The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 57 - Public Display of Affection

Everyone in the office froze, then instinctively pulled out their phones to check Weibo.

Weibo Headlines screamed: The Leading Actress and the Cheng Family’s Young lady’s Lesbian Romance: Flaunting Affection Outside the Hospital.

Beneath the headline were intimate photos of them embracing, accompanied by a short video clip. With moving footage, clear images, and undeniable proof, the story left no room for doubt—everything was laid bare.

Tang Anhe was genuinely panicked this time, her face full of alarm. “Sister, what’s going on? Did that reporter leak it?”

Song Qiluo, slightly more composed, was nonetheless alarmed. She said nothing, instead moving instinctively toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Below, the streets were already swarming with reporters, the chaotic clamor rising nearly to the office floor.

“Cheng Muye, look—”

Song Qiluo started to ask Cheng Muye what to do, but she raised a finger to her lips, signaling silence. She obeyed, holding her breath. Then, unexpectedly, a furious voice erupted from Cheng Muye’s phone:

“You shameless bastard! Look at the mess you’ve made! Get your ass back here this instant!”

It was Old Master Cheng—Cheng Letian.

This was bad. Old Master Cheng had found out.

Song Qiluo’s mind raced. An old-fashioned traditionalist like him would not hesitate to mete out severe punishment, likely targeting both his granddaughter and Tang Anhe.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the raw intensity of Cheng Letian’s fury.

Within ten minutes, Cheng Letian’s bodyguards arrived at Anxin Studio. Among them was Feng Gui, the Cheng family’s longtime butler, dispatched personally by the Old Master. He moved with calm authority, flanked by two rows of broad-shouldered, imposing men whose expressions radiated menace.

Though technically just a steward, Feng Gui’s decades of service to Cheng Letian had earned him considerable standing. His close ties to Cheng Xiu and his role in raising Cheng Muye further reinforced his authority. While Cheng Muye might disregard Cheng Letian’s commands, she treated Feng Gui with genuine respect.

“Uncle Feng?” Tang Anhe whispered, eyes wide.

After enduring Cheng Letian’s tirade for a full minute, Cheng Muye finally hung up, impatience etched across her face. Sitting in her wheelchair, she frowned in thought, only to gasp as a crowd surged into the office.

“Uncle Feng, what brings you here?”

Feng Gui, well past fifty, had always treated her with the warmth of a father and the loyalty of a friend. Today, however, he addressed her solely as the Cheng family’s young lady, bowing slightly. “Miss, the Master has sent me to escort you home.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Cheng Muye’s brow furrowed tightly, her fingers clenching the wheelchair’s armrests instinctively. Fear coiled in her chest. Her legs were injured, and she knew she couldn’t manage so many people at once.

Feng Gui seemed to read her thoughts and spoke gently, “Miss, you’ve always been bolder and more decisive than the young master since childhood. But this… this is truly absurd. Setting aside the family’s reputation, it brings shame upon your parents alone. Though death extinguishes life like a lamp, you mustn’t disturb their peace in the afterlife.”

“Did he teach you this?” Cheng Muye’s voice snapped, sharp as a whip. “Uncle Feng, you saw him tear my parents apart. Now he wants to ruin my life too?”

Feng Gui’s eyes darkened. After a moment of silence, he bowed his head, voice firm. “You’re overthinking it, Miss. Old Master Cheng is merely attempting to… set your life straight. Having lost your parents young, with no guidance, you committed acts that are—well, unnatural.”

Unnatural acts?

So, loving someone of the same sex was deemed a grave offense against propriety?

Cheng Muye’s jaw tightened.

Ha! How laughable!

She said no more and reached for her phone, intent on calling her security company. She refused to believe Cheng Letian could be so audacious.

But Feng Gui stepped forward, shaking his head slowly. “Miss, you may not know… while you were injured, the Master acquired your security firm.”

“What?” Cheng Muye’s eyes narrowed, sharp and piercing. “What are you saying?”

Feng Gui saw the sorrow clouding her eyes and felt a pang of pity. Shaking his head, he sighed, “Those shareholders think far longer-term than you do.”

With the Cheng Group’s immense resources and Old Master Cheng’s wealth, acquiring a security firm had been nothing more than a formality for the richest man in Changqing City.

Sensing her disbelief, Feng Gui elaborated, “After your injury, Young Master Shen Si proposed acquiring your security company. Old Master Cheng agreed. Just two days ago, the shareholders finalized the share transfer agreement.”

Those words struck directly at the heart of her concerns.

Cheng Muye clenched her fists, fury coursing through her. “He truly intends to betroth me to Shen Si?”

Feng Gui remained calm. “Strengthening family ties through marriage has always been considered a favorable union.”

“Hmph! More like piling profit upon profit!”

Shen Si’s father was a high-ranking official. Perhaps the pretext of her parents’ divorce—citing the failure to produce an heir—was merely a steppingstone in an elaborate scheme. He wanted his father to marry Shen Dali’s discarded wife and take Shen Si as his responsibility. Cunning. Insidious.

Cheng Muye’s eyes burned with contempt. “That’s the extent of his abilities? Does he really think this little trick will make me submit?”

Feng Gui stepped forward again, bowing slightly. His voice was quiet but sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “It would be best for you to behave. You know what Old Master Cheng intends to do next after acquiring your company.”

Acquiring Anxin Studio?

The thought sent a flicker of panic across her eyes. She would never, under any circumstances, become a burden to Tang Anhe. Yet, given the current situation, she had no ground to stand on. A creeping dread wrapped around her—fate was slipping beyond her control.

“Miss, please,” Cheng Wu, the head bodyguard behind Feng Gui, urged, gesturing toward the office door.

Cheng Muye hesitated, unsure how to extricate herself.

Tang Anhe tried to step forward but was abruptly restrained by Song Qiluo. “Behave yourself! Don’t make things harder for Cheng Muye!”

“Sis, Muye doesn’t want to leave…”

“There are plenty of things she doesn’t want to do.”

Song Qiluo felt no sympathy. Watching Cheng Muye follow the bodyguards out, a sense of triumph fluttered in her chest. She had long blamed Cheng Muye for the cooling of her bond with Tang Anhe. Now the immediate obstacle was gone.

But her fleeting joy lasted less than three minutes before Zhao Fenfang’s urgent call came through—the shareholders of Anxin Studio had arrived.

This was bad.

Why were the shareholders here now? Had the scandal shaken their confidence in Anxin Studio?

Song Qiluo’s face drained as she took the call and hurried out of the office.

Tang Anhe, noticing the panic etched across her sister’s features, forgot about Cheng Muye and rushed after her, calling out, “Sis! Sis, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Song Qiluo didn’t answer. She dared not answer.

Anxin Studio had indeed been founded by An Shanghua, who initially held 100% of the copyright. Later, when her mother fell ill and was hospitalized, Song Qiluo took over. At the time, she had little interest in the entertainment industry, preferring to pursue her own passions. She dabbled in antiques and jade collecting—but after buying several fakes and suffering significant losses, she had been forced to sell a large portion of her shares. While she oversaw Tang Anhe’s vast assets, her own cash reserves were minimal. Her personal stake in Anxin Studio was now negligible.

And now, this hidden crisis had finally erupted.

When Song Qiluo entered the conference room, the three shareholders were already seated. All middle-aged men, each sporting a prominent paunch, they radiated an air of smug self-importance. Once warm and welcoming toward her, their expressions now carried a sharp, caustic edge.

Seated loftily in their chairs, they spoke in unison: “Miss Song, it’s been a long time!”

The coordination was uncanny, as if rehearsed.

Song Qiluo pressed her temples, preparing a reply, when the bespectacled man in the center turned his gaze toward Tang Anhe, who had quietly followed. This was Li Yi—rarely had he met Tang Anhe, and today’s encounter sparked immediate interest.

He’d heard of her connection with the Cheng family’s young lady.

Pfft. One beautiful woman with another—what a tantalizing sight.

Li Yi swallowed, thinking Old Master Cheng’s plan was not half bad. Such a stunning young woman—not to take notice would be a shame.

Truth be told, he wasn’t alone in that thought. The other two men’s eyes were equally lecherous.

Tang Anhe’s beauty was undeniable—skin whiter than snow, radiant and luminous, her eyes watery yet pure, a magnet drawing every gaze in the room.

“Chairman Li, Chairman Huang, Chairman Ma, why didn’t you inform me you were coming today? My apologies for the lack of preparation!” Song Qiluo greeted them with a practiced smile, gently guiding Tang Anhe toward the door. “Sweetie, go wait in the office for me.”

Tang Anhe, unfamiliar with the studio’s antique collection and unused to such formal figures, assumed Song Qiluo had work to attend to and obediently left. Yet as the door clicked shut behind him, a flutter of unease lingered in her chest.

Today had been an incredibly tense day, and that tension clung to her like a shadow.

Cheng Muye felt it too.

By the time she returned to the Cheng residence, dusk had settled, wrapping the world—and her heart—in shadow. She forced herself to appear calm as she entered the compound.

Aunt Xue, Feng Gui’s wife, greeted her from afar. Seeing her descend from the car, Aunt Xue hurried forward, grasping her hand warmly, tears welling in her eyes. “My goodness, my young lady, you’re finally back. What happened to your leg?”

Though she felt little attachment to the Cheng residence itself, the people and memories there softened her heart, sparking a tenderness she could hardly explain. Perhaps, she thought, it was her feelings for Tang Anhe that made her cherish the world and those around her even more.

“Aunt Xue, my leg is fine. Don’t worry,” Cheng Muye said softly, almost obediently.

Aunt Xue, elegant and dignified despite time’s passing, her hair neatly coiled in a traditional bun and clad in a simple cotton qipao, held Cheng Muye’s hands tightly. She glanced toward the servants and whispered, “Master has always been stubborn. He’s in a foul mood tonight. Don’t you dare speak back to him!”

Cheng Muye remained silent. She had no intention of complying.

Just then, a servant trotted over. “Miss, the master says dinner is served. Please come quickly.”

Dinner?

A trap?

Cheng Muye pushed her wheelchair forward with quiet resolve.

In the dining room, Cheng Letian sat at the head of the table, sipping his ginseng soup—elderly men always took meticulous care of their health. Beside him sat the Young Madam of the Cheng household, He Lanxin, Cheng Muye’s stepmother, her noble beauty belying a gentle heart. Across from them was the Cheng family’s future heir, twelve-year-old Cheng Sijin, whose very name seemed to promise a bright destiny.

“Sister, you’re back!”

Cheng Sijin, blissfully unaware of the family tension, leapt from his chair, his face alight with joy. He ran over, concern brimming in his eyes. “Sister, Grandfather said your leg was injured. Does it still hurt?”

The boy’s worry was pure, untainted by the weight of the adult world.

Cheng Muye ignored him, turning her gaze elsewhere. She glanced at the two elegantly seated figures and let out a faint snort. “Apologies for interrupting your meal.”