After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 66

The atmosphere was pleasant—perhaps it was the stunning sea view—but the two of them ended up sitting in the shade on the beach, chatting for a long time. Their conversation ranged from more than ten years ago, when Zhao Xunyin debuted, all the way to the present. Shi Nanbei was an attentive listener; though she was young and had never experienced or known about those past events, she still showed genuine interest in Zhao Xunyin’s history, just like a good audience should.

As Zhao Xunyin recounted her past, including her previous relationships, Shi Nanbei felt no trace of jealousy. If anything, there was a hint of excitement as she curiously asked questions about everything.

Years had passed, and now Zhao Xunyin spoke of those old memories with a sense of release, her tone calm and natural. Shi Nanbei listened carefully, and Zhao Xunyin even admitted that there had been one or two people she had truly liked and been moved by.

“So why did you two break up?” Shi Nanbei asked, resting her chin on her hand.

“We were probably too young and impulsive, always finding faults in each other,” Zhao Xunyin said after a moment’s thought, smiling. “Now that I think about it, my temper back then wasn’t exactly great either.”

Shi Nanbei blinked in surprise. “Ah, so you weren’t always this gentle, jiejie?”

Zhao Xunyin paused, then laughed softly. “Do I seem gentle to you?”

“Yes,” Shi Nanbei said earnestly. “You’re really gentle with me. You often pat my head. Were you really bad-tempered before?”

“Not exactly bad,” Zhao Xunyin replied. “Just a bit self-centered.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment, but quickly regained her composure. “So sometimes I think, it’s lucky that when I met you, I was already in my thirties.”

Seeing Shi Nanbei’s puzzled expression, Zhao Xunyin felt unusually happy and teased her: “You’re so mischievous. If I was young back then, I probably couldn’t have stood being around you for more than three days.”

Shi Nanbei stiffened for a moment, but Zhao Xunyin had finally scored a small victory in their playful exchange, which put her in a remarkably good mood.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Zhao Xunyin asked.

Shi Nanbei shook her head slowly. “I believe you.”

Thinking back, Shi Nanbei recalled the incident when a young Zhao Xunyin had angrily smashed a reporter’s camera. Back then, the internet was not as widespread, yet the news still caused an enormous stir—it was easy to imagine how sensational it had been.

After that topic, the atmosphere between them grew even more relaxed. Eventually, the conversation naturally turned to Zhao Xunyin’s most famous ex, Shu Yu. Zhao Xunyin seemed slightly uneasy at the mention of Shu Yu and asked Shi Nanbei if she had ever been jealous. Shi Nanbei, in turn, asked why she would be.

Zhao Xunyin was momentarily speechless. “You’ve never felt jealous? Never doubted or worried that I might still have some connection with her?”

“You two broke up long ago, didn’t you?” Shi Nanbei responded with unusual maturity and composure. “And you don’t seem like the type to linger emotionally.”

Something about those words melted Zhao Xunyin’s heart. Looking at her young lover beside her, her feelings softened completely, like water warming to room temperature.

“Well. I wasn’t completely free of jealousy,” Shi Nanbei admitted. “At that time, hadn’t she just gotten divorced? And online, your CP fans were celebrating like it was New Year. That must have been the moment I felt the most jealous in my life.”

Zhao Xunyin: “What the heck does ‘most jealous’ even mean?”

Still, she knew Shi Nanbei was speaking truthfully. The incident with Shu Yu had indeed caused a lot of online commotion. Their company’s PR team had considered trying to manage it, but the harder they tried to suppress it, the more energized the gossipers became. It was better to handle it quietly.

Zhao Xunyin had always thought Shi Nanbei hadn’t minded those things much, but hearing this today, she realized her lover had indeed felt some unhappiness back then. After all, who would enjoy seeing their spouse’s name paired with someone else online?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that well,” Zhao Xunyin apologized.

Shi Nanbei waved her off, smiling. “It’s fine. When I married you, I was already prepared for this. You’re a celebrity; these rumors are inevitable. As long as my heart doesn’t truly turn green, it’s fine.”

Looking at the clean, youthful lines of Shi Nanbei’s face, Zhao Xunyin made a sincere promise: “I will never let your heart turn green.”

Shi Nanbei’s eyes curved into a smile. “And I won’t either.”

The young girl’s eyes were truly beautiful, especially against the backdrop of Semporna’s deep blue sea and the dazzling sky, like stars reflected in clear water. Zhao Xunyin gazed at her for a long time. When Shi Nanbei, cheeks slightly flushed, finally asked what she was looking at, Zhao Xunyin answered:

“Looking at a beauty.”

Perhaps she hadn’t expected the usually serious Zhao Xunyin to say something like that after getting out of bed. Shi Nanbei looked genuinely surprised.

The older woman couldn’t resist taking advantage of the secluded moment. She leaned forward, twirling the young girl’s long hair that fell over her ear, and then, seeing her shyness, kissed her.

“Mm.”

“I love you.” Zhao Xunyin murmured softly.

Long ago, Zhao Xunyin had suffered the loss of someone she loved deeply. Back then, she had believed she would never utter those three words for anyone again. After that, she convinced herself that, for her, any woman would suffice.

She could compromise. She could be indifferent. No one was indispensable; as long as she wanted, Zhao Xunyin could always find someone better.

But she had been wrong.

Perhaps anything in this world could be compromised—anything except love. Love was different. Love could not be settled for. It was like a sneeze—you could try to suppress it, but it would burst out anyway. Or like a complex math problem: if you didn’t know the answer, any half-hearted attempt, any casual guess, would always end in error.

It took her a long time to understand this. Then she sank into it. And one morning, after a night of pouring rain, she received a phone call arranging a blind date with Shi Nanbei.

Now, she had finally spoken the words aloud. She said to Shi Nanbei: I love you.

Perhaps she had once been confused. Perhaps she had once been hesitant. But the one thing she would never regret in her life was walking into that coffee shop and encountering her again after all these years.

An unexpected kiss by the seaside always made the heart race and cheeks flush. Shi Nanbei’s head spun from her kiss. Perhaps it was the liberating environment—or perhaps it was simply the fact that they were no longer surrounded by fans everywhere—but Zhao Xunyin, unusually relaxed in public, gave herself over to the moment. One kiss led to another, full of intensity and longing, until it almost escalated into something more on the sand.

In the end, it was the elder’s sense of restraint that made Zhao Xunyin pull back. “Stop.”

Shi Nanbei, younger and less experienced in these matters, was still in a daze when Zhao Xunyin spoke. “W-what?”

Seeing her delicate, almost fragile wife before her, Zhao Xunyin, usually the one to hold herself in check, finally snapped. She scooped Shi Nanbei up from the sand and briskly carried her back to their room.

That afternoon and evening, they didn’t leave the room.

And Shi Nanbei finally discovered what it felt like to be with her in the water.

Ah, young people shouldn’t be too flirtatious—overdo it, and you might end up paying the price.

Those six days by the sea were perhaps the most relaxed and comfortable Shi Nanbei and Zhao Xunyin had ever spent together since getting married. They could act like any ordinary couple, holding hands along the long boardwalk in Kapalai, taking selfies while kissing as if no one else existed. Their assistants weren’t thrilled, but nothing could stop the two of them when they were being so indulgently affectionate.

By the third day, their manager—who happened to be a fan of Zhao Xunyin—suggested they try deep-sea diving. Zhao Xunyin, who was afraid of water, wanted to refuse, but when she looked into Shi Nanbei’s excited, expectant eyes, the words wouldn’t come out.

Well, marriage or dating, it always ended up like this.

So, Zhao Xunyin gritted her teeth and agreed.

That night, Shi Nanbei, unusually excited, even volunteered to drive. Her skills were still questionable, but it was better than nothing. The attitude mattered.

Afterward, as they cuddled and talked, Zhao Xunyin critiqued Shi Nanbei’s driving while stroking her wife’s smooth back. “You’re young and strong—should drive more, not always just lie there like a passenger,” she said earnestly.

“Why do you always want me to drive? Aren’t you a decent driver yourself? As an elder sister, please take care of your little sister. Don’t let her tire herself out,” Shi Nanbei argued, always ready with a rebuttal.

Zhao Xunyin sighed softly. “Isn’t it said online that little ‘junior boys’ like you love to compete over who’s top and bottom? Why are you completely uncompetitive, content to be a pillow princess?”

Shi Nanbei, lying there comfortably, replied proudly: “That’s them. I’m me. I’m my own kind of firework.”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Her own kind of firework?

Heh.

Their honeymoon flew by happily. Aside from the assistants being bombarded with endless public displays of affection, everything went well.

The only imperfection came on the way back to the country. Perhaps some obsessive fans had tracked their itinerary, or maybe Shi Nanbei’s face was just too recognizable. As soon as they landed in Shanghai, they were swarmed by fans.

The last time it had been this chaotic was when Zhao Xunyin won her award. This time, it was all thanks to Shi Nanbei, giving the semi-retired Zhao Xunyin a taste of being a trending celebrity once again.

Who would have thought? At her age, she still got to experience being a star.

Quite a thrill.