After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 46

After the suona performance, the two of them finally emerged from the bedroom.

As they came out, Shi Nanbei was still muttering resentfully behind Zhao Xunyin, “You just look down on our national heritage—you have no respect for what our ancestors left us!”

Zhao Xunyin, walking ahead, had excellent hearing—or perhaps Shi Nanbei’s voice was simply too loud.

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Heaven and earth can bear witness—I swear I don’t look down on our cultural heritage, nor do I disrespect what our ancestors passed down. I just can’t wrap my head around you.

You’re barely twenty, how much suffering must you have endured in life to decide that learning the suona was your best bet at job security?

Anyone would be baffled! And you’re such a pretty girl, too.

Shi Nanbei, apparently unfazed by Zhao Xunyin’s silence, kept muttering for a while before having the nerve to trot up beside her. “Why don’t I teach you how to play?”

Zhao Xunyin’s elegant face instantly froze over. “Teach me what?”

“The suona, of course.” Shi Nanbei said it as if it made perfect sense. She was convinced that Zhao Xunyin just didn’t appreciate the beauty of the instrument because she didn’t know how to play it. With righteous conviction, she went on,

“Once you learn, you’ll really feel the beauty of traditional Chinese instruments firsthand. I’m serious—I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Zhao Xunying: “…”

Even without learning, I’ve already experienced the full impact of that ‘beauty.’

Shi Nanbei clearly wanted to say more—most likely to drag Zhao Xunyin further down the road of this “rogue instrument”—when a knock sounded at the door.

Zhao Xunyin looked up. Their housekeeper hurried to open it.

At the door stood two security guards from the property management office. The housekeeper quickly reassured them, repeating, “Absolutely not! Really, no! The madam was just playing around!”

Zhao Xunyin frowned slightly, puzzled. After the guards left, she asked, “Property staff?”

“Yes, madam.” The housekeeper—a woman in her forties, honest-faced, efficient, and a great cook of both Chinese and Western dishes—nodded.

“What did they want?”

“They wanted to know if we were holding a wedding here. Said the community doesn’t allow feudal or superstitious activities that disturb the neighbors.” The auntie spoke calmly, clearly unfazed by the suona incident upstairs. “I told them you were just playing around at home.”

Zhao Xunying: “…”

If she wasn’t thirty-four, she might’ve been too embarrassed to even sit on her own couch after that.

Shi Nanbei, however, was completely unbothered. Not only did she have the face for it, she even had the audacity to ask, “Auntie, do you think I played well? Xunyin was scolding me just now.”

The housekeeper, being straightforward by nature, answered honestly, “It did sound good. I’ve never heard anyone play the suona in that kind of key before.”

“What kind of key do people usually play?” Shi Nanbei asked.

“Well.” The housekeeper hesitated. “Mostly the ones for, you know, weddings and funerals.”

Shi Nanbei said seriously, “That’s just one of its performance contexts! You can also play it for happy events—like when a baby’s born! Should I play a tune for you?”

Before the housekeeper could reply, Zhao Xunyin swooped in, grabbed Shi Nanbei by the wrist, and dragged her away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying? You’ve got time to chat but no time to review? You’re not worried about flunking your finals?”

“But I.”

“Quiet!” Zhao Xunyin had reached the end of her patience. The instrument’s penetrating volume had already tested her sanity enough; if she didn’t stop Shi Nanbei now, she might become the first actress in the entertainment industry to trend on social media for disturbing the peace with a suona.

“If you dare play that thing at home again,” she threatened darkly, “I’ll make you be the driver tonight.”

Shi Nanbei, being a certified “bottom,” feared nothing more in life than being forced to “top.” At the word driver, she immediately wilted, mumbling, “Fine, I won’t play. But do you have to threaten me with that every time?”

Zhao Xunying: “…”

Because it’s the only thing that works on you, got it? GOT IT?

After dumping Shi Nanbei in the study, Zhao Xunyin’s phone rang. It was her manager calling about a new variety show offer. Zhao wasn’t interested; she’d rather stay home with her wife.

Her manager, however, had a “brilliant” idea. “Then why not take your wife with you?”

“Take her?” Zhao Xunyin pinched the bridge of her nose. “You mean to make me die of anger on camera?”

“What, did your little sweetheart piss you off again?” the manager teased.

She had been with Zhao Xunyin since her struggling days, witnessing every setback and heartbreak that led up to her eventual rise as a film queen. So yes—she’d been less than thrilled about Zhao’s flash marriage.

Shu Yu, her ex, might’ve been a scumbag who burned bridges after breaking up, but when they were together, she’d showered Zhao with resources and attention like they were nothing. The breakup wasn’t about right or wrong—it was just over.

But this new spouse? A twenty-one-year-old student still in school, sheltered and naive—what could she possibly bring to the table? What on earth was Zhao Xunyin thinking, marrying someone like that?

Was it to spite Shu Yu? To make her jealous enough to have second thoughts?

Didn’t seem like it. Based on years of experience, her manager knew Zhao Xunyin wasn’t the kind to treat marriage like a game.

So why this child?

“Not really,” Zhao finally said, a faint smile softening her tone.

Even when she was complaining about Shi Nanbei, the warmth in her voice made the manager’s skin crawl—it sounded far too much like she was showing off.

“She’s just like that,” Zhao said gently. “Careless, thoughtless—probably doesn’t even realize she’s annoying me.”

The manager: “…”

God help me, she thought. She’s completely gone.

Why did she feel like Zhao Xunyin was just showing off?

“Sounds like your wife’s doing just fine,” her manager said sourly. “So, are you flying back to Shanghai today? You had your assistant reschedule your ticket earlier—when exactly are you coming back?”

At the mention of going back to Shanghai, Zhao Xunyin immediately thought of the call she’d received from Shu Yu the day before—an invitation to meet Saturday evening.

It was already past noon now. If she wanted to make that appointment, flying back this afternoon would be just in time.

“I’ll go back later,” Zhao said casually.

“Later? How much later?” Her manager was on the verge of losing it. “Do you have any idea how many engagements I’ve postponed for you these past few days? My god, since when did you become such a devoted housewife?”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Ever since Zhao Xunyin got married, she’d been flying to Chengdu whenever she could, turning down countless work offers. At this rate, she was bound to end up on a few sponsors’ blacklists.

“She’s got finals coming up,” Zhao replied matter-of-factly. “She’s under a lot of pressure, so I’ll have dinner with her and come back afterward.”

“Excuse me? After dinner?” The manager was about to explode. “You have to be on set at six-thirty tomorrow morning for reshoots! You think you can eat dinner, fly back, and just skip sleep altogether?”

But Zhao Xunyin sounded utterly unbothered. “I’ll nap on the plane. That’s settled then. Hanging up.”

Manager: “…”

She hated married women!

After hanging up, Zhao Xunyin found herself with nothing else to do, so she took her script and headed to the study to keep Shi Nanbei company. The girl was still memorizing notes—come exam season, Shi Nanbei always transformed into the perfect little student, her whole world revolving around studying.

When Zhao entered the study, Shi Nanbei didn’t even notice her at first. It wasn’t until Zhao came closer that the girl looked up, eyes asking silently why she’d come in.

“I’m just going to read my script here. I won’t bother you.” Zhao lifted the script slightly in front of her, speaking softly, careful not to disturb her studious little wife.

Shi Nanbei nodded, said nothing, and bent her head again to continue reciting. Zhao took a seat nearby and opened her script—but somehow, her attention kept drifting to the girl beside her.

Loose white shirt, long black hair spilling over her shoulders, a small, gentle face bent in concentration.

Zhao found herself watching her with quiet fondness. She’d never thought she could be this patient with anyone—or this endlessly indulgent. Once, long ago, she had been the one cherished by others. Perhaps that was the only thing she’d truly learned from that time: how to love gently in return.

Now, at this age, she’d slowed down, learned to savor the quiet beauty of life, and started to genuinely care for those around her.

Shi Nanbei.

Zhao’s gaze softened completely. Her heart melted without her even realizing it. Acting on impulse, she took out her phone, set it to silent, and snapped a candid photo of the girl’s back. Then, in a rare moment of public affection, she posted it on Weibo:

@ZhaoXunyinV: “My girl’s studying so hard she won’t even look at me.【pout】”

Recently, Zhao Xunyin’s fans had developed a love-hate relationship with her wife.

They loved her because ever since getting married, Zhao had stopped being the aloof, workaholic “serious actress” and had started posting sweet little updates every few days—something that once took her months. It was heartwarming.

But they also hated it—because Zhao Xunyin was supposed to be everyone’s dream girl. She was the woman who once said she’d bring happiness to all the girls in the world, and then she just went and got married? Before her fans had even recovered, she was already flooding their timelines with lovey-dovey posts.

It was outrageous.

Comments:

“She won’t talk to you? I will!! 😭 Why didn’t you marry me? I’d let you tie me to your side forever, no complaints!”

“I thought I’d have to wait another six months for a post, turns out it’s just one day later—and it’s PDA again. Great.”

“Kicking over this dog food. Not eating it! When are you gonna post your old couple photos instead?”

“I get it, but I still don’t get it. Why did you suddenly decide to get married.”

“😱 Wait—this is your wife? She looks so young! Did you marry a teenager?”

“She’s memorizing books? So, she’s still in school?? 😭 I knew it—you like them young!”

“Never thought I’d live to see Zhao Xunyin show off her wife on Weibo, unbelievable.”

And of course, there were those who took the detective route—zooming in and analyzing the photo like it was a crime scene:

“Hold up. Why does her wife’s neck look red? Are you telling me Zhao Xunyin’s the top?”

“WHAT? She’s the top? I always thought she was the bottom! She’s got that elegant, cool-girl vibe—how can she not be the bottom?”

“You guys are insane. 😂 But seriously, sounds like she had a fun night, huh?”

“I take it back—I thought Zhao was completely sexless. That face just screams ‘cold abstinence.’ I was wrong. I WAS WRONG!”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Why were her fans all such perverts?

Why were they more obsessed with her bedroom life than she was?