After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 36

Even someone as slow as Shi Nanbei could tell that Zhao Xunyin’s face was practically screaming “regret.”

Still, since she was the one who got the upper hand this time, Shi Nanbei decided to act magnanimous. She patted her wife’s shoulder in what she thought was a comforting, “for your own good” kind of way and said nonsense like,

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m doing this for your own good! You people in the entertainment industry care so much about your figure, don’t you? Imagine if Heaven punished you for breaking your promise and you turned into a chubby little fatty, tsk, tsk. Just think of your fans—ah, it makes me feel heartbroken for them.”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Wait a second.

That’s not what “breaking a promise and growing fat” means!

Just because you did well in school doesn’t mean you can mess with me like this. Sure, I didn’t go to university—but that doesn’t mean I’m illiterate, okay?

Looking at Shi Nanbei’s face, all innocent and guileless, Zhao Xunyin couldn’t help thinking—after all her years of experience, how on earth did she not notice during their blind date that her “pure and gentle” little wife could talk circles around her when she wanted to?

Wasn’t she supposed to be pure?

And quiet?

And adorably naive?

Who could’ve guessed that when push came to shove, this supposed little white rabbit would flip the script so completely, clinging to her with a stubborn determination that left Zhao Xunyin momentarily speechless about how to even feel.

Aside from thinking her wife was adorable, she honestly couldn’t come up with any other word to describe Shi Nanbei right now.

After all, who wouldn’t find it endearing to see their once-brilliant, now-worldly wife acting so uncharacteristically clingy, refusing to back down, and pouting like this?

From another perspective, didn’t it just prove how much Shi Nanbei liked her?

That thought alone lightened Zhao Xunyin’s mood considerably. She reached out and pinched her little wife’s cheek, laughing as she scolded,

“You really are quick with that tongue of yours.”

Shi Nanbei had always been a mischievous child. Growing up, she learned to read people’s moods and adapt to situations just to protect herself. So, the moment she saw Zhao Xunyin’s expression soften, she knew her words had worked.

And the idea that she now had the chance to do this and that to the great double-award-winning Film Queen in bed, well, her mood instantly skyrocketed.

Though, come to think of it, didn’t their house lack the right tools for that?

Zhao Xunyin the Film Queen might look all calm, cool, and composed, but deep down, she could be quite the tease. Her boldness during those two car rides alone had already proven that much.

Still, being a tease was one thing—but even Zhao Xunyin probably never imagined she’d end up being that kind of tease.

So of course, their house didn’t have the sort of items Shi Nanbei had in mind. There were some ropes, sure, but the material wasn’t exactly skin-friendly.

Hmm. Bit of a problem. I’ll have to find out where to get some proper ones, Shi Nanbei thought.

Zhao Xunyin, of course, would never have imagined that her seemingly innocent, doe-eyed wife was quietly plotting such shameless thoughts behind her back.

Heaven knows—even if they had known each other years ago, that was just a brief chapter in their lives.

After that, Zhao Xunyin hadn’t been around for Shi Nanbei’s growing-up years, so naturally, her impression of the girl had stayed frozen at that mischievous little kid she remembered.

Even after the blind date and their marriage, they’d spent more time apart than together. Any “understanding” she had of Shi Nanbei came mostly from what she wanted to see.

But Shi Nanbei had one of those deceptive faces that could fool anyone—so much so that even Zhao Xunyin, who’d seen and dealt with countless people in her life, found herself constantly misjudging her own wife.

Shi Nanbei wasn’t some pure, obedient girl. She was a certified troublemaker—a little gremlin in disguise. No wonder Zhao Xunyin recalled how, when the blind date was arranged, Shi Nanbei’s grandmother had kept looking at her with that hesitant, worried expression.

Turns out she’d been set up with a walking headache.

But on the bright side, for someone like Zhao Xunyin—who had long been burned and wearied by love—a young, lively girl like Shi Nanbei, who looked sweet but had just enough devilishness to keep her on her toes, was exactly the kind of spark that could reignite a heart grown tired.

That was probably why Shi Nanbei’s grandmother had told her, “Why not give it a try? You two had great chemistry, even years ago.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

And so, the two scheming women ended up laughing together. For a brief moment, both thought they’d truly married well.

Zhao Xunyin was the first to calm down, of course—she was thirteen years older, after all.

She looked at Shi Nanbei and asked,

“If you weren’t angry, then why did you ignore me last night?”

To be honest, she’d only been so easily swayed by An He’s words—and those ridiculous comments online—because Shi Nanbei had acted distant the night before.

Shi Nanbei blinked, puzzled. Zhao Xunyin was over thirty already—why did she always ask these kinds of questions? Was this some sort of middle-aged quirk?

Still, she answered honestly,

“Didn’t I say I was going to sleep? And besides, I didn’t talk to you the night before either, did I?”

Zhao Xunyin froze.

“Right.”

Now that she thought about it, that was true.

The night before last, she hadn’t felt guilty about anything, so she didn’t overthink it when Shi Nanbei didn’t reply.

But last night? She’d been so wracked with guilt that every little thing her wife did had seemed like a prelude to some grand act of revenge.

Looking back now.

Maybe she really had been overthinking it.

So embarrassing.

Zhao Xunyin cursed herself inwardly. Honestly, everything about her today—and yesterday—was just plain humiliating. At her age, she still couldn’t keep her composure, acting like some hotheaded teenager instead of the dignified, award-winning actress she was supposed to be.

The more she thought about it, the more she mentally cursed that woman, An He, all over again. That jealous, troublemaking woman never could stand to see others happy. If it hadn’t been for her running her mouth over the phone, Zhao Xunyin wouldn’t have lost her cool so quickly, and she certainly wouldn’t have gone and made such a fool of herself afterward.

Oh right.

The most humiliating thing of all was that moment when she went on Weibo and actually made a post herself. Just thinking about it made Zhao Xunyin’s face freeze in mortification. She’d have to delete that as soon as she got home.

“You’re not mad? Good.” Zhao Xunyin thought for a moment and decided she should still be honest with Shi Nanbei. After all, Shi Nanbei was her wife—she had a right to know about her past.

“Actually, it’s nothing much. Back then, Shu Yu and I,” Zhao Xunyin genuinely meant to come clean about her history. For someone with a somewhat eventful middle-aged past, opening up like this was already a big gesture of trust and loyalty. Who could’ve expected that, just when she’d finally decided to speak, Shi Nanbei wouldn’t even want to hear it?

Zhao Xunyin had barely gotten a few words out when Shi Nanbei looked at her blankly and asked,

“What does whatever happened between you and Shu Yu have to do with me?”

The question was so direct—so cleanly cut—that it threw Zhao Xunyin completely off. There was none of the shy jealousy, the awkward poutiness, or the dramatic sulking she’d imagined a young girl might have.

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

There was simply no way to continue that conversation.

Zhao Xunyin froze, stunned that Shi Nanbei would answer like that. She stared at the girl’s face, trying to figure out what she meant. Finally, she ventured tentatively, “I guess, nothing?”

“Then why tell me about it?” Shi Nanbei sounded genuinely indifferent. After saying that, she stopped looking at Zhao Xunyin altogether and instead started rummaging through her bag.

As expected of a medical student, her backpack was a disaster—crammed full of random things. In front of Zhao Xunyin, Shi Nanbei began pulling out a small treasure trove: books, a lunch box, oranges, chocolate, a notebook, lipstick, a PSP, a miniature sword keychain, charging cables, practically everything under the sun. Things for girls, things for guys—her bag was an all-inclusive survival kit.

Watching her dig through it all made Zhao Xunyin’s eyelids twitch uncontrollably. She couldn’t hold back anymore and asked,

“Are you trying to show me your Doraemon pocket or something? How much can that bag even hold?”

“What? I’m looking for something for you.” Shi Nanbei replied without even glancing up.

Oh, so it was a gift. A little spark of secret joy flickered in Zhao Xunyin’s chest. Still, she couldn’t for the life of her guess what kind of present her newlywed wife might give her. Come to think of it, she hadn’t even gotten Shi Nanbei anything yet herself—how shameful.

“Ah, found it!” Shi Nanbei suddenly cheered, interrupting Zhao Xunyin’s thoughts. She beamed, pulling something triumphantly out of the mess. “Here, this is for you!”

Zhao Xunyin blinked at the cartoon keychain in her hand. Even after living over thirty years, she still couldn’t keep up with the whims of today’s youth. “??”

“I bought a pair before,” Shi Nanbei explained, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “I never got to use them, but now that you’re my wife.”

Oh. So that’s what it was.

Zhao Xunyin reached out and took the keychain—it was a chibi-style short-haired girl with a big smiling face. Her eyes flicked to Shi Nanbei’s bag, where the zipper already had a matching long-haired version dangling from it.

Ah, young girls and their cute trinkets, Zhao Xunyin thought silently.

“That,” Zhao Xunyin hesitated, half-tempted to point out that she was way too old to be carrying something this kawaii. But when she saw Shi Nanbei’s bright, expectant smile, she swallowed the words and instead asked, “Why is mine the short-haired one and yours the long-haired one?”

Shi Nanbei looked at her, utterly matter-of-fact. “Because you’re the T (more masculine or dominant), aren’t you?”

Zhao Xunyin’s smile froze. “……”

When did I ever say I was a T?

And why did you decide T’s have to have short hair? Can’t I be a P (More feminine or wife) if I want to?

Do you have any idea how many little lesbians online keep calling me “wife” every day? And you—of all people—you’re the one calling me a T? What happened to respecting the title of “Best Actress,” huh?

I’m a proud iron P—where’s my dignity?