Waking Up to a Contract Marriage with the Film Queen - Chapter 6

They were a sham marriage; logically, a divorce was simply the termination of a contract.

Lin Xianing was silent for a long moment. “You know we have a prenuptial agreement, right?”

The divorce papers and the original marriage contract had been kept together. There was no way Le Yiqiu had missed them. Strangely, a flicker of regret brushed against Lin Xianing’s heart—had she known Le Yiqiu would lose her memory, she wouldn’t have left those documents out.

Maybe then, she could have tried being a real wife to her.

She startled herself with the thought and immediately brushed it aside. It was impractical.

“I know,” Le Yiqiu said earnestly. “But knowing myself, I wouldn’t have agreed to a fake marriage if I didn’t actually like the person.”

She was convinced that twenty-eight-year-old Le Yiqiu must have loved Lin Xianing, just as she felt her own heart racing for the woman right now.

“Like me?” Lin Xianing’s voice held a trace of self-mockery and doubt. She let out a small, mirthless laugh. “We can delay the divorce for now. But once you remember everything, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t.”

Le Yiqiu was certain. She didn’t regret her choices. Her grandmother had always told her that life is full of paths, and whichever one you take, you’ll likely wonder about the other—the key was to live so that you didn’t regret the process. She was following her heart now, and that was enough.

Her unwavering answer left Lin Xianing speechless for a while. An awkward silence filled the room.

The awkwardness, however, only belonged to the one who remembered. The one who had forgotten sat there with eyes shining like a hopeful puppy, waiting for its owner to say “yes.”

Le Yiqiu smiled, trying to break the ice. “Actually, I think we’re a perfect match.”

“What?” Lin Xianing didn’t follow.

Le Yiqiu cleared her throat, risking a bit of playfulness. “From a practical standpoint, the fact that we got married at all proves we’re a match. But if you want to get mystical about it… look at our names. You’re Summer (Xia), and I’m Autumn (Qiu). Nature literally destined us to be together.”

“…”

Lin Xianing had never seen Le Yiqiu be so… shameless. Or perhaps she had, but never directed at her like this. It was a strange feeling—slightly overwhelming, yet unexpectedly pleasant.

Seeing her silence, Le Yiqiu’s eyes widened innocently. Was that too cheesy? She remembered classmates back in high school—just a few days ago in her mind—pairing people up for the smallest reasons: best and worst students, similar heights, even sitting at the same desk. This was just her version of that.

She gave a dry laugh and straightened up. “Anyway, thank you for coming to see me.”

“I have a play tomorrow, an ad shoot after that, and I join a new film crew in a week,” Lin Xianing said, organizing her thoughts. Between play rehearsals and rest, she hadn’t filmed a movie in six months. She loved this new script, and every day of delay was a burden on the crew. Seeing that Le Yiqiu was recovering, she felt she could finally focus on work.

Understanding her busy schedule, Le Yiqiu nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Who’s worried?” Lin Xianing muttered awkwardly, falling silent again.

Le Yiqiu watched her curiously. How did two people with such different energies—one sunny, one like a silent gourd—ever end up together? Even if it was a fake marriage, they must have been friends first.

“How… how did we actually meet?”

Twenty-eight-year-old Le Yiqiu hadn’t even told Luo Luo the details. Lin Xianing was the only one who knew.

Lin Xianing stared at her for a long beat before finally speaking. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll go get something.”

The hospital food had been a special kind of torture—bland, grey, and entirely forgettable. Le Yiqiu’s stomach did a little flip at the prospect of a real meal, but she also noticed the blatant subject change. What’s so secret about how we met?

Before she could press the issue, Lin Xianing’s phone rang. She stepped out into the hallway to answer it.

Le Yiqiu sighed and resumed the movie she had been watching. On screen, Lin Xianing wore a white dress, looking pure and ethereal. But in this thriller, that purity was a lie. The “prophetic” notebook that drove the plot had been written by the protagonist herself. She was the mastermind everyone was trying to “protect.”

Lin Xianing’s performance, balancing the mask of innocence with a cold, calculating interior, was chilling. Le Yiqiu felt goosebumps as the credits began to roll.

Lin Xianing returned just as the movie ended, carrying takeout from the cafeteria. She set it on the small over-bed table. “Eat.”

Le Yiqiu sat down and opened the containers. She was surprised to find all her favorites—dishes with actual flavor. After days of “nutritional mash,” this was heaven.

She noticed Lin Xianing still seemed reluctant to talk about their past, so she didn’t push. She just ate quietly, looking remarkably like a satisfied puppy. Lin Xianing pretended to scroll through her phone, but her gaze kept drifting back to her wife. Every time Le Yiqiu looked up, the gaze vanished instantly, making her wonder if she was hallucinating from the head injury.

By the time she finished, it was 6 PM. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

Lin Xianing shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” She paused, then added, “Since you’ve lost your memory, there are things you should know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Le Yiqiu nodded obediently. Documentary films couldn’t replace ten years of lived experience, and she wanted the “insider” version of her marriage.

Lin Xianing looked at her—sitting there like a primary school student ready for a lecture—and her expression softened.

“You’ve seen the agreements. This is a contract. Divorce is just the final step of that process.” She took a breath. “You said you didn’t want to divorce because you think we have feelings? Because you’re afraid you’ll regret it when your memory returns?”

Lin Xianing’s voice tightened, a slight tremor hidden in her words. “You won’t regret it. You don’t love me.”

Le Yiqiu opened her mouth to argue. She might not remember the past, but she knew how she felt now. Even if it was just the shallow spark of a first impression, it was real.

Before she could speak, the door swung open. “Qiuqiu! Have you eaten?”

Luo Luo marched in, then stopped short when she saw Lin Xianing. “Oh. I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Luo Luo’s bias against Lin Xianing was significant. Since she didn’t know about the contract, she saw Lin Xianing as a “deadbeat” wife—someone who prioritized work over her partner for half a year at a time. Even if she was a superstar, Luo Luo didn’t think that excused her behavior.

Knowing her friend was about to start a confrontation, Le Yiqiu hopped up, grabbed her bag, and tucked her arm through Lin Xianing’s.

“Sister has had a long day,” she said with a bright smile. “She should go home and rest.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say “Wife” in front of Luo Luo—it felt too bold given their current lack of actual intimacy.

Lin Xianing was momentarily stunned by the “Sister” (Jiejie), but she simply nodded and made her exit.

As the door closed, Le Yiqiu nudged Luo Luo. “Hey, be nice.”

“Why should I be nice?” Luo Luo huffed. “When you two got married, she went to see your parents. They kicked her out, but she was so respectful to them and so perfect for you. Even if your family didn’t bless it, I thought as long as you two were happy, it was enough.”

“But look at her now! She hasn’t kept a single promise she made at the wedding. Scandals everywhere, while you’re stuck dealing with her family’s drama just to keep her reputation stable…”

Luo Luo was convinced Le Yiqiu had asked for a divorce because of the recent rumors surrounding Lin Xianing.

To stop the tirade, Le Yiqiu interrupted, “Wait, didn’t you say you had work?”

Luo Luo’s frustration shifted instantly. “Don’t even get me started! That junior actress has zero talent but knows exactly how to act like a diva. If it weren’t for my manager’s sake…”

Watching Luo Luo fall for the obvious distraction, Le Yiqiu couldn’t help but chuckle. Ten years later, her best friend was still as transparent and impulsive as ever.

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