The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 58 - She’d Truly Underestimated Her!

He Lanxin spoke first, her voice gentle yet firm. She wasn’t a calculating woman; beneath her graceful, refined exterior lay a heart tender and protective. Yet even the gentlest soul can steel itself for the sake of her children. After her eldest son had become deeply entangled with Cheng Muye, she took particular care in guiding her youngest.

“Jinjin, come eat properly. You’re at the age when you need to grow, so you must eat more to get taller.”

The boy, Cheng Sijin, obedient and perceptive, looked up at his mother. “Mom, can I grow as tall as my sister?”

“Of course. Eat well, and you’ll grow tall.”

Satisfied, Cheng Sijin nodded, like a little adult, before wheeling Cheng Muye’s chair toward the dining table.

“Sister, won’t you eat too?” His eyes sparkled, innocent and warm, echoing the same sincerity Tang Anhe often displayed.

Cheng Muye’s expression remained cold, indifferent. She felt neither fondness nor aversion for her little brother. “Go eat,” she replied tersely.

Unaware of the meaning behind a cold shoulder, Cheng Sijin chattered away after sitting. “Sis, where have you been all these days? I haven’t seen you for so long. Hmm, let me count… three whole months.”

“Busy.”

She spoke succinctly.

The servants set out bowls and chopsticks. Plates of vibrant colors, rich aromas—familiar home-cooked dishes—sat before her. Yet she had no appetite. She couldn’t afford to go without eating, however. Cheng Letian would undoubtedly pick a fight at the table—or afterward. She needed strength to face him, and for that, she would eat.

Cheng Muye accepted the situation and lifted her chopsticks.

The dinner spread was lavish—simmering soups, tender meats, and an array of meticulously prepared side dishes.

Seeing her begin to eat, Cheng Letian opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, saying nothing.

The atmosphere was heavy, oppressive even, yet Cheng Sijin’s innocent chatter and laughter broke the tension. Cheng Letian doted on his grandson, carefully placing a slice of raw pork into his bowl with gentle affection. “Jinjin, eat more meat. Grow tall and strong.”

Twelve-year-old Cheng Sijin was slightly shorter than his peers. Every day, his grandfather measured his height, wishing for him to grow into the outstanding heir of the Cheng family—the empire he had painstakingly built with his own hands. All of it, Cheng Letian thought, was for this boy.

Unaware of the weight behind his grandfather’s thoughts, Cheng Sijin pointed at the meat and said, “Grandpa, since Sister is here, you should give her some too. Look—she’s lost weight, and her leg’s still injured. You never show her any concern.”

Righteous indignation colored his tone.

Cheng Letian merely chuckled at the boy’s sensible words. “Alright, alright. Grandpa will serve your sister.”

He picked up a slice and placed it in Cheng Muye’s bowl.

Cheng Muye’s expression stiffened, her eyes lowering in a flicker of displeasure. It wasn’t the meat itself, but the meaning behind it—the grandfather’s affection, the grandson’s filial nudge—that irked her.

A dark thought crept in: Cheng Letian treasured Cheng Sijin as his life’s foundation. What if the boy ever disappointed him? She longed to witness that rare sting of regret.

Pushing the meat aside, she focused on the plain white rice before her, picking at it delicately. Oddly enough, the simplicity pleased her; each bite grew more satisfying. She had been born to endure hardships, after all.

Cheng Letian noticed her rejection of the meat. His brow furrowed, lips parted, yet no words came. He sipped the ginseng soup, then rose, leaning heavily on his cane. Passing by her, he cleared his throat and commanded, “Muue, come to the study when you’ve finished eating.”

The study was the Cheng family’s forbidden chamber. Bathed in sunlight from the second-floor windows, it was a sanctuary of antiquity: ancient calligraphy scrolls adorned the walls, intricate artifacts sat upon polished shelves, and the faint scent of incense hung in the air, lending the room a solemn, almost reverent atmosphere.

Cheng Muye entered cautiously, her gaze sweeping over the room. At the desk sat Cheng Letian, a document in hand. Approaching, she saw it was the share transfer agreement for her Weiwu Security Company.

Just as Uncle Feng had warned, he had quietly seized control of her company while she was incapacitated.

“Muye,” he began, his tone gentle, almost coaxing, “you achieved financial independence at eighteen and left the Cheng household. All these years, I’ve watched your dedication. You’ve made this family proud. Grandfather is deeply gratified.”

The sympathy card, served first.

Cheng Muye arched an eyebrow, her eyes sharp, unblinking. She waited, silent, letting him continue.

Cheng Letian slid the document toward her, words dripping with calculated warmth. “In our Cheng family, we always maintain at least sixty percent of a company’s shares. Your thirty-seven percent in Weiwu is modest. But, if you cooperate, I can increase your stake to eighty percent.”

“Cooperate how?” Cheng Muye’s voice was steady, cutting like a blade. “Old Master Cheng, do you really think I’m like my father? That if you seize my economic lifeline, I’ll whimper and crawl at your feet?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, silent yet radiating defiance.

Cheng Letian’s eyes flickered, surprise flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected her to mention that long-dead weakling of a son. His frost-white brows knitted tightly as he muttered, “Your father wasn’t a good son…”

“Not a good son?” Her voice sharpened, each word a dagger. “Because he refused to obey you, refused to divorce my mother properly? Because even after separating from her, he refused to abandon her?” She stepped closer, her tone rising, venomous and precise. “Or perhaps… because he chose death rather than submit to your tyranny?”

The room fell into heavy silence. Even the incense seemed to pause in midair, as if holding its breath.

Cheng Letian suddenly rose, fury radiating from every pore. With a violent sweep, he hurled the documents across the room. “You insolent brat! What are you saying? I am the head of this family!”

The papers struck Cheng Muye, the sharp corner grazing her neck. She flinched but remained composed, brushing the documents aside. A quick glance revealed the share transfer agreement for Weiwu Security Company. So he’d bought back the shareholders’ stakes, hoping to bribe her into compliance?

He seriously underestimated her.

Her eyes narrowed, cold and contemptuous. “I couldn’t care less whether you’re my grandfather or not. To me, the head of the Cheng Group is no more respectable than a beggar on the street. Truth be told, I might feel sympathy for a frail old man, but with you… I wish to sever every tie.”

Her words were precise, slicing through the air like blades. Cheng Letian had never encountered such defiance—he had always sailed through life unchallenged.

“You ungrateful, disobedient brat!” he roared, trembling with rage. Only his formidable constitution allowed him to endure the surge of fury. In a swift motion, he seized a long, black ruler from the desk and lashed it across her back.

The blow struck her shoulder, sharp pain shooting through her. Yet her gaze hardened.

Yes, you are my elder. Beat me as you like, even to death. But don’t expect me to kneel.

“You insolent child! Are you daring to rebel?” Cheng Letian bellowed, striking again and again. Each blow landed with brutal force. Cheng Muye gritted her teeth, enduring the pain, her face a mask of misery and determination.

“If discipline doesn’t teach you, it’s your father’s fault! You’ve become this way because no one properly raised you. Neither man nor woman—don’t you feel ashamed?”

“Is it more shameful than you driving your own son to death?” she spat, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

“Don’t bring up that worthless man! A child who kills himself over a woman? The Cheng family has no such son.”

Right—no such son. Her father had died, and he had never once visited the grave. Cold-blooded, ruthless, driven only by power and desire—devoid of any warmth or humanity.

Cheng Muye realized then that reasoning with Cheng Letian was impossible.

Their values, their very worlds, were incompatible. Any further words would only fan his fury.

Satisfied that further struggle was pointless, Cheng Letian tossed the ruler aside. His voice, now calm but no less commanding, cut through the tense air. “End this relationship with that minor celebrity immediately. Within one month, you will become engaged to Shen Si. Agree, and you remain the esteemed young lady of the Cheng family and CEO of the Weiwu Security Company.”

Cheng Muyu seemed not to hear him. She turned her wheelchair deliberately toward the exit.

Cheng Letian’s fury flared instantly. “Where do you think you’re going? Without my permission, you’re not leaving the Cheng residence!”

Was this imprisonment?

Cheng Muye stopped and faced him, her gaze steady. “Do you think feelings can be severed at will? I am human, not some cold machine. Like my father, when I love someone, I love them for life. If she’s gone, then… what’s the point of living?” Her voice carried quiet intensity. She had seen too much of the world—joy and sorrow, farewells and reunions, victories and defeats. Beyond Tang Anhe, there was nothing worth lingering for.

“Get out! Get out! Get lost!”

Cheng Letian’s roar shook the room, striking at his most vulnerable point. He gasped, stumbled backward, and collapsed into his chair. Darkness threatened to overtake him, but he grabbed the table just in time, avoiding a humiliating fall. His face drained of color, ragged breaths tearing from his chest.

Had Feng Gui not burst in, steadying him, calming his breathing, and administering medicine, he would have surely collapsed completely.

Cheng Muye watched the scene unfold, a brief flicker of alarm crossing her features. But her hatred remained unshaken. Her thin lips pressed tightly together, as if suppressing a thought she had no intention of voicing.

Unnecessary worry, she thought. Completely untimely.

Feng Gui supported him patiently, murmuring soothingly: “Master, please do not be angry. The young lady is still young and doesn’t fully understand. What child has not been rebellious in their youth? You mustn’t take it personally.”

Cheng Letian’s breathing slowly steadied. He waved a hand, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Little Feng… my life has been marked by a lack of deep bonds with my descendants. These children… they are my debts. My debts!”

Cheng Muye listened, expression unmoved, her eyes cold again. Her earlier concern now seemed utterly ridiculous. This stubborn, ruthless old man—she had even dared to hope he would remain unharmed.

Even if he were to die of anger, he wouldn’t deserve any sympathy, would he?

For a brief moment, Cheng Muye even felt a surge of viciousness.