The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 25 - Falling for You in This Moment

Unfortunately, she couldn’t.

Every subtle movement of Cheng Muye captivated her, her gaze sparkling with affection.

“Brother Cheng sings so beautifully!”

“Which guy could ever compare to my Brother Cheng?”

Her heart fluttered, her face flushed, and a pang of jealousy crept in. If Brother Cheng had a boyfriend, would she sing like this for him too? She was so smart, so beautiful, radiating a soft, alluring aura, surely, she must be popular with men, right?

In the end, Tang Anhe’s gloom drove her back to the bottle. If only she were a boy… she could chase Brother Cheng herself.

Cheng Muye, unaware of the storm of thoughts racing through Tang Anhe’s mind, finished her song with gentle affection. Seeing Tang Anhe reach for another bottle, she frowned, a faint shadow of concern crossing her delicate features. “Stop drinking. You’ll get drunk if you keep going.”

Tang Anhe popped open the bottle cap and said nonchalantly, “So what if I get drunk? You’re here, Brother Cheng. I’m not afraid.” Her eyes, glazed from the alcohol, lingered on her as she added in a spoiled, teasing tone, “But if I do get drunk, you’ll have to take responsibility, okay?”

Responsibility?

The word stirred something deep within Cheng Muye’s still heart.

She had to leave—forced out by Song Qiluo.

Yet to depart in such disarray… wasn’t that a waste?

So, if Tang Anhe got drunk… if she truly got drunk…

Once intoxicated, she’d be entirely at her mercy.

Cheng Muye felt her brow tighten, a restless pulse stirring within her chest. If Tang Anhe became that vulnerable, she could indulge without restraint. Once she got what she wanted, they could part ways, never crossing paths again.

Perfect.

“Keep singing! I want to request a song. I want to hear it. Mm, ‘Today You’re Marrying Me.’”

Hearing her urging, Cheng Muye’s gaze lingered for a moment before she began to sing again.

“Spring’s warm floral scent carries away winter’s bitter chill,

A gentle breeze brings unexpected love,

Birdsong draws us closer,

And in this very moment, I suddenly fall for you…”

Her light, nimble singing floated through the air, sweet enough to almost melt Tang Anhe’s heart. She clapped along to the beat, grinning. “Brother Cheng, why don’t you join the entertainment industry too? You could be a singer, and I’d be an actress. We’d be the entertainment world’s unrivaled duo.”

She really had the nerve.

Cheng Muye smiled faintly and reached out to steady her.

Tang Anhe, feeling a bit tipsy, wobbled as she stood. Losing her balance, she stumbled straight into Cheng Muye’s arms. She gasped in surprise, but the clean, pleasant scent of her skin stirred something inexplicable within her. Clinging to her waist, she refused to let go.

“Brother Cheng, has anyone ever held you like this?”

Tilting her head back, she smiled with narrowed eyes, like a clingy kitten.

Cheng Muye looked down at her delicate features and shook her head. She didn’t like men. She’d had relationships with women before, but since such relationships seldom carried real emotion, she had never experienced the tangled feelings that came with holding someone close.

Tang Anhe furrowed her brows, pouting her rosy lips. “Why?”

Cheng Muye felt her throat dry. She quickly averted her gaze, her voice colder than before. “I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Then what about this? Do you like it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good.”

Tang Anhe seemed satisfied. She suddenly let go, staggering to the sofa, curling up, and drifting off to sleep.

Her tolerance for alcohol was surprisingly low.

Cheng Muye set down the phone and slowly moved closer, adjusting Tang Anhe’s body toward her. She was genuinely drunk, eyes barely open, murmuring, “I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me.”

“Sleep here?”

“There’s a bed in the KTV room.”

Cheng Muye could hardly endure the mention of the word bed—the mere sound of it stirred an illicit heat in her chest. Her gaze lingered on those delicate curves, and the color in her eyes deepened.

Tang Anhe had long been the object of Cheng Muye’s fascination. Drunk, her bare skin burned with a tempting pink flush. To Cheng Muye, she looked like a flower in full bloom, every inch of her exuding raw, irresistible sexuality. She needed her, just as she knew she was needed in return.

There was no reason to hesitate.

The timing and circumstances were perfect aligned. What remained was for her to undress and go through with it.

Cheng Muye clenched her fists, the veins on the backs of her hands swelling under the strain. Her eyes trailed over her, as if stripping away each layer of clothing. Upon the white dress, the red wine stain still lingered, winding like the bloom of a wax plum blossom. It was beautiful, achingly beautiful, yet something still felt incomplete…

[Still going on about forever, never realized it was just an excuse…]

Suddenly, a mobile phone rang.

Cheng Muye answered the call with a face devoid of emotion. On the other end, Song Qiluo’s voice cut in, sharp and probing, “Where are you now?”

“In heaven,” she replied coolly, her tone laced with detachment as she pressed her index finger against her crimson lips.

Still lost in sleep, Tang Anhe instinctively caught that finger, gave it a soft lick, then frowned at its lack of flavor and pushed it aside, her small face scrunching in displeasure.

A flicker of tenderness softened Cheng Muye’s gaze. Her hand drifted to the girl’s long, silky hair, combing through it before tracing each feature of her face—the elegant arch of her brows, the refined line of her nose, the soft perfection of her lips. Every detail of her beauty seemed to embody the very summit of Cheng Muye’s ideal.

From the phone, Song Qiluo’s voice suddenly sharpened into a cutting command, “Don’t you dare!”

A cold glint flashed in Cheng Muye’s eyes. Without a word, she snapped the call shut, shoved the phone deep into her pocket, and, in one swift motion, swept the girl into her arms. With hurried steps, she carried her away from the sofa and disappeared into the private room.

A wide double bed came into view, its surface draped in soft bedding. Without hesitation, Cheng Muye tossed her onto it.

The sudden motion roused Tang Anhe from her slumber. Though the throw carried force, the mattress absorbed the impact, sparing her from pain. She cracked her eyes open just enough to recognize who stood before her, murmured something incoherent, then surrendered once more to sleep.

Cheng Muye lingered at the bedside, her gaze locked on the girl’s unguarded form. A storm of tenderness and exasperation welled within her. Tang Anhe was utterly safe—how could she ever bring herself to inflict harm? To even imagine it felt blasphemous. How infuriating!

What right did she have?

Cheng Muye pressed her down, her fingers swiftly undoing the layers of fabric. Her touch moved with growing urgency, caressing every curve with a mixture of reverence and hunger. Tang Anhe let out a soft gasp, her lips parting—only to be captured in an eager kiss. That familiar warmth, that cherished scent… it was everything she had longed for.

Tang Anhe felt as though she had been swept into a spring-drenched dream. In it, a pair of slightly calloused hands caressed her entire body, tracing every contour, even the most private places. Instead of fear, a languid sweet sensation spread through her, as if she were melting, her body dissolving into water that flowed wherever those hands guided her.

Then— rip.

The sudden rasp of curtains being torn open shattered the haze.

Blinding sunlight spilled mercilessly into the room, stabbing through Tang Anhe’s half-dreaming state. She raised a trembling hand to shield her eyes, but the glare burned; her temples throbbed, and tears welled at the sting. Her throat felt parched, her voice a rasping whisper as she pleaded, “Brother Cheng… Brother Cheng, I’m thirsty…”

At that name, Song Qiluo’s expression froze, her face hardening into ice. Her voice cracked through the air like a lash. “Open your eyes and see who I am!”

Tang Anhe winced, pressing her palm against her pounding forehead before forcing her eyes open. But instead of the tender figure she had longed for, she met the cutting chill of her cousin’s gaze.

A jolt of shock coursed through her. Panic flickered in her reddened eyes as she stammered, “Cousin… you? How… how could it be you? Where’s Brother Cheng?”

“She quit.”

“Why?”

“She achieved her goal.”

“What goal?”

“None of your business.”

Song Qiluo had no desire to waste words with her. She’d been seething since last night, enduring in silence until now was already a miracle. How could she not be furious? As both her agent and cousin, she had been incompetent. Worse still, Tang Anhe had been toyed with like a fool, and she had been the one forced to cover the disgrace.

Cheng Muye must have anticipated that she would conceal the truth, otherwise, why else would that bastard dare act so brazenly?