The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 38 - She’s Fine, Don’t Worry

But it was fleeting, not enough to sway her resolve.

Her expression softened slightly, her voice unusually gentle. “Shen Si, I don’t intend to hurt you, but you keep getting in my way. Rather than waiting for you to spill my affairs to Cheng Letian and have that old tyrant ruin my plans, I’d rather send you away now.” A faint edge of irony colored her tone. “You’ve called me sister for years, and I’ve never done anything for you. Consider this my gift, I’ll arrange a deserted island for you to stay on for a while.”

“No, um—”

Shen Si shook his head violently, his handsome face turning crimson, sweat beading on his forehead from anxiety.

He had always been composed, careful to maintain his polished, gentlemanly image before her.  Seeing him like this stirred a faint pang of sympathy in her.

Cheng Muye raised a hand, signaling the bodyguards. They moved in swiftly. Shen Si continued to struggle, but the guards were far stronger, their grip unyielding.

Two minutes later, Shen Si had been escorted away by the bodyguards.

Once Shen Si was gone, Cheng Muye let out a long, relieved sigh, as if a heavy weight had finally lifted from her shoulders.

Yu Zhaoning remained behind, her gaze lingering on her, deep and contemplative. After a moment, she approached the bedside, half-kneeling to look up at her, her voice carrying an unexpected warmth. “Muye, you’re ruthless to everyone else, yet only show tenderness to one person. That’s both your blessing and your curse. If Tang Anhe didn’t like you, how devastated would you be?”

Her words carried a subtle, chilling weight. Perhaps the pain could drive someone to madness, just as it had driven her father to take his own life for love.

Cheng Muye seemed to grasp the underlying warning but replied optimistically, almost to the point of paranoia, “She’ll like me.”

Unfortunately, that optimism didn’t last long. Soon after, she lost all contact with Tang Anhe.

Cheng Muye had dinner, showered with Yu Zhaoning’s help, and packed her things. She tried calling Tang Anhe multiple times—three attempts yielded no answer. She sent a text, then waited half an hour, still without a reply. Perhaps she was with her so-called aunt, or maybe she was taking a shower. But as midnight came and still no word, she could no longer remain calm.

With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and dialed Song Qiluo.

The call connected immediately, and Song Qiluo’s voice was cold, distant, almost cutting. “Miss Cheng, what is it?”

Cheng Muye suppressed her irritation at the sharp tone, softening her own voice. “Did Tang Anhe get home safely?”

“Yes.”

“And what is she doing now?”

“I’m not a clairvoyant. How am I supposed to know what she’s doing?”

Her words were a veiled refusal to help.

Cheng Muye’s brow furrowed, but she swallowed her irritation and spoke softly, almost pleading: “I called her… but she didn’t answer. Could you check her room? Maybe she’s in the shower…”

The worry in her voice was genuine. The hours without contact had felt agonizing.

Song Qiluo, however, wasn’t sympathetic. A sly, almost triumphant smile curved her lips. “If Anhe doesn’t answer your call, it means she doesn’t like you. Surely, with your intelligence, you can understand such a subtle rejection, right?”

Her words mocked her mercilessly.

Cheng Muye clenched her fists, her voice subdued but insistent. “Please… just check on her.”

For some reason, Song Qiluo felt a stir of emotion and agreed. She hung up the phone and, wearing her nightgown, went into the room next door.

Tang Anhe’s door was open. Inside, she was mid-yoga, standing on a deep blue mat. Her weight rested on her right foot as she bent her left leg backward, grasping her instep with her right hand, while her left arm stretched straight up. Her back was perfectly aligned in the demanding Standing Bow Pose.

Song Qiluo watched silently for a moment before approaching, gently patting her shoulder.

Tang Anhe maintained her balance, breathing evenly, though a sheen of sweat glimmered on her forehead, a faint flush coloring her delicate face. Noticing the interruption, she slowly unwound the pose.

“Sister… do you need something?” she asked, slipping on her slippers. “Give me a moment. I’ll wash my face first.”

Song Qiluo nodded, perching on the edge of the bed, watching as Tang Anhe left for the bathroom.

As she rested her hands on the bed, her fingers brushed against Tang Anhe’s silver phone. In the soft light, it seemed to glow with an almost tempting allure.

What had gone wrong between her and Cheng Muye? Why hadn’t she answered her calls? Even when she’d been injured protecting her, she had ignored her…

Song Qiluo’s curiosity got the better of her. She reached for Tang Anhe’s phone and saw three missed calls and two read messages. She wanted to peek, to see what had passed between them—but she was too late.

Tang Anhe emerged from the bathroom, gently wiping her face. Her yoga session had left her complexion flushed, her skin glowing like a ripe peach. Her beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just her face—her figure was equally captivating, every curve perfectly proportioned, a modern incarnation of a “beauty who brings disaster.” No wonder even someone as proud as Cheng Muye had bowed her head for her.

It was a pity she was a woman.

Otherwise, with the Cheng family’s pedigree, Song Qiluo mused, she might have been powerless to resist Tang Anhe’s allure.

“Sister, what’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” Tang Anhe asked, approaching, her expression curious. Noticing Song Qiluo staring, she instinctively touched her face, a hint of embarrassment.

She’d just washed, so it should be fine.

Song Qiluo shook herself out of her daze and smiled, her tone gentle. “Nothing at all. I just… got lost for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty.”

Was that a simple compliment or a gesture of goodwill?

Tang Anhe thought back to how they had parted on bad terms just moments ago. Hearing Song Qiluo speak so gently, she naturally assumed her sister was trying to make peace. Kind-hearted by nature, Tang Anhe quickly returned a smile. “Sis, you look great too—tall, elegant, and beautiful. No wonder you stand out in the management world.”

What she said didn’t really count as flattery.

Song Qiluo was indeed stunning—fair-skinned, graceful, with long legs. At thirty, age had done nothing to diminish her allure; if anything, it added a mature, sensual charm. Such presence was already rare in the entertainment industry, and even more exceptional among talent managers. Tang Anhe couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that she had never ventured into acting.

“Come on, stop praising me,” Song Qiluo said, embarrassed. She quickly changed the subject, “I just came to see what you were doing. We had a little argument earlier, and it really upset me.”

Tang Anhe’s heart ached at her words. They had been together for over twenty years, like true sisters, and it felt wrong to be in conflict. Upon hearing her speak, Tang Anhe reached out and took Song Qiluo’s arm, resting her head on her shoulder in a childlike gesture of apology. “Sister, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad at you just now.”

Song Qiluo smiled faintly, her tone casual. “I can tell you’re upset. What’s wrong? Who made you angry?”

Tang Anhe, caught off guard, pouted and spoke in a small, aggrieved voice. “It’s Brother Cheng… Brother Cheng… she, she—” She stopped mid-sentence.

Being the object of affection from a homosexual who only wanted her body wasn’t something to brag about.

Thinking this, she hesitated and said vaguely, “No, it’s nothing. It’s just that… she’s not pleasant to deal with. I’d rather not contact her for now.”

It turned out they had really quarreled.

Song Qiluo wondered what Cheng Muye could have said to upset the usually good-tempered Tang Anhe so much that she wouldn’t answer her phone.

Had she confessed her feelings?

She didn’t press, choosing instead to chat with her for a few more minutes before leaving. Once back in her own room, she texted Cheng Muye.

[She is fine, don’t worry.]

But how could she not worry?

How could anyone feel at ease when Tang Anhe suddenly stopped picking up her phone?

Cheng Muye stared at those five words for half the night, tossing and turning. Perhaps it was the lingering ache in her leg, or perhaps the unease brought on by Tang Anhe’s silence. She couldn’t fall asleep until three or four in the morning.

The next day, she woke early, not thinking of herself, but determined to check on Tang Anhe’s family.

Yu Zhaoning had originally lived in a separate villa, but to make caring for her easier, she had moved into the room next door. Early that morning, the sound of a wheelchair rolling into her room woke her. Thinking Cheng Muye needed something, she rushed over without even changing out of her nightgown.

“Muye, are you awake?”

Cheng Muye, sitting in her wheelchair, heard her voice but didn’t respond. She stretched out her arms, leaned forward, and rummaged through the few remaining clothes in her closet for today’s outfit.

All of them were pants, and none were loose enough to accomodate her injured leg.

Yu Zhaoning walked over, watching her toss pants onto the floor and overturn the closet in frustration. Confused, she asked, “What’s wrong? What are you looking for?”

“I’m going out.”

“For what? Your leg is injured. You shouldn’t be exercising.”

“Guess what I’m going out for?” Cheng Muye didn’t waste a second on pleasantries. She spun around, her face cold and scrutinizing. “Yu Zhaoning, what did you say to Tang Anhe last night? She isn’t the type to be willful, so why is she suddenly ignoring me?”

After a sleepless night, this was the only explanation she could come up with.

Tang Anhe wouldn’t ignore her for no reason. They had gotten along so well yesterday, and she had even been reluctant to leave. So why did she turn so cold the moment she got home?

The answer, upon consideration, could only be Yu Zhaoning, who had sent her home.

The more Cheng Muye thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Her expression darkened as she asked sternly, “Yu Zhaoning, what did you say to her? If you don’t want me to hate you, tell me!”

Hate?

She was threatening her again!

Yu Zhaoning had never liked Tang Anhe—such a timid, shrinking woman, petty in every way. But Cheng Muye… she hadn’t just wanted to play; she had actually fallen for her. The thought alone made Yu Zhaoning boil with jealousy! No—she couldn’t let herself lose control; her body couldn’t handle it. So she forced herself to stay composed, constantly keeping an eye on Tang Anhe, thinking of her, scrutinizing her every move, and watching how Cheng Muye protected her at every turn.

Yet, in the beginning, all of this belonged to her!

Frustration boiled over. Jealousy surged, igniting her anger. “What could I even say to her? Aren’t you smart? Look at yourself, Cheng Muye! Without Tang Anhe, you can’t live, right?” Tears streamed down her face, her voice wavering. “Cheng Muye, are you really someone who values love over friendship? You’ve never spoken to me so harshly before!”