The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 59 - Imprisoned

Cheng Muye never made it past the gates of the Cheng residence. The moment she stepped out of the study, several bodyguards blocked her path.

“Miss, please don’t make this difficult for us,” said Cheng Wu, the head bodyguard, bowing slightly.

“Miss? I’m hardly worthy of that title,” Cheng Muye retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm, before turning her wheelchair and pushing forward.

The guards hesitated, naturally unwilling to lay hands on her—except for Cheng Wu. Groomed personally by Cheng Letian, he shouted a command. “The young lady has difficulty walking. What are you all standing around for? Carry her back to her room to rest!”

Within two minutes, Cheng Muye was carried to her bedroom.

Perched on the shady third floor of the Cheng residence, the room was modest, minimalist, and tinged with coldness. On the dressing table beside the bed sat a clipped photograph. Its edges were neatly squared, except for two holes gouged out at the bottom. It was the family portrait from her parents’ wedding. When she had left the Cheng household, she had cut out her parents’ image. She refused to let them be trapped in this cold, heartless mansion.

Cheng Muye wheeled herself closer, snatched up the photograph, and clutched it tightly. With her injured leg, leaving by force seemed impossible. And if she tried to outsmart them, there was truly no one in the Cheng residence she could count on.

What a headache!

Just thinking about this place made her irritable. Her mind churned with frustration and unease. She wanted to leave, to be back by Tang Anhe’s side. What was she doing here? Would Cheng Letian come after her next?

She reached for her phone—only to remember the bodyguards had taken it. In truth, it didn’t matter; this room was undoubtedly shielded from all external signals.

Cheng Letian’s ruthlessness had no bounds.

Frustrated, Cheng Muye flung the photograph onto the floor. The two empty holes in the frame revealed Cheng Letian’s cold, rigid, unyielding face. In the wedding photo, he had been younger—his hair still black, his gaze sharp, his presence commanding and intimidating.

Staring at the picture, she couldn’t help but wonder: Perhaps he had never truly liked my mother.

That explained the stern expression etched on his face. Yet, in fleeting moments, warmth did exist—when facing Cheng Sijin, he could transform into a kind-hearted elder, gentle and protective.

Then this can only mean that their family truly has a distant, lukewarm relationship with Cheng Letian.

Without any deep connection, nothing they did could earn his favor; everything was wrong in his eyes.

Tang Anhe felt the same way. Her bond with Song Qiluo was also distant, so she found it harder and harder to gain her favor—no matter what she did, it was always wrong. That was why, when faced with the rumors, Song Qiluo demanded that she publicly deny the relationship, and treated her refusal as nothing short of rebellious and foolish.

“Are you trying to ruin yourself? Without your halo, the public will tear you apart.”

“Do you think Cheng Muye can protect you? She’s probably being lectured by Old Master Cheng right now, figuring out how to deny the relationship.”

“Tang Anhe, did a donkey kick you in the head? Cheng Muye isn’t answering your calls—isn’t that obvious enough? She’s just dumping the blame on you!”

Song Qiluo’s every reprimand echoed relentlessly in the office.

Tang Anhe curled up on the sofa, pretending not to hear. She said nothing, didn’t respond, clutching her phone as if it could summon her beloved.

She believed Cheng Muye wouldn’t abandon her. Perhaps, like last time, the phone was in someone else’s hands. Perhaps dinner with Old Master Cheng detained her. She only needed to wait a little longer.

But waiting stretched into an endless torment.

The reporters were still camped below Anxin Studio, their relentless chatter carrying through the air like a swarm of bees. Tang Anhe couldn’t make out their words clearly, but she didn’t need to—she already knew. They were dissecting her every move, whispering and speculating about her and Cheng Muye’s rumored relationship.

Fear wasn’t exactly what she felt. Unease, yes—a deep, gnawing discomfort. She was simply fond of someone, yet it felt as if she had committed murder, or violated some grave law.

Online, the world judged her harshly, branding her unstable, mentally unwell. And yet, when she was with Cheng Muye, she felt nothing but happiness—free, secure, and alive. How could that be wrong?

Tang Anhe shook her head, pushing aside those troubling thoughts, and dialed Cheng Muye’s number once more. One minute passed, then two… still no answer.

A faint unease crept over her. What was wrong with Cheng Muye? Why wasn’t she answering? What could she possibly be doing? Was she… giving up on her?

Tang Anhe’s anxiety only grew sharper. All at once, she sat bolt upright and called out to Song Qiluo, who was on the phone nearby, “Sis, I need to go to the Cheng residence. I need to see Muye.”

Song Qiluo was in the middle of contacting a security firm to drive away the reporters downstairs. She was already dashing around like a headless chicken. Hearing Tang Anhe’s sudden declaration, she burst out in anger: “Don’t be ridiculous! How do you expect to get in? With your little frame, aren’t you afraid Old Master Cheng will eat you alive? Just stay put! Don’t make more trouble for me!”

Tang Anhe pouted in protest. “I’m only going to see Muye. I’m not going there to fight Old Master Cheng.”

“Damn it! Is your brain made of tofu? Dating Cheng Muye means you’re stealing away Cheng Letian’s granddaughter. Do you really think a man with an iron fist like his would ever let you off?”

“Would he give me money and send me away?”

“What?”

Song Qiluo froze, utterly dumbfounded.

Tang Anhe explained with complete seriousness, “I mean, would Old Cheng try to buy me off? Hundreds of thousands, millions—pay me to leave her. That’s how it always happens in romantic dramas.”

Ugh! At a time like this, she even had the mood to think about tv soap operas. No wonder— playing all those sweet, naive roles had clearly lowered her IQ.

Song Qiluo didn’t even bother arguing anymore. She snapped coldly, “Enough! Don’t go barging into the Cheng residence looking for trouble. Old Master Cheng might just come find you tomorrow—yeah and throw money at you!”

Her prediction proved exactly right.

The next day, around ten o’clock, Old Master Cheng sent Feng Gui to Anxin Studio.

Song Qiluo and Tang Anhe had not left the night before. Even though the reporters had finally been driven off in the middle of the night, the two of them had no intention of stepping outside. At this point, they were essentially walking headlines, stalked by paparazzi wherever they went. The studio, at least, offered a safer refuge.

Fortunately, they had stayed, so Feng Gui’s trip was not in vain. Clearly, he had come to negotiate. Upon meeting them, he respectfully extended his hand. “Miss Song, Miss Tang, good day. My name is Feng Gui. I’m here today on behalf of Old Master Cheng to discuss some matters with you both.”

The subject of those matters was obvious.

Song Qiluo calmly ushered him into the conference room.

Feng Gui sat down and went straight to the point. “Anxin Studio has achieved remarkable success, thanks to the tireless efforts of Miss Song and Miss Tang. Old Master Cheng has always cherished the younger generation, so he has sent me to deliver an invitation to you.”

As he finished speaking, Cheng Wu—dressed in a black suit and standing silently behind him—presented a pink card adorned with the Chinese character for “joy.”

Tang Anhe snatched it up and leapt to her feet, her face draining of color. “Impossible! Cheng Muye wouldn’t get engaged!”

The pink card clearly announced the engagement ceremony of Cheng Muye and Shen Si, set for July 7th, the Qixi Festival.

Song Qiluo, too, was secretly shaken. I must have overestimated Cheng Muye. Before the all-powerful Old Master Cheng, she’s just another powerless coward. What a waste of Tang Anhe’s devotion!

Tang Anhe, pale as a sheet, stammered, “How… how could this be? Why would she agree to an engagement? How… how could she be with Shen Si…”

She recalled Shen Si’s handsome features and graceful bearing, conceding he was indeed a likable young man. But could Cheng Muye possibly have feelings for him? Then she remembered the malice hidden in his words at the cocktail party. So, his heart had been set on Cheng Muye all along.

A sharp pang of bitterness seized her. Her mind became a tangled mess, her head spinning, sweat beading across her forehead as panic surged within her. At last, cutting through the haze, she cried out, “I need to see Cheng Muye! I need to see her!”

She staggered to her feet, shouting as she tried to rush out, but Cheng Wu, still stationed beside Feng Gui, moved quickly to block her path.

“Get out of my way! Don’t stop me!” Tang Anhe’s composure completely unraveled, her heart brimming with helpless frustration.

Cheng Wu was shoved aside by Tang Anhe, yet his stance remained as steady as a mountain.

Seeing this, Feng Gui intervened. “Little Wu, don’t stand in Miss Tang’s way. She and the young lady have known each other for quite some time. Any misunderstandings should be settled face to face.”

“Alright,” Cheng Wu replied, stepping back.

As he withdrew, Tang Anhe stood firmly before Feng Gui, her fists clenched. “I want to see Cheng Muye. We’re not just flirting—we’re officially in a relationship.”

Through this very incident, she had inadvertently laid her heart bare. She realized that during their brief time together, she had already been deeply ensnared by Cheng Muye’s pampering and protection. Now, she could no longer live without her—nor would she ever let her go.

Tang Anhe followed Feng Gui and his entourage downstairs toward the waiting luxury cars.

Song Qiluo trailed behind, intent on joining them, but Feng Gui blocked her path. “Miss Song, this is between Miss Tang and our young lady. Outsiders shouldn’t interfere.”

Sensing the malice hidden in his tone, Song Qiluo tried to dissuade Tang Anhe. “Anhe, calm down. This isn’t as simple as it looks. Cheng Muye is no longer a child, She takes responsibility. If she wanted to break up, she wouldn’t leave it to someone else; she would tell you herself.”

Her reasoning held weight, yet Tang Anhe was beyond reason now. She only shook her head. “Sis, I need to see Muye. I miss her.”

Just one night without news from her had already been unbearable. She had to see her—no matter what.

At the mere thought of Cheng Muye, Tang Anhe’s eyes grew misty. She just wanted to see her, to know what she had eaten for dinner, if her legs still hurt. Had she been missing her at the Cheng residence? Why hadn’t she made a single call?

“Sis, I’m going to the Cheng residence. I’m going to see Old Master Cheng. I’ll bring Muye back.”

Her voice carried an unshakable determination, as if it held the weight of all her ambitions.

The car door slammed shut, and the window rose slowly.

Tang Anhe locked eyes with Song Qiluo, her gaze blazing with an intensity she had never shown before. “She’s mine.”