After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 77

To be fair, it really wasn’t Zhao Xunyin’s fault for looking down on the younger generation just because of her seniority. Heaven and earth could bear witness—she was truly that busy. There was simply no way she had the time to watch trendy idol survival shows. Besides, she was an actress, not a singer—let alone a niche rapper!

“Who’s Cai Xuqian?” Zhao Xunyin asked sincerely.

The little girl’s face twisted into open contempt, nearly spelling the words out across her forehead: “You’re so low.”

Since her debut, Zhao Xunyin had never suffered such humiliation. “I am not low.”

Then another little boy jumped in without mercy. “Then do you play Honor of Jade Warriors? What rank are you?”

Zhao Xunyin’s expression stiffened even more. “I don’t.”

Heaven and earth knew—she barely had time to squeeze in moments with her wife, let alone play games!

The boy sneered. “So lame.”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

You’re lame! Do you even know I’m a Best Actress winner?

But with the cameras rolling, Zhao Xunyin couldn’t afford to get roasted by a bunch of elementary schoolers. She didn’t even dare imagine how this footage would look when broadcast—her dignified reputation would be gone. Maybe it was time to just quietly retire.

In the end, driven by despair, Zhao Xunyin mustered her last bit of pride. “I can do other things.”

“What can you do?”

“Act.” For some reason, the moment she said “act,” her confidence wavered.

This was bad.

Her grand attempt at salvaging face was instantly crushed by the unimpressed children.

“Who can’t act?” one scoffed.

“When my dad’s about to spank me, I cry so hard my grandma rushes in to stop him,” said a bespectacled boy, speaking like an old soul with life experience.

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

The other kids nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I can act too.”

“What’s so great about acting?”

“Pfft.”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

Before a group of little kids, Zhao Xunyin suddenly felt like an utter failure. She was on the verge of tears. Why did the production team have to pair me with elementary schoolers?

Her fanbase was mostly college students and adults!

How was she supposed to communicate with children?

Just as Zhao Xunyin’s dignity was about to collapse, her wife, Shi Nanbei, stepped forward like a hero.

“I can play Honor of Jade Warriors,” she said calmly—aimed directly at the boy who’d called Zhao Xunyin “lame.”

“You can?” The boy looked skeptical. There was no way this sweet, girl-next-door type could play games. He still remembered all those ranked matches where he’d been sabotaged by female college students.

As the saying went—never trust the charming ones, only trust the trash-talking kids.

The true kings of dragging down a team? Always them.

“Just a little,” Shi Nanbei said, scratching her head with a shy smile. “I haven’t played in a while, so I might be a bit rusty.”

“Then let’s have a match!” The boy rallied a few of his friends, challenging her with gusto.

Shi Nanbei turned to the production crew. “Can I borrow a phone?”

Of course the crew agreed—they’d love to film a sweet-looking college girl getting crushed by grade-schoolers. That would be ratings gold. So they eagerly handed her a phone.

Ten minutes later, five elementary schoolers were being utterly destroyed—by Shi Nanbei alone.

Production crew: “…”

This was not how they thought this would go.

“You’re amazing! What rank are you?” the boy asked, now full of admiration. “I’m Diamond rank, but I couldn’t even beat you!”

Shi Nanbei thought for a moment. “It’s been a while, but I think I used to be a Global King?”

Kids: “…”

Production crew: “…”

Zhao Xunyin: “…”

You said you weren’t good at games? If a Global King is ‘not good,’ then what are the rest of us—chickens pecking each other to death?

But Shi Nanbei didn’t think she was impressive at all. “I actually used to like playing DOTA more. I never really liked Honor of Jade Warriors—feels kinda like a copy.”

The director couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Then how did you end up reaching Global King in a game you don’t even like?”

“Because it’s easy,” Shi Nanbei said innocently. “I just played it to pass the time.”

Production crew: “…”

Children: “…”

Sorry to disturb you, goddess.

After a long pause, the same boy who’d been all arrogance before looked up at her, eyes shining. “Big sister, you’re amazing!”

The others quickly joined in:

“Big sister, you’re so awesome!!”

“So cool!!”

“Can I add you as a friend? Please? I’ll behave, I promise!”

And just like that, Shi Nanbei effortlessly earned the complete adoration of five elementary schoolers—calm, composed, and unbothered. Not even the production team’s evil scheme could faze her.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

The production team nearly lost their minds. “……”

Wasn’t this basically cheating? How did things end up going completely off-script like this?

Who the hell could’ve imagined that behind Shi Nanbei’s pretty face hid a gaming prodigy? Damn it, the production staff really wanted to cry.

Still, it wasn’t over yet. She’d only earned the admiration points of five elementary school kids so far. As long as they could hold out, there was no way Shi Nanbei could keep clearing challenges this easily.

“Big sis, do you know how to skateboard?”

Just as the production crew was frantically recalculating their next move, another kid piped up and asked Shi Nanbei.

After her gaming display earlier, all the kids’ favorability toward her had skyrocketed—but they were still children, bold and fearless. Faced with such a cool and beautiful big sister, of course they wanted to show off a little too, which led to the question.

“Skateboard?” Shi Nanbei looked a little hesitant. “I can, but my grandma doesn’t let me play.”

That earned a round of laughter from the kids. “You’re already this old and still afraid of your grandma?”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

Oh, little one, you sound so proud now, but one day you’ll understand—grandmas can be way scarier than moms.

Zhao Xunyin, who had been watching from the side, perked up with curiosity. “You know how to skateboard?” she asked.

Since her wife had asked so sincerely, Shi Nanbei answered honestly. She nodded. “A little. I joined a club back in middle school.”

Truthfully, that was the last thing Zhao Xunyin wanted to hear right now—Shi Nanbei saying she “only knows a little.”

She still hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time Shi Nanbei claimed she “only knew a little” about gaming.

Hmph. So the kid was actually a humble one.

Seeing the eager, sparkling eyes of all those children, Zhao Xunyin said, half out of challenge, “Since you know how, why don’t you show them a bit? Let me see just how good you really are.”

Her tone carried a trace of playful defiance. She refused to believe that, off-camera, this celebrated film queen suddenly became the one who couldn’t do anything, while her wife seemed to have every talent under the sun.

First it was gaming, now skateboarding? What next—did she, the great Zhao Xunyin, have no dignity left?

She wanted to win back a little face in front of everyone. But to her surprise, Shi Nanbei only thought for a moment before replying,

“I can, if you really want to see. But if Grandma finds out, you’ll have to help me explain it to her.”

Because Shi Nanbei still remembered vividly—Grandma had once said that if she ever touched a skateboard again, she’d break her legs. And Grandma meant every word.

Shi Nanbei didn’t dare take that risk. But if Zhao Xunyin wanted to see, well, that was different. Zhao Xunyin was her wife—if her wife wanted to watch her skateboard, how could she say no?

Besides, Grandma adored Zhao Xunyin. If things went south, she could just shift the blame to her wife. Then Grandma definitely wouldn’t hold her accountable, right?

Heh—perfect plan. Shi Nanbei’s mental abacus was clicking fast.

Zhao Xunyin thought for a moment, then agreed.

So Shi Nanbei went to the production team’s van, changed into a sporty outfit, and came back out with full protective gear.

The kids burst out laughing. “Big sis, you don’t have to be that nervous! Skateboarding’s fun! If you go slow, you won’t even fall!”

Shi Nanbei smiled, patted the head of the kid who said that, and replied earnestly, “Skateboarding is an extreme sport. No matter how good you are, you should always wear safety gear to protect yourself.”

When she was young and reckless, she’d been just like them—never wore gear. Until one day, she had a spectacular wipeout, broke a leg and two ribs, and ended up bedridden for nearly two months. After that, Grandma personally banned her from ever skateboarding again.

Sigh. Just thinking about it was enough to make her tear up a little.

The kid blinked, startled. “Oh, okay.”

Shi Nanbei chuckled, stretched a bit, and then took her skateboard out to the square. In front of everyone, she executed a series of fluid, fancy freestyle moves.

Even the seasoned Zhao Xunyin and the production crew stood frozen in place, dumbstruck.

Their minds were collectively filled with one thought: Holy sh*t?

Who would’ve guessed that this quiet, sweet-looking girl-next-door could be so dazzling and effortlessly cool once she started moving?

She was strong, sharp, and stunning—utterly breathtaking.

Respect.