The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 52 - She’s Nothing but an Ungrateful Wretch

Supported by Song Qiluo, An Shanghua stepped out of the hospital room. The moment she caught sight of the two locked in such an intimate embrace, her expression hardened, her breathing quickened. Striding forward, she yanked Tang Anhe toward her and snapped in a harsh tone, “Tang Anhe, your aunt has only ever acted with your best interests in mind!”

Tang Anhe said nothing, quietly slipping her hand free. She had wanted to confront her, even shout at her, but the sight of that weary face left her hollow. What was the point? She was still an elder, still family. Even if she had been in the wrong, what could Tang Anhe do—turn against her, cut ties completely?

“Rest well, Auntie. I’ll come see you later.”

The words came out stiff, almost foreign. She couldn’t even bring herself to say “Auntie” with any real warmth.

An Shanghua’s eyes reddened. Her voice softened as she whispered, “Anhe, I never meant to deceive you.”

She hadn’t intended to hide the success of her chemotherapy. But her daughter had complained she was distracted lately, neglecting her career, so she had seized on her illness as a way to keep her in line. She knew Anhe’s nature—dutiful, soft-hearted. To please her and ease her fears, she would obey. But she hadn’t foreseen the outcome: once the truth surfaced, trust shattered. The cost was too heavy.

“Anhe, don’t blame Auntie.”

Her sigh was faint, almost helpless.

Tang Anhe still gave no reply. She only turned and pushed the wheelchair toward the door.

An Shanghua opened her mouth to call her back, but no sound came.

At her side, Song Qiluo took in the scene, resentment twisting her chest at the sight of Tang Anhe’s pained expression. “She’s nothing but an ungrateful brat. Now you see her true colors, don’t you?”

“Enough!”

“Why can’t I say it? She only dares to act so high and mighty because Cheng Muye is standing behind her. Before this, she was just a timid little rabbit. Mom, listen to me—once we deal with Cheng Muye, she’ll come crawling back. Can’t you see her for what she is? Just a spoiled child who never grew up. Without Cheng Muye egging her on, she wouldn’t even have the guts to make a fuss.”

Though the words were fueled by anger, An Shanghua couldn’t dismiss them outright. Today, Tang Anhe’s attitude had been unusually bold. In the past, would she ever have dared to show her the slightest disrespect? Perhaps… perhaps she truly had found someone strong to lean on.

Her doubts were not without reason.

Even Tang Anhe herself was surprised by what had happened that day—that she had actually dared to show a sour face before her aunt. Yet there was no regret. Instead, a surge of courage welled up inside her. Reflecting on it, she realized that strength must have come from Cheng Muye.

In the car, she turned her head slightly. The woman beside her was already looking at her, worry clear in her eyes.

“Anhe, none of this is your fault. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Hearing her gentle reassurance, Tang Anhe only nodded, keeping her silence.

Noticing how her gaze seemed distant, as if lost in thought, Cheng Muye reached over and smoothed her hair in a tender, comforting gesture.

“Anhe, I’m here. I’ll always be with you.”

“I know.”

Tang Anhe’s wandering thoughts suddenly snapped back. Meeting her eyes, she broke into a delicate smile—warm, radiant, as if something inside her had quietly fallen into place. Her gaze glimmered with newfound light.

Puzzled, Cheng Muye asked softly, “What is it?”

Instead of answering, Tang Anhe leaned closer and brushed her lips against hers, then drew back with a sly smile, like a mischievous little fox.

Cheng Muye froze, astonishment flashing across her face. Someone usually so timid and shy—how could she have the boldness to do such a thing? Was it impulse? Her worry deepened, her lips parting slightly as she whispered, “Tang Anhe, you’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t carry this burden.”

Tang Anhe shook her head, her voice firm and low. “Cheng Muye, you’re mistaken. I feel no guilt. On the contrary, I finally understand. You’ve always been different. And do you know why? It’s because of your love that I have boundless courage. I’m no longer afraid of losing their so-called care, nor of tearing through the hidden motives behind their concern. Because with you behind me, there’s nothing I truly fear losing.”

Falling in love with someone means gaining a weakness, yet also a shield.

To possess someone is to hold an entire world in your hands.

Cheng Muye understood the depth of Tang Anhe’s words.

Warmth, sweetness, and an inexplicable thrill surged through her chest. So, this was what it felt like to wait for the clouds to part and finally glimpse the moon.

Her breathing quickened, her body burning with heat. She caught Tang Anhe’s hand, pressing it against her lips in a reverent kiss. Her slender fingers were pale and delicate, their softness lingering against Cheng Muye’s palm as though they had been entwined for countless lifetimes.

Tang Anhe’s cheeks turned crimson under the caress, and she instinctively tried to pull away.

“Don’t move.”

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

The instant the words left her lips, Cheng Muye tipped up her chin, lowered her head, and captured her mouth. Her tongue slipped past parted lips, twining and teasing in a kiss so intoxicating it seemed to stretch on forever.

Up front, Lin Yue gripped the steering wheel tightly, her ears burning red. She had always known there was something between the two, but seeing such unabashed intimacy in broad daylight left her stunned—and unbearably flustered.

Heavens, her boss really was reckless and unrestrained.

The air itself seemed to smolder with their passion.

When at last they pulled apart, the two remained pressed close, their voices hushed, brushing against each other’s skin like velvet.

“Let’s go back.”

“Back where?”

“The villa.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll show you the roses.”

Such words were more intoxicating than wine.

Tang Anhe’s face heated again, her reply a soft, shy murmur. “Mm.”

Lin Yue, seated at the wheel, heard the command to return to the villa and immediately started the engine. The luxury car glided out of the hospital’s underground garage, curved around the corner, and merged seamlessly into the steady stream of traffic. Neither Tang Anhe nor Cheng Muye noticed the red Buick that slipped out behind them, keeping just enough distance to remain unseen.

But after following for a short while, the Buick suddenly veered off onto a side road. Inside, the overweight driver let out a low hum, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. A camera dangled from his neck, its lens catching the light as he cast it a glance. His fleshy lips curved into a cold, sinister smile. Heavy lids half-covered his eyes, lending him a lewd, dangerous look.

Ha! That sick freak. This time, he was bound to strike it rich. But whenever one person gained a fortune, someone else had to pay the price.

Anxin Studio Conference Room.

Song Qiluo was in the middle of an artist interview, listening to a self-introduction while flipping through a stack of resumes, when her phone buzzed on the table. She gave it a distracted glance—then froze.

A blackmail text lit up the screen.

[Transfer 3 million yuan to account XX if you don’t want Tang Anhe ruined.]

Her brows knitted. Since Tang Anhe had risen to superstardom, messages like this had never ceased to arrive, one more shameless than the last. Usually, she dismissed them without a thought.

Just as she was about to set the phone aside, a series of email alerts chimed in succession. She opened the inbox—and her expression turned dark.

Dozens of photos spilled across the screen. Tang Anhe and Cheng Muye, embracing again and again, kissing deeply, caught from angles that left nothing to imagination. Each image was sharp, damning, and unbearably glaring to her eyes.

This time, the extortionist wasn’t bluffing.

This time, they had come prepared.

What a headache.

Song Qiluo pinched the bridge of her nose and massaged her temples. The restless, impatient motion was enough to throw the young performer off. The girl’s clear rendition of “Cool and Serene” faltered and drifted out of tune.

“Cool and serene night, I think of you, Thoughts become what,

Transforming into spring mud to nurture,

Nurturing me…”

Song Qiluo could not bear it any longer. She rose and swept from the room. Her assistant, Zhao Fenfang, trailed after her and murmured, “Sister Song, what’s wrong? You seem distracted at work these days.”

She had actually wanted to ask these questions for a long time. Tang Anhe had vanished the past couple of days, and Song Qiluo had even started interviewing newcomers, looking every bit as if she were grooming a successor. Just what exactly had happened?

“Song Qiluo cast her a glance that pierced straight through her doubts. Yet she had no intention of explaining further. Her expression stayed cold as she spoke, her voice carrying a veiled edge: ‘Fangfang, there is an unshakable law in this world—those who walk different paths cannot conspire together.’”

Different paths with whom, exactly? Tang Anhe?

Song Qiluo tightened her grip on her phone until her knuckles blanched. Resentment churned beneath the surface, but her expression stayed composed, distant. “She’s a spoiled child,” she said finally. “She won’t understand how the world grinds you down until she feels hardship. All these years of promoting her have drained me. Why not groom new talent while her star still burns?”

Was she planning to ride Tang Anhe’s fame to lift someone else up?

Zhao Fenfang’s face betrayed a flicker of shock. Song Qiluo’s smile was thin and cold. “I like to have everything under control. When things slip away, rather than wrestle to get them back, I’d rather watch them crash. I want to see how far they fall.”

This was too profound for Zhao Fenfang to fully comprehend, but after several years in the entertainment industry, she knew better than to question further. She simply lowered her head and replied respectfully, “I’ll follow Sister Song’s instructions.”

Song Qiluo had been waiting for those words. At last, a satisfied laugh slipped from her lips. “Good. Starting today, you’ll take over as Tang Anhe’s agent. All her external affairs and negotiations will be handled by you.”

“And you?” Zhao Fenfang asked cautiously.

“I won’t spend my life revolving around her anymore.”

With that, Song Qiluo stepped back into her office, retrieved a folder, and handed over a contract. Zhao Fenfang glanced down, only to find it was the script contract for Beauty in Turmoil, Director Cheng Mo’s latest project. As far as she knew, filming had already begun, yet the role of the female lead remained vacant. Rumor had it that Director Cheng had set his sights on Tang Anhe, but she had turned it down. Unexpectedly, after all this time, Cheng Mo was still extending an olive branch. Only—

Zhao Fenfang hesitated, her brows furrowing. “Will Anhe agree to sign?”

Song Qiluo’s smile was cool and edged with irony. “She may have refused before, but with Cheng Muye at her side, she won’t say no this time.”

Tang Anhe would, in the end, sign. Yet it wasn’t for Cheng Muye’s sake, but out of loyalty to the bond she still believed they shared as sisters. Back then, she had not yet uncovered their true faces, and because she was not someone who could be ruthless, her heart softened, and she compromised.

But kindness invites exploitation, and sincerity is so often betrayed.