The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 41 - She Is Too Sentimental

At the thought, Song Qiluo’s expression darkened. Meeting Zheng Ye’s still-handsome, gentle face sent a shiver down her spine.

First came the Weibo name-changing controversy, then the encounter with perverted fans at the mall, and finally the hotel rumors. Tang Anhe’s reputation had taken a nosedive.

While it seemed unrelated to Gu Zixiao, she had been the one to gain the most. Moreover, Zheng Ye and she had been secretly in a relations for a year. Could it be that Zheng Ye was quietly fanning the flames, trying to step on Tang Anhe to further his own ambitions?

Just as Song Qiluo was lost in thought, Zheng Ye spoke up, interrupting her. Still gentlemanly and composed, his words were calm and measured: “Miss Song, Zixiao is still a child at heart. She speaks without restraint, so don’t take her words too seriously.”

Song Qiluo had never been biased against Zheng Ye, but her earlier reflections now made her approach him with caution and scrutiny. After all, he had spent years in the entertainment industry and attained remarkable fame at a young age—surely there was some shrewdness behind his success. In hindsight, visiting him today felt somewhat impulsive.

“Miss Song, please, come inside. Let’s talk.”

With his warm invitation, Song Qiluo had no choice but to steel herself and step forward. A bad feeling settled in—she might be walking right into a trap.

Her premonition proved correct.

As they arrived in the living room, the servants brought out the finest Biluochun tea. Zheng Ye spoke slowly, “I had been waiting for Miss Tang’s recent turmoil to settle before inviting her to resume filming. I didn’t expect you two to arrive today.”

After suspecting Zheng Ye of ulterior motives, Song Qiluo lost the energy to argue and went straight to the point. “Mr. Zheng, it seems you have yet to explain the incident at the hotel involving you and Anhe. Now that Anhe is caught up in a scandal as the lead actress of ‘Night Rain,’ shouldn’t you step in to help?”

Zheng Ye, seemingly anticipating her concern, shook his head with a faint smile. “Even if I tried to explain, the public wouldn’t believe me. Besides, in situations like this, the clear will remain clear, and the turbid will remain turbid. You two really shouldn’t worry.”

His voice was soft and gentle, his eyes even hinting at a smile as he spoke. Yet beneath that seemingly warm demeanor, the subtle condescension was obvious to anyone paying attention.

Song Qiluo’s expression darkened. She whispered, “Mr. Zheng, that’s… harsh.”

Tang Anhe’s face twisted with a mix of anger and humiliation, shifting from pale to flushed. She straightened on the sofa, trembling with fury.

She had always admired Zheng Ye, once even harboring a small crush, believing him to be the epitome of a gentleman. But now, it felt like a slap in the face. His words were cold and merciless, and even her naive mind understood the implication: he was gloating, clearly taking delight in her discomfort.

Realizing this, Tang Anhe felt the sting of humiliation cut even deeper. Everything she had admired about him now seemed like wishful thinking, a fantasy that had only brought her shame.

Anger and heartbreak overwhelmed her, and she blurted out in a torrent of emotion, “What do you mean by ‘the turbid will remain turbid, the clear will remain clear’? If that were true, no one would suffer from rumors! Mr. Emperor of Acting, I admired you with all my heart, and I can’t believe you’d just stand by and let me bear the stigma of being a mistress. You knew I was being misunderstood, yet you did nothing to help. How is that any different from watching someone die?”

Her eyes were red, shimmering with both hurt and indignation.

She had always believed Zheng Ye to be gentle, considerate, and protective. A true gentleman. She had thought that if scandal ever touched her, he would step in to clear her name, defend her, and shield her from harm.

But reality was far crueler: from beginning to end, only Cheng Muye had risked everything for her. Only she had treated her with genuine care and devotion.

Thinking of Cheng Muye, a sudden memory flared in her mind: how she had remained composed no matter the situation. Her demeanor was calm, confident, and proud. Taking a deep breath, Tang Anhe slowly spoke, “That night, when I went to pick up the new script, you were in a good mood and even took the initiative to talk to me. You pointed out some of my shortcomings in Crazy Motherhood, hoping I could perform even better in Night Rain. I admired you then, almost feeling deeply grateful. But today, you say something like this—what a hypocrite you are!”

Her words struck a chord.

Even so, her movements were naturally graceful and captivating.

As she delivered her lengthy tirade, her chest rose and fell slightly with anger. Today, by chance, she wore a pink high-waisted dress that highlighted her full bust. The subtle movement of her heaving curves was so striking that any man who saw her would feel his heart quicken, his breath hitch, and his mouth water.

Yet Zheng Ye’s expression remained calm, his eyes deliberately averted.

Standing nearby, Gu Zixiao glared daggers at her provocative display. “Tang Anhe, tone it down! Playing the seductress is way too low! I’m still here, you know.”

Seduction? Ridiculous!

Tang Anhe felt she had nothing in common with her and turned angrily to leave. She must have lost her mind, wasting time coming here. If she had this much free time, she should be taking care of Brother Cheng instead.

“Stop!” Song Qiluo exclaimed, pulling Tang Anhe back into her seat and leaning close to her ear and hissing, “Behave yourself! Don’t you think things are chaotic enough already?”

Tang Anhe clenched her fists but held back, swallowing her frustration.

Seeing that Tang Anhe had settled down, Song Qiluo turned to Zheng Ye. He, seemingly unfazed by the earlier tension, offered a gentle smile. “Since Miss Song has come to ask for my help in clarifying matters, I naturally won’t stand idly by.”

“Mr. Emperor of Acting, do you have any insights?” Song Qiluo asked eagerly.

“Insight is too strong a word. I only have a small suggestion,” he replied, his tone soft but edged with precision.

Song Qiluo’s eyes brightened. “Please, do share.”

Zheng Ye’s smile remained gentle, but his words carried an unmistakable sharpness. “Miss Tang mentioned she came to my room for the new script. Since she confirmed she would get it, the script truly needs to be new. As for what ‘new’ entails, I believe Miss Song understands?”

Is the script going to be changed?

Song Qiluo’s brow furrowed slightly, feigning ignorance. “Forgive me, Mr. Emperor of Acting, but could you explain more clearly?”

Zheng Ye’s sharp, calculating gaze caught her act immediately. His lips curved into a firm, almost mocking smile, the blue of his eyes rippling like a lake. “I suggest adjusting the roles in Night Rain: Zixiao as the female lead, and Miss Tang as the supporting role.”

Night Rain is a suspense romance drama centered on Su Lan, the daughter of the Su family, and her adopted daughter, Su Xi. Their relationship evolves from love to hatred, ultimately turning them into enemies. While it may sound like a familiar trope, the supporting role of Su Xi was a genuine test of acting skill. Su Xi must be portrayed as both delicate and innocent, yet at times dark and malicious—a duality stemming from her schizophrenic tendencies. It was this dual personality that allows her to hold an advantage over the heroine until the story’s conclusion.

On the surface, the role seems highly rewarding, offering immense opportunities for an actor to showcase talent.

But looking deeper, the situation becomes more complex.

First, the character is a villain. No matter how skillfully portrayed, she is bound to draw criticism and disapproval from certain audiences. This can negatively affect the actor’s public image and potentially result in a loss of fans.

Second, to truly embody such a role requires full immersion. Throughout history, some actors have become so absorbed in their characters that the line between performance and reality blurred. Examples include Chen Xiaoxu’s controversial transition to a nun after playing Lin Daiyu in Dream of Red Mansions, and the sudden death of the actor who played the iconic Western villain, the Joker.

Ultimately, in this production, the role was designed to promote Gu Zixiao. Zheng Ye’s real strategy was to use Tang Anhe as a stepping stone to elevate Gu Zixiao’s status.

Is this all a scheme to make Gu Zixiao the next best actress?

Song Qiluo’s mind raced, the pieces finally falling into place: they were being used. No matter what choice Tang Anhe made, she was going to suffer. If she accepted the role, she’d be stuck as a supporting character—vicious, highly criticized, and bound to take the heat. If she refused, she would not only remain embroiled in scandal but also risk losing her contract entirely.

With Tang Anhe’s reputation rapidly declining, securing another suitable film or TV role would be nearly impossible.

Damn it!

Back when Director Cheng Mo invited Tang Anhe to star in the Republican-era war drama Beauty in Turmoil, she shouldn’t have let Tang Anhe stew with Gu Zixiao and miss out on the role.

Wait—Cheng Mo… could this surname indicate a connection to Cheng Muye?

Could Cheng Mo be a member of the Cheng family?

Song Qiluo’s thoughts spun like a relentless motor, refusing to pause.

Tang Anhe’s own mind was just as relentless, running through every possibility.

Why hadn’t Cheng Muye replied to her message?

Was she angry, or had she simply not seen it? If she hadn’t seen it, what was she doing now?

Was her leg still hurting? Was it bleeding? Would she get restless without exercising?

The more she thought, the heavier the ache in her chest grew. She felt as if she had left her alone, cold and desolate. The memories of their past together made her heart twist, and an urgent, almost uncontrollable desire to be by her side surged within Tang Anhe. Even she couldn’t explain the intensity of it.

Zheng Ye was equally stunned, finding it impossible to believe that Song Qiluo would actually say something like that.

“The road to clearing her name is long. With my guidance, we can patiently wait for the day when the innocent is vindicated and the guilty exposed. Eventually, the truth will reveal itself to the world.”

Her words clearly implied that she was rejecting his suggestion.

Zheng Ye’s gentle smile faltered, his expression twisting into a mix of surprise and irritation.

Song Qiluo ignored his reaction. She glanced at the person still staring at her phone, stood tall, and with a cold, commanding look declared, “Tang Anhe, we’re leaving.”

Tang Anhe, anxious to get away, sprang to her feet the moment she heard “leave” and trailed closely behind her.

Zheng Ye got to his feet as well, his tone carrying a faint trace of courtesy. “Miss Song, please think carefully before you act!”

Tang Anhe, her admiration for him now gone, replied bluntly, “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Emperor of Acting, but I must respectfully decline!”

Yes. Let’s forget any talk of collaboration.

You can promote whoever you want, do whatever you like.

For the first time, Song Qiluo found Tang Anhe’s quick, decisive words quite refreshing. She was bold, unafraid to love or hate, and carried a certain fearless charm.

Song Qiluo inwardly admired her, though her outward smile remained polite and undimmed. “Thank you, Mr. Emperor of Acting, for your effort. This is the result of my careful consideration.”

Zheng Ye’s face darkened. The false gentleness he had shown vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp, cold edge across his handsome features. Without a word, he turned and strode back into the house.

She had dared to reject his film. Now, with the Cheng family involved, he would see who truly had the audacity to offer her a role.

Seething, Zheng Ye dialed Shen Si’s number, only to have the call confirm an uncomfortable truth.

How had Shen Si’s phone number ended up in someone else’s hands?

Everything felt preordained.

Meanwhile, Song Qiluo had arranged for Tang Anhe to meet Director Cheng Mo, but Tang Anhe ignored her instructions. The moment she got into the car, she called Cheng Muye. Three times in a row, there was no answer.

Why hadn’t she picked up? Was she angry? Had she not heard her phone?

Her anxiety surged, and a daring thought flashed through her mind:

Could it be that she’d grown fickle, grown bored, and set her sights on some other little beauty?