Waking Up to a Contract Marriage with the Film Queen - Chapter 1

August was the height of summer. In the south, the frequent rain only made the air thick and muggy, a damp heat that usually left people feeling stifled and irritable.

Eighteen-year-old Le Yiqiu couldn’t care less. She was busy pouring her heart out on the tennis court.

Tennis was one of her favorite sports; she made sure to carve out at least half a day every week to play. Since none of her friends were free today, she was stuck hitting with her coach.

After the set, Le Yiqiu grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from her neck. As she tilted her head back, the elegant line of her throat caught the sunlight—a sight that was effortlessly captivating.

The coach glanced at her casually, long accustomed to the scene. “Qiuqiu, the person on the court next to us is staring at you again.”

In the coach’s eyes, Le Yiqiu was the quintessential “golden child”—sunny, athletic, and possessed of a look that could easily land her an idol contract. After a workout, she practically radiated charm.

Le Yiqiu, however, was well aware of her own appeal. She didn’t even spare a glance for the neighboring court.

“No wonder you’re single,” the coach continued with a chuckle. “The one over there is actually a celebrity. Apparently, she’s quite popular right now.”

“A celebrity? What’s her name?”

Being a student, Le Yiqiu still had a spark of curiosity about the famous, especially knowing a star was watching her. She turned around immediately, but she was only in time to see a retreating back.

Yet, some people are beauties even from behind.

The woman had a lithe, slender frame and an air of detached elegance about her. She looked like a fairy from an ancient myth—or perhaps, a fox spirit who had cultivated her way into immortality. Though she looked ethereal, there was a lingering hint of something sultry in her gait.

Her high ponytail swayed with every step, a picture of youthful vitality.

Who doesn’t appreciate beauty? Le Yiqiu only regretted not seeing her face.

Seeing her staring unblinkingly at the woman’s back, the coach teased, “Don’t you like older women? She’s only a year older than you, I think. Lin-something-Ning. She’s the lead in that hit drama everyone’s watching. You should look her up when you get home.”

“Only a year older? That’s barely a gap,” Le Yiqiu replied, falling back on her usual excuse. “I like mature, gentle, sophisticated older sisters. You wouldn’t understand.”

She had used that line to reject classmates so many times it was practically muscle memory. Besides, in her social circle, it was no secret she was “out” and had a very specific “sister complex.”

The coach tossed her hair and smirked. “Like me?”

Le Yiqiu rolled her eyes. “I said sophisticated, not just… older.”

Coach: “…”

“Right. I’m going to shower. See you next week!” Le Yiqiu waved, slung her racket over her shoulder, and headed out.

After showering and changing, she checked her phone. Luo Luo—her deskmate and best friend—had sent a barrage of voice notes. Thankfully, each was only a few seconds long, or Le Yiqiu never would have bothered.

“Qiuqiu, you won’t believe it! I got a reply from Senior Lin!”

“She sent me an autographed photo and said she looks forward to working with me!”

“Aaaaah! Senior Lin is so gorgeous!”

Le Yiqiu: “…”

Aside from the screaming, she didn’t process a word.

Luo Luo loved acting and had already been accepted into a prestigious film academy. Le Yiqiu, on the other hand, didn’t have a dream major. She enjoyed photography—capturing the myriad moods of the world—but she wasn’t about to turn a hobby into a job. As the saying goes: once a hobby becomes a career, the love for it dies.

After much thought, she had settled on Directing. Perhaps she could film the stories buried in her heart. It wasn’t her absolute passion, but it was an interest. More importantly, it was at the same school as Luo Luo. From kindergarten to high school, they had always been in the same class; it seemed they were destined to spend university together, too.

She was about to close the phone when another message popped up.

Luo Luo: Done with tennis? There’s an event tonight. Coming?

Le Yiqiu: What kind of event?

Luo Luo: Alumni mixer at Queen KTV. I’ll pick you up.

Le Yiqiu: Pass.

Luo Luo: They’re releasing a new skin for ‘War of the Three Kingdoms.’

Le Yiqiu: Going home to change. Be there soon.

War of the Three Kingdoms was the hottest 5v5 mobile game out. Aside from the names of the heroes, it had nothing to do with history, but it was the only mobile game she actually played.

When she got home, her parents weren’t there. Their jobs kept them busy; they were often gone for weeks or months at a time. Ever since her grandmother passed away, she had grown used to the silence of the house.

She sat on the sofa for a while, lost in thought, before picking at the takeout she’d grabbed at the complex gates. When her grandmother was alive, the coffee table would always be stocked with her favorite fruits, and the dining table would be covered in her favorite dishes.

Thinking of her grandmother dampened her mood. She decided to jump into the game to vent her frustrations by crushing some newbies.

Maybe it was the morning workout or the heavy summer air, but drowsiness hit her hard. After the final match, she set her alarm to make sure she wouldn’t miss the night’s plans, pulled a blanket over herself, and drifted off instantly.

In a daze, an alarm began to blare. Le Yiqiu felt like her head was splitting open. Did I leave the AC on too low? Did I catch a cold?

As she struggled to open her eyes, the sound of a television caught her attention.

“Have you heard the term ‘Eating Soft Rice with a Hard Attitude’?” (1)

“Exactly. Some people have no shame. They cling to a Film Queen and refuse to let go.”

“You’re talking about Film Queen Lin and her useless wife, right?”

“By the way, what does her wife even do?”

“A screenwriter?”

“Yeah, a screenwriter who can’t sell a single script. Hahaha!”

The mocking laughter echoed through the room. It sounded like a variety show, the hosts using someone’s “deadbeat” reputation for cheap laughs. Le Yiqiu despised people who lived off others, but she also hated the shrill, gossiping tone of the presenters.

Wait. She hadn’t turned the TV on before her nap.

She snapped her eyes open. Instead of the living room she knew, she saw a massive, high-tech curved-screen TV.

Wincing at the pain in her head, she sat up and looked around. The room was familiar, yet utterly foreign. The layout was her house, but it had been completely renovated. The sofa, the table, the decor—everything was different.

Her eyes landed on a photo on the TV stand. It was torn in half. The person in the remaining half looked familiar… was that her?

Her heart hammered. Was she dreaming? She gave her arm a sharp pinch. It stung.

Pain meant it wasn’t a dream. So what was happening?

She tried to piece it together. Tennis… Luo Luo… takeout… game… sleep. And then?

“My phone!”

She felt around and grabbed a phone off the sofa. It wasn’t hers. It was larger, with a curved screen and multiple camera lenses—a model she’d never even seen on the market. But the moment her finger touched the sensor, it unlocked.

The home screen read: August 11, 2023. 3:30 PM.

2023? Not 2013?

Was this a prank? No, you could swap a phone, but you couldn’t fake an entire home renovation and ten years of technological progress.

Did I… travel through time?

Just then, the phone rang. The caller ID read: A-Wife.

She… she was married?

Panic flared. She let the phone ring until it went silent. Taking a deep breath, she caught her reflection in the dark screen.

Le Yiqiu bolted for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror, she saw a face that was both a stranger and an old friend.

Though the woman in the glass looked more mature, she knew it was her. The faint mole on her collarbone—a mark left by a toy-related childhood accident—was exactly where it should be.

It was her body. Just… ten years older.

Thirty minutes later, Le Yiqiu had scoured the house. The phone’s photo gallery was empty of clues, and most of the apps were foreign to her, except for “WeChat.” Looking through the messages and the old items tucked away in the storage room, she saw the undeniable marks of time.

She had either traveled ten years into the future or lost a decade of memory. Given how impossible time travel was, she leaned toward amnesia—though “waking up” like this felt like a glitch in the universe.

The most absurd part? She was married to a stranger.

The house showed signs of two occupants, but there wasn’t a single photo of the woman. The closet was sparsely populated with casual clothes, looking almost as if someone had recently moved out.

She found her household registry. Status: Married.

What confused her was the lack of intimacy in the house. The bedroom reflected only her habits. The “traces” of a second person felt almost… staged.

But she couldn’t think that far ahead. All she knew was that she’d gone from a popular eighteen-year-old “younger sister” to a twenty-eight-year-old… whatever this was. She pinched her cheeks. She didn’t look twenty-eight; she looked maybe twenty-four, but she certainly wasn’t the “sophisticated older sister” type she’d always admired.

In her world, being “stuck in the middle” at twenty-eight meant you were invisible in the dating scene.

“I have to get a divorce,” she muttered. She was eighteen at heart; she couldn’t spend her life with a total stranger.

Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment.

Le Yiqiu looked toward the door just as it swung open. A stunning woman stood there.

She wore a vibrant red dress that hugged a tall, striking figure. Her hair was swept up, revealing a graceful, porcelain neck. She looked regal, elegant, and—judging by the frown she directed at Le Yiqiu—deeply displeased.

She looked like a queen ready to discipline a wayward guard.

A thousand thoughts raced through Le Yiqiu’s mind, but they all narrowed down to two words: Ideal Type. Mature Goddess.

She suddenly decided she believed in love at first sight.

******

(1) “Eating soft rice with a hard attitude” refers to someone who is financially supported by their partner (usually a woman) but still acts arrogant or ungrateful.

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