The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 46 - Don’t You Like Me Like This?

A shiver of pleasure coursed through her body.

Tang Anhe snapped out of her daze. The faint metallic scent of blood reached her nose, and her eyes widened in alarm. She sat up abruptly in bed.

“Brother Cheng, you’re bleeding!”

She pointed to her injured leg, where a streak of blood had stained the hem of her white skirt.

Cheng Muye was, of course, aware of the bleeding, but her sudden reaction didn’t surprise her. She looked at her calm, slightly disheveled figure, lips curling in a faint smile.

“Tang Anhe, how are you feeling?”

This was what she most wanted to know.

Tang Anhe’s body had been so sensitive before, softening under her touch. Every delicate spot seemed even more responsive, ready to react at the slightest provocation.

In that moment, Cheng Muye felt as if Tang Anhe had been born for her, made to belong to her.

Tang Anhe’s face was already flushed, and hearing the question made it burn even hotter. She avoided Cheng Muye’s gaze, lowering her head and whispering, “Brother Cheng, this… this kind of thing…”

How could she even speak such words aloud?

Cheng Muye saw the spring-like gleam in her eyes and sensed her fondness. On such a rare, leisurely afternoon, with no one around to disturb them, a gentle, lingering affection naturally blossomed between them.

“My bad?”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, I’ll put it differently. Do you like it?”

Tang Anhe was left speechless, her body and soul ablaze with embarrassment. Her recently awakened pleasure made her cheeks flush pink.

In Cheng Muye’s eyes, Tang Anhe was like a tantalizing piece of pink jelly. Just looking at her without being able to taste her was unbearable. She had just used her hands to pleasure her once, yet her own desire remained unquenched.

To make matters worse, her injured leg had started bleeding. The pain shot up from the wound to her nerves, bringing her partially back to her senses. Even so, despite the aching pull at her heart, she endured it.

“Just sit there and fix your clothes. I’ll have Uncle Xiang call the doctor over.”

Tang Anhe responded, acting shy like a young wife, then adjusted her skirt. Her heart raced as she recalled the moment Cheng Muye’s fingers had brushed beneath her clothing.

The doctor arrived quickly. A middle-aged woman named Fang Aiying. She was around forty, dressed in a crisp white coat, with a gentle, reassuring face.

“Why is it bleeding?” As she entered, she immediately noticed the bright redness on Cheng Muye’s injured leg and asked anxiously, “Miss Cheng, was this caused by accidental contact or internal bleeding?” She bent slightly to examine the wound, taking a cautious sniff of the blood. There was no smell of pus, and she visibly relaxed.

“Miss Cheng, the wound is still hot. You must take extra care of it. Constantly touching it like this will slow the healing process.”

“Yes, I understand. Sorry for troubling you, Sister Fang,” Cheng Muye replied calmly.

Fang Aiying nodded and set to work, expertly applying ointment and rebandaging the injury. The process was clearly painful, but Cheng Muye endured it silently. By the time the bandage was secured, a sheen of cold sweat had formed on her forehead.

Tang Anhe, watching anxiously from the side, felt both distressed and guilty.

“Brother Cheng, I came to take care of you, but I didn’t do my job properly, and now you’re hurt again.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t blame yourself,” Cheng Muye replied, her tone slightly impatient, perhaps due to the pain.

“I’m sorry,” Tang Anhe said softly.

“Alright, just don’t say such things again,” Cheng Muye added, a faint edge of irritation in her voice.

Tang Anhe understood. Seeing how much pain she was in, she gave up on further apologies and resolved instead to do her best in the future.

So, she brought tea and water, fussed over her comfort, massaged her shoulders and back, and even prepared foot baths for her at night. Though occasionally forgetful, she cared with complete dedication—tireless, meticulous, almost like a professionally trained attendant.

Cheng Muye loved that Tang Anhe’s heart and attention were entirely hers, and being cared for so attentively gave her an unexpected sense of blessing in disguise.

That evening, Uncle Xiang had the kitchen prepare some bone broth.

Tang Anhe carried the bowl, blowing gently on each spoonful before feeding Cheng Muye. “Is it still hot?”

Her large, glimmering eyes blinked innocently, utterly charming. Her slightly puckered pink lips blew on the steam, radiating a warmth and sweetness even more intoxicating than the broth itself.

Cheng Muye’s heart raced once again. Tang Anhe’s presence tempted her constantly. Normally, she had extreme self-control, but Tang Anhe’s allure was irresistible. She hadn’t truly possessed her, hadn’t fully indulged in her, and that made her impulses surge like a lustful, foolish cat, aching every moment to pull her into her arms.

“I want to take a bath.”

After finishing the bone broth, Cheng Muye made the request.

It was summer, and the heat made a wash necessary. But with her leg injured, she could only manage a sponge bath.

Tang Anhe fetched a basin from the bathroom, took a clean towel, and carefully began wiping Cheng Muye’s body. At first, she felt shy, but when she noticed how calm and unbothered Cheng Muye was, her tension slowly eased.

Cheng Muye’s upper body was lean and defined, eight abdominal muscles etched into neat, perfect lines. Her chest was as flat as a man’s—completely, undeniably flat.

Tang Anhe’s gaze lingered there, curiosity stirring. Why did some women have soft big breasts, while others looked like a flat stretch of road? Could Cheng Muye be some sort of hermaphrodite? Or was this just incomplete development?

“If you want to look, then look openly. Don’t sneak glances,” Cheng Muye drawled lazily. “It’s not like I’m charging you.”

The sudden teasing jolted Tang Anhe, her cheeks burning red. She quickly lowered her head, trying to compose herself, and continued scrubbing with extra diligence.

But Cheng Muye wasn’t about to let her go so easily. Moving along with her motions, she chuckled, “Curious about that part, aren’t you?”

Tang Anhe bit her lip, then nodded honestly. “A little. It just feels… strange.”

“You don’t like me like this?”

“I… I do like it… but does it really matter?”

The words carried a subtle allure, as though they hinted at something deeper. Tang Anhe could vaguely sense it, yet she dared not probe too far. But the harder she tried to suppress her thoughts, the more her mind spun. Cheng Muye liked women. She had denied sending that message. So… she liked her. Because she liked her, she wanted her to return that feeling?

While Tang Anhe was still tangled in her own thoughts, Cheng Muye’s voice came again. “You think it doesn’t matter?”

Tang Anhe stiffened. She didn’t want to answer such a question, yet since Cheng Muye had asked, silence was impossible. She hesitated, stammering out a vague reply. “It should… it should be pretty important.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Tang Anhe’s voice dropped even lower. “I just… feel like it’s important.”

“What exactly do you mean? Be specific.”

Under Cheng Muye’s persistent questioning, Tang Anhe could only flush and admit the truth. “It… it felt really, really good when you touched me there just now. You don’t have that part, so you probably can’t feel that kind of pleasure.”

The confession barely left her lips before mortification swept over her. She tossed the towel aside and fled the bathroom.

Cheng Muye knew how sensitive she was and did not call her back. She picked up the towel, dampened it, and methodically washed herself. When Tang Anhe reappeared at the doorway holding a nightgown, Cheng Muye started to speak, but Tang Anhe turned away and slipped back inside.

Still shy, then.

Cheng Muye was secretly delighted, and without paying her any mind, she slowly made her way onto the bed.

Water thundered in the bathroom. Behind the frosted glass Tang Anhe’s lithe silhouette showed through, arms stretched, neck arched. Like a dancer she moved, every curve catching Cheng Muye’s burning gaze. The image seared itself into Cheng Muye’s mind and would not be forgotten.

Half an hour later Tang Anhe stepped out of the bath. Steam clung to her skin, her long hair still heavy with droplets. Her face, warmed by the steam, glowed like the first blush of spring. She draped a thin purple nightgown around herself, the sheer fabric hinting at the soft lines beneath.

“Brother Cheng,” she murmured, and walked straight to the figure on the bed, surprised by the tremor in her own voice.

Cheng Muye lifted her head at the sound, eyes roaming over Tang Anhe, the flame inside her fanned anew. The ache in her leg still pulsed quietly, but desire had already pushed aside the pain. Tang Anhe was irresistible, a dangerous, delightful temptation. Cheng Muye felt certain, with a delicious certainty, that she would be undone by her sooner or later.

With that thought, Cheng Muye steadied herself and whispered softly, “Come here. I want to show you something.”

“What is it?”

“A movie.”

“What kind of movie?”

“You’ll see.”

Tang Anhe didn’t ask further questions. She walked over and handed Cheng Muye her phone. On the screen, the film played a scene: the heroine went on a date with the male lead, only to pass by a short-haired girl with blue-tinted hair—what followed was a string of suggestive, dreamlike fantasies that blurred into the night.

While she showered, Cheng Muye had already prepared a dry towel. Now, seeing Tang Anhe’s long hair still dripping wet, she said casually, “Bend over. I’ll dry your hair.”

Tang Anhe obediently crouched down, instinctively lowering the phone to conceal the provocative scenes flashing across the screen. Yet even without looking, the breathless panting of the heroine seeped into the room. The sound made Tang Anhe’s body jolt, her heart racing. She turned her head in a panic—only to meet Cheng Muye’s sharp, probing gaze.

“It… it wasn’t me. It just… played on its own,” she stammered, like a child caught red-handed, her eyes wide with flustered innocence.

In that moment, it felt as though a pure, untouched canvas was about to be marked for the first time. The thought surged through her, carrying a cruel, dangerous thrill—like the sudden shattering of her world had revealed a forbidden possibility that belonged only to her.

Cheng Muye continued drying Tang Anhe’s hair, her gaze softening as she worked. “Surprised? Scared?” she asked, voice low and teasing.

Tang Anhe’s fingers trembled as she handed over the phone. “N-no,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her.

“The movie you saw is the famous lesbian film Blue Is the Warmest Color.”

“As you can see, the scenes are bold, practically a textbook of intimacy between women.”

“So, Tang Anhe, fall into depravity with me.”

As she finished speaking, Cheng Muye reached out and pulled her onto the bed. In her other hand, the video on her phone was still playing, and she deliberately fast-forwarded to the first intimate scene between the two actresses.

When those perfect bodies intertwined on screen, Tang Anhe trembled in her arms. She didn’t dare look, shame and fear tangling within her, yet mixed with a thrill she couldn’t describe. Her head grew hot, her body burned, her breathing gradually losing rhythm…

Cheng Muye wrapped her arms around her, pressing a gentle kiss to her earlobe. Her soft voice brushed against her like a breeze, only stoking the fire inside her.

“Good girl, open your eyes and watch. Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

“Good girl, we belong to the same world.”

“Good girl, I’ve long wanted to try every position in that film with you.”

_____________________

Her voice was soft and low, alluring yet dangerous, like the temptation of a devil in the dark night, one careless moment and you would tumble straight into sin.

Tang Anhe dared not look. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, her fingers clutching the bedsheet with all their strength. Her shoulders trembled with panic, and a murmur slipped from her throat, barely audible.

“Cheng… Brother Cheng, y-you’re forcing me!”