The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 28 - Cheng Muye, You Bastard!

Tang Anhe hadn’t had her phone for a long time. It was always in Song Qiluo’s possession, and whenever she wanted to use it, she had to beg and plead before it was returned. After Cheng Muye left, she used the excuse of contacting Brother Cheng to get it back. But once the call ended, Song Qiluo never handed it over again and Tang Anhe didn’t dare ask for it.

On the surface, the two of them kept a fragile peace, but beneath that thin veneer, their trust was already crumbling.

Tang Anhe let out a slow breath, pressing the phone against her ear as she waited for the line to connect. Unease coiled inside her, her mind tumbling with questions. Why had she left so suddenly? What would she even say if the call went through? And if Cheng Muye truly had no intention of coming back, what was the point of this call?

No matter how she reasoned with herself, she couldn’t explain why she cared so much.

They hadn’t even known each other for a week. How could she already be so drawn to her?

Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, her personality shone bright. Yes, she had been protective and gentle. But there were plenty of people at the studio who treated her the same way, and none of them made her heart twist like this. With Cheng Muye, it was different. So different that she… she even found herself dreaming of her.

Springtime dreams.

That was right. Tang Anhe had been tossing and turning for nights, plagued by those lingering, erotic dreams, her body flaring with heat at the slightest provocation. Had she really become so desperate that she’d begun fantasizing about women?

While waiting for Cheng Muye to pick up, countless thoughts spun through her head. So, when the voice finally came through the receiver, it took her a moment before she blurted out, “Oh. It’s me, Tang Anhe. Brother Cheng, you… what are you doing right now?”

Cheng Muye was modeling.

Yu Zhaoning, once famous for her landscape paintings, had in recent years become hopelessly obsessed with figure art. Which was why Cheng Muye was now half-bare, lying face-down on a thick, pure-white rug, her back exposed as she served as her friend’s model.

Ah… such misfortune, to have chosen friends poorly.

Cheng Muye let out a breath inwardly, never noticing the eyes that watched her from behind the easel—eyes brimming with fascination, shadowed by sorrow.

Yu Zhaoning’s gaze lingered on her model in a daze. The pure white silk nightgown draped loosely over Cheng Muye’s figure, the hem riding just high enough to reveal her delicate waist and the enticing curve of her hips. Every line of her body was graceful and tempting, but it was her legs that stole the breath—long, sun-kissed with a healthy wheat-gold tan, smooth and gleaming, firm yet slender, straight as though carved by an artist’s hand.

She was a vision that could make both men and women lose their composure.

A living temptress.

Yu Zhaoning tightened her grip on the paintbrush before abruptly snapping her fingers.

Moments later, a maid entered, carrying a glass box. Inside, a slender emerald-green snake coiled lazily. Without hesitation, the maid approached Cheng Muye and lifted the lid.

The snake slithered out, tongue flicking in the air. Its blood-red eyes glimmered with a strange mix of danger and allure. After surveying its surroundings, it slid straight toward Cheng Muye, curling around her thigh, climbing up the smooth line of her back, then circling her neck before pressing its triangular head lightly against her chin, which was actually a very intimate posture.

This was Yu Zhaoning’s treasured pet, a bamboo leaf green snake named Little Wood.

Cheng Muye knew it well. Three years ago, during an outdoor sketching trip, the creature had sunk its fangs into Yu Zhaoning. Cheng Muye had been the one to capture it, and though she’d fully intended to kill it, Yu Zhaoning had inexplicably taken a liking to the snake. Its fangs were removed, and from that day forward, Little Wood had never left her side.

The snake grew unusually intelligent and seemed deeply attached to Yu Zhaoning. But for Cheng Muye, the creature’s cold, slick body only sent chills racing through her. Disgust tightened her expression as she hissed, “Yu Zhaoning, take it away. Now.”

As a professional model, she restrained herself, forcing her body to remain still even as every instinct screamed at her to shove the thing aside.

Yu Zhaoning, paintbrush held loosely between her teeth, heard her sharp tone and set it down with unhurried grace. She continued her strokes across the canvas and said, “It’s well-behaved. It won’t bite.” A faint smile curved her lips as she added almost playfully, “And even if it did, it wouldn’t kill you.”

“Who cares if it bites or not? Just hurry up and draw! This thing is strangling me!” Cheng Muye clenched her hands to keep from tearing Little Wood away, her patience fraying as she urged Yu Zhaoning to continue.

“You haven’t been here in so long. Wood missed you terribly.” Yu Zhaoning finally set her brush aside and moved closer. Kneeling on the blanket, she stretched out her hand.

The snake obeyed instantly, slipping down from Cheng Muye’s body and winding itself around Yu Zhaoning’s wrist, its slender coils gleaming like a jade-green bracelet.

Cheng Muye let out a long breath, straightening her back and tugging her silk nightgown into place. Her gaze swept over the snake with sharp disapproval, ready to scold it, when her phone suddenly rang at her side. Her heart skipped, and she reached for it, only to have Yu Zhaoning snatch it away a beat faster.

“Give it back!”

“What’s the rush? It might not even be—”

Yu Zhaoning stopped abruptly. Her eyes flickered when she noticed the unfamiliar number. She didn’t need to guess too hard; it was likely from that woman.

“Don’t touch my things,” Cheng Muye snapped coldly, yanking the phone from Yu Zhaoning’s hand.

Her sharp movement startled Little Wood, its triangular head jerking back in alarm. But Cheng Muye offered no apology. She simply rose to her feet and strode toward the door.

Yu Zhaoning watched her until her figure disappeared from view. Only then did she lower her gaze, reclining in the spot Cheng Muye had just vacated. She reached out to stroke Little Wood’s head, her lips curving into a bitter smile.

“Little Wood… I’m not worthy. I let go a long time ago. This is for the best. She’s so extraordinary…. if someone else can love her, even if it isn’t me, that will have to be enough.”

Outside the Studio

Cheng Muye pressed the phone to her ear, listening to the familiar voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it’s me, Tang Anhe. Brother Cheng, what are you doing? Am I bothering you?”

Instead of answering, Cheng Muye deflected with a flat, “What’s up?”

Tang Anhe leaned against the lounge door, fingers twisting at her skirt as she stammered, “I… I just wanted to ask why you left.”

Cheng Muye’s lips curved faintly, though her tone stayed evasive. “Tang Anhe, don’t you remember what happened that night?”

“What happened?”

So, she had forgotten.

And Song Qiluo clearly hadn’t said a word either.

Cheng Muye couldn’t tell if what she felt was joy or sorrow. In the days since leaving Tang Anhe, she had imagined countless possibilities. Perhaps Tang Anhe hadn’t called because she had already found out what she had done. Even if she didn’t remember, Song Qiluo must have hinted at her intentions. Or maybe she simply didn’t care whether she stayed or left.

Unfortunately, it seemed all of her guesses were wrong. And being wrong just this once was more than enough.

Her voice chilled as she asked, “Is there something you need?”

On the other end, Tang Anhe’s grip on her phone tightened.

Does that mean I can’t call you without a reason? Do you even know how hard it was for me to get your number?

Aren’t you supposed to be the most responsible one? How could you just leave like that—without even a word!

Tang Anhe wanted to confront her outright, but Cheng Muye’s cold tone forced her to suppress the turmoil in her chest. Cheng Muye was always rational, smart. Any choice she made would never be careless. If she had decided to leave, then questioning her, or not, made no difference at all.

Yet the sense of grievance only grew heavier in Tang Anhe’s heart. Her indifference felt like a knife.

“Cheng Muye, you’re a bastard!”

Her eyes burned red as she hurled the words, then hung up without waiting for a reply.

Cheng Muye’s heart twisted painfully. She stared at the darkened phone screen, fingers trembling as they hovered over Tang Anhe’s name, ready to call back. But at the last moment, she stopped.

She had no right.

Tang Anhe was meant to shine, a rising star destined for a brilliant career and perfect love. How could Cheng Muye, bound by her own shadows, drag her down to earth?

She told herself to let go. She told herself again and again. But her hands betrayed her, restless and unwilling.

Almost without thinking, she opened Weibo, intending to distract herself by checking rumors about Tang Anhe’s so-called secret rendezvous with the leading actor. Instead, the first post on her feed was Tang Anhe’s latest update:

Today, I lost someone very important. It hurts (crying).