The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 11 - The Bed Is Heaven’s Branch on Earth

Tang Anhe didn’t want to be scolded by her cousin, so she pretended to be sleepy, lowering her head and nodding off. But the moment she heard her question, she immediately perked up, lifting her head. “What is it? What’s Brother Cheng like?”

Seeing the excitement on her face, Song Qiluo just thought she was utterly unreliable. She frowned, hesitated for a moment, but still asked, “What do you think of Cheng Muye?”

“Very wonderful. She’s good-looking, has a good temper, and treats me well.”

“But I couldn’t find out anything about her.”

“What?” Tang Anhe was shocked. “Why would you investigate her? Sister, that’s not right! That’s invading her privacy!”

Song Qiluo had no patience for her chatter and snapped in a low voice, “Enough! Can you focus on what I’m actually saying? The issue isn’t whether I should’ve investigated her, but that I did… and found absolutely nothing. Don’t you think that’s frightening?”

“Terrifying? What’s terrifying about that? Sis, how did you investigate her anyway? Was it that thing people talk about… human flesh search?”

Hopeless! Totally not on the same wavelength.

Fuming, Song Qiluo tossed aside her towel and said, “Go to bed early. You have an ad shoot tomorrow.”

“An ad?”

Tang Anhe immediately perked up, her eyes sparkling. She grinned. “What kind of ad? Any handsome male celebrities?”

At that, Song Qiluo finally lost her temper, scolding her with disappointment, “Tang Anhe, can’t you show even a shred of ambition? Is your head really filled with nothing but men?”

“There’s more in it!” Tang Anhe blinked her wide innocent eyes, pitifully defending herself, “I’ve got plenty of other things in my head.”

“Like what?”

“Like… what ad is it? Which company is it for? How long is the shoot? How much is the endorsement fee? My worth has gone up again, hasn’t it?”

Song Qiluo didn’t answer a single question, slammed the door shut, and stormed out.

The loud bang made Tang Anhe flinch, though only for a second. As soon as her cousin left, she stuck out her tongue, snuggled under the blanket, and closed her eyes.

The bedroom light stayed on, casting a warm glow over her face as she drifted to sleep. The night wind lifted the white curtains, brushing over the strands of hair scattered on her pillow. In her half-dreaming murmur came a sigh. “Handsome guy, you’re so good-looking…”

Nothing beat going on a date with a gorgeous man in your dreams.

Which was why, when morning came, Tang Anhe stubbornly refused to get out of bed. Hugging her blanket tightly, she desperately tried to slip back into her dream. But the clanging of a pot shattered it completely.

“Please, sis, let me sleep a little longer.” Tang Anhe sat up with drooping head and half-shut eyes, pleading weakly.

“No more sleep. You’ve got an ad shoot today. Get up now, your Sister Fenfang is already here.”

Sister Fenfang was Zhao Fenfang, Tang Anhe’s assistant and makeup artist—a beauty true to her name, gentle and soft-spoken, easily the most likable person in Anhe’s eyes. A few days ago, her best friend had gotten married. Since Anhe had just won Best Actress and was on break, she had given Fenfang some time off. Now that work had started again, Fenfang hurried back as soon as she heard about the shoot.

“Let Sister Fenfang wait a little. I’ll sleep five more minutes. No, ten… fine, five.” Tang Anhe adored her assistant, but not enough to give up her bed or the handsome man in her dreams.

Song Qiluo had heard this excuse countless times. Losing patience, she tugged Anhe’s ear and scolded, “Tang Anhe, look at the time! It’s not the dead of winter. How much longer do you plan to laze in bed?”

“Ow, ow! It hurts! Sis, let go! My ear’s going to fall off…” Anhe yelped dramatically, face twisting like she was putting on a show.

Unaware of what was going on, Cheng Muye happened to pass by the doorway. Seeing the scene, she quickly stepped inside and said softly, “Sister Song, please stop pulling her ear. From now on, let me be the one to wake her up.”

She made a habit of running every morning. Fresh from her workout, her body still carried a lingering warmth, her delicate face tinged with color. Fine beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and one drop traced its way down her cheek to rest against her collarbone, carrying with it an unintentional, striking allure.

And just like that, Tang Anhe was jolted awake by her sheer handsomeness.

Wow! What a fine young talent—handsome eyes, refined brows, features so delicate and striking that she was simply a feast for the eyes. Just like the dream prince she had seen in her sleep, she looked downright delicious!

Early in the morning, Tang Anhe was already lovestruck, her clear eyes sparkling with countless little hearts.

Song Qiluo noticed, frowned, and thought to herself that Anhe had plenty of silly ideas already. She didn’t bother saying anything more. Turning to Cheng Muye, she instructed, “It’s late. Get her out of bed.”

Cheng Muye gave a simple “Mm,” then, after watching Song Qiluo leave, turned back to Tang Anhe, her face suddenly stern. “You need to get up! Tang Anhe, get out of that blanket.”

“No way.” Tang Anhe wasn’t the least bit afraid of her. Shaking her head, she wrapped herself tighter in the thin quilt, lying on her stomach and looking up at her with a playful smile. “Brother Cheng, did you know? The bed is like a branch of heaven opened on earth. Brilliant, isn’t it? Don’t go ruining my trip to paradise.”

“Enough with your nonsense! All I know is that a blanket is the graveyard of youth. If you don’t get up, your sister will beat you to death in there.”

“That’s fine, I’m not afraid of being buried in my bed.” Tang Anhe stubbornly stayed put, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, bed, you’re heaven’s branch on earth. Ah, how I long to remain in your embrace forever—”

Cheng Muye’s lips twitched as she listened, unable to hold back a sarcastic jab. “Alright, I get it. You must be a premium member of this branch.”

“Premium member? Hahaha! Brother Cheng, I never knew you had a sense of humor!”

But when Cheng Muye saw her still laughing, her face immediately hardened. Her gaze bore down from above with an imposing air, and her voice turned sharp. “But today, you can’t swipe your card. Get up. Now.”

For some reason, Tang Anhe found her incredibly manly, and her little heart skipped twice before she finally, though unwillingly, got out of bed. She moved lazily, her nightdress gaping wide and exposing her rounded shoulders and a stretch of snow-white skin across her chest. Oblivious, she raised her arms, rolled her neck, and bent her waist, casually stretching as if she were exercising.

Such eye-catching morning scenery nearly gave Cheng Muye a nosebleed. Still, she held her ground, unwilling to leave, even secretly delighted. Taking on the task of waking Tang Anhe up really was the smartest decision she had ever made.

Tang Anhe, unaware of the storm inside her, happily picked through her clothes. After what happened yesterday afternoon, there was no way she dared wear a qipao again. Instead, she chose a very low-key outfit, a plain white shirt and ultra-short shorts. Yes, the very set she’d bought yesterday, washed and dried overnight by the maids.

“Brother Cheng, are you still there? Help me fasten my bra, will you?” Standing in front of the dressing mirror, Tang Anhe struggled a few times without success, grumbling in frustration, “Have I gained weight again? Ugh, this bra is suffocating me.”

She was wearing a pink lace bra, the design fairly modest, though a small red jade bead dangling in the center added a playful touch of charm to the soft curves beneath.

As Cheng Muye fastened the bra hook, her breathing slowed. Her eyes flickered with shyness, her cheeks burning a vivid red, making her seem, for once, like a bashful young girl. Yet the moment her gaze met the mirror, unease crept in. That delicate, girlish reflection unsettled her, confusion tangled with irritation, rising almost to disgust. She loathed the sight of herself looking so fragile… so pitiful, even hateful.

She could not allow herself to become that kind of person, yet she knew all too well she was drawn to girls who carried that softness. That was why Tang Anhe was irreplaceable. From the moment she first saw her on-screen, something had pulled her in. Perhaps it wasn’t love… not exactly. It was more that she adored Anhe’s flawless, delicate figure, her innocent straightforwardness untouched by the world, even her spoiled, willful temper. That, to her, was what a girl was meant to be.

“You don’t need to envy me for having a bigger chest,” Tang Anhe said with a slightly awkward smile, noticing Cheng Muye’s gaze linger on her. “Honestly, big boobs are such a burden. You have to worry about sagging, you can’t do sports properly… and in the past, they even got in the way of my acting career.”

When it came to her career, Tang Anhe had a whole sack of embarrassing stories to tell.

“For example?” Cheng Muye picked up the thread, the chill in her gaze warming with a glimmer of interest.

Tang Anhe’s fingers stilled on the buttons of her white shirt. After a pause, her cheeks warmed as she admitted, “I’m a Jiangnan girl. I developed early. By the time I was thirteen, my chest had already grown a lot. Once, a director came to cast a role. At first, he liked me… but everything fell apart because of… well, my chest.”

“How so? Tell me in detail.”

“That director’s words were so cruel. He pointed right at my nose and said, ‘Thirteen? If you told people you were twenty, they’d believe it. Put on a little makeup and you could play a housewife. No way, no way!’ God, I was still a child star back then, already a little famous. In all my thirteen years, I’d never heard anything so hurtful. Because of that one remark, I became self-conscious about my chest for a long time. Fortunately, as I grew older, I gradually learned to see it differently.”

Cheng Muye listened, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened with amusement. In the mirror, she saw the fair-skinned beauty before her, cheeks tinged with red, figure gracefully curved and her thoughts drifted to how Anhe must have looked at thirteen. In the tender bloom of youth, slender and graceful, her budding form must have carried a radiance so exquisite it seemed almost dreamlike.

And herself?

What was Cheng Muye like at thirteen?