn’t be bothered.

While she was lost in thought, she suddenly heard a soft laugh through the phone—Shi Nanbei’s laugh. The girl was clearly in a very good mood.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” she asked.

“Because this will cause you trouble,” Zhao Xunyin said awkwardly.

“So, I am the one at fault,” Shi Nanbei said suddenly.

“Huh?” Zhao Xunyin blinked, not understanding. “You’re at fault? For what?”

Shi Nanbei’s voice was as calm and matter-of-fact as ever. “Because I didn’t make it obvious enough. Otherwise, how could you think like this? My dear sister, I’ve always been happy that my name shows up next to yours. I feel lucky when our marriage draws attention. So, you don’t need to apologize to me. You don’t need to say sorry.”

She paused, then added, “I never want to be someone who has nothing to do with you.”

Zhao Xunyin—at her age, somewhere in her thirties found her face flushing a deep, inexplicable red. Thank goodness this was just a phone call; Nanbei couldn’t see her like this.

“I.”

Before she could finish, Shi Nanbei cut in, “And yes, maybe what you did was a little childish, but I like that you become childish because of me.”

At her desk, Shi Nanbei opened her computer, and after saying that, she entered her esports team’s group chat.

Nanbei: Brothers and sisters, need your help with something.

Shengsheng Is Super Cute: Damn, you disappear for days and show up only to ask for favors? What favor?

Your Qingyi-chan: Meh? You only remember us when you need something?

Yangyang Not Mianmian: Spit it out.

Shengsheng Is Super Cute: Aren’t you supposed to be on the phone with your wife right now? What she did today was bold. I laughed all day.

Yangyang Not Mianmian: I understand everything, except the part where I forgive you for marrying Zhao Xunyin.

Your Qingyi-chan: So, what do you need us to do?

Grandpa Chu’s Leg: What did I miss?

Meanwhile, Zhao Xunyin needed a long moment before her heart settled down.

“Mm. Did you eat too much candy today, little one? Why is your mouth so sweet?”

The girl was hopeless—completely lovestruck. Her sweetness came in endless waves, making this “old auntie” almost unable to handle it.

Shi Nanbei chuckled. “I told you before: ‘Buddha said: all beings suffer, except for me—I’m sweet.’ Did you forget?”

Zhao Xunyin burst into laughter. “Right, you’re the sweetest.”

Sweet enough to tint my whole world pink.

On her keyboard, Shi Nanbei typed a message to her teammates:

Nanbei: Help me confess to my wife.

Shengsheng Is Super Cute: ?

Your Qingyi-chan: ?

Yangyang Not Mianmian: ?

Grandpa Chu’s Leg: You’re showing off your relationship in the team chat now?

Shi Nanbei typed again while still on the phone with Zhao Xunyin. “And for you,” she murmured softly, “I can be even sweeter.”

Back then, Zhao Xunyin didn’t think much of the line. She thought it was just another bit of sugary affection—sweet, yes, but she didn’t quite grasp what Nanbei meant.

Not until half a month later, when Weibo’s trending tab suddenly exploded.

#EverythingAboutNanbeiBelongsToZhaoXunyin shot to number five overnight.

She clicked in—and froze.

The top-ranked DOTA Telecom Server 1 team was now named:
Everything About Nanbei Belongs to Zhao Xunyin

The captain’s in-game ID:
Nanbei-the-Hero

The bio:
Zhao Xunyin’s wife is me.

And the profile picture?
A copy of their marriage certificate photo.