The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 53 - I’m Still Young, My Prime Has Only Just Begun

Changyu Island Villa

Tang Anhe sat quietly on the sofa in the living room, the contract spread across her lap. She skimmed through its pages before picking up the pen and signing her name.

Once it was done, Zhao Fenfang accepted the contract, pausing for a moment before speaking with hesitation. “Anhe, I’ll return this to the studio and come pick you up for the set tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

“Sister Song said I’ll be taking over as your agent from now on.”

Tang Anhe hesitated. She wanted to ask why, but the words stuck in her throat. Was Sister Song still angry at her? Was that why she refused to speak, why she’d even stepped away as her agent?

A quiet ache welled up inside her. She could only nod. “Alright. I understand.”

Zhao Fenfang didn’t linger. She turned to leave, but after a couple of steps she paused, as if remembering something, and drew a stack of papers from her handbag. Handing them over, she said, “This is the script for Beauty in Turmoil. Make sure to go through it first.”

Tang Anhe accepted it, flipped briefly through the pages, and murmured, “Okay, I’ll read it.”

This time Zhao Fenfang left without looking back.

Tang Anhe had stayed in the villa for two days and was familiar enough now to have Uncle Xiang see her off. Left alone, she slouched on the sofa, idly flipping through the script. Finding no real interest, she tossed it aside, then rose and settled down beside Cheng Muye. Snatching the folder from her hands, she dropped it onto the coffee table and muttered with sullen displeasure, “I have to start work tomorrow.”

Cheng Muye had been lying on the sofa, ostensibly reviewing the quarterly financial statements, though her attention had long since drifted to Tang Anhe’s earlier conversation with Zhao Fenfang. Seeing her low spirits now, she lifted her gaze and said gently, “Yeah, I heard. What’s wrong? Feeling down?”

“Not exactly.” Tang Anhe shook her head, looking conflicted as a sigh slipped past her lips. “I don’t even know how to describe it. My mind’s just… all tangled.”

“What’s weighing on you?”

“It’s just… messy. So many things—you, me, my aunt, my cousin…”

It all came back to family ties. And family was the hardest knot to untangle.

Cheng Muye didn’t try to offer advice. Instead, she reached out and ruffled her hair, her gaze soft and full of affection.

Tang Anhe caught the tenderness glimmering in her eyes, and her mood lifted ever so slightly. The corners of her lips curved into a faint smile. “Tell me a joke.”

“I can’t.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I can do plenty—especially things that make you happy. But with my leg injured, it’s not convenient to… demonstrate.”

Tang Anhe instantly caught the teasing undertone, her cheeks heating as she twisted Cheng Muye’s arm in mock reproach. “Behave yourself.”

Cheng Muye laughed freely, pulling her close until Tang Anhe sat pressed right beside her. Then, with an easy shift, she lowered her head into Tang Anhe’s lap. The warmth of her body seeped through the thin chiffon skirt, the soft pressure against her thighs stirring an unfamiliar shyness. Closing her eyes, Cheng Muye let out a contented sigh, her breath fanning against Tang Anhe’s skin, carrying that sweet, intoxicating scent unique to her.

“Tell me a joke.”

“I was the one who asked first.”

“Then all the more reason for you to tell one. It suits you better.”

“What suits me?”

“Dumb and adorable.”

Though phrased like a compliment, the sincerity was obviously missing.

Tang Anhe pursed her lips, debating whether to argue, but in the end she chose to let it go. Leaning back against the sofa, she picked up her phone and started scrolling. Finding a joke wasn’t difficult—one quick search was all it took.

Before long, she read one aloud: “A buyer went shopping on Taobao and spotted a beautiful pair of high heels. But at checkout, they hesitated, worried it might be a fake. The seller promised, ‘Fake? We’ll refund you five times the price.’ So the buyer placed the order with confidence. Three days later, the package arrived. They opened it and found six pairs of identical high heels. Ha! The seller was a little too honest, wasn’t he?”

Cheng Muye couldn’t find a shred of cuteness in the joke. Her lips twitched, but no smile appeared.

Faking one wasn’t easy either.

Seeing her unmoved, Tang Anhe realized the punchline had flopped. She hurried to throw out another attempt: “Before putting on makeup, I feel it’s already a blessing from three lifetimes if I can get married at all. After makeup, I start thinking maybe I could even try for Daniel Wu.”

Oh dear—was this the beginning of an affair?

Before she could laugh at her own joke, Cheng Muye’s arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her close into a sudden kiss. “Forget Daniel Wu. Try me instead.”

“No way! You’re nowhere near as handsome as Daniel Wu.”

“Says who? That Wu guy’s practically ancient. I’m young, I’m in my prime.”

“Ha! Cheng Muye, the nerve of you!”

Tang Anhe doubled over in laughter, covering her mouth, her shoulders trembling from how hard she shook.

Watching her laugh so wildly, Cheng Muye frowned in displeasure. “What’s so funny? Isn’t what I said true?” Her tone hardened as she suddenly sat up, pushing Tang Anhe back against the sofa, eyes narrowing. “Tell me—am I more attractive, or is that so-called Daniel Wu more handsome?”

Tang Anhe leaned into the cushions, tilting her head as she studied Cheng Muye’s profile. Maybe it was the angle, maybe the posture, but in that moment she found her particularly striking—sharp, well-defined features, a high nose bridge, lips thin yet full with a healthy sheen. Vitality radiated from her entire being. Tang Anhe’s eyes softened, her smile carrying a glimmer of affection. “You’re both handsome.”

The answer clearly didn’t satisfy Cheng Muye. She shook her head. “One more chance. Answer again.”

“Cheng Muye, you’re overstepping. Absolutely not. I’ll stand firm—unmoved by wealth, unshaken by hardship, unyielding even under force.”

“Well, well. You’ve grown bold. You don’t even call me Brother Cheng anymore.”

Her words struck like a sudden realization.

Tang Anhe froze for a moment, then understood. Her feelings had shifted so naturally she hadn’t even noticed. Calling her Brother Cheng had once come from seeing her as an older brother. But now, as lovers, the name had slipped away on its own.

Perhaps, deep down, she had already accepted the equality of this new relationship.

Cheng Muye didn’t grasp the shift, only frowned. “Don’t get carried away. Even if you’re my woman now, you still have to call me Brother Cheng.”

“Don’t you think ‘Muye’ sounds more intimate?”

“No.”

“Then… what about ‘Amu’?”

Cheng Muye tilted her head, thinking it over. “Hmm. It’s not bad. But it still doesn’t sound as good as Brother. Just call me Brother, alright? I like it when you call me Brother.”

Tang Anhe pouted, brows furrowed. “What kind of twisted taste is that?”

Cheng Muye’s lips curled upward, her gaze rippling with amusement. She adored it—every time Tang Anhe called her Brother, it made her heart flutter wildly. She could already imagine how much sweeter, how much more intoxicating it would be if those whispers came breathless and low between kisses.

The thought alone sent heat coursing through her veins. Her body stirred restlessly, but her injured leg reminded her of its presence. No—sudden movements weren’t wise. Their first time would have to wait for the perfect moment. When it came, she’d make sure to savor every second.

Tang Anhe’s sharp eyes caught the flicker of longing in Cheng Muye’s gaze. Her heart gave a startled thump, and she quickly turned away, shifting slightly on the sofa. In doing so, she landed right on the script she had tossed aside earlier. Picking it up as an excuse, she flipped it open and changed the subject in a hurry.

“Cheng Muye, I’m heading to the set tomorrow to film Beauty in Turmoil. Do you want to come with me?”

“Mind how you address me.”

Her lips twitched. Was she really supposed to call her Brother Cheng again?

Tang Anhe frowned in thought for a beat before continuing, “I’m playing the female lead, Mo Zichi, in Beauty in Turmoil. Just from the title, it screams ‘innocent and naive’ type. Isn’t Cheng Mo a pretty well-known director? Why would he choose to direct a drama like this?”

Cheng Muye, sensing her genuine interest, picked up her phone and searched the title on Baidu. Soon she found the answer—it was an adaptation of the popular web novel Time Traveler in the Republic Era: Beauty in Turmoil. With the current craze for web-novel adaptations, this was a major IP project with every chance of becoming the next online hit.

Tang Anhe, unaware of this background, continued flipping through the script. Her voice softened with absent-minded yearning. “Actually, I really like the other script I saw—the one the Emperor of Acting is directing. The female lead has schizophrenia. It sounds incredibly challenging.”

“Is he someone challenging?”

“Huh?”

Cheng Muye, still faintly sulking at her glowing praise for another actor, asked with a jealous edge in her tone, “I mean, is Zheng Ye himself challenging enough for you?”

Tang Anhe blinked, tilting her head as though she hadn’t heard properly. Then she scratched her head, feigning confusion. “Challenging what? Why are we suddenly talking about the leading actor?”

She was clearly playing dumb.

Cheng Muye didn’t call her out. Instead, she reached over, took the script from Tang Anhe’s hands, and flipped it open. The synopsis read: an ordinary post-90s female lead is transported back to the Republican era, where she’s first trafficked and then mistakenly placed in a wealthy family, pretending to be the male lead’s fiancée. The male lead, a gangster hardened by gunfire, gradually softens under her warmth and stubbornness. As feelings develop, war erupts, and he loses his territory. A ruthless warlord seizes control, imprisoning him, and during the female lead’s daring rescue, she undergoes a transformation, emerging as an extraordinary woman of the Republican era.

An inspirational, passionate war drama with a plot that barely holds together. If the actors put genuine effort into it, though, it wouldn’t be hard to turn it into a hit.

Cheng Muye finished her analysis and handed the script back. “Take a good look. It’s not bad.”

Tang Anhe blinked in astonishment. “Not bad? Cheng Muyu=e, you’re clearly an outsider. Shows like this are a dime a dozen. High ratings, low reviews—that’s all it’s destined for.”

“You’re so insightful, predicting the future,” Cheng Muye teased.

“Of course! I grew up acting!”

“Enough banter. Go memorize your lines.”

Tang Anhe waved a hand dismissively. “Honestly, memorizing lines doesn’t matter much. They’ll dub it later anyway.”

“But won’t it look weird if the lip-syncing doesn’t match?”

“Well, yeah, a little.” Tang Anhe shuddered at the memory. In a few dramas she’d done, post-production dubbing had been so off that netizens had screenshot the mismatched lips and dialogue, turning them into memes. She’d been roasted mercilessly. Could Cheng Muye possibly know about that?

Oh no—that would be mortifying!

Cheng Muye noticed her sudden silence and smirked knowingly. “What’s wrong? Did post-production dubbing ruin you again?”

“Uh, no way!” Tang Anhe’s cheeks flushed. “Nope, I always use my original voice. Besides, with a voice this lovely and my perfect pronunciation, why would I ever need dubbing?!”

Cheng Muye wasn’t about to be fooled. She grabbed her phone and started searching on Baidu.

Tang Anhe’s face flushed, and she hurried over, waving her hands. “Don’t search! Don’t search! Baidu can’t be trusted! Everything there is fake!”