The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 31 - I Don’t Want to Talk to You

When Cheng Muye woke up, she found herself in the VIP ward.

Tang Anhe was sitting beside her, eyes bright with concern, her gaze soft and anxious as she looked at Cheng Muye’s pale, bandaged form.

The moment Cheng Muye’s eyes fluttered open, Tang Anhe hurried forward, helping her sit up, her hands gentle but insistent. “Brother Cheng, are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you feeling unwell? Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“I’m fine. Really. How about you?” Cheng Muye forced a calm smile, leaning back against the pillows despite the lingering ache.

Noticing her chapped lips, Tang Anhe quickly fetched a cup of warm water. Cheng Muye’s hands were still scratched and bandaged from the black dog, making it awkward to hold the cup herself.

“Let me help you,” Tang Anhe said softly.

“Hmmm,” Cheng Muye murmured, allowing her. She was parched, and she drank eagerly, savoring every warm sip.

Tang Anhe chuckled at her with amusement and couldn’t help but say, “You look so thirsty, like you haven’t had a drink in ages.”

Cheng Muye, distracted by more pressing concerns, ignored the teasing. Her first question was about the bamboo-green snake. Upon learning that Little Wood had followed her into the ambulance, been captured by the doctor, and safely placed in a snake box, she asked about any developments since.

Coincidentally, just as she began to inquire, Song Qiluo arrived.

Song Qiluo had already checked on Cheng Muye’s injuries and confirmed that she had received rabies shots, antiviral serum, and other necessary injections. The wound had been carefully sutured. It was serious but not life-threatening.

Satisfied, she entered the ward to express her gratitude for Cheng Muye’s earlier bravery.

Being attacked by a hunting dog had been entirely unexpected.

The situation had been critical, and if not for Cheng Muye’s swift intervention, there was no telling whether Tang Anhe would have escaped unscathed.

Cheng Muye, however, showed little patience for gratitude or praise, her gaze cool as she steered the conversation. “Have you called the police? What did the doctor say? Has the black dog’s owner conducted any investigation?”

Song Qiluo’s face stiffened. She spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “I haven’t called the police yet. The other party did, though. They’re claiming we deliberately injured the dog and are demanding three million in compensation. The police are investigating and collecting evidence. They’ll come to speak with you later.”

Cheng Muye considered her words, brows knitting in thought. “Sister Song, what’s your take on all of this?” She glanced at Tang Anhe, whose eyes shimmered with concern. Leaning closer, her expression hardening slightly, she whispered, “Anhe, go to the doctor and bring my pet snake here.”

The moment Tang Anhe heard “pet snake,” she felt uneasy.

The doctor had just warned her that even a minor snakebite could be dangerous if the fangs weren’t removed. What kind of hobby was this, keeping a venomous snake as a pet?

And thinking back to when Cheng Muye had faced off against the dog, tossing that thing toward her… that green snake had even slithered over her wrist, leaving a cold, slippery trail that made her skin crawl.

Leaning closer, she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, “Brother Cheng, I’m really afraid of snakes. You can keep one at home, but… please don’t carry it around with you.”

Cheng Muye nodded. “It’s not mine. A friend owns it.”

“Which friend?” Tang Anhe asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“I’ll introduce you later. For now, just bring it here.”

“Oh.” Tang Anhe’s curiosity only deepened, wondering what kind of friend would keep a snake. She left the ward, her mind buzzing with questions.

Watching her go, Cheng Muye turned her gaze to Song Qiluo. “Sister Song, do you think today’s incident was an accident… or intentional?”

Song Qiluo said nothing. Instead, she shifted the topic. “Why did you come here today?”

“The secret meeting between Anhe and the Emperor of Acting at the hotel isn’t as simple as it seems. I suspected a scheme, so I came.”

Song Qiluo’s tone sharpened. “I thought you’d consciously avoid appearing in front of Anhe. Miss Cheng, you’ve broken your promise.”

Her words stung, laced with impatience. “I don’t want you meddling in Anhe’s affairs. I don’t want you getting close to her with those… dirty thoughts of yours.”

Though her words were courteous, the meaning beneath was unmistakable: she was telling her not to meddle.

Cheng Muye’s lips curved into a cold, measured smile. “Sister Song, what are you afraid of? What secrets do you have that you don’t want me to uncover? Tell me, are your thoughts even filthier than mine?”

“Shut up!” Song Qiluo snapped, her voice sharp with rage. “What right do you have to say that? I’m her cousin, would I ever harm her?”

“A person’s heart is separated by the belly skin,” Cheng Muye replied, her eyes suddenly glinting coldly, her voice edged with sarcasm. “I make no effort to hide my feelings for Anhe. Do you dare say the same?”

“I don’t want to waste my time talking to you!” Song Qiluo shot back. Realizing the conversation had already gone too far, she turned with a frosty expression and started to leave.

“Wait—” Cheng Muye called after her. “Has Tang Anhe ever offended anyone, inside or outside the industry, who might want to harm her?”

Song Qiluo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Honestly, that’s none of your business.” With that, she strode out of the ward.

As she exited, her gaze caught a flash of fabric at the corner of her eye—the color of Tang Anhe’s dress.

Had she been eavesdropping?

Song Qiluo paused, a shadow crossing her features.

Children were harder to control these days, and beyond family ties… what leverage did she still have?

Meanwhile, Tang Anhe returned with the snake box. Inside, the emerald-green snake lay coiled, calm yet alert, its red eyes scanning its surroundings warily.

She gave it a quick glance but didn’t linger, instinctively straightening and staring straight ahead. Snakes had never been her comfort zone, and a potentially aggressive one added a layer of dread. Even through the glass, her heart raced, every breath shallow, afraid it might suddenly strike.

A bite from that thing would surely hurt far worse than a dog’s.

Thinking of the dog, Tang Anhe couldn’t help but think of Cheng Muye. She had never expected to see her in such a situation—so sudden, so astonishing—and yet, even in the chaos, she appeared almost divine.

Tang Anhe recalled the prince in Snow White who saved the princess from danger and thought, if Brother Cheng was a boy, she would be the perfect prince. And… she felt inexplicably drawn to her.

Blushing, Tang Anhe set the snake box carefully on the floor and looked up at the figure in the bed.

Cheng Muye’s gaze was fixed on her, deep and penetrating, as though examining something intangible.

“Brother Cheng, what’s wrong?” Tang Anhe asked in surprise.

“Come here.”

“Huh?”

“Come here!”

Her tone was firm, her eyes burning with intensity.

Tang Anhe hesitated, unsettled by the unusual sharpness in her expression. Yet she trusted her, and so she obeyed, stepping forward cautiously.

“Brother Cheng?” she asked, puzzled.

“Sit down,” came the serious, commanding reply.

Tang Anhe’s heart skipped a beat. She braced herself, fearing a scolding for her secret meeting with the actor, for the chaos it had caused. She opened her mouth to explain, but then a pair of hands wrapped in white gauze reached toward her.

It was summer, and the bandages were thin. Faint traces of blood peeked through. Tang Anhe’s chest tightened, guilt washing over her. She lowered her head and confessed softly, “Yes, Brother Cheng… I saw. You’re seriously injured… bleeding so much. I’m sorry… I hurt you.”

She had completely misunderstood. This wasn’t about showing off her own pain, it was about concern.

Cheng Muye’s expressionless face softened slightly, and she exhaled with quiet exasperation. “Don’t say useless things. My hand hurts. Blow on it.”

Heaven knew she was simply in pain—her hands and legs throbbed so fiercely she was desperate for anything to distract herself. And what kind of overactive imagination was this? Her thoughts seemed ready to burst through the sky.

The more Cheng Muye dwelled on it, the heavier her heart grew. When would they ever reach this so-called “tacit understanding”? Surely it couldn’t be harder than the Long March, could it?