A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 31.1

The high fever left Luo Mijin’s mind in disarray. In her blurred vision, she seemed to see a woman with a cold, delicate demeanor, her lashes lowered as she gazed intently at her.

It was probably just another fever-induced dream. Before slipping into unconsciousness, she had already known she was running a fever, so dreaming of Rong Qingyao was only natural.

She didn’t reach out to touch Rong Qingya, because she understood the rules of dreams, admiring from afar might prolong the illusion, while overstepping would only shatter this heaven-sent fantasy.

Struggling to keep her heavy eyelids from closing, she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment tonight.

The woman who had initially intended to flee in disarray suddenly steadied herself upon meeting Luo Mijin’s dazed gaze.

The damp towel that had been resting on Luo Mijin’s forehead slipped off as she sat up and then lay back down.

Rong Qingyao picked up the fallen towel and placed it back on Luo Mijin’s forehead, even casually covering her eyes with it.

With her vision obscured, Luo Mijin instinctively tried to push the towel away, only to unexpectedly brush against Rong Qingya’s fingertips.

In the flickering dim light, Rong Qingya’s pale wrist was gripped tightly by Luo Mijin’s scorching fingers, the faint blue veins beneath her delicate skin fragile and visible.

Perhaps starved for Luo Mijin’s touch, just the sensation of being enveloped by her fingers made Rong Qingya’s body go weak. The corners of her eyes lifted slightly, her tear mole trembling as a soft, delicate moan escaped her lips, making her seem more like the one who was ill.

Rong Qingya’s gaze lingered on Luo Mijin’s slender, elegant fingers their texture smooth and flawless, like the ripples stirring in her heart.

“Luo Mijin, who are you telling not to leave?” She leaned down, murmuring the words into Luo Mijin’s ear.

Luo Mijin sank deeper into the feverish, decadent darkness, her fingers and lips tasting a faint, intoxicating fragrance and the sensation of snow-white smoothness memories of days and nights tangled together, inseparable.

“Don’t go, don’t go,” Luo Mijin murmured, slipping back into feverish unconsciousness. Perhaps because of the presence of another person, her sleep was restless, tossing and turning, occasionally bumping into Rong Qingya, who was leaning over the bedside.

The woman’s breathing grew erratic on its own, soft and alluring enough to make one’s heart tremble. Her body, awash with desire, exuded the fresh scent of flowers and the crisp chill of snow, drifting faintly through the dim, ambiguous attic.

“Luo Mijin, do you know who I am?”

The voice in her ear roused Luo Mijin slightly. Her lips parted weakly. “You… who are you?”

Rong Qingyao retrieved the digital thermometer from her bag, brushing aside Luo Mijin’s restless hands to take her temperature.

Several times, the thermometer nearly got knocked away. Frustrated, Rong Qingyao had no choice but to pin down the feverish patient with her own body.

“Stop moving, or I’ll feed you bitter melon.”

At the mention of “bitter melon,” Luo Mijin immediately stilled. Though she didn’t have a sweet tooth, she was particularly averse to bitterness.

Back when they lived together, if she refused to take medicine while sick, Rong Qingyao  would threaten her with bitter melon juice, a tactic that never failed, leaving the memory deeply ingrained.

After taking her temperature, Rong Qingyao tried to get up, only to find herself completely trapped in Luo Mijin’s embrace.

Her breathing grew subtly uneven, the full curves of her chest rising and falling slowly.

She remained motionless, silently nestled against Luo Mijin, yet her body wrapped entirely in a black sweater radiated a suffocating allure.

“If you don’t drink the bitter melon juice, you’re not leaving either,” Luo Mijin murmured softly.

The woman’s enchanting, spring-like eyes held a veiled threat. “Luo Mijin, who are you telling not to leave?”

“Lan Mingyu?”

Rong Qingyao pressed her finger against Luo Mijin’s feverish, parched lips, rubbing them repeatedly.

“Say my name. You’re only allowed to say my name,” she whispered against flushed lips, her words laced with a temptation deeper and fiercer than any sweet nothings in the world.

It wasn’t just others she ensnared, she herself had already sunk deep into the quagmire.

Despair and selfish desire burned through Rong Qingyao’s reason like wildfire as she tightly interlaced her fingers with Luo Mijin’s.

The dim room held only the warmth of the two of them, and it was this closeness that gave the woman a fleeting joy of something lost and regained.

But would this person before her still belong to her?

If fate hadn’t intended for her to reclaim Luo Mijin, then why had Luo Mijin appeared before her again?

Just to stage a cruel play of loss and recovery, only to lose once more?

Born in a remote village, bullied relentlessly, with a mother who took her own life, such a fate had only made her lament the meager hand she’d been dealt. Never before had she felt such bone-deep resentment toward destiny.

But the script involving Luo Mijin made it impossible for her not to hate.

Gazing at the pale, sleeping girl on the bed, Rong Qingyao was seized by the urge to hide Luo Mijin away.

Hide her. Take her somewhere no one knew them. That had been their promise once, hadn’t it?

With a pained expression, Rong Qingyao released Luo Mijin’s hand. She had gripped it so tightly that when they parted, it almost felt as though the skin might tear.

Would she become another chain binding Luo Mijin’s freedom?

Break a butterfly’s wings just because she couldn’t bear to lose its beauty?

Could she?

A sharp knock at the door acted like a splash of cold water, pulling Rong Qingyao out of the feverish haze of passion.

She checked the time, 8:15 and saw another text on her phone from Claire, her private doctor.

Straightening her slightly disheveled collar, Rong Qingyao tucked Luo Mijin in before heading downstairs to let the doctor in.

The apartment complex was vast and labyrinthine, and it had taken Claire considerable time to navigate and find the exact address.

By the time she called Rong Qingyao, she was already fifteen minutes late her average response time was ten.

The door opened swiftly, revealing Claire’s young, accomplished, and strikingly beautiful employer. “Qing, good evening. How’s the patient?”

She noticed the woman’s face was paler than usual, yet the corners of her eyes burned red, as if ravaged by some fierce internal struggle.

“I’ve already applied physical cooling methods. She’s sleeping deeply,” Rong Qingyao replied, recalling her own unanswered, near-frantic questioning. “So deeply she doesn’t even recognize who I am.”

Claire didn’t pick up on the undercurrent in Rong Qingyao’s words and continued professionally, “Did you take her temperature?”

“Yes, 38.7°C. It hasn’t shown signs of rising further yet.” Rong Qingyao led the way, her voice calm but noticeably rougher and heavier than its usual cool clarity.

“Qing, are you alright?” Claire, walking a step behind, sensed something off about the woman’s state and couldn’t help asking.

She had witnessed Rong Qingyao’s past reckless work ethic, those “glorious” days of only ten hours of sleep over three consecutive days so her current concern was not unfounded.

“I’m fine,” Rong Qingyao said, realizing she hadn’t managed to conceal her emotions in time. She took a deep breath and explained calmly, “I just thought of something that put me in a bad mood.”

Claire was stunned. It was already surprising enough to receive a call from Rong Qingyao asking her to examine someone else, but now she was even hearing an explanation from her something unheard of.

After all, this woman, though effortlessly charming and socially adept in public, was notoriously private, rarely engaging with unnecessary people and often reluctant to speak at all.

Following Rong Qingyao into the cramped attic, Claire could only silently analyze the reason behind her unusual behavior.

“Claire, you can examine her now,” Rong Qingyao said, pointing to the patient lying obediently on the bed.

After carefully checking Luo Mijin’s condition with her stethoscope, Claire cleared her throat and said to Rong Qingyao,

“She needs to be sent to the hospital where I work for further tests. The allergic reaction isn’t severe, but the persistent fever is dangerous, especially combined with extreme exhaustion. Without treatment, it could develop into pneumonia.”

Rong Qingyao’s chest tightened slightly, her fingers clenching around the black chess piece in her palm. “Send her to the best public hospital.”

Sending Luo Mijin to one of her privately owned hospitals might provoke resentment.

Unless absolutely necessary, she didn’t want to push things that far.

Even if she really wanted to.

As a dutiful employee, Claire never questioned or challenged her employer’s decisions, she simply carried them out. “Understood. But can you manage to support her on your own?”

“Yes, I can. She’s very cooperative,” Rong Qingyao replied, the corners of her rose-colored lips curling slightly, as if recalling something. “Thank you for your trouble. You can head back first, the after-hours consultation fee will be transferred to your account as usual.”

“Let me help too. I’m a woman, after all,” Claire offered, eyeing Luo Mijin’s tall frame with concern.

“Really, it’s fine,” Rong Qingyao refused gently, her clear, tranquil eyes hiding an obsessive, unyielding possessiveness.

As Rong Qingyao’s personal physician, Claire knew her patient well, a woman who operated like a high-precision machine, flawless, cold, and impenetrable.

But she had always believed that beneath that exterior lay deep-seated emotional scars. Otherwise, Rong Qingyao wouldn’t have suffered from chronic insomnia even after recovering from her injuries, relying on medication to sleep.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Knowing your limits will help with your insomnia.”

“I will. In fact, I feel like my insomnia has improved recently.”

Claire eyed Rong Qingyao’s slender frame with worry, skeptical but still handing her an ice pack and a glucose solution. “Give her some glucose first. I’ll call the hospital to arrange a room. What kind? The best, most luxurious one?”

“Yes, the best,” Rong Qingyao replied without hesitation, taking the ice pack and glucose.

“Got it. I’ll make the call now, it’ll be ready in five minutes.”

After carefully applying the ice pack to Luo Mijin, Rong Qingyao hesitated, then called Claire back. “Actually, no. Just a clean, private room on a quieter floor will do.”

“Huh?” Claire paused mid-dial, still processing Rong Qingya’s sudden change of mind. “Are you sure you don’t want the best? My classmate happens to be on duty tonight, we can arrange it immediately after payment.”

“Not the premium option. Just a decent single room where she won’t be disturbed too much.”

Recognizing Rong Qingya’s firm stance, Claire didn’t press further and stepped out to make arrangements.

In the dimly lit attic, Rong Qingya with a mix of unfamiliarity and familiarity, propped Luo Mijin up against her chest to help her drink some glucose water.

“Be good and open your mouth. If you’re not obedient when sick, monsters will come take you away.”

Such childish threats always worked on Luo Mijin. Even burning with fever and body aches, she obediently parted her lips, letting Rong Qingyao feed her.

The glucose water Claire brought tasted better than the homemade saline-sugar solution Rong Qingyao used to prepare in their rented room years ago.

She remembered those six months they’d called “eloping”, Luo Mijin, like an exotic bird freed from its gilded cage, often fell ill with fever yet still dragged herself out to deliver meals and teach chess part-time.

Returning home, her temperature would invariably read over 38°C. Stubbornly refusing hospitals to save money, she’d only ask for warm sugar-salt water after medicine.

After drinking it, Luo Mijin would lie quietly while Rong Qingyao peeled golden oranges by her bedside, meticulously removing every fiber before feeding the stubborn girl.

That life of mutual dependence had been filled with poverty, hardship, rejection, and the pain of being misunderstood yet Rong Qingyao never regretted it.

If given a chance, she’d trade all her current fame and status to return to those days, even for just one day.

Dressing the feverish woman in warm clothes, Rong Qingyao expertly coaxed her awake.

“Good girl, we’re going to the hospital for an IV. You’ll recover faster.”

Too ill to open her eyes, Luo Mijin dimly wondered why she could hear Rong Qingya’s voice. “No hospital… saves money… I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“We don’t need to save money anymore, Mijin. I’ve earned plenty now.” Rong Qingyao knew reasoning with a delirious patient was futile, yet she repeated, “We really don’t.”

“But I’m scared of hospitals.”

“Don’t be. I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

“I feel awful… don’t leave.”

“I won’t. Let’s see the doctor, you’ll feel better afterward.”

Supporting Luo Mijin down the narrow attic stairs, she locked up and helped her into the waiting car.

After settling Luo Mijin in the passenger seat with an ice pack and fastened seatbelt, Rong Qingyao drove toward the public hospital.

Throughout the ride, Luo Mijin remained dazed but compliant, never opening her eyes.

At the hospital, despite the late hour, the crowd had only grown. Rong Qingyao guided her carefully through to their prearranged private room.

By the time the doctor finished the examination and Luo Mijin started her IV drip, another hour had passed.

She looked at Luo Mijin sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed and finally let out a sigh of relief.

After putting on her mask and baseball cap, she had intended to go to the convenience store near the hospital to buy some essentials, but the store was already closed.

Left with no choice, she ordered an electric heating pad, a thermos, orange blossom-scented aromatherapy, mineral water, and other items through a delivery app.

The delivery person who arrived at the hospital was a thin woman in her thirties, trailed by a small, dark-skinned girl of about six or seven, timidly clutching the hem of her mother’s clothes.

Rong Qingyao silently took the plastic bag without a word, only paying three times the amount when settling the bill. Before the mother and daughter could react, she had already turned and walked back into the hospital room.

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