After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 42

That wasn’t a dream—it truly happened.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it, no matter how unwilling she was to face it, the truth was right there before her eyes.

She still remembered that year when the internet was flooded with news of Shu Yu’s grand wedding. Everyone called it a once-in-a-lifetime celebration—two people of equal standing, perfectly matched in talent and beauty. A marriage made in heaven, they said.

But she herself had been alone, hiding in a hotel room with her film crew, watching the dazzling world outside her window, utterly lost.

She once believed that the one standing beside her at the altar would be her. Yet in the end, that person held someone else’s hand.

They said they were the perfect match, the golden couple—but they had all forgotten. Forgotten her and her, what the two of them once had.

They had once ridden side by side, full of youth and fire. Once held hands and walked the same road.

But all of that was in the past.

That night, she sat alone in that hotel room, lost in memories of their time together.

She cried, she ached, she grieved.

And when morning came, she still got up, changed into her costume, and opened the door.

When the door opened, she was still an actress, still the award-winning film queen, still Zhao Xunyin.

Only—they would never be them again.

A shattered mirror can never be made whole. What’s gone should be left to the wind.

“Ding-dong.”

The doorbell rang at the villa’s front gate. Zhao Xunyin drew herself back from the haze of memory, her expression returning to calm.

She knew perfectly well—this wasn’t eight years ago. She was no longer the same Zhao Xunyin she once was. She had a better life now, a loving wife, and a career that was going well enough. That was enough. That should be enough.

The love of youth always ends without a conclusion. Memories are best left where they belong—no need to force remembrance, nor to force forgetting. Time will take care of everything.

But because she had once been young, she also understood the pain of losing someone. That was why, when it came to Shi Nanbei, she would never allow history to repeat itself.

The knocks at the door came again, one after another. She walked down the stairs step by step, reached the entrance, and opened the door.

The delivery boy froze the moment he saw her. “Zhao, Zhao Xunyin?”

Of course—her face was almost impossible not to recognize, especially among young people.

“That’s me.”

“You’re in Chengdu?” The boy’s eyes lit up—clearly a fan.

“Mm. My wife’s from Chengdu. I’m here to keep her company.”

She spoke so naturally that it took him a moment to process. When he did, his eyes went wide. “Y-your wife?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps because old memories had been stirred today, Zhao Xunyin—usually not one for small talk—found herself saying a few extra words.

She didn’t know why Shu Yu had called her earlier, or what her intentions were. But one thing was certain—Shu Yu had crossed a line. No—she had crossed a line with her wife.

Because Zhao Xunyin had never revealed her spouse’s identity, there were always rumors—people speculating whether her marriage was real, or if she had announced it merely to provoke an ex-lover.

That was unfair to Shi Nanbei.

She thought quietly: I won’t let Nanbei be anyone’s scapegoat.

Maybe their marriage had happened quickly, almost impulsively—but she had truly, slowly, begun to fall for that girl.

Shi Nanbei was a whole, living person—with thoughts, with joy and sorrow, with pride.

As an actress, Zhao Xunyin already made her life difficult enough. Shi Nanbei couldn’t walk down the street holding her hand, couldn’t be kissed openly at school when she was happy or sad. The least Zhao Xunyin could do was never let anyone say their marriage was just for show.

And even if it was a show—she’d make sure it had a happy ending.

Maybe Shi Nanbei wasn’t the most compatible person for her. But she was the one who made her relax, the one who made her smile.

“I really envy her,” the delivery boy said with a grin. “You must love her a lot, huh?”

Zhao Xunyin smiled. “I do.”

He handed over the food. “Congratulations on your marriage, by the way. Here’s your order.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need me to keep it a secret?” he asked cautiously.

Zhao Xunyin paused for a second, then said, “No. There’s nothing shameful about being married—and she’s nothing to be hidden.”

With that, she politely closed the door.

Turning back with the food in hand, she looked up—and froze.

There, at the second-floor landing, standing by the railing, was Shi Nanbei.

Her heartbeat skipped, just for a moment, thrown off rhythm.

She asked softly, “When did you get up?”

Shi Nanbei replied, “When you were taking that call.”

Clearly, she had overheard everything. But she didn’t pry—just asked, “What did you order?”

“A few stir-fried dishes and some fish soup.”

Shi Nanbei slowly came down the stairs, her expression calm as usual. “Fish soup? You wanted some?”

As she approached, Zhao Xunyin felt her heart stir again. She reached out and held her hand, smiling. “You’ve got finals coming up. I thought you could use something nourishing.”

“My grandma says my brain works just fine,” Shi Nanbei said, but she still sat down, opened the container, took a sip, and nodded in satisfaction. “Mm, the soup my wife ordered really is good.”

Zhao Xunyin playfully made a formal bow, like a woman from ancient times. “Then this humble wife thanks her lord husband.”

Having an actress for a wife did make life entertaining sometimes. Shi Nanbei fought back a laugh, straightened her face, and replied solemnly, “Between husband and wife, there’s no need for thanks.”

She paused then—clearly recalling something—and added with mock seriousness:

“But if you really want to thank your husband, next time we’re driving in bed, I hope you’ll continue to be an excellent driver.”

“Be a good driver for the people—weld the doors shut and take me straight to the edge of the city.”

Zhao Xunyin, though a modern woman and a Best Actress, wasn’t exactly up to date with online slang. So when Shi Nanbei said that, she didn’t quite catch the internet reference—but she did understand that the girl wanted her to play chauffeur.

Such a young thing, yet all she ever thought about was lying around and being pampered.

Shi Nanbei must have guessed what Zhao Xunyin was thinking, because she quickly defended herself:

“Only kids bother arguing about who’s the top or bottom. Adults like us know that lying down is the real pleasure.”

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

Did this brat just call herself an adult?

“Then tell me,” Zhao said dryly, opening her lunchbox, “exactly how do you ‘enjoy’ yourself?”

Don’t be fooled by Shi Nanbei’s pure, angelic looks—her mind was filled to the brim with indecent thoughts. If it was any other young woman being teased by a movie queen, she’d at least blush or act shy. But Shi Nanbei? She played by no rules.

Not only did she not get embarrassed, she actually took a moment to think seriously before replying:

“At first I was a bit nervous, but your technique was pretty good. Later on, I relaxed a lot—especially when you told me to bend over and,”

The rest of Shi Nanbei’s description was over a thousand words long.

Even Zhao Xunyin, with all her worldly experience, couldn’t help blushing to the roots of her hair. Her wife was always like this—always managing, in the most unexpected ways, to overturn her impression of her.

“I asked you to explain, not to give me a detailed report,” Zhao said, visibly flustered.

Shi Nanbei blinked. “Not that detailed? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I thought you wanted to flirt a bit.”

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

Who told you flirting works like that? Where on earth did this girl even learn these things?

“Be honest with me,” Zhao said, rubbing her temples. “Aside from classes and sleeping, do you spend all your free time reading smutty books?”

“No!” Shi Nanbei denied immediately. “I’m not that kind of person.”

Zhao gave her a look of utter disbelief. “Or do you just think what you’re reading doesn’t count as smut?”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

You and your sharp tongue—can’t win with you.

“Fine,” she admitted at last, sulking. “It’s fanfiction.”

Zhao Xunyin decided not to press further. She waited until they’d finished eating and cleaned up, then suddenly remembered and asked her little wife:

“Fanfiction, huh? Whose fanfiction are you reading?”

Shi Nanbei’s expression turned slightly awkward. Zhao felt a bad premonition. “If you lie, you’ll fail every single exam.”

“Yours,” Shi Nanbei mumbled.

Zhao Xunyin froze on the spot. “……”

She didn’t even know what kind of expression to put on. No matter what outrageous thing her wife did, she still had to grit her teeth and listen.

“Me and who?” Zhao asked weakly. She’d long accepted that anyone in the entertainment industry eventually got shipped with someone, but she never imagined her own wife would be one of those people reading it.

Was she not jealous at all?

Shi Nanbei looked up at her with those soft, doe-like eyes—an irresistible “national first love” face, full of pitiful innocence. Anyone with weaker willpower would have melted on the spot.

But Zhao Xunyin wasn’t just anyone. Before they even got married, Shi Nanbei’s grandmother had warned her repeatedly: Never trust that girl’s face, especially when she’s pretending to be innocent.

So, Zhao said flatly, “Confess, and your punishment will be lighter. Resist, and it’ll only get worse.”

Shi Nanbei squirmed. “Do you have to ask in such detail? Can’t a wife have a little privacy?”

“Say it,” Zhao ordered, still stone-faced.

“I’ve read all the fanfics about you and every other female celebrity you’ve ever worked with,” Shi Nanbei admitted in a voice barely louder than a mosquito’s.

Zhao Xunyin went speechless for a long time, bracing herself against the wall. “……”

It was one thing for her wife to read fanfiction about her—but fanfiction pairing her with other women? Smutty ones, no less?

At that point, Zhao Xunyin wasn’t sure which was worse—that she’d lost her dignity as a Best Actress, or that she’d lost face as a wife.

Oh, Shi Nanbei, Zhao looked at her pitiful little spouse and truly didn’t even know where to begin lecturing her.