After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 91

Original intention.

Aside from seeing the word in scripts during filming, this was the first time Zhao Xunyin had ever truly thought about the word in real life.

Maybe it was because Shi Nanbei was simply too pure, too earnest. The longer Zhao Xunyin stayed by her side, the more she felt as though she was rediscovering that younger version of herself.

In Shi Nanbei, she saw one of the rarest of human qualities: the courage to love someone, unwaveringly and without conditions.

She too had loved once, but unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to hold on.

She had wandered through this world for many years, gaining much and losing just as much. She had once possessed love—only to be betrayed by it. She had blamed, she had doubted, she had wandered, yet in the end she still chose to face everything head-on.

At her lowest, she had certainly thought about taking shortcuts; at her most defeated, she had indeed considered abandoning her own dignity.

She once thought that after Shu Yu, she would never again be capable of loving anyone—until she met Shi Nanbei.

It was only when she encountered that girl sitting in the café, eyes clear and untainted, that she realized:

Love doesn’t need to come with so many conditions.

Only then did she understand.

Love could be this pure.

How fortunate I am to have met you, my little Nanbei, Zhao Xunyin thought quietly.

“What kind of doctor do you want to be?” Zhao Xunyin asked.

“A neurosurgeon,” Shi Nanbei replied.

“Hm? Why?”

Shi Nanbei let out a soft laugh through the phone, light and fluttery—like a feather brushing across her heart. Playfully, she said:

“If you get old someday and need surgery, I’ll finally have an excuse to open you up and check whether I’m inside your head.”

Objectively speaking, the timing for such a line was a bit inappropriate, yet Zhao Xunyin—who always pampered her wife—still chuckled softly and replied:

“Oh? Then you’d better take a good look when the time comes.”

What answered her was the unrestrained laughter of a young girl.

Even after appearing on the variety show, Shi Nanbei’s daily life was more or less the same—minus the extra bit of attention.

Still, thanks to her rising popularity, An He’s comeback this time went extremely smoothly. Online discussion had almost reached the level of when she and Boss Qi announced their marriage. To show her gratitude, An He brought Boss Qi to Chengdu specifically to treat Shi Nanbei to a meal.

Yes—this time they flew in on a private jet.

Zhao Xunyin, meanwhile, had accepted a new script with a heavy focus on traditional opera. She was currently in Suzhou, training under a veteran Qingyi master. An He was extremely satisfied with this development:
“What a perfect opportunity, little Nanbei! You’re trending, you have fans, and that old woman Zhao Xunyin isn’t around to hover over you. I heard that master has ridiculously strict rules—up at 6:00 a.m. just to start vocal training.

Honestly, what’s wrong with Zhao Xunyin? Working herself this hard? Does she want to leave any opportunities for other actresses? Going to learn opera just for a film—tsk, tsk, she’ll probably shed a layer of skin before she comes back.”

Listening to An He’s commentary, it was truly hard to believe she and Zhao Xunyin had been best friends for over a decade—weathering storms and sharing fortunes together.

Shi Nanbei had come to understand An He’s personality quite well. In a way, they hit it off—both were the type to give their wives headaches.

“Isn’t she gradually planning to shift to behind-the-scenes work?” Shi Nanbei said earnestly. “She told me she might only film one movie every two or three years. With that pace, she has plenty of time to polish her craft. I think it’s good—it won’t interfere with my studies.”

An He burst out laughing. “Zhao Xunyin said you’re a top student?”

“No. My grades are simply a little bit better than hers.”

Maybe it was due to spending too much time with An He, but Shi Nanbei’s skill at throwing shade had improved dramatically.

The main purpose of this trip for Boss Qi and An He was to treat Shi Nanbei to a meal as thanks. They let her decide what to eat.

Shi Nanbei, who was very easy to please, didn’t hesitate at all—hotpot, of course.

Once seated in the private hotpot room and ready to order, she asked whether the two could handle spicy food. An He waved her hand dramatically.

“Don’t look down on us. We Shanghai folks can handle spice too, okay?”

“Really?” Shi Nanbei eyed her with suspicion. “Then I’ll choose red broth. Mildly spicy?”

To An He, those last two words were a personal insult.

“What do you mean mild? Go big or go home—super spicy!”

Boss Qi sat beside her like a serene Buddha statue, her face showing a series of conflicted, hesitant expressions: “……”

If she remembered correctly, the spiciness of Sichuan and Chongqing was not the same species of “spicy” as what they had back in Shanghai.

Shi Nanbei glanced at An He, then at the silent Boss Qi. After hesitating, she gently advised:

“Maybe we shouldn’t go too spicy. It’ll be troublesome if someone ends up with stomach issues later.”

An He: “Are you looking down on me?”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

Boss Qi: “……”

In the end, Shi Nanbei honored An He’s bravado and checked the box next to “Super Spicy” for the red broth.

Boss Qi’s expression froze completely: “……”

This was unnecessary. Completely unnecessary.

While waiting for the dishes to arrive, An He pulled Shi Nanbei into another conversation.

“Tell me, with such a great opportunity right now, shouldn’t you consider debuting? If you debut, I can get Boss Qi to pull some strings—sign with her agency, and we’ll absolutely make you a star. Later, you and I can form a duo! We’ll go viral across Asia—no, across the world!”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

After all these years, An He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that she never became wildly famous.

“Actually,” Shi Nanbei had just begun to speak when An He immediately cut her off:

“Don’t worry about people saying you’re riding my popularity. Stuff like that doesn’t matter. Besides, you’re married to Zhao Xunyin—round up the numbers and that makes you my wife. So, riding on my popularity would be perfectly normal.”

Shi Nanbei slowly produced a question mark in her heart: ?

What did she mean by “You’re Zhao Xunyin’s wife, so if we round it up, you’re basically my wife too”?

Forgive a medical student for thinking too literally—Shi Nanbei’s first reaction was: A throuple is a terrible idea. Too much risk of cross-infection. From a medical standpoint, having too many sexual partners is just not ideal.

An He had no idea that one offhand comment of hers was enough for Shi Nanbei’s mind to spin an entire soap opera: jealous best friends stealing each other’s lovers, awkward threesomes, tragic love triangles that end with someone driving straight off a cliff. If An He ever found out what Shi Nanbei had imagined, she would definitely be laughing so hard she’d have to hold onto the table for support.

“Anyway,” An He concluded with great sincerity, “rest assured—I’ll definitely treat you well.”

A look finally appeared on Shi Nanbei’s face—one that was exactly the same as the one President Qi had worn earlier. That expression of wanting to say something but holding it back, swallowing it once, twice, only to fail in the end:
“Um, about that, I’m not planning to debut.”

An He: “……”

An He: “？”

“You’re not planning to debut?”

Her shock—expression, tone, everything—perfectly conveyed the chaos inside her heart. She wanted to crack open Shi Nanbei’s skull and take a good look at whatever was going on in there.

“Are you kidding me? With such a great opportunity in front of you—what are you waiting for? Do you know how many people dream of this and never get the chance? How many people want to cling to my super-thick golden thigh and can’t? Now I’m the one offering it to you, and you’re telling me you don’t want to hold on?”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

Between your eternally-not-famous jinxed career and my very famous wife, shouldn’t I be holding her superior golden thigh instead?

“Not planning to debut?”

The three of them had been sitting together for over an hour, and President Qi finally spoke—managing to squeeze out one sentence.

Her expression was the same as always—like a carved slab of wood. Shi Nanbei used to think that “face like a corpse” was a ridiculous exaggeration until An He had once described President Qi to her:

“Don’t you think her face looks like she’s on her way to a funeral? No, actually—with more precision—like a widow who’s never recovered. It’s one thing to keep that face under the bedcovers, but she keeps that same deadpan expression even in bed. If she wasn’t so technically skilled, I might have become asexual by now.”

Shi Nanbei: “……”

You really didn’t need to share that with me.

“That’s right.”

No matter what, President Qi was Zhao Xunyin’s immediate superior. Out of basic courtesy, Shi Nanbei still had to answer her question. And honestly, she didn’t think it was a hard one. So, she replied truthfully, “Compared to entering the entertainment industry, I prefer being a doctor.”

“Being a doctor is tough—lot of stress too.”

It was obvious President Qi genuinely liked her; otherwise, with her personality, she wouldn’t bother saying even that much.

“Hehe. My dream is to become a doctor who heals the world,” Shi Nanbei said shyly.

President Qi nodded. “The Qi family has its own private hospital. If you’re interested, you can come work there in the future.”

Shi Nanbei smiled. “We’ll see when the time comes. I’m actually thinking about spending two years volunteering in rural clinics first.”

And that was that—the topic came to a natural close.

The food arrived. The entire surface of the broth was covered in floating chili peppers.

An He stared at it for a long time before she finally couldn’t help asking,

“Do chilies cost nothing in Chengdu or what?”

Shi Nanbei: “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted extra spicy?”

An He: “……”

Regrets. So many regrets.

But the hotpot, though insanely spicy, was absolutely delicious. As they say in Chengdu: There’s nothing a hotpot can’t fix. And if there is—have another hotpot.

The real reason An He came, of course, was to lure Shi Nanbei onto the path of showbiz. She had seen it clearly: President Qi had thrown mountains of money at her without making her famous even once. Yet Shi Nanbei just casually appeared on a variety show and cracked a few jokes—and boom, two hot searches on Weibo. Way too cost-effective!

But Shi Nanbei had zero interest in debuting. So, An He could only give up and chat with her about random things.

“Why do you like being a doctor so much? I mean, you could do tons of other jobs. If you weren’t a doctor, what would you want to be the most?” An He asked.

Shi Nanbei thought for a moment.

“A member of a folk performance troupe. Playing the suona and the erhu at weddings and funerals—guaranteed lifetime employment.”

An He: “……”

President Qi: “……”