After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 34

After hanging up on An He, Zhao Xunyin’s mood grew even more complicated.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that An He wasn’t entirely wrong. After all, if anyone heard that their wife’s ex had just gotten divorced because of their wife, who wouldn’t be upset? Especially someone as young and hot-headed as Shi Nanbei.

But for some reason, Zhao Xunyin had a nagging feeling that Shi Nanbei wasn’t the type to get mad over something like this.

Forget it. Whether Shi Nanbei was angry or not wasn’t even the main issue right now. The real problem was that Shi Nanbei wasn’t responding to her at all.

Not only did she not call to confront her, she hadn’t even replied to a single WeChat message Zhao had sent.

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

What a dignified film queen she was—without a shred of dignity left.

That night, thirty-four-year-old Zhao Xunyin—renowned actress and celebrated winner of countless awards—found herself feeling restless for the first time in years. The last time she’d felt this way was back when she won her first international award.

Back then, surrounded by a sea of movie stars, she was that “black-and-red vase” actress everyone loved to mock, sitting in the crowd like she had needles under her seat—uneasy, self-conscious, and sure she was only there as a nominee to fill the numbers.

Yet against all odds, that very year, at that very film festival—where no one thought she stood a chance, not even herself—she ended up winning three awards in a row, delivering a resounding slap in the face to everyone who had ridiculed her.

From then on, her career had only soared higher. She’d seen it all, done it all, and learned to face pressure with calm composure. It had been years since she’d felt this kind of anxious, squirming unease.

Who could’ve guessed that after all this time, the person to make her feel this way again would be—of all people—Shi Nanbei, that little brat.

Then again, that little brat happened to be her wife.

Zhao Xunyin barely slept that night. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that Shi Nanbei was deliberately ignoring her to plan some big dramatic “counterattack.”

And when she switched to her burner account and saw the comments under the post she’d anonymously submitted to Marriage Confessions, her anxiety only worsened.

She had written:

“Dear Junjun, I just got married.

After my last relationship ended, I stayed single for years. Later, I met my current wife through a blind date, and we got married. She’s adorable. I’m much older than she is, but I really, really like her.

The issue is—today my ex suddenly got divorced.

Many people around us know about our past relationship. It was genuine love back then, but that was long ago. Now, I only want to live a good life with my wife. But my ex’s divorce has made everyone say it’s because of me.

I don’t believe that. I don’t think my ex is the type who can’t let go.

Still, I’m worried my wife might misunderstand or overthink it. What should I do?”

She was, after all, a middle-aged woman—or at least, a middle-aged woman in showbiz, which was an entirely different species. So, when this newlywed actress ran into a marital dilemma, the only place she could think to turn for advice was Weibo.

Because what else could she do? Was she supposed to walk up to her friends, lower her celebrity face, and ask:

“Hey, my ex-girlfriend might’ve divorced because of me—how do I coax my wife?”

Even just imagining that would’ve been enough to make her curl up and die of embarrassment.

So, to avoid being the butt of her friends’ jokes, our dignified Film Queen Zhao Xunyin used her alt account to submit her little confession.

She thought the internet would be kind—that maybe, through the mysterious power of fate and fiber optics, some strangers would offer sincere advice to her “tragic” story.

What she didn’t expect was that the comment section would mostly roast her alive:

“Bro, just get down on your knees and start groveling. Save your wife the trouble of asking—you’ll both keep your dignity that way. 🐶”

“Not to be rude, but if everyone around you thinks your ex divorced because of you, maybe you’re the problem? Maybe you gave your ex some kind of hope?”

Zhao Xunyin, on her burner account, replied to that one:

“No. We haven’t seen each other since we broke up years ago.”

After that, most commenters started advising her to come clean to her wife.

“Even if you didn’t do anything wrong, from your wife’s point of view, this is uncomfortable as hell.”

“Yeah. If my husband’s ex divorced because of him, I’d feel pretty unsettled too.”

“Speaking of which—did you see the news today about Shu Yu divorcing because of Zhao Xunyin? I wonder what Zhao Xunyin’s wife would think if she found out?”

“Probably heartbroken. But then again, whoever married Zhao Xunyin probably isn’t some naive little bunny. Maybe she doesn’t even care.”

“True. She probably married Zhao Xunyin for the money or fame anyway.”

That last comment made Zhao Xunyin’s face darken immediately.

Say what you want about her, fine—but dragging Shi Nanbei into it? Absolutely not.

She’d been through the mud of the entertainment industry; she’d long since grown a thick skin toward online hate. Back when her public image was at its worst, she’d been insulted with every creative variation of “trash” imaginable.

But Shi Nanbei was different.

From what Zhao Xunyin knew, Shi Nanbei was the kind of person parents loved to hold up as an example—the perfect kid next door. Maybe a little mischievous, but polite, beautiful, well-educated, and well-liked. She’d grown up in an environment full of encouragement and praise, not one laced with venom like Zhao’s.

Shi Nanbei wasn’t used to cruelty.

So, Zhao Xunyin couldn’t help typing furiously under her burner account:

“You’re not Zhao Xunyin’s wife. You don’t even know her. Why speak about her like that?”

Within minutes, someone replied:

“And who are you to care? Are you Zhao Xunyin or something?”

Zhao Xunyin’s alt account, @WhyDoYouKeepSneakingPhotosOfMe, shot back:

“Just speaking objectively. This is my post; I don’t want to drag any celebrity into it.”

The reply she got was simply:

“Heh.”

Zhao Xunyin nearly rolled her eyes right out of her skull.

These people were unbelievable—masters of wild speculation, always eager to judge without knowing a damn thing.

And yet, even knowing that, she couldn’t stop herself from caring.

The most infuriating part was that the comment from that person had received 623 likes. It seemed that most netizens agreed with what they said—believing that the woman who married Zhao Xunyin couldn’t possibly be innocent or pure. As the saying goes, like pot, like lid; birds of a feather flock together. For someone like Zhao Xunyin, whose past scandals once filled the internet, her wife couldn’t possibly be much better.

That was what most people online thought.

Fortunately, there were still a few rational voices who stood up to defend Zhao Xunyin’s wife:

“Zhao Xunyin still hasn’t revealed who her wife is. She’s clearly protecting her, so maybe everyone should stop making wild guesses?”

“They’re both adults. If Zhao Xunyin loves her, then she must have her good points. Why are we worrying about their business?”

“But honestly, if I could marry Zhao Xunyin, I wouldn’t even mind if she messed around with Shu Yu right in front of me. What a romance that would be!”

“The person above has very heavy tastes, but thinking about it, I might be into it too. Who wouldn’t want to see two gorgeous women kiss—or, well, do other things?”

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

As the replies grew more and more absurd, Zhao Xunyin gave up reading. What she did understand, though, was that this whole mess had probably made her wife upset. As a middle-aged woman determined to live a peaceful and sensible life, Zhao Xunyin thought it over all night before deciding to forget about her so-called dignity for now. She’d better just go to Shi Nanbei’s school and coax her first.

With that plan in mind, Zhao Xunyin set out early the next morning, driving straight to Shi Nanbei’s university. When she arrived, Shi Nanbei hadn’t yet entered the exam room. Zhao Xunyin called her and said she’d brought breakfast.

“It’s Chunyang Dumplings—the famous ones from Chengdu,” she said.

Afraid that Shi Nanbei might hang up on her, Zhao Xunyin used what was probably the softest, sweetest voice she had ever mustered in her life.

Seriously, what’s an award-winning actress worth, anyway? In front of her wife, all that prestige was nothing but hot air.

Her gentle strategy actually worked. After listening to her, Shi Nanbei glanced at the stack of review notes in her hand, then thought about the irresistible allure of Chunyang Dumplings. After a moment of hesitation, she said, “But I’m about to go into the exam.”

Zhao Xunyin assumed she was still angry about the whole Shu Yu divorce fiasco—and rightfully so. So, the thirty-four-year-old Best Actress quickly scrambled to please her. “Then I’ll wait for you to finish?” she offered eagerly.

“But if the dumplings sit that long, they won’t be edible by the time I’m done, right?” Shi Nanbei replied.

Zhao Xunyin hesitated. Her public identity made things tricky—if she showed up at Shi Nanbei’s exam venue just to deliver breakfast, the girl’s test day would probably turn into a circus. And once the paparazzi caught sight of her, Shi Nanbei’s identity as her wife would be exposed too.

That would do more harm than good.

In the end, it was the younger, more decisive Shi Nanbei who made the call. “How about you eat them for me, and I’ll ask you later how they tasted?”

Before Zhao Xunyin could respond, Shi Nanbei’s voice continued through the phone, “Okay, I’m heading into the exam now. It’s anatomy today—super hard. Gotta go, bye!”

And with that, she hung up.

Zhao Xunyin stared at her phone, momentarily at a loss for words. “……”

Her wife was so perfunctory with her.

Excuse me—she was a Best Actress, alright?

Feeling rather complicated, Zhao Xunyin obediently followed Shi Nanbei’s instruction and ate all the dumplings she’d brought. Less than an hour later, Shi Nanbei came out.

She knocked on Zhao Xunyin’s car window. Zhao Xunyin unlocked the door, and the girl climbed into the passenger seat with a sigh. “Ah, finally done.”

“So soon?” Zhao Xunyin asked in surprise. She glanced at the clock—it hadn’t even been an hour. Wasn’t the exam supposed to last two?

“Oh, it was pretty easy, so I turned it in early,” Shi Nanbei replied casually.

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

Didn’t you just say it was really hard?

“Did you eat the dumplings?” Shi Nanbei leaned closer as she spoke, instinctively sniffing near Zhao Xunyin’s shoulder. “Mm, yup. Definitely Chunyang Dumplings from Sichuan University.”

“I did.” For some reason, seeing Shi Nanbei’s relaxed, carefree expression made Zhao Xunyin a little nervous.

“Good. You have to eat well to stay healthy.” Shi Nanbei smiled sweetly and reached out to take Zhao Xunyin’s hand, checking her pulse with surprising confidence. “Hmm, your constitution’s a bit weak. Don’t eat anything too spicy or fishy for now. You should have more meat.”

“You know how to check pulses?” Zhao Xunyin looked at her wife’s still-youthful face, genuinely astonished. She never ceased to surprise her.

Every day, a new revelation.

“I studied under a traditional Chinese medicine doctor before,” Shi Nanbei said.

“Then why did you end up studying Western medicine?”

Shi Nanbei grinned, both proud and a little shy. “I figured I’d combine both—Chinese and Western medicine together.”

Looking at her smiling face, warmth surged through Zhao Xunyin’s chest. She couldn’t help reaching out to stroke Shi Nanbei’s cheek and asked softly, “Have you been working hard lately?”

“It’s been okay,” Shi Nanbei said, rubbing her cheek lightly against Zhao Xunyin’s palm. Her voice was soft and sweet. “But why did you suddenly show up at school so early today?”

“Mm,” Zhao Xunyin murmured. At her age, she still had a bit of an image to maintain. She couldn’t very well admit that she’d come rushing over because she was afraid her wife was mad at her over the whole Shu Yu thing.

She was a Best Actress, after all. How embarrassing would that be?

So instead, she said, “I just missed you. I wanted to see you.”

Shi Nanbei’s eyes curved into crescents with delight. She was about to respond when Zhao Xunyin’s phone, sitting beside the gearshift, began to ring.

Shi Nanbei’s eyesight was excellent—she immediately saw the name on the caller ID.

Shu Yu.

Hm? That name sounded familiar. Wasn’t she the very same ex everyone online had been gossiping about lately?