After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 61

Zhao Xunyin said she would press charges—and when she said it, she meant it. Her team, having dealt with countless lawsuits against paparazzi and tabloid reporters before, handled the matter with practiced ease. The entire process ran like a well-oiled machine.

At first, the editor-in-chief of that newspaper had even felt a surge of pride when his reporters exposed “Zhao Xunyin’s wife.” But when he learned the full extent of how recklessly his subordinates had acted, he was so furious he nearly fired them on the spot. It was only after hearing that Zhao Xunyin’s wife didn’t intend to pursue the matter that he finally calmed down—barely.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to enjoy that peace for long. Before dawn, he received a lawyer’s letter from Zhao Xunyin’s team—an official notice of intent to sue. The man was livid. He immediately called Zhao Xunyin’s representatives, protesting, “Your client’s wife promised she wouldn’t press charges!”

“You can’t go back on your word like this!”

The team’s legal representative replied coolly, “We never said our client’s team wouldn’t pursue your paper for slandering and exploiting Ms. Zhao Xunyin’s name for profit.”

“…” The editor-in-chief was speechless.

“And,” the lawyer continued, “regarding the matter of your employee’s attempted vehicular assault on Ms. Shi Nanbei, we’ve already submitted all relevant evidence to the authorities. Someone will be in touch with you soon.”

Then the call ended. Just like that.

By the time Shi Nanbei heard about all this, nearly a week had passed. It was Zhao Xunyin herself who called to tell her that the tabloid responsible for tailing her had been shut down for good.

“The economy must really be bad these days,” Shi Nanbei said, blinking in surprise. “I guess once the internet got popular, it became harder for traditional newspapers and magazines to survive.”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Was she really lamenting the decline of print media right now?

With a helpless sigh, Zhao Xunyin said, “I’m the one who made them go under.”

“Huh? Why?” Shi Nanbei asked in confusion.

“They stalked you, and I was furious. And then they deliberately rammed your car.” Even though a week had passed, Zhao Xunyin still felt a cold dread whenever she thought about it.

Shi Nanbei was simple, trusting—even after getting married, she still didn’t have much of a “movie queen” sense of self-preservation. She went wherever she pleased, carefree and unguarded, never thinking about how disgusting some paparazzi could be.

Thankfully, she had only just gotten her driver’s license that day, so she was driving slowly. Zhao Xunyin didn’t even want to imagine what could have happened if Shi Nanbei had been going a little faster—or if the paparazzi had been even more reckless. Where would her little wife be now?

She knew Shi Nanbei was kind, knew that she’d already told the paparazzo she wouldn’t press charges. But Zhao Xunyin couldn’t let it go. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became—furious enough to make sure the entire tabloid went down.

Of course, it wasn’t something she could accomplish on her own. Zhao Xunyin was an actress, not a business mogul. So, she turned to her boss, Qi Yu.

Boss Qi wasn’t the type to meddle in such matters. She was a businesswoman through and through, and that newspaper was small, shady, and barely profitable—taking it over would have brought her nothing but trouble.

Normally, Qi Yu wouldn’t have lifted a finger. But her wife, An He—who happened to be Zhao Xunyin’s best friend—wasn’t about to sit idly by. That night, she slipped into bed wearing something particularly persuasive and whispered into Qi Yu’s ear until the formidable businesswoman finally agreed to help.

In truth, the situation didn’t warrant such extreme measures. But Zhao Xunyin had already made up her mind. She wanted to make an example out of that tabloid—to kill the chicken to scare the monkeys, as the saying went—and warn every paparazzo who dared to cross the line.

People could mess with her all they wanted. They were all part of the same industry—mutually exploiting, mutually restrained. Conflicts could always be negotiated.

But touch her wife? Absolutely not. Just because Shi Nanbei was gentle and naive didn’t mean anyone could bully her. If they dared to offend her family, then they couldn’t blame Zhao Xunyin for showing her teeth.

Still, when she told Shi Nanbei what she’d done, Zhao Xunyin felt a twinge of unease. Would her wife be upset? After all, Shi Nanbei had said she wouldn’t press charges. Would she think Zhao Xunyin was petty, vindictive—even small-minded?

“I’m really fine,” Shi Nanbei said softly over the phone. “I was just a little scared that day.” She could tell Zhao Xunyin had been worried sick, so she spoke extra sweetly, trying to reassure her. “From now on, whenever I go out, I’ll bring that assistant you assigned me, okay?”

The truth was, her newfound obedience had less to do with fear and more to do with the sudden boost in her popularity. Ever since that paparazzi video leaked, Shi Nanbei’s name had been trending nonstop. Someone had even set up a fan club for her, and the ever-meddlesome Wu Lili had appointed herself the moderator of Shi Nanbei’s Super Topic—declaring that “good fertilizer shouldn’t flow to outsiders’ fields.”

“Are you calling me fertilizer right now?” Shi Nanbei asked suspiciously.

Wu Lili grinned. “Think of me as a spy embedded in your fanbase. Since you haven’t debuted yet and no one’s managing your fandom, I’ll stay undercover. If anyone starts stirring trouble, I’ll be the first to let you know!”

Shi Nanbei: “…”

“I Don’t Believe It!”

By now, Shi Nanbei—once an unbothered homebody—finally understood the pain of living like Zhao Xunyin, who couldn’t step outside without full disguise. Ever since that incident, fame had become a curse in disguise.

Just the other day, she’d gone out to buy a bottle of soy sauce for her noodles, only to be photographed in the supermarket and stopped by strangers asking nosy questions about her and Zhao Xunyin. For someone as reclusive as Shi Nanbei, this kind of attention was pure torture.

Still, it wasn’t without its perks. At least now she had a perfectly reasonable excuse to stay home all day—reading, gaming, and doing whatever she pleased. Before leaving the country, her grandmother had even reminded her over dinner, “Stay put for now, don’t run around. Try not to cause Xunyin any trouble.”

Naturally, Shi Nanbei had obediently agreed.

“Do you ever think I’m too pushy?” Zhao Xunyin finally asked after a long silence.

She was no longer at that impulsive age, the kind of person who made decisions for love under the guise of ‘doing what’s best for you.’

At thirty-four, Zhao Xunyin had long shed that youthful sharpness. Time had smoothed her edges. She was an award-winning actress, a public figure, and thirteen years older than her wife.

She’d seen too many couples fall apart because of unbalanced power—one too dominant, the other quietly resentful. She’d watched seniors and peers alike lose what once seemed unshakable. So, when it came to her relationship with Shi Nanbei, Zhao Xunyin did her best not to repeat those same mistakes.

She wasn’t perfect—she had made plenty of mistakes in love—but time had been kind, teaching her how to nurture a relationship, how to coexist and communicate.

Once, she too had been the younger one in love. So she understood what it meant to treat her younger wife not as a child to be protected, but as an equal—an adult capable of making her own choices.

“Of course not.”

Thankfully, her wife understood her. Shi Nanbei’s tone was calm, light, perfectly timed to soothe her.

“When I said that back then, I was only worried it might cause you trouble,” Shi Nanbei said. “If you’re fine with it, then of course you should handle things your own way.”

She might only be twenty-one and a bit careless by nature—always scatterbrained, always unbothered—but in moments like this, she was surprisingly mature.

She wasn’t impulsive or competitive like most people her age. She knew her limitations and trusted Zhao Xunyin’s experience.

“I’m still in school, and I know I don’t handle things as well as you do,” she said gently. “But I’ll grow up slowly. I just hope you can be patient with me, jiejie.”

Hearing her wife call her that so sweetly melted Zhao Xunyin’s heart to liquid. In a moment like this, all she could do was smile and say softly,

“Of course. I’ll wait for you to grow up my Dr. Shi.”

The way Zhao Xunyin said “Dr. Shi” always sounded unreasonably seductive. Her voice carried a natural allure—clear, smooth, and just a touch teasing.

Maybe it was because she felt relaxed around Shi Nanbei, but her tone always ended with a faint upward lilt. To Shi Nanbei, it was like a feather brushing along her ear, light and teasing, making her heart itch.

She remembered hearing that Zhao Xunyin had once done voice acting early in her career, back when resources were scarce. As a teenager, Shi Nanbei had been so enchanted by her voice that she’d downloaded her audio files onto her MP3 player—falling asleep night after night to that same voice whispering through her headphones.

Fate really was strange. She’d never once imagined what kind of person her future partner would be. But the day Zhao Xunyin appeared before her and asked if she would marry her, she suddenly felt—of course it would be her.

Their phone call stretched on endlessly, filled with laughter and warmth. Eventually, the conversation turned to their first meeting—their blind date.

“My grandma tricked me into going,” Shi Nanbei said, half teasing, half fond. “I told her I didn’t want to, but she said the person was good-looking and that I could at least go see—and get a free lunch while I was at it. I didn’t realize until

I got there that my blind date was you.”

Zhao Xunyin chuckled. “And seeing me, you were disappointed?”

“Not exactly.” Shi Nanbei grinned. “But if I’d known it was you, I would’ve asked Lili to do my makeup before going. Maybe then you would’ve remembered our first meeting a little better.”

Despite her straightforward, almost tomboyish personality, Shi Nanbei was still a girl at heart. Every girl wanted to look her best for the person she liked. Even after all this time, she still couldn’t forget that she’d shown up to their first meeting bare-faced.

“I remember every meeting with you vividly,” Zhao Xunyin murmured. “Especially when you were little. Once, when I held you, you drooled all over my shoulder.”

“Hey!” Shi Nanbei yelped over the phone, mortified. “Why would you suddenly bring that up?”

Zhao Xunyin burst out laughing, unable to help herself. “What can I say? You were such a tiny little thing.”

“Hmph!” Shi Nanbei huffed, but her flushed ears gave her away.

And somewhere between their laughter and teasing, the line between memory and love blurred—until it was just the two of them, years apart yet perfectly in step.