After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 109

Zhao Xunyin had spent a full week persuading Shi Nanbei—well, to be precise, seducing her.

For an entire week, every single night involved cosplay play. Shi Nanbei couldn’t take it anymore. She was only twenty-four; if this continued, she feared she might be completely drained.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Shi Nanbei asked, having stayed up all night. She sat on the bed waiting until Zhao Xunyin woke up, and that was the first thing she said.

Zhao Xunyin had just woken up, her hair tousled in a messy, alluring way, her skin glowing with natural radiance. She looked at the younger woman sitting before her, confused, not quite understanding what Shi Nanbei meant.

Shi Nanbei’s expression was a mix of seriousness and despair. “I’m just a passive partner. Do you really find it fun to force me to take the active role every single night?”

If she hadn’t asked, Zhao Xunyin might have just smiled, but now, reflecting on the past week’s nightly bliss, her eyes glinted, and she replied with satisfaction, “Of course it’s fun.”

If she had known that this little one’s skills could improve so quickly, that she could learn so fast, she wouldn’t have always taken the lead these past two or three years. She had been far too indulgent.

Shi Nanbei: “?”

So, had they finally reached the “three-year itch” of marriage?

Sigh.

Shi Nanbei asked, “Can I go back to being passive for a while?”

“You tell me,” Zhao Xunyin replied.

Shi Nanbei: “?”

Sigh, sigh.

“And could you maybe stop playing cosplay with me every night?” Shi Nanbei added. She didn’t have anything against cosplay per se, but every night, Zhao Xunyin would act out roles she had played in films over the years. Who could handle that?

And honestly, Shi Nanbei was dying to know how many costumes Zhao Xunyin had brought home from the studio.

Every night was a different character. First, it was Ren Feng. Then, a female pilot. Then a teacher, a domineering CEO, a sultry songstress. Damn, it was Zhao Xunyin who was the sexy one.

Zhao Xunyin lounged lazily against the headboard, looking at her wife with a smile. “You know exactly why I do this.”

Shi Nanbei: “?”

She struggled, “Actually, regarding pregnancy, both medically and from the experience of our predecessors, the younger partner will always have more stamina.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Zhao Xunyin replied, unfazed. “Then it’s perfect—after I get pregnant, you can take care of me.”

Shi Nanbei was silent: “?”

Zhao Xunyin truly couldn’t understand why Shi Nanbei was so obsessed with pregnancy. Who got pregnant didn’t really matter, did it? Shi Nanbei had just started her internship at the hospital and still had two years until graduation.

Her professors were hoping she might pursue a PhD abroad and return to contribute to the country’s medical field. Compared to Shi Nanbei, Zhao Xunyin—an aging film star spending most days at home—wouldn’t having a child now be ideal?

“Stop, stop.” Shi Nanbei’s tone grew serious when Zhao Xunyin brought up that reasoning. “I want to have children because I’ve fully considered and am prepared to accept the reversible and irreversible effects pregnancy and childbirth can have on the body. I study medicine; you don’t. You might think pregnancy is just a nine-month process, but in reality, it can cause a lot of irreversible damage.

“Pregnancy and childbirth are, in themselves, a process of rejection. No matter how society glorifies it, for a woman, it significantly affects physical function.”

Zhao Xunyin blinked, as if she understood, but also as if she didn’t fully. “Can you give an example?”
“For example,” Shi Nanbei said seriously, “during pregnancy, one might experience incontinence, insomnia, mood swings, prenatal depression, hemorrhoids, high blood pressure, fever, heart and lung strain, lumbar disc herniation, hives, and other chronic or cyclical conditions. Childbirth itself can lead to maternal death, vaginal tearing, massive bleeding, uterine prolapse, and more.

“This isn’t something a simple ‘I want a child’ can cover up. People might tell you that women should have children by a certain age or that having children cures everything, but they never mention the possible complications during pregnancy and childbirth.”

The topic grew heavy, yet the young lover persisted. “I’ve fully prepared myself mentally to face this process and all possible consequences. You, Xunyin, are an actress. Even semi-retired, you still choose roles for good scripts. Pregnancy, first and foremost, will change your body and hormones.

“I’m not an actress; I won’t be facing cameras. And I look forward to having a child with you. I want to have a child with you. I’m young, my body is healthy, and recovery will be easier for me afterward.”

Zhao Xunyin nodded, finally understanding Shi Nanbei’s point.

She had to admit: this little one had really grown up, matured—or perhaps Shi Nanbei had always been this way, and she was only just noticing it.

Though young and sometimes infuriating, Zhao Xunyin often felt enveloped in Shi Nanbei’s care and thoughtfulness.

Strangely, it felt odd to admit. She was the elder, the one expected to give, to protect, to care. In previous relationships, she had played that role, but with Shi Nanbei, such opportunities were rare.

They were indeed thirteen years apart, and naturally, their perspectives on many things differed—generation gaps existed—but in Shi Nanbei’s everyday behavior, Zhao Xunyin could completely feel that they were equals.

Shi Nanbei never assumed that just because Zhao Xunyin was older, she owed her anything. She also didn’t make unreasonable demands for endless tolerance or pampering, just because she was younger. And she certainly didn’t feel insecure or suspicious just because Zhao Xunyin earned more.

Shi Nanbei would spoil her—and she would spoil Shi Nanbei in return.

When she felt unhappy or upset, confiding in Shi Nanbei never felt wrong or embarrassing. Even when her secret account was exposed, she didn’t feel ashamed. In front of Shi Nanbei, she could be the glamorous top actress, or just an ordinary wife; her identity never changed how he treated her.

It was simple. Pure love. “I love you” had nothing to do with anything else.

“Turns out all those years of studying medicine really did pay off,” Zhao Xunyin said, smiling warmly.

Shi Nanbei snorted lightly but said nothing.

Zhao Xunyin added, “But I still want to get pregnant and have a child.”

Shi Nanbei: “…”

So, everything I just explained was for nothing?

Zhao Xunyin reached out to gently rub Shi Nanbei’s delicate face, her tone tinged with affection: “You’re right. You’ve already given me a clear and concrete understanding of the pregnancy and childbirth process, including the things that could come up. Very well—this user has read, understood, and agreed. Doctor Shi, is there anything else you’d like to say?”

Hah. Once I make a decision, I don’t back down halfway.

Shi Nanbei: “…”

Sorry, nothing more.

And so, after a week of Zhao Xunyin’s insistence and firm discussion, the question of who would get pregnant was decided.

Shi Nanbei had her objections but couldn’t appeal successfully—there was simply no changing it.

When the boss got assertive, she really got assertive. Even now, as a medical intern, Shi Nanbei was no match for Zhao Xunyin.

But Shi Nanbei had a good mindset. Since the decision had been made, the best thing now was to accept it wholeheartedly. Choosing to have a child is a decision for both partners, not just one person. She had understood that clearly since she was fifteen.

So, four days later, when Zhao Xunyin received two full boxes of books on childcare and education, she was stunned.

Shi Nanbei returned just as Zhao Xunyin had unpacked the two boxes and laid all the books across the living room floor, staring at the dozens of volumes in front of her.

“Have the books arrived?” Shi Nanbei asked, setting her bag down by the entrance, changing her shoes, and walking over to Zhao Xunyin, who was still in a daze on the sofa.

Zhao Xunyin looked up at her young, capable wife, words she had been holding back all afternoon finally escaping: “So you think I’m not qualified to be a good mother? That’s why you bought all these books?”

God knows how much her head hurt when she opened the delivery to find so many books. When she called her best friend to complain that her wife’s “pre-pregnancy gift” consisted of two whole boxes of books, her friend almost laughed herself to death over the phone and sincerely remarked, “Nanbei has really never disappointed me!”

Only someone completely extraordinary could give two boxes of books to Zhao Xunyin, who hadn’t even finished her university correspondence courses.

Zhao Xunyin stayed silent for three seconds, then hung up the call with her best friend: “…”

She’d gone mad—actually considering calling that wretched An He.

“What’s all this? I’m the one who’s supposed to read it,” Shi Nanbei said casually, picking up a book titled How to Be a Good Mother. Flipping through it a couple of pages, she noted in English, not paying much attention to Zhao Xunyin:

“You decided you want to get pregnant, right? As your partner, isn’t it my responsibility to learn how to care for a pregnant woman and a newborn? These things can’t be learned out of thin air, so, of course, we need books.”

For comparison, she had bought parenting books from several countries, intending to learn both Eastern and Western methods.

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

So, the logic of a top student is: whenever a problem arises, read more books?

She stared at the living room floor, completely covered with books, falling into an odd silence. If she followed Shi Nanbei’s reasoning, then her decision—being a hopeless student yet choosing to have a child—suddenly seemed incredibly wise.