After Marrying the Aloof Beauty, I Totally Fell for Her - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Muscle-Barbie

An Ning clicked into the trending topic. The first post under it was from some obviously unreliable “XX News”, claiming they’d received an anonymous tip that Mr. Tieshu had passed away last Friday at the age of 59.

Is fake news really this rampant now?

An Ning, who had just met the sharp-tongued Mr. Tieshu in person, silently ridiculed them as she scrolled through the comments.

Comment 1: You marketing accounts really never learn, huh? How much did the last two get fined for spreading rumors? Already forgot?

Comment 2: Mr. Tieshu: I died, then I lived again, and now I died again… What is this, infinite rebirth?

Comment 3: Feels like every time Teacher Tieshu goes off-grid, this kind of trending topic pops up. Is no one managing this?

Turns out, Teacher Mu still had a pretty solid fanbase.

Most of the top comments were defending Mr. Tieshu and mocking the rumor-mongers, which made An Ning smile.

But as she scrolled further, the vibe turned less friendly.

Comment 4: Chill, y’all. What if this “death” rumor was planted by Tieshu herself? I mean, it’s been half a year and not a single painting—how does she still have the face to call herself number one in the country?

Comment 5: Out of ideas, huh? Guess now she can only resort to death rumors for attention.

Comment 6: Zhehua’s new exhibition tickets are being resold at 2,000 yuan. Too bad someone’s so slow at painting, they’ll probably never have a solo show in their life.

Comment 7: It’s a joke how she’s still sitting on top of China’s art scene. All she cares about is money. Every piece more expensive than the last. Humble and hardworking? Not even a bit. Zhehua’s bound to surpass her.

Comment 8: Can some of y’all tone it down? Fast = diligent now? One Tieshu piece is worth more than 20 Zhehua ones combined. By your logic, Zhehua’s work is garbage? Just because someone’s willing to pay for it, y’all mad?

Comment 9: Heh, stop arguing. Who knows—maybe this time the rumor is true. If she’s dead, there’s nothing left to argue about.

The deeper she scrolled, the tighter An Ning’s frown became. She’d heard from friends that some overly passionate sports fans would go as far as mailing dead rats to athletes they hated, but she hadn’t expected the art world to be this terrifying.

She glanced at those vicious comments, and Mu Yan’s pale, detached face popped into her mind.

These accusations had absolutely no basis…

An Ning didn’t know Mu Yan well, but she just couldn’t believe she was that kind of person.

She exited the trending topic and checked Mu Yan and her studio’s Weibo accounts.

Mu Yan’s studio was called “Sunken Boat.” The most recent post was from yesterday, announcing a collaboration between Teacher Tieshu’s painting Jiang Hai and a jewelry brand.

Paintings could have jewelry collabs too?

An Ning was impressed. She clicked into Tieshu’s personal Weibo. The profile picture was a simple sketch of an iron tree—minimalist, but expressive. The most recent post was from seven months ago. No caption. Just a photo of a sketch, filled with sharp, chaotic lines, depicting someone strangling their own neck.

It was only a rough draft with vague outlines, but An Ning couldn’t look away. The longer she stared, the harder it was to breathe.

What the hell?! That’s way too unsettling!

She tossed the phone aside, sat up, and caught her breath before picking it up again.

Half the comments under that post were like hers—people reacting viscerally. The other half were metaphorically kneeling before their phones in worship.

An Ning had never seen Mu Yan’s work before, but just from that one sketch, she could tell the “world-class” reputation wasn’t just for show.

From that post, it was clear that Teacher Mu had started a new piece seven months ago… but still hadn’t finished?

Did something happen?

An Ning toyed with the precision knife in her hand, scratching her head in frustration.

If she asked directly, it probably wouldn’t go anywhere… maybe she could have her mom ask?

But wouldn’t that be revealing someone’s privacy?

Plus, she might’ve been mistaken—maybe there wasn’t a wound on Mu Yan’s arm after all. Artists struggling for inspiration was a totally normal thing.

That day, An Ning—usually decisive and never one to overthink—yanked out over a dozen hairs stressing over this and still couldn’t come to a decision. In the end, she shelved the issue for now.

What followed was a packed, productive training schedule. Before she knew it, summer break had ended, and her sophomore year began.

“You—yes, you! What kind of hit was that just now? Feet glued to the floor? Can’t even jump?”

In the spacious badminton gym, the sounds of shuttlecocks being hit, sneakers sliding, teammates shouting, and the coach yelling echoed in waves.

“Sorry, Coach,” An Ning said cheerfully despite being scolded. She knew she was off her game today—yesterday, she had spent an entire day digging sweet potatoes with her practice class teacher in a rural village outside Yun City. Her limbs still felt sore and weak when she woke up this morning. She was running on fumes at this point.

“Forget it. Go rest. Hey! You two over there—think I can’t see you slacking off when I turn my back? Playing lovey-dovey badminton, huh?”

The coach couldn’t stay mad while facing An Ning’s sincere expression, so he just waved her off to the bench.

An Ning trudged over, sat down with difficulty, and took a few deep breaths.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly something cold pressed against her right cheek. She flinched and turned, only to see her roommate Chen Ying smiling while holding out a bottle of ice-cold sports drink.

Chen Ying was a year ahead of the other three girls in their dorm and was currently preparing for the provincial team trials.

“You scared me,” An Ning laughed as she accepted the drink. “Thanks, Ying-jie.”

“No need to thank me.” Chen Ying, also on break, dragged a chair over and flopped down beside her. “You’re a beast. Just finished a full day of digging sweet potatoes and you still made it to training. Huang Sang told me the whole village loves you. Some auntie almost tried to marry her son off to you.”

She jokingly appraised her roommate—tall, long-legged, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted. She had an athletic figure but an adorable round face, big round doe eyes, and a mop of curly brown hair.

A total Muscle-Barbie, sweet and strong. No wonder that auntie was tempted.

“Come on, it’s not that dramatic.” An Ning laughed and shook her head, completely unfazed by the teasing. She stretched out her hands, which were still trembling from overexertion. “Practice was fun, but it really messed with my training schedule.”

Practice classes were mandatory for all college students and usually involved things like helping farmers with their harvests. Each semester’s practice totaled 2–3 weeks. For most students, it was just a fun way to rack up easy credits. But for An Ning—basically a semi-pro athlete tied to a strict team training schedule—it was tough. She couldn’t ask her teacher to accommodate her training, nor could she ask her coach and teammates to make up the time.

“Yeah, I was just like you in sophomore year,” Chen Ying sighed, patting An Ning’s shoulder. “But you’ve got more grit. I wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed the next day.”

“Hmm…” An Ning hesitated, then looked at Chen Ying. “But there’s practice class in junior year too, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you go.”

She knew of two ways to skip practice class and still earn the credits: one was to donate a large sum to public welfare, the other was to win a medal in a national competition. Chen Ying didn’t seem to meet either condition.

Chen Ying froze slightly, then went quiet.

An Ning waved her hands quickly. “I was just curious, no pressure…”

She was indeed curious, but if someone didn’t want to share, she wouldn’t push it.

“It’s not some shady secret or anything,” Chen Ying shrugged, like she’d resigned herself to it. “Actually, I got married.”

“Pfffft—cough cough cough cough!!”

An Ning had just taken a gulp of her drink. She paused for three full seconds, then sprayed it all over the floor. Her round deer eyes went wide in disbelief.

She quickly grabbed the tissues Chen Ying handed her, wiped her mouth, and stared at her. “Wait—you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

She’d met her before—a petite, shy girl with glasses who often visited the gym with a floral-print backpack.

Chen Ying nodded. “Yeah. She’s my wife, actually.”

“HUH?” An Ning had only ever seen stories about college marriages in the news. Never imagined one was right across the room—and it was a same-s3x marriage too? Her brain was short-circuiting. “When did that happen? You never said anything!”

Chen Ying looked a little conflicted. “We got married during freshman year. You guys hadn’t started college yet. Plus, at first, it didn’t really feel like a ‘real’ marriage.”

“What do you mean?” An Ning was even more confused now. There’s real and fake marriages?

“Well…” Chen Ying sighed, and seeing the wide-eyed innocent expression on An Ning’s face, she decided to spill everything. “We met through a genetic matching program. I was super stressed about balancing training and classes, then I saw a flyer saying if you get married through the program, you can skip practice class. So I signed up. She joined because it could waive some of her graduate school tuition. We got our marriage license—but we did sign a prenup and a contract, so it didn’t feel like a real marriage…”

An Ning was stunned. It took her a while to fully grasp the situation. Then she tucked away her shock and tried to comfort the awkward-looking Chen Ying. “Honestly, that’s kind of perfect. You both got what you needed. And if you meet someone you actually like later, you can just split up peacefully.”

She knew Chen Ying was a hardworking person. Unlike An Ning, whose biggest dream was to stay and coach at school, Chen Ying’s goal was the national team. Not being able to balance her training and coursework must’ve been overwhelming—and having to resort to something like this, even more so.

But before she could finish her thought, Chen Ying shook her head, smiling.

“But now… we’re a real couple.”

An Ning: “…Huh???”

So much for comforting someone—she ended up getting served a face full of PDA instead.

When Chen Ying’s “wife” came to pick her up, An Ning sensibly left to give them privacy.

Watching Chen Ying, normally all bossy and tough, gently combing her girl’s hair, An Ning sighed at how people in love really did change. Then she remembered what Chen Ying had said to her:

“If you don’t have someone you really like, maybe you should try the genetic match thing too. Worked pretty well for me. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything, at least you’ll be done with the whole practice class mess. No more running back and forth.”