The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 30 - Remember Who You Are

Cheng Muye’s voice was calm, “Everyone has been speaking so well just now, especially our diligent reporters. Truly, your words were impressive.” She paused for a beat, then her tone sharpened, carrying a cutting edge. “But tell me. Are you questioning Mr. Actor’s integrity? Do you really think he would be moved by something as lowly as seduction? You claim there was a shady deal, but what about the other party in this so-called deal? Why is no one questioning him? Since the incident broke out, you’ve all hounded the actress endlessly, yet not a single person has demanded an explanation from the actor? As one of the people directly involved, why hasn’t he spoken about the hotel script incident? What exactly is his stance?”

Her barrage of questions struck like arrows, shifting the spotlight away from Tang Anhe and tearing holes in their accusations. The sharpness of her reasoning left the reporters momentarily dumbfounded, while the haters had nothing to say.

For a moment, the confrontation seemed to quiet.

Then, a sudden flurry of barks shattered the silence. Out of nowhere, a massive black dog lunged into the crowd. Startled screams rose as fans scrambled backward. The beast barreled straight toward Tang Anhe, jaws snapping wide.

In a flash, Cheng Muye shoved Tang Anhe behind her. The dog’s momentum was terrifying, and it swerved suddenly, aiming directly at Tang Anhe.

Was this a trained dog?

Her expression hardened as her eyes swept over her surroundings in search of something useful. In one swift motion, she vaulted over a fan’s signboard, snatched it, and hurled it directly at the charging dog.

The move worked. The creature’s attention shifted, its furious eyes now locked onto her.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

The black dog fixed its vicious gaze on her, barking furiously with a menacing snarl.

“Brother Cheng, be careful!”

Tang Anhe, sheltered by Song Qiluo, broke out in a cold sweat as she watched.

Cheng Muye didn’t spare her a glance. Her sharp gaze remained locked on the black dog, every muscle taut with focus. She clenched her fists, thinking about how to win with one single blow.

The throat—that was the weakness of most animals. If she wanted to end this quickly, she had to strike there. But killing it outright would be no easy task.

The dog, clearly trained, prowled in a slow circle around her. Its claws scraped against the ground, ears pinned back, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Security guards finally rushed forward, forming a ring with electric batons raised. But hesitation gripped them; no one dared make the first move.

Cheng Muye snatched a baton from one of their hands and lunged just as the dog sprang at her. She swung with all her strength, but the animal twisted aside, its speed shocking. Her strike landed hard across its back instead.

“Woof, woof—!” Its bark grew shrill with pain, its jaws gaping wider. Then it lunged again, sinking its teeth into her leg. Cheng Muye’s face turned deathly pale from the pain, but she swung her arm down hard, striking its head squarely.

Blood spattered. Crimson soaked her pants and drops gleamed on the dog’s bared fangs. Still, it refused to let go.

Gritting her teeth, Cheng Muye dropped the baton, both hands clamping down on the dog’s neck. She forced it down, muscles straining, until a sickening crack split the air.

The dog’s body convulsed, its paws raking her arms in a last frenzy, leaving deep, bloody welts. Then it collapsed limply, its lifeless weight dragging against her.

A fierce, perilous, and brutal battle between human and dog.

In the end, one lay dead, the other gravely injured.

Tang Anhe finally broke free from Song Qiluo’s hold. She rushed to Cheng Muye’s side, slipping an arm beneath her to hold her upright as she cried out, “Brother Cheng! Brother Cheng, are you alright? Does it hurt? You’re bleeding! There’s so much blood!”

Tang Anhe was trembling, her face drained of color, her eyes red and brimming with fear.

Cheng Muye’s body shook under the strain, the searing pain from her leg nearly unbearable. Just as she tried to force out a few words, Tang Anhe suddenly threw her arms around her.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry… it’s all my fault, I hurt you!”

Her sobs tore out of her, desperate and broken, as though someone dear to her had just died.

The pitiful sound grated on Cheng Muye’s nerves. Disgusted by such weakness, she shoved the dead black dog aside and tried to rise. But the agony from her left leg sent her crashing back down, its fangs had sunk so deep they’d reached the bone.

“How bad is it? Where did it bite you?” Tang Anhe’s tears spilled freely as she clung to her, frantic hands trying to hold her steady.

“It’s nothing. Don’t cry. You look awful when you cry. Remember who you are.” Cheng Muye rasped, her voice low but firm. She pulled Tang Anhe into her arms, turning her back to the crowd. Her body shielded her, blocking every gaze and camera lens from capturing Tang Anhe’s fragile state.

Song Qiluo, already on the phone with emergency services, rushed over to help. Her face was pale as she supported Cheng Muye’s weight. “Where are you hurt? How bad is it?”

The stench of blood was overwhelming.

Song Qiluo pinched her nose lightly, then reached out to wipe the sweat from her face.

Cheng Muye’s forehead was slick with sweat, her lips drained of all color. The pain was unbearable, scorching through her like fire searing her nerves, leaving her mind hazy and her body trembling. Yet not a single sound escaped her lips.

Around them, the crowd buzzed with voices, shock, fear, excitement, awe, each person reacting differently, their whispers rising and falling like waves. But none of them noticed the shadow watching from above.

On the seventh floor of the opposite building, a tall figure stood by the French window. A pair of binoculars pressed against her eyes as she observed every detail of the chaos below.

“Failed again.”

Her voice was low, almost a sigh, but heavy with frustration.

“She keeps ruining my plans…”

“Damn it.”

Her voice was low, almost a sigh, but heavy with frustration.

Her eyes narrowed, deep and venomous, as she lowered the binoculars, her expression unreadable.

Back at the scene, Song Qiluo’s own sigh slipped out. She watched Tang Anhe rush to the ambulance at Cheng Muye’s side, her chest tight with frustration. She had never expected Cheng Muye to appear. Even after she had driven her away, even after that proud woman had been humiliated, Cheng Muye still threw herself into danger to protect Tang Anhe without hesitation.

Was this Tang Anhe’s fortune? Or her misfortune?

At least for now, it was fortune.

Inside the ambulance, Tang Anhe clutched Cheng Muye’s hand tightly, her voice trembling as she spoke. “There’s something wrong with that dog. Call the police! Remember to call the police!”

Her words carried beyond the vehicle.

Song Qiluo finally registered the dog’s odd behavior, but before she could think too much about it, the owner appeared.

It was the same man who had harassed Tang Anhe at the mall—a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned fellow with a rough, unremarkable face and a fierceness that clung to his features.

Song Qiluo recalled catching a glimpse of him in a brief Weibo clip from that day. It was only for a second or two, just a fleeting frontal shot, but she still recognized him.

He must have been shopping nearby since he still carried a plastic bag stuffed with instant noodles and chips. When his eyes fell on the dead dog, his grip slackened, and the bag dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

Then he lunged forward, wailing with exaggerated grief. “Erhei! Erhei, what happened? Who could be so cruel?” He clutched the limp animal to his chest and wept.

The act left most of the crowd disgusted, though a few eager reporters still leaned in, cameras already rolling.

Song Qiluo slipped between them and, with an effortless smile, caught one cameraman by the hand. “We keep running into each other, don’t we? What a coincidence. How about helping me write a story later?

The pudgy reporter wiped sweat from his brow, forcing a smile as his jaw clenched in private fury. “Damn you, always picking me. I’ll get you back someday,” he muttered under his breath.

Elsewhere, on the operating table where Cheng Muye lay, the same thought stirred.

Piecing the scene together, she felt a cold certainty settle over her. This had not been random. Someone had orchestrated the attack, not just to stain Tang Anhe’s reputation, but to place her in real danger.

Cheng Muye’s resolve hardened. She would unmask whoever had set this trap and drag them into the light.

That, at least, was one of her reasons.

The second reason was painfully clear—the black dog had bitten her leg with such force that the muscle in the wound was nearly torn apart, demanding careful stitches. Normally, anesthesia would dull the pain, but anyone who knew Cheng Muye’s body understood the problem: it was completely ineffective on her.

She could do nothing but lie on the cold operating table, feeling the doctor’s needle and thread pierce and pull through her calf. Agony coursed through her veins, making her eyes bloodshot, her face slick with sweat, her teeth clenched so hard it felt like they might shatter. Finally, the pain overwhelmed her, and she fainted.

Damn it. This grudge… she would carry it with her forever.