The Movie Queen Always Wants to Kiss Me - Chapter 67 - Bonus Chapter (1) — My Deepest Love

During Cheng Muye’s recovery, Tang Anhe tended to her with wholehearted devotion. She accompanied her to work each day and prepared careful, nourishing meals.

One night, after making love in bed, Tang Anhe lay nestled against her, cheeks flushed and voice breathless. “Tell me… what do you want to eat tomorrow? You’ve been working so hard, and I want to take care of you.”

Her words were so tender that Cheng Muye pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips. She buried her face in Tang Anhe’s soft chest, nuzzling and kissing the pale, smooth skin of her neck before laughing softly, “Hmm, my little wife is getting more and more considerate. Come on, let your husband spoil you some more.”

Tang Anhe flushed bright red at her words, her head spinning more than during their earlier intimacy. She nudged her head playfully and scolded, “Alright, stop teasing me. I’m talking business here. I’m planning to make you a love lunch. So, what do you want to eat?”

“You’re cooking it yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Then make whatever you’re best at. I’m not picky.”

“Alright.”

The next morning, Tang Anhe busied herself in the kitchen, then carried her carefully prepared lunch to Cheng Muye’s company.

At the time, Cheng Muye was in a meeting, so Secretary Lin Yue invited her to wait in the president’s office.

The office was spacious, lined with soft light and elegant décor. A giant portrait of Tang Anhe holding her Best Actress award hung prominently on the wall, while on the desk sat a framed photo of the two of them together.

Seeing it, Tang Anhe’s heart bloomed with joy. She quickly snapped a picture and posted it to her WeChat Moments.

[Every little bit of your love has turned into a meteor shower.]

Two minutes later, a notification popped up—Cheng Muye had already liked it and left a comment.

Cheng Muye: Drowning you.

Tang Anhe’s face warmed. She hadn’t expected her to be scrolling WeChat during a meeting. Blushing, she typed back.

Tang Anhe: Why are you on Moments? Aren’t you in a meeting?

Cheng Muye: Bored, but can’t leave. Missing you. (crying face)

Tang Anhe: Oh. Missing me? You still got to work hard. (covering-mouth emoji)

Cheng Muye: I’ll work hard tonight too. (grinning face)

She immediately started teasing with playful innuendo.

Tang Anhe’s ears burned. She thought Cheng Muye was getting shameless, so she stopped replying. Sitting at Cheng Muye’s desk, she idly flipped through some files. One folder was labeled with a proposal: “Anxin Studio Reconstruction Plan.”

Before she could study it further, her phone buzzed again with another message.

Cheng Muye: Why aren’t you replying? What are you doing?

Tang Anhe glanced at the folder again, emotions welling up—surprise, joy, and a faint trace of sorrow. Slowly, she typed back:

Tang Anhe: Nothing much. Just waiting for you in your office.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Just got here.”

“Me too. Just arrived.”

The moment the words left Tang Anhe’s lips, the office door swung open.

Cheng Muye instinctively closed the proposal on her desk and stood, stepping forward. “Finished?”

Still seated in her wheelchair, she shook her head with a faint smile. “No, they’re still in the meeting. I’ll chat with you for a bit, then head back.”

Tang Anhe nodded, then suddenly remembered her mission. “Oh! I brought you lunch.”

“You actually made it?” Cheng Muye’s eyes lit up with surprise as she followed Tang Anhe’s movements. In her hands was a neat thermos box. When she opened it, however, the sight that greeted her was a bowl of soggy instant noodles.

The unmistakable smell of old pickled cabbage flavor drifted through the air.

Tang Anhe closed her eyes and inhaled with delight, as if savoring the scent itself. “You asked me to make something I’m good at,” she said, eyes sparkling. “And after thinking long and hard, I realized—what I’m best at is cooking instant noodles.”

Her tone was full of earnest pride. “Let me tell you, these are absolutely delicious. Back when I was still in the spotlight, I had to watch everything I ate. But now? I can indulge. Instant noodles are pure bliss—the best food in the world.”

Cheng Muye’s lips twitched. She managed a polite smile. “Oh… right. It does smell pretty good.”

Tang Anhe’s face lit up with the joy of finding a kindred spirit. “Ha! I knew it! You think so too, don’t you? How could anyone resist something this good?”

She pushed the bowl toward her, coaxing warmly. “Come on, eat. It’s all yours.”

Cheng Muye hesitated. The noodles looked pitiful—soaked too long, swollen and limp, hardly appetizing. But when she met Tang Anhe’s bright, expectant gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“Did you already eat?” she asked.

Tang Anhe nodded cheerfully. “Mm-hm. I cooked three packs. So satisfying.”

With no other choice, Cheng Muye picked up her chopsticks and began eating in silence. She had no idea that this one bowl would be the start of a slippery slope. After the first came a second, then a third.

Within a week, she was breaking out in heat rash and acne from all the instant noodles.

Her lips felt dry and burning, and the pimple on her chin seemed to stand out defiantly.

Tang Anhe noticed immediately and gasped. “Goodness, Muye, what’s this? Are you trying to turn yourself into a teenager again?”

Cheng Muye didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed Tang Anhe down beneath her, breath hot against her ear. “I’m on fire. You’re going to help me put it out.”

Tang Anhe was completely bewildered. Wow… she’s way too fierce! These past nights, they hadn’t exactly been idle either. How did she get so worked up? She had thought Cheng Muye’s leg injury would affect their marital life—but the result? Night after night in the bridal chamber!

Tang Anhe’s knees weakened just thinking about it. She tried to protest, pushing lightly at her shoulders. “No, don’t get all fired up. I’ll get you some fruit.”

“Forget the fruit.” Muye’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “I’ll eat you instead.”

Her hands slid boldly over Tang Anhe’s body.

The moment her touch landed, Tang Anhe melted. Having tasted this sweetness before, she couldn’t hold back. Their breaths grew quick and shallow, tangled together until the room filled with soft gasps.

“Tell me… is the way I’m putting out fire working?”

“You still have the mind to think of other things at a time like this? Guess I haven’t been giving it my all!”

“Ah… slower, slower—!”

When it finally ended, Tang Anhe slipped from the bed, her body weak and trembling. She brought a glass of water and pressed it into Muye’s hand.

“Here. You’re on fire. Drink more water.”

“I don’t want water.”

“Then what do you want to drink?”

“Nothing.”

Tang Anhe frowned. Before she could insist, Muye suddenly tugged her close, tilted her chin, and drank the water only to press it back into her mouth in a lingering kiss. Her tongue teased and coaxed until Tang Anhe was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

At last, Muye buried her face against her chest, her voice low and plaintive. “Anhe… you really are hopeless at taking care of yourself.”

Tang Anhe blinked. “Hm?”

“I’m never eating instant noodles again.”

Seeing how worked up she was, Tang Anhe finally gave in. “Alright, alright. If you won’t eat them, then don’t. What a pity though—you’ve got no luck, missing out on something so delicious.”

Muye wanted to roll her eyes, but exhaustion won out. She only pouted like a spoiled child, murmuring, “Then you can’t eat them either.”

“Why?”

“If you eat too much, you’ll end up like me—always on fire.”

“But I’m not on fire.”

“Isn’t that only because I cool you down every day?”

Tang Anhe flushed and cleared her throat twice. “Well… it’s mutual cooling. I help you too. It’s not my fault you carry so much fire to begin with.”

Cheng Muye fell silent, stung by her words. She sank her teeth lightly into the pale skin of Anhe’s neck, leaving a mark that bloomed red against snow-white flesh, like the peonies soon to unfurl in the Cheng residence garden.

“Anyway,” she muttered, “no more instant noodles. They’re unhealthy.”

“But look at me—I’m perfectly fine.”

“That’s only because you’re young.”

“So… are you saying you’re old?”

That silenced Cheng Muye. She was a few years older, nearing thirty, and the thought pricked her pride. But she would never admit it. Instead, she pressed Tang Anhe down beneath her, body heavy and warm. “Want to see if your husband is old? Hm? You’ll need a lesson.”

That night, the matter of “clearing heat” was lost in the haze of tangled limbs and muffled laughter beneath the covers.

The next morning, Cheng Muye forbade Tang Anhe from setting foot in the kitchen again.

“Why not?” Tang Anhe protested, pouting.

Cheng Muye scratched the back of her head, feigning seriousness. “Right now, my greatest wish is just to be someone’s pampered pet dog.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not picky. You can feed me whatever you want.”

“Then why won’t you let me cook?”

“Because even if I’m not picky, you can’t starve me to death, right?”

“…”

Realization dawned. Tang Anhe’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and indignation. She huffed, “Fine then. Come here—I swear I won’t beat you to death.”

Cheng Muye turned her face away with a pitiful little whimper. “…Anhe, forgive me…”

The truest love, Tang Anhe realized, was sharing not only laughter and joy, but also sorrows, grievances, and even each other’s unreasonable tempers.