The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 64 - I Am Naturally Beautiful and Cannot Be Discarded

Cheng Muye was browsing the shops with Tang Anhe, selecting gifts for the approaching Qixi Festival, when Cheng Letian’s call came through.

They had made a home in Chinatown now—bustling, colorful, and open-minded. Even when two women walked hand in hand or leaned in for a kiss, no one batted an eye. In this place, they could live freely, openly, without shame. And so the two of them walked close together, fingers entwined, their happiness almost radiant.

Inside the Boutique

Tang Anhe had taken a liking to a strawberry hairpin, and Cheng Muye picked it up to fasten in her hair. The red strawberry stood out vividly against her black hair, adding a touch of brightness that made her look all the more lively and pretty. Overjoyed, she couldn’t stop admiring herself in the mirror, tilting her head this way and that.

It was in this moment of lightheartedness that Cheng Muye’s phone buzzed. Seeing the caller ID, her lips curved into a cold line. She had half a mind to hang up, to block him once and for all. Yet, for some reason she couldn’t explain, she pressed the answer button.

“What do you want?”

Her tone was sharp, her words bristling with hostility.

In the past, Cheng Letian might have barked back, demanding obedience. But now, stripped of strength, he could only soften his voice, the steel gone from it entirely.

“Muye… Grandfather is dying.”

Cheng Muye’s heart skipped a beat, and her grip on the phone tightened instinctively. She had only been abroad for less than a week—how could he already be at death’s door? It had to be a trick, a ploy to lure her back. She warned herself sternly, forcing her voice into an even colder edge.

“How could that be? You’ve always been in perfect health. Don’t jinx yourself.”

After all, if retribution truly came knocking, Cheng Letian more than deserved it.

On the other end, Cheng Letian gave a bitter smile. “Muye, I’m not lying to you. I really am nearing the end.”

Her chest tightened at his words. A man like Cheng Letian, proud and unyielding, would never humble himself this way unless he was truly cornered. But could he really be at death’s door? What exactly had happened?

Her mind spun with questions, and despite herself, her voice softened. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Stroke. Hemiplegia. My memory’s slipping away, and my eyesight… it’s nearly gone.”

“Oh.”

The single syllable slipped from her lips, followed by heavy silence.

Neither spoke for a long moment. Then Cheng Letian broke the stillness, his voice weighted with urgency. “Come back. Help Ah Jin. The Group’s affairs—I can only entrust them to you and Ah Jin.”

Was he asking her to return as regent?

Cheng Muye said nothing, and he pressed on, his tone carrying both desperation and conviction. “Your grandfather worked tirelessly his entire life to build this empire. The Cheng Group means more to me than my own life. Muye, you must protect it for me.”

“Stop worrying so much! You’re strong—you’ll get through this.”

“No, I won’t. Your grandfather is old. I… I won’t make it.” His sigh carried the tremor of despair. Once full of certainty and iron will, he now sounded utterly defeated.

Cheng Muye was at a loss. His illness reminded her of Yu Zhaoning’s, sudden and merciless, leaving her shaken and unprepared.

“I know you despise me,” he went on, his voice hoarse. “You think I’m cold-blooded, heartless. Even your grandfather doesn’t deny it—I was ruthless. That’s who I am. You can hate me, curse me—I’ll bear it all. But the Cheng Group… it carries the weight of the entire family. It cannot fall! Cough, cough—”

“Even now, all you care about is your… Cheng Group.” Muye’s words faltered as his harsh coughing rattled through the line. For a moment, her coldness cracked, and she couldn’t bring herself to finish. She drew in a quiet breath before speaking again, more gently. “Don’t dwell on it. Just… take care of yourself.”

Cheng Muye never once mentioned returning home.

Cheng Letian sensed she could not be pushed, so he changed his approach, softening his voice. “I went to your father’s grave yesterday. We had a long talk. When I die, I’ll be buried beside him. That way, the two of us can meet again beneath the earth and catch up properly.”

Her parents—those were the softest place in Cheng Muye’s heart. At his words, something inside her stirred.

“You know,” she said quietly, “my father passed peacefully. He once told me that you had been a good father too. Before the Cheng Empire was built, you were kind and loving. He admired you deeply, believed there was nothing you couldn’t do.”

“He was a good boy, born with a soft heart.” Cheng Letian’s tone grew heavy with memory. “I remember when he was born, I vowed to give him the best life. But as the Cheng Empire grew, my expectations only tightened around him. He had no interest in business, yet I constantly scolded him. He never got angry, always smiling. But the more cheerful he was, the more I resented it. I wanted him to inherit the Cheng Empire, to expand it, to pass it down through the generations. Yet things… didn’t turn out as I wished.”

The wife he married gave him no sons.

He was stubbornly biased toward sons over daughters, believing that only a grandson could inherit the family business and carry on the bloodline. Yet even with a grandson, he still needed a granddaughter to shoulder half the family’s responsibilities.

“Muye,” he whispered at last, “Grandfather was wrong.”

Those words shook Cheng Muye to her core.

All these years of silent endurance—had she been waiting for this one admission?

Cheng Letian let out a weary sigh. “Are you willing to prove Grandfather wrong?”

It was her duty.

In her heart, Cheng Muye had already given her answer. But aloud she only said, steady and distant, “I’ll think about it.”

With that, she ended the call.

The moment her phone dropped back into her hand, she lifted her eyes—and met Tang Anhe’s gaze. She had overheard most of the conversation yet had stayed silent. Now, she stepped forward without a word and pulled Cheng Muye into her arms.

“Muye, it’s okay. Don’t be sad.”

Cheng Muye clung to her tightly, burying her face in the crook of Tang Anhe’s neck as tears welled and finally spilled from her eyes.

“Cheng Letian suffered a stroke. He’s paralyzed on one side now, and his health is failing. He’s my only family left.”

Like her father before her, Cheng Muye was far too sentimental. No matter how coldly he had treated her, that fragile thread of blood ties still tugged at her heart, stirring a faint ache of sadness.

Tang Anhe understood without words. She wrapped her arms around Muye, gently patting her shoulder, holding her through the heaviness.

But Muye did not linger in sorrow. When she finally raised her head again, her usual calm had returned. She even managed a smile as her gaze softened on the strawberry hair clip nestled in Anhe’s dark hair. “It looks lovely. Absolutely beautiful. It suits you perfectly.”

Tang Anhe deliberately tried to cheer her up. Curling her red lips into a smile, she said, “Of course. I was born beautiful and can’t help it. Even without makeup, I still look good.”

Lately, she had indeed been glowing with health. Her complexion radiated, her eyes sparkled, and every delicate feature seemed all the more captivating.

Muye found herself quietly delighted by these little moments of Anhe’s self-admiration. She reached out, brushing her fingers through her hair before pushing the wheelchair toward the counter to pay.

The young woman behind the register had been sneaking glances at them. As they approached, she greeted them eagerly. “You’re from China, right? I’m Chinese too—I’m studying abroad here.”

Muye gave a polite nod. Anhe smiled brightly and replied, “Hello! Studying abroad? That’s really impressive.”

Having grown up as a child star with little time for school, Anhe admired anyone who pursued higher education. The mention of studying abroad only deepened that respect. But the shopgirl’s eyes suddenly widened with recognition as she turned to Muye.

“You studied at Harvard too, didn’t you? I saw you in the graduation photos!”

Muye only smiled faintly, offering no answer as she took Anhe by the hand and led her out.

Yet even once they were inside the taxi, Anhe hadn’t let it go. She leaned close, eyes shining with curiosity. “Tell me! From the way she spoke, you must have been someone special at Harvard. Otherwise, how could she remember you so clearly?”

“Nothing worth bragging about—just youthful recklessness.”

“You’re being way too modest. Come on, tell me more. Let me admire you properly.”

Tang Anhe’s coaxing always had a way of softening Cheng Muye’s heart. Still, Muye stuck to her usual low-key manner. She only mentioned briefly, “I went abroad when I was eighteen, first to the UK, then later to Harvard in the US. While at Harvard, I met a professor who was very fond of Chinese culture, especially martial arts. Back then, I often sparred with him.”

“And who usually won?”

“Me, of course. I was young and reckless, always eager to prove myself. Harvard was full of talented people, so I ended up fighting a lot.”

“Wow, were you trying to make a name for yourself by fighting at Harvard?”

“Not exactly. I spent two years there. The first year was all youthful ambition and rivalry. By the second, I was working with my advisor on a startup project, so things got busier.”

Anhe’s eyes widened. “Then what? Didn’t you make any friends at Harvard? You said it was full of talented people—surely you met someone incredible.”

Muye gave a small, helpless smile. “Connections? What good are they? We never truly connected on a deeper level, so it didn’t mean much.”

She had indeed crossed paths with impressive people—business elites, rising stars in entertainment, even figures from the political world. But those she genuinely bonded with were few. And truthfully, she had never been one for chasing relationships. She’d always clung to her own little circle, leaving much of it all feeling strangely hollow in hindsight.

“You’re just like me then. I was too busy acting before, but at least I have time now. Once your leg heals, let’s go out more, explore, make new friends together.”

“Alright,” Muye replied, a faint smile curving her lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

By the time their conversation wound down, the taxi had pulled up to their residential complex.

It wasn’t a particularly luxurious building—sixteen stories tall, simple and modest. Their apartment was on the fourth floor. The elevator ride lasted less than a minute before they reached the door. Anhe stepped forward to unlock it, but from inside came Song Qiluo’s flustered voice.

“Don’t come in! Don’t come in!”

Anhe froze, her delicate brows knitting together.

Muye, right behind her, noticed and asked, “What’s wrong? Open the door.”

“My sister… she might not be in a state to see anyone right now.” Her cheeks flushed faintly, as though she already had an inkling of what awaited inside.

Muye frowned and lifted her hand to knock. She had barely tapped a few times before the door opened.

Standing there was a tall, striking woman—none other than superstar Gu Zixiao, someone they hadn’t seen in ages.

Anhe’s face instantly turned cold. She turned her head away and said icily, “What are you doing here?”

Gu Zixiao parted her crimson lips, about to speak, when Song Qiluo hurried out of the bedroom, smoothing down her dress as she came. “Miss Gu came to the States for a visit,” she explained quickly, almost too quickly. “She knew I was here, so she dropped by.”

To visit?

To visit the bed, more likely.

Tang Anhe’s chest burned with fury. “Sis, what’s going on? What exactly is happening between you two?”

Song Qiluo’s face flushed, a flicker of guilt flashing across her expression. But it vanished as quickly as it came. She regained her poise and smiled lightly. “Don’t overthink it. How was your trip? Since Zi Xiao’s here, why don’t we all go out for dinner together?”

Zi Xiao?

Calling her that so intimately?

The familiarity was salt in the wound. Tang Anhe’s anger and jealousy boiled over.

“You expect me to sit and eat with her? Did you forget how she framed me, how she ruined my reputation? Sis, don’t tell me you’ve let lust cloud your judgment.”