After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 63

When it came to the trip, Shi Nanbei was almost too enthusiastic.

Even though Zhao Xunyin had already told her, “Everything’s arranged. You just need to bring your passport and show up,” the young woman’s curiosity was endless—asking this, asking that, every little detail.

By the end of it, Zhao Xunyin’s head was throbbing. She finally told her, “Why don’t you do a bit of research yourself? We’ll be flying out from Shanghai to Kuala Lumpur, and then transfer to Tawau Airport.”

Since Semporna was a small town, there were no direct flights. A transfer was inevitable. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Shi Nanbei, Zhao Xunyin would never have chosen such a route.

As a celebrity, she practically lived on airplanes all year round. She’d flown in and out of almost every airport in the country. The novelty had long worn off, and now flying just made her feel tired and restless. But this time, having Shi Nanbei with her might make things a little better.

Shi Nanbei listened obediently over the phone, taking mental notes of her wife’s every word. At the end, she replied earnestly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to plan everything properly.”

“The travel agency already gave a detailed itinerary,” Zhao Xunyin reminded, half worried that her stubborn little wife would get overly absorbed in doing research, “so it’s fine if you don’t come up with your own guide.”

After all, she still remembered how, during exam season, Shi Nanbei went days without talking to her because she was too focused on studying.

“Are you doubting my learning ability?” Shi Nanbei misunderstood immediately, sounding serious. “I will do the research properly!”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Honestly, you’d be better off spending that time thinking about me.

But being the dignified film queen she was, Zhao Xunyin didn’t say it aloud. She only reminded gently, “I booked you a ticket to Shanghai for the day after tomorrow at noon. Set an alarm, okay? Don’t oversleep.”

Her wife really had the temperament of a retired government official—no matter how much she loved gaming, she was in bed by ten, up by eight, with a one-hour nap after lunch. Her daily routine was so regular it was terrifying.

Meanwhile, Zhao Xunyin, despite being thirty-four, barely got half as much rest as her wife did. She was genuinely envious.

Maybe it really was time to start transitioning to work behind the scenes—to take care of her health at home.

Besides, her little wife was a medical student.

“Okay.” Hearing her wife’s concern made Shi Nanbei’s heart bloom with warmth. But even in her happy daze, she didn’t forget the autograph she’d asked Zhao Xunyin to get for her—from that male celebrity she liked so much.

So she asked, a bit nervously, “Did you get Wu Yan’s autograph for me? Did you tell him that Beibei really likes him?”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Have I lost my mind? Why would I tell another man that my wife likes him?

Of course, Zhao Xunyin would never admit that. Instead, she calmly lied through her teeth: “Yes. I told him.”

Shi Nanbei blushed. “Really? What did he say?”

The truth was, Zhao Xunyin hadn’t told him anything. She might seem composed and mature, but deep down she could be incredibly childish. She’d promised not to say anything, and she really didn’t.

What a joke. She, the film queen—her own wife didn’t like her, and she was supposed to tell another man her wife liked him?

Absolutely not.

“He said, ‘Got it.’” Zhao Xunyin replied coolly.

Shi Nanbei instantly brightened, thrilled beyond measure. Then, emboldened, she added, “Since I’m kind of in the entertainment circle now—being married to the film queen and all—could you maybe ask if he has time to grab a meal together?”

Zhao Xunyin’s face froze. “…”

A meal?

And how many meals have you had with me, huh?

“He doesn’t have time,” Zhao said flatly.

“Did you ask him?” Shi Nanbei asked suspiciously.

Zhao Xunyin—now fully unleashing her inner jealous vinegar jar—snapped, “I said he doesn’t have time, so he doesn’t. And neither do you. That’s it—I’m hanging up!”

And she actually hung up.

Shi Nanbei stared at her phone, confused and a little wronged. “Huh?”

Her wife was so fierce! She hadn’t even done anything!

Sob.

Summer always passed in a blink. Before she knew it, the day before the trip had arrived.

That afternoon, Shi Nanbei and Zhao Xunyin’s assistant flew to Shanghai ahead of schedule. Before boarding, she called Zhao Xunyin—but it was the manager, Xu Juan, who picked up.

“She’s in the middle of an interview,” the woman explained.

“That’s okay! I just wanted to tell her I didn’t oversleep, and I’m already at the airport,” Shi Nanbei said cheerfully, her soft, milky voice melting through the phone line. It was the kind of voice that made people’s hearts go soft instantly—especially someone like Xu Juan, who had a naturally motherly streak.

“Got it,” the manager replied warmly. “I’ll let her know once she’s done.”

“Thank you, Juan-jie” Shi Nanbei said sweetly.

That one “Juan-jie” was so sugary that even the manager’s ears tingled with delight.

Maybe finding a younger, adorable girlfriend wasn’t such a bad idea after all, Xu Juan mused with a smile after hanging up.

The flight from Chengdu to Shanghai wasn’t long, but since she’d gotten up early, Shi Nanbei hadn’t slept well during her nap. Once she was on the plane, she slipped on an eye mask, reclined in her seat, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The assistant sitting next to her had planned to make small talk, but when she turned her head—there was Shi Nanbei, fast asleep, breathing evenly.

Assistant: “…”

This girl really could fall asleep anywhere.

Veteran actress Song Dandan once said something, didn’t she?

Ah, right—people without a care in the world always sleep well.

Her assistant hadn’t really believed that before. But after meeting Shi Nanbei, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully and mused that perhaps the old masters really did know what they were talking about.

The plane flew for hours, and Shi Nanbei slept the whole way. Maybe because she’d slept too long, she still looked dazed after landing, following her assistant in a fog.

She knew Zhao Xunyin was busy with work and hadn’t expected her to come pick her up. But the moment she stepped out of the airport, she spotted a woman in the crowd—mask, sunglasses, baseball cap—the full incognito look.

The woman was tall and slender, her aura effortlessly striking. She wore a gray bomber jacket over cropped denim shorts, exuding youthful vibrance. Her slightly wavy chestnut hair was tied up in a high ponytail.

Dashing, radiant, beautiful and cool—Shi Nanbei, the self-confessed face-connoisseur that she was, couldn’t look away.

Zhao Xunyin had planned this in advance. As soon as she finished an interview, she’d hurriedly changed clothes and rushed to the airport. Even in her rush, she hadn’t forgotten to disguise herself. She was used to being photographed, but Shi Nanbei was still young and not in the industry yet—Zhao Xunyin didn’t want her to get caught up in any fan chaos because of her.

But clearly, her plan had backfired.

Her elaborate disguise turned out to be completely useless—not because someone recognized her, but because Shi Nanbei’s face was just too recognizable.

Especially after that recent livestream incident where she was rear-ended—her adorably clueless reaction had gone viral and been made into memes. At this point, anyone who’d been online even once probably recognized her face. She was practically more famous among the public than some second- or even third-tier celebrities.

Zhao Xunyin had done a perfect job of keeping her cover, until—Shi Nanbei spotted her, ran straight toward her, and threw herself into her arms.

And just like that, the airport crowd recognized Shi Nanbei.

Shi Nanbei was Zhao Xunyin’s wife. So, if she was hugging someone this affectionately, well, there was only one possible explanation.

Thus, the fully disguised Zhao Xunyin was instantly recognized as well.

In the end, Zhao Xunyin hadn’t caused Shi Nanbei to be mobbed by fans—she was the one who got mobbed because of Shi Nanbei.

Listen to that. Isn’t that a tragic twist of fate?

She was a film queen—an actress with countless awards, years of experience, and a stellar filmography. Yet in the end, her wife managed to gain more fans from a single livestream than she had in her entire career.

Who on earth would believe that?

Fans, bystanders, and onlookers quickly surrounded the two of them. At first, Zhao Xunyin thought they were there for her—she even reached out, ready to accept their enthusiasm. But to her utter disbelief, the notebooks were all extended toward Shi Nanbei instead.

“Little Dumbcutie, can I get your autograph?” one of them asked.

Shi Nanbei had earned the nickname “Little Dumbcutie” online because of her adorably blank expressions during the livestream.

Zhao Xunyin stared in disbelief as the autograph book that had been right in front of her was redirected toward the girl at her side. For a moment, she couldn’t even process it.

Zhao Xunyin: “?”

Had fan betrayal really gotten this blatant now? Did her dignity as a film queen mean nothing anymore?

Shi Nanbei, meanwhile, blinked at the notebook in front of her, looking puzzled for several seconds. Zhao Xunyin was just about to warn her not to sign anything casually—after all, random signatures could easily cause unnecessary trouble if misused.

But before she could say anything, Shi Nanbei spoke in an earnest and serious tone to the fan:

“I can’t give you my autograph.”

“Ah? Why not?” The fan was clearly surprised.

Shi Nanbei’s face remained pure and guileless as she explained, “Because I’m not a celebrity. And I haven’t practiced my signature yet. But my wife can sign for you.”

She then turned to Zhao Xunyin with an expression that all but said, You’re my wife—come on, help me out here.

Zhao Xunyin was silent for three seconds, then wordlessly took the notebook and pen, asked for the fan’s name, and prepared to write—only for the fan to add brightly:

“Can you sign Little Dumbcutie’s name instead?”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Excuse me? Was the name of a film queen not good enough for your notebook?

But the fan’s gaze was so eager that Zhao Xunyin could only maintain a frosty expression as she mechanically signed Shi Nanbei’s name.

When it was over, Shi Nanbei even politely told the fan, “I’ll practice my signature when I get home. Next time we meet, I’ll sign it for you myself.”

The fan’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’d be great!”

From start to finish, she never even looked at Zhao Xunyin once.

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

She was seething.

What—did she not even deserve a mention anymore?