The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 56 - I Planned All of This

Cheng Muye nodded, then instructed Lin Yue to drive back to the studio. When they arrived at the underground parking lot of Anxin Studio, they unexpectedly ran into Song Qiluo’s car.

Her sharp memory immediately recognized Cheng Muye’s vehicle. Rolling down her window, she called out, “Tang Anhe, we need to talk.”

She had been planning this meeting—and now, by chance, fate had brought them together.

Tang Anhe’s heart raced. She hesitated, unsure how to respond. Sitting in the car, she watched as Song Qiluo carefully backed her vehicle into the lot and then approached theirs.

Lin Yue had already parked, and seeing that Cheng Muye made no move, she remained still as well.

Song Qiluo reached the car and lightly knocked on the window. The glass rolled down, revealing Tang Anhe’s conflicted, beautiful face.

“Sis?”

“Mm.”

Song Qiluo’s expression stayed cool, though her mood was clearly unsettled. Pressing her temples, she let out a wistful sigh and murmured, “Get out. We need to talk.”

Recalling Cheng Muye’s advice, Tang Anhe didn’t resist. She stepped out of the car.

Song Qiluo led the way to the elevator and pressed the button for their studio floor. The two stepped inside one after the other, the silence between them thick and heavy. One second, two seconds, three… until the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival.

Back in the office, Song Qiluo gestured for Tang Anhe to sit on the sofa, then poured her a glass of water. “Here, drink this. You’re covered in sweat.”

Tang Anhe’s body was indeed slick with sweat, her face flushed—not from thirst, but from nerves. Song Qiluo’s unusual calm and composed behavior left her baffled.

What did she mean? Was she here to explain? And if so, why this silence? In the past, she would have scolded Tang Anhe, or at least filled the room with words.

Now, there was only this strange, uncertain quiet—a silence heavy with bewilderment and unspoken emotion.

“Sis, what did you want to talk to me about?”

After a long, awkward pause, Tang Anhe finally voiced the question, her tone tentative.

Song Qiluo sat on the sofa, her expression calm, her voice eerily composed. “You know everything now, don’t you?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Tang Anhe’s reaction was instinctive; Song Qiluo’s abrupt shift in topic left her momentarily off-balance. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she blinked, taking a deep breath before replying, “Oh… I… I know everything.”

Song Qiluo gave a slow nod, a trace of understanding crossing her face. Rising, she retrieved her cup from the desk, poured herself a glass of water, and continued, “The moment you left that small courier shop, Huo Ze told me everything. Yes… I orchestrated all of this.”

“Why?”

Tang Anhe abruptly stood, fury and bewilderment flashing across her features. “Sis, why? Why would you do something like that? Why would you frighten me?”

Song Qiluo didn’t answer directly. She took a measured sip from her cup, her expression unreadable. “What happened between you and Cheng Muye couldn’t remain hidden from me—or from anyone else. You’re a public figure, constantly pursued by journalists. And she… she’s the young lady of the Cheng family, born into wealth and prestige. A perfect target. When two prominent figures are together, even if there’s no story, one will be manufactured. That’s why you were photographed. Those photos that reached you… they weren’t taken by me. They were taken by journalists, and they used them to try and blackmail me.”

“What?” Tang Anhe’s eyes widened in shock. “How could that be?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Song Qiluo sneered. “You seriously underestimate what journalists are capable of. I know exactly who took your photos. It was that fat guy, Zhu Wei—the notorious ‘Fat Pig’ in the journalism world. He’s not even a proper journalist, just some internet influencer who thrives on chasing celebrity scandals. He’s ruined more than a few female stars with his exposé.”

Tang Anhe immediately recognized him. The memory flashed back—he’d been relentless, intrusive, and shameless during the wedding photo shoot.

“Why… why would he do that?” she asked, voice trembling.

“For money and fame,” Song Qiluo said sharply. “Is there anything in this world more capable of corrupting the human heart?”

Tang Anhe had no answer.

Song Qiluo didn’t expect her to. She continued, her tone measured but edged with authority: “When I first received those photos, I didn’t know what to do either. You need to understand: once he threatens you, he won’t stop. These things keep coming—it will destroy you sooner or later. That’s why I sent the photos to Cheng Muye. You trust her, so now you’ll see what she’s capable of. If she can’t protect you, then you’ll know when to step back. Young people need to learn the hard way. You hit a few walls—that’s how you figure out who truly cares about you.”

Upon hearing this, Tang Anhe couldn’t help but ask, pride tinged in her voice, “Muye… she… she didn’t disappoint you, did she?”

Song Qiluo, clearly tired of listening to her praise, let out a cold laugh. “Right, she’s capable. She found Huo Ze, figured everything out… nothing stays hidden from her.”

“Well… she’s not that amazing,” Tang Anhe protested, trying to downplay it.

“Hmph. If she were truly capable, she’d have smoothed this over. Exposing me? What’s that supposed to accomplish?” Song Qiluo’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Tang Anhe’s tone grew defensive. “We thought it was you, sis, who sent the photos to blackmail us into breaking up.”

“Blackmail you to break up?” Song Qiluo laughed sharply, a cutting edge to her mirth. “Why would I do that? Tang Anhe, are you naive? Forget your status for a moment—how many same-sex relationships actually succeed? Fine, you might be scorned by fans and leave the entertainment industry. But what about Cheng Muye? Would the old-fashioned Cheng family ever approve? Back then, because her mother couldn’t produce an heir, the Cheng elders forced her into divorce and drove her to the brink of suicide. Do you really think a minor celebrity and a security company CEO can challenge Old Master Cheng?”

“It… it depends on the person,” Tang Anhe murmured.

“How so? If she truly had influence, why hasn’t Cheng Muye dared to go public all these years? She’s twenty-six now. Old Master Cheng has already arranged a marriage for her. Shen Si—the young master from Secretary Shen’s family, the one who made you drink at that cocktail party—they’re the ones meant for each other. What makes you think you’re anything?”

“Impossible!” Tang Anhe’s voice broke. She could barely bear to listen.

Some truths, left unspoken, might never cross your mind. But once spoken, they weigh like a mountain, crushing your chest, making you tremble, hesitate, retreat.

“Thud!”

The office door burst open.

Lin Yue stood in the doorway, followed by Cheng Muye, slowly rolling in on her wheelchair.

Hearing the commotion, Cheng Muye didn’t flare with anger, nor did she react to the insinuations. Her tone was calm, almost effortless. “Sister Song, my apologies. My subordinate acted rashly and kicked your door in.”

Song Qiluo didn’t buy the weak excuse. She averted her gaze, took a measured sip of water, and said in a flat, sharp tone, “Miss Cheng, eavesdropping outside someone’s door is hardly polite, don’t you think? Uninvited, barging in—is this what you call the noble conduct of your esteemed Cheng family? Ha… I’ve seen it all today!”

Her words dripped with sarcasm, but Cheng Muye merely offered a faint, composed smile. “Oh? Then perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve never considered myself part of the Cheng family. In fact, I severed all ties with them the moment I turned eighteen.”

“Hmph—”

Song Qiluo snorted dismissively.

Seeing her attitude, Cheng Muye didn’t say much and went straight to the point. “Sister Song, you said earlier that you wanted to have a proper talk with Anhe. But so far, you’ve just been passing the blame. First, you pinned the photos on Fat Zhu Wei. Then, you shifted the reason for doing so onto me. Sister Song, you have no real intention of genuinely talking things through with Anhe.”

Her words landed like a hammer strike.

Song Qiluo flushed crimson, anger flickering across her face. She opened her mouth to retort, but held back.

Cheng Muye continued. “Sister Song, as Tang Anhe’s lover, I have every right to speak my mind. Since meeting Anhe, several questions have troubled me. Perhaps, with your vast knowledge, you can enlighten me.”

Her tone sounded respectful, yet each word was carefully laced with provocation.

“Tang Anhe is an adult. I hear you still manage her finances. May I ask what investments you’ve made with her tens of millions in earnings from acting fees and endorsements?”

“Tang Anhe, a once-famous superstar, has so few attendants. This intrigues me. Might I ask, Sister Song, what deeper meaning lies behind this arrangement?”

“Tang Anhe—”

Before Cheng Muye could finish, Song Qiluo interrupted sharply. “This… this is our family business. What right do you, an outsider, have to pry?”

Her voice trembled slightly, the sharp questions cutting deep, drawing invisible blood with each syllable. Behind those cuts lay wounds that might never fully heal. But even so, she didn’t want matters to escalate further in front of Tang Anhe.

Of course, she had long since resolved to let Tang Anhe go. By now, Tang Anhe had already slipped from her pedestal as the nation’s beloved leading actress. Once their relationship became public, backlash from fans was inevitable.

With society’s strict stance on homosexuality, her future prospects would be severely limited. It was clear that, in time, she might be used as a pawn in someone else’s game. Yet she refused to accept such a complete and irreversible break.

Song Qiluo clenched the glass in her hand, her expression calm on the surface, like a still lake—but beneath it, her heart churned violently. Tang Anhe was someone she had watched grow up, a soul pure and unwavering. She had loved only Song Qiluo and her mother. If Tang Anhe ever discovered the full truth, would there still be room for the bond between them?

On the eve of what could have been their final rupture, Song Qiluo found herself unable to let go. Their parents had divorced, and Tang Anhe had been her constant companion since childhood. Though Tang Anhe had received the love of their mother—a love Song Qiluo sometimes envied—they were undeniably connected by deep sisterly affection.

This thought softened her heart further, and her expression, previously composed and distant, grew gentle. “Anhe, I never once wanted to hurt you. I may have acted unreasonably at times, but you must understand—your sister never truly intended to harm you. Understand? I am your family.”

It was rare to see such sincerity from her.

Tang Anhe could not deny the impact. Her own nature—kind-hearted and soft—responded to Song Qiluo’s vulnerability. Yet she held her emotions in check, perhaps because Cheng Muye was nearby, or perhaps because the shock from the Huo Ze incident still lingered.

The air in the office grew heavy with tension.

“Sister Song! Sister Song! It’s bad! It’s bad! Anhe’s been hit with a sex scandal!” Outside the office, Zhao Fenfang burst in, her frantic cries carrying through the hallway.