A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 28.1

“Rong Qingyao, have you lost your damn mind?” Bai Jinhuai felt her scalp prickle when she heard Scott utter the words “sugar baby.”

As the raucous crowd at the bar’s center shouted the band’s name and Luo Mijin’s stage alias, Rong Qingyao’s expression darkened. The sharp contours of her pale jawline cast shadows like a paper lantern.

“I haven’t.”

In that instant, Bai Jinhuai immediately understood exactly who that dazzling figure hidden in the corner of the stage was.

What she couldn’t comprehend was Rong Qingyao’s intentions. A top-tier actress showering tips on band members at a nightclub, potentially seeking to spend the night with one of them.

Or perhaps it was love at first sight, the renowned Rong Qingyao smitten with the drummer, pursuing a secret romance if successful.

Or worse, if she got rejected…

It was hard to say which scenario would be more humiliating, but any of them leaking to the press would cause an uproar.

As both a business partner and Rong Qingyao’s most loyal friend, Bai Jinhuai felt obligated to issue a warning.

“Rong Qingyao, snap out of it. What would your fans think if this got out? Not to mention the other company executives and investors, they’d see you as an unreliable partner, fooling around right before your engagement.”

“As the fiancé, I don’t really mind,” Scott chimed in, completely unfazed by Bai Jinhuai’s fury.

“Did I ask you?” Bai Jinhuai shot him a venomous glare. “Keep talking and I’ll stitch your mouth shut and use it as a golf hole.”

“As you wish, madam.” Scott obediently stuffed his mouth with honeydew melon, though his wide eyes still darted between the two women, his gossip-loving soul burning with curiosity.

Bai Jinhuai’s expression remained stern, her brows low over her eyes as she slammed her glass onto the table. After a moment of contemplation, she said:

“And what about your so-called father? Those siblings of yours who’ve been waiting for you to slip up? If they catch wind of this, they’ll have even more ammunition against you.”

Rong Qingyao quietly rubbed the black chess piece in her palm, silently weighing the pros and cons.

Her aloof face was half-hidden in shadow, the cold gleam of her glasses casting surreal ripples across her features.

“Qingyao, if you can’t hold back…” Bai Jinhuai glanced at the drummer in the simple black tee and pants, her demeanor clean yet somber, and reluctantly softened. “You could just reach out to her directly. Hell, I could even help you. There’s no need to make such a public spectacle.”

The band members had temporarily retreated backstage to prepare for their final set of the night. The bar, which had been buzzing with noise all evening, finally quieted down. Even the psychedelic lights seemed more subdued.

In this rare moment of calm, Rong Qingyao lifted her gaze to the boundless sky beyond the window. “We don’t have each other’s contact information.”

Bai Jinhuai was floored. After all this time since their reunion, Rong Qingyao still hadn’t managed to get the woman’s number.

“Qingyao, I… I don’t even know what to say to you.” Defeated, she sighed and resigned herself to compromise. “Fine. Send the flowers under my name. I’ll have the bar staff arrange a more private spot. When you meet her, be careful not to get recognized. And don’t get too carried away, keep your behavior proper and dignified.”

“I understand,” Rong Qingyao lifted her gaze to meet her friend’s eyes, offering silent reassurance.

You understand? I don’t think you understand at all, Bai Jinhuai thought to herself. Rong Qingyao had always been the dependable one, who would’ve guessed she’d suddenly make such a drastic move?

Bai Jinhuai felt the unease from recent days was about to materialize. It seemed Rong Qingyao was on the verge of returning to that precarious state where she’d nearly been left without schooling or job prospects.

Back then, had Rong Qingyao not made the painful decision to study abroad and coincidentally met her, that remarkable talent might have been forever buried.

The final performance didn’t last long. The lead singer, keyboardist, and bassist moved freely across the stage, engaging constantly with the audience.

Only the drummer remained quietly seated in the corner, occasionally joining in with improvised rhythms to complement the band.

As soon as the performance ended, the DJ announced that drummer Riddle had received seventy lily-of-the-valley flowers from a VIP guest. After a moment of stunned silence, the venue erupted in cheers and whoops.

Though this bar was considered upscale with many patrons easily spending over a million on drinks in a single night, direct tipping had never been substantial.

First, because the establishment took a fifty percent cut from alcohol sales, patrons preferred giving money directly to their favorite band members privately.

Second, most visitors came seeking pleasure with their own companions.

A server in black uniform knocked politely before entering, inquiring with professional courtesy:

“May I ask which lady here is Miss Fox?”

Bai Jinhuai pointed at the figure whose face was mostly concealed by a cap and mask. “Her.”

The server maintained a practiced smile, offering no unnecessary commentary. It was common enough for friends to book private rooms for first-timers.

“Then would Miss Fox please follow me? Riddle will be able to meet you after a short rest.”

Rong Qingyao nodded. The visible portion of her face revealed sharp, clear eyes that seemed veiled by a misty haze, softening their intensity.

Her camel-colored coat draped elegantly over her frame, but her tightly clenched hands betrayed her nerves less like someone meeting a lover, more like a soldier marching to battle.

The moment the door closed, Scott couldn’t contain his chatter any longer.

“Holy shit, breaking news! Is the millennium-old iron tree actually blooming? Did Qing really take a liking to Riddle? Tell me, was it love at first sight?”

Bai Jinhuai rolled her eyes. “How should I know? Does she look like the type to share details or heart-to-hearts with me?”

“Fair point. Qing’s about as fun as a brick wall,” Scott chuckled at his own remark. “Remember that girl who had a crush on Qing? She arranged a wrap party dinner through the crew trying to get Qing drunk, only for Qing to lecture her on why we say ‘toast’ when drinking. Nearly killed me laughing.”

Bai Jinhuai didn’t respond, feeling like a persistent fly was buzzing around her ears. She deeply regretted coming here tonight.

Scott, of course, wouldn’t let up. He pressed on eagerly:

“With that icy personality of hers, don’t you think anyone dating Qing would die of boredom? That perpetually disinterested face, never using two words when one would do, she can’t possibly be like that with someone she actually likes, right?”

“There’s probably some difference. How much difference, though, is anyone’s guess.”

Bai Jinhuai shrugged, choosing not to reveal too many details without permission. Besides, she had genuinely never seen Rong Qingyao display any truly fervent or intense emotions.

Would Rong Qingyao ever engage in a sweet, romantic relationship?

To put it bluntly, with her perpetually aloof and detached demeanor, one might even expect her ashes to yield sacred relics after cremation.

Could someone like her really have had a passionate, unforgettable first love?

“Hey, tell me what’s really going on between Riddle and Qing. I feel there’s more to it,” Scott said, no fool himself and able to sense the undercurrents.

“Old dreams of bygone years,” Bai Jinhuai murmured these four words before falling silent.

**

Playing the drums was exhausting. Luo Mijin rested with her eyes closed on a hardwood chair backstage, haloed by fuzzy light, her sweat-damp silver hair obscuring the corners of her eyes.

Her bandmates chatted and laughed nearby, their topics jumping from which audience member looked best today, to what to eat for late-night snacks, then to Riddle’s overwhelming popularity, attracting admirers of all genders.

“Riddle, how many guests is this now who’ve sent flowers and asked to meet you?”

Luo Mijin let her hands hang limp, lifting her gaze briefly at her bandmates without a word. When she first joined them, she had been mute due to selective mutism, leading them to assume she was naturally speech-impaired.

After recovering, she simply kept up the pretense.

“Come on, let’s bet whether this wealthy, attractive guest can win Riddle over.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Doesn’t Riddle have that little girlfriend who picks her up every day?”

“What’s wrong with dating around while you’re young? You’re just too old-fashioned. With looks like yours, if you were more open, you’d realize just how popular you could be.”

Amid their noisy banter, Luo Mijin knew they were referring to Lan Mingyu. She lowered her head to type on her phone, then stood and showed them the screen:

[She’s not my girlfriend. Stop spreading rumors.]

“Oooh, got it, not your girlfriend,” her bandmates teased, clearly not taking it seriously.

Luo Mijin said no more. After years here, she understood the cultural norms.

“Dating” here meant no-strings-attached encounters. If asked, the standard response was that they were still seeing if things clicked, keeping options open and unbound.

This cultural gap was something she could only respect, not partake in.

With quiet resignation, she headed out to meet this guest.

After taxes and the bar’s cut, the tip would net her over 200,000, a substantial sum. Though still a drop in the bucket compared to Luo Zhiwen’s medical bills, it would ease the immediate crisis, for which she was deeply grateful.

The guest had chosen a third-floor room with a massive floor-to-ceiling window, offering a serene, picturesque view of the snow that eased Luo Mijin’s nerves around strangers.

The drums had left her eardrums throbbing, and in the sudden quiet, her mind circled back to the trending hashtag announcing Rong Qingyao’s engagement.

During her performance, she had clung to the memory of playing for Rong Qingyao that first time, so peaceful, safe, and beautiful.

Every show since had relied on that single recollection, now twisted into anguish.

Had those gentle eyes that once watched her already been gazing just as tenderly at someone else?

So grand and romantic, it was a love that could openly receive blessings, while hers or rather, theirs had been crushed into shadows by time, with no continuation.

Through the door, she seemed to hear a soft, familiar voice, like a drop of crystal-clear water, soothing her weary and despondent heart at this moment.

After hesitating for a few breaths, she impulsively ran over and pulled the door open. The extravagantly decorated hallway was empty. After waiting a while, only a uniformed server approached her.

“Riddle, this is for you from that guest,” the server said, handing Luo Mijin two letters on pure white paper, each adorned with the image of a large blue morpho butterfly.

Luo Mijin felt puzzled and lightly raised her eyes in question.

“This is the guest’s request, they wish to get to know you through letters rather than meeting in person right away.”

The server was unfazed by this. The patrons here were either wealthy or influential, and having experienced most of the world’s pleasures, they naturally sought something novel and different.

Though using letters to correspond as pen pals was a rather antiquated practice, reminiscent of the last century.

Holding the two letters, Luo Mijin froze for a moment, thinking that perhaps this guest also had some form of communication barrier. The world was vast, and people’s personalities were endlessly varied.

She slowly opened the one with writing.

[Fox: Hello, Riddle. I found listening to you play the drums to be very calming and pleasant, so I took the liberty of reaching out to you this way.]

The guest’s choice of correspondence and their formal, old-fashioned phrasing unexpectedly brought her a sense of comfort and safety.

But as she carefully examined the elegant handwriting on the letter, Luo Mijin suddenly wondered if the person on the other end was Rong Qingyao.

The way the period at the end of one sentence curled like a scorpion’s tail resembled Rong Qingyao’s little writing quirk.

Upon closer inspection, though, it was just an ink blot.

Today, she had thought of Rong Qingyao far too often. When longing grew too intense, it could repeatedly conjure illusions of the unattainable.

Especially since her bandmate had eagerly informed her earlier that the female guest who had tipped her was rumored to be a regular here, a beautiful woman with the demeanor of a workplace elite.

Luo Mijin chuckled self-deprecatingly before rereading the letter.

It definitely wasn’t Rong Qingyao’s handwriting.

But the kindness in this stranger’s words warmed her. Perhaps the idea that someone found quietude in her drumming pleased her, or perhaps today’s tip had genuinely helped her.

What’s more, this person was different from the usual patrons who, after tipping, sought to develop a “special” relationship.

Though she had never been fond of human interaction, the long-suppressed weight of her loneliness, hardship, and hopelessness made Luo Mijin feel a rare urge to confide in someone.

After all, apart from her bedridden younger sister, she was utterly alone. Lan Mingyu, Luo Zhiwen, her bandmates none of them had the conditions to truly open her heart.

And Rong Qingyao, who was about to be engaged and spend her life with someone else, was entirely out of the question.

For the first time in a long while, she felt the desire to speak, brief as it was, she chose to seize the moment.

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