After My Flash Marriage with the Movie Queen - Chapter 97

The moment Shi Nanbei’s flight to Chengdu took off, the phone in Zhao Xunyin’s pocket began to ring. She glanced at the screen—her manager.

“Hello? What’s up?”

The voice on the other end sounded like a vengeful spirit crawling straight out of hell.

“Where are you right now?”

“At the airport. I just sent my wife off,” Zhao Xunyin replied, a bit baffled. She even wondered if her manager was going through menopause—why else would her tone be this explosive?

Her manager let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“You still have the face to show up at the airport? Zhao Xunyin, Zhao Xunyin, I’ve worked with you for so many years—how did I never know your skin was this thick?”

Zhao Xunyin froze. “……”

What on earth was she talking about? When had she ever acted shameless?

“Can you talk like a normal person? Cut the sarcasm. Why on earth would I be embarrassed to go to the airport?”

Sitting in the driver’s seat with her phone in hand, Zhao Xunyin propped an elbow against the window and idly toyed with her sunglasses. “If I don’t make an appearance, how are my fans supposed to get fresh updates? Someone as popular as me has to show up at the airport from time to time.”

At that, she even sounded a bit smug.

“And today’s outfit was personally styled by my wife. Don’t let her age fool you—her taste is excellent.”

Her manager choked on pure rage. “……”

If she suddenly dropped dead one day, no need for an autopsy. Everyone could rest assured—it would definitely be because Zhao Xunyin drove her to an early grave.

Seriously, whatever became of the cold, untouchable, goddess-like Zhao Xunyin she once managed? How did marriage turn her into this?

Her dignity, vanished.

Disappeared right alongside Shi Nanbei’s missing common sense.

Of course, the manager heard the pride dripping from Zhao Xunyin’s voice, but she was already buried under crisis control tonight thanks to this woman. With resentment boiling in her stomach and absolutely no energy left, she cut straight to the point:

“Please stop being narcissistic. I suggest you hang up right now, log in to Weibo, and take a good look at what you’ve done. Then cool down for five minutes and call me back.”

Zhao Xunyin: “?”

Zhao Xunyin blinked.

Had her fans gotten upset because she and Shi Nanbei appeared together at the airport?

Hmm, possible.

Sigh. For someone at her level, this kind of thing was troublesome. It couldn’t be helped—she was just way too popular, way too adored. Even though she was married, people still loved her to death.

What can she do? Her fans love her too much. They won’t even let her show off her wife in peace. And now they’re kicking up a fuss on Weibo—how pitiful.

But then again, Zhao Xunyin suddenly felt comforted.

After all, wasn’t this proof she was still hot? Still relevant?

People like An He—who could give her ten thousand extra years and she still wouldn’t get famous—could never experience this kind of joyful annoyance.

If her manager could hear the nonsense spiraling through Zhao Xunyin’s head right now, she’d probably pick up the nearest brick, fly straight to Suzhou, and smash her to death on sight.

Truly—end it all. Solve every grievance at once.

In her decades of managing artists, she had never encountered a creature like this one.

She was a double Best Actress, for crying out loud. A veteran in the industry. And this is what she’s done?

The manager had no idea what karmic debt she owed to have raised such a being.

Not only had Zhao Xunyin secretly created a Weibo alt account to submit posts.

But she submitted relationship drama submissions.

Thinly-veiled digs.

Cryptic show-offs.

Baiting gossip accounts into reposting and then “killing them” with the reveal afterward.

And fine, maybe the manager could still understand that.

After marrying someone as adorable as Shi Nanbei, it made sense that Zhao Xunyin’s 34-year-dried-up heart would suddenly blossom into teenage romantic frenzy again.

But she never expected Zhao Xunyin to be this outrageous.

Submitting post after post about her wife complaining she’s too old, and that she “can’t perform well in bed anymore”

And that might still have been tolerable—since no one could recognize her behind an alias.

But Zhao Xunyin, that cursed woman actually switched back to her official verified account to reply to netizens’ comments under her own alt posts.

When the manager saw the topic sitting at the top of Weibo’s trending list, her mind filled with an entire opera of profanity.

Even a pig.

A PIG.

Would have more sense than Zhao Xunyin.

No pig would ever do something this idiotic.

But Zhao Xunyin did.

After spitting out those words, the manager slammed the call dead.

This was the first time in Zhao Xunyin’s entire career that her manager had ever hung up on her.

How to describe the feeling?

It was strangely similar to being dumped by a heartless lover—shock, indignation, and helplessness all at once.

She had always been her manager’s prized treasure ever since she became famous!

How long had it been? She wasn’t even retired yet.

How dare her manager stop loving her?

How dare she hang up on her?

Still confused and unable to make sense of anything, Zhao Xunyin stared at her phone for a long while before remembering the instructions: check Weibo.

Normally, she did listen to her manager—even if she apparently wasn’t the manager’s beloved baby anymore.

So, Zhao Xun-yin reopened Weibo, which she had logged out of just over an hour ago.

The app froze on the loading screen for more than a minute before finally opening—just like it did that time she accidentally crashed the server. Zhao Xunyin wondered what special day it was now. Which clueless traffic star had crashed

Weibo this time?

Poor Weibo.

What did it ever do wrong to deserve collapsing every other day?

Just as she was thinking that, the app finally loaded into her homepage.

One refresh.

Her screen was filled, wall to wall, with:

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Zhao Xunyin: ?

Where did all these laughing monsters come from?

Every major gossip account was reporting on the current trending topic:

“‘I love my cat very much. Even though she says I’m too old and that I can’t perform well in bed anymore, I still adore her.’”

And.

“‘It’s probably pointless to ask, but how do I make my husky understand that I don’t like it when others steal her time away from me?’”

“My orange tabby is way too gorgeous—smart, cute, and perfect. Too many people like her. I’m so jealous.”

Zhao Xunying: “?”

Had the whole site collectively lost its mind? What on earth were these people even talking about?

Completely unable to decipher the nonsense flooding her homepage, Zhao Xunyin had no choice but to open Weibo’s trending list. The moment she clicked in, a trending tag with a huge “EXPLODING” icon behind it jumped into view:

#ZhaoXunyinLiedToHerFans

Zhao Xunying: “……”

Lied to your grandmother’s legs.

She tapped into it. The very first repost she saw was of the submission she had posted using her alternate account:

@ZhaoXunyin V: “I write fake stories? I trick fans? Open your eyes and look clearly! Do I look like someone who needs to write fake stories? Do I need to chase clout? Do I need to trick fans?” //@I’mTheSuperCuteXiaoYanHl: “Agreed, +1008611. Shameless marketing accounts hiring ghostwriters now—has the thirst for money rotted their brains?”

//@Marriage Confessions: ““Hello Marriage Confessions, it’s me again. Face-cover emoji. This time I still want to ask about my wife. [Previous Post Link] [Previous Post Link].

Zhao Xunying: “……”

Zhao Xunying: “?”

She almost couldn’t believe her eyes. With a desperate sliver of hope, she tapped her verified username—sure enough, it led straight to her official Weibo page. The bio still read: “A low-key actress.”

Zhao Xunying: “……”

Insanity. Actual madness.

The post had blown up; in barely over an hour, it had more than a hundred thousand comments:

“HAHAHAHAHAHA I never could’ve dreamed Zhao Xunyin was THIS kind of person!”

“Alright, alright, now the whole world knows you didn’t write a script, you didn’t lie to fans—you were just jealous other people like your wife. Secretly jealous! AND that your wife said you’re getting old and can’t keep up. doge”

“I’m crying with laughter. I refuse to believe my eyes. Saucy—turns out you really are saucy, Zhao Yinghou.”

“Friendly reminder to the onlookers: @LittleYinyinIsThePrettiestBeauty is our Film Queen’s alt account doge. Go take a look—you’ll meet a very different Film Queen.”

“You guys are unbelievable. When she’s quiet and low-key, you swear you’d ‘go crazy for Zhao Xunyin, crash walls for Zhao Xunyin,’ and now the moment she slips and posts from the wrong account, you roast her mercilessly. Are you even fans? doge Not me though—I’m roasting her sympathetically. Sorry. It’s just too damn funny HAHAHAHAHA.”

“Never in my life did I expect today’s Weibo feed to be this spectacular covers face. She still hasn’t deleted it yet—has she not realized she posted from her main account?”

“Surprise! As expected, only Film Queen Zhao Xunyin can gift us such a breathtaking surprise.”

“I just want to know what Zhao Xunyin felt inside the moment she saw that post.”

By this point, Zhao Xunyin’s expression had fully contorted.

You’re asking how she feels?

Regret. Utter, total, soul-deep regret. So much regret she wanted to climb into a time machine, go back one or two hours, and strangle her past self for that fatal twitch of the finger.

She, Zhao Xunyin—her lifetime reputation was ruined. Might as well retire now, forever branded as a jealous lemon spirit in her fans’ memories.

To think her downfall would be this tragic, she’d rather switch lives with her perpetually irrelevant best friend, An He!

In the end, with a face as dark as thunder, Zhao Xunyin deleted the repost-with-comment from her main account. She knew it was useless, but she still wanted to make a last-ditch attempt, after all, not everyone had seen it yet. Deleting it might salvage a sliver of dignity.

But the moment she deleted it, the netizens—who had been waiting for exactly this—simultaneously flooded her other posts with screenshots of the deleted Weibo.

Not only that, they even dug up the records of the two submissions she had previously sent to the gossip account.

A unified comment:
Zhao Xunyin, please own up to what you did.

Zhao Xunyin: “……”

The problem is—I DON’T WANT TO OWN UP TO IT, DAMMIT!