A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 33.2

As if a prank like this barely registered.

“Ha! Scared you, didn’t I? Bet that stung,” the long-haired, roguish guitarist laughed, snatching back the trick drumstick. “Huh? You barely even reacted.”

“Knock it off. You’re always pulling these jokes like you’re still some rebellious 16-year-old. Ever think about whether the other person’s okay with it?”

The lead singer, older and more levelheaded, often reined in the band’s antics before things got out of hand.

“Lead singer, it’s just a few volts of electricity, nothing serious,” the guitarist said dismissively, glancing at Luo Mijin. “See? Riddle’s perfectly fine. Didn’t even flinch. I probably didn’t even scare her.”

The lead singer frowned and scolded the guitarist anyway, forbidding him from pulling such pranks in the future. If he ended up injuring a band member, there’d be hell to pay.

The guitarist listened obediently with his head down, but as soon as the lead singer left, he bounced back to Luo Mijin’s side, eagerly asking, “Hey, Riddle, seriously, weren’t you scared at all? Didn’t that shock hurt?”

Luo Mijin had already taken her seat by the drum set. She lowered her head slightly, playing a soft rhythm, her face half-hidden behind the cymbals, exuding an aura of quiet self-containment.

After a moment’s thought, she typed four words on her phone: [It was okay.]

The guitarist let out an exaggerated gasp, looking at her with admiration. “Man, you’re seriously cool. That shock hurts like hell even my six-foot-tall tough friend cried from it.”

Luo Mijin’s gaze drifted, as if the pain he described meant nothing to her.

“Have you been shocked before or something? You seem so used to it.”

At this, Luo Mijin forced a faint smile, neither nodding nor shaking her head.

The bar was packed tonight. Even before their performance time, a steady stream of people had already formed a line outside, and the venue was chaotic and noisy.

Musicians were never lonely. Before the show started, the band members ran off to embrace their girlfriends drinking, chatting, exchanging gifts. When opening boxes of chocolates, they’d murmur sweetly, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

So today was Valentine’s Day. Luo Mijin glanced briefly at the inseparable couples outside before looking away.

Being “mute,” her silence and aloofness didn’t stand out, and no one bothered to drag her into the festivities.

The revelry around her felt like a distant echo, making the quiet corner she occupied all the more precious.

Once the door to the break room closed, the noise gradually faded. The window was open, and Luo Mijin sat on a chair, one hand gripping a drumstick while the other trembled faintly behind her back, hidden from view.

Outside, a silver full moon hung in the sky, its light casting over the brick-red tiles of a distant church steeple. It reminded her of the past few years nights spent staring at the moon through a small window in a tall building, the endless recitations of classical texts droning in her ears.

Hazy incense smoke curled around her as people clutching prayer beads encircled her, observing, judging, analyzing whether the “evil spirits,” “demons,” or “abnormalities” within her had been exorcised.

That place was truly strange. It was supposedly a school, but it was neither Buddhist nor Taoist, just packed with an overwhelming number of daily lessons.

Lately, Luo Mijin had been feeling disoriented. To strengthen her physical endurance, she went for nightly runs along the tree-lined path near her home after returning from the bar.

Tonight, during her run, she spotted someone selling small birds of unknown species, caged and hawked along the street.

“Why keep them locked up?” Luo Mijin murmured, her black hood pulled low as she stopped beside the vendor.

Startled by Luo Mijin’s ghost-like appearance, the vendor waved his hand impatiently.

“Who are you to interfere? I caught them, so I can keep them caged if I want that’s my right.”

“But they don’t want to be locked up. They have rights too.”

“Why are you so nosy? Either pay up or get lost. Don’t mess with my business.”

“How much?”

“This much,” the vendor gestured, eyeing Luo Mijin with disdain for meddling.

Luo Mijin silently calculated, tossed down a hundred yuan, then took the cage and left.

The vendor, busy picking up his scattered money, was overjoyed at first until he belatedly realized that the cage he used to catch birds had been taken. He sprinted after Luo Mijin, but she had already vanished without a trace.

By the early hours of the next morning, Luo Mijin had found a spot near the forest to release the little bird before cycling to the café for work.

“Luoluo, delivery order.” Lan Mingyu handed her the slip and immediately walked away.

Ever since rejecting Lan Mingyu’s confession that day, Luo Mijin had considered quitting the café several times to spare her any discomfort.

But every time she tried to bring it up, Lan Mingyu would either deflect with an excuse or pretend to be too busy.

So, the matter was temporarily shelved.

With a resigned sigh, Luo Mijin glanced at the delivery address it was Rong Qingyao’s home.

Too weary to resist, she just wanted to finish the delivery quickly. She still had a hospital check-up in the afternoon to examine her heart condition.

Once the kitchen prepared Rong Qingyao’s order of yogurt and cake, Luo Mijin blankly mounted her bicycle and arrived at the destination in just over ten minutes.

Standing before the familiar door, she pressed the doorbell with forced composure.

Biting the tip of her tongue intermittently, she willed herself not to betray any trace of panic or fear, silently praying she wouldn’t see Rong Qingyao sharing the space with someone else.

It seemed the heavens heard her plea, only Rong Qingyao answered the door, and from the looks of it, she was alone for now.

“You’re here.” The moment Rong Qingyao saw Luo Mijin, her gaze softened like a rainy spring night, thick with lingering tenderness.

The woman wore an off-shoulder embroidered qipao that accentuated her graceful curves. As she smiled, the delicate hollows of her collarbones deepened, like pools cradling the shimmering hues of spring.

Her familiar tone and that cool, enchanting smile were so disarming that Luo Mijin almost forgot they had already broken up.

“Your blueberry cake and fruit yogurt. Please sign for it.”

“Come in and sit. I ordered these for you.” Rong Qingyao’s porcelain skin glowed with warmth, and Luo Mijin could almost taste the damp sweetness of her breath.

“I’m here to deliver, not as a customer.”

“There’s something important I need to discuss with you. Please?” The woman’s lips, soft and dewy, parted as she spoke, her words a reluctant compromise.

But the flush at the corners of her eyes and the pleading lilt in her voice made it clear she was pushing her luck.

“Something important?”

“Mhm.” Her nasal tone was soft and indistinct. A few loose strands of her upswept dark hair drifted toward Luo Mijin in the breeze, a silent enticement.

When Luo Mijin remained silent at the doorstep, Rong Qingyao chuckled lightly and tugged firmly at her plain black tie, part of the café’s British-style uniform, a black blazer over a white shirt, striking just the right balance between innocence and formality.

“Come in. What could I possibly do to you?”

Inside the villa, the fireplace crackled warmly. Fresh-cut flowers bloomed vibrantly in an understated celadon vase, while a velvet sofa embroidered with mountain-and-water motifs encircled a small coffee table. A nostalgic cartoon played on the large-screen TV.

Then, a white lion cat with heterochromatic blue-and-gold eyes and a tuft of yellow fur on its ears emerged from behind the TV stand, meowing insistently at Luo Mijin.

“This is Mint Candy,” Rong Qingyao said, bending down to scratch the kitten’s chin. “She’s welcoming you.”

Luo Mijin froze in place, staring blankly at the cat.

Yes, she had once learned to speak from a lion cat that looked very much like Mint Candy. She believed the little cat would one day return to find her.

The two sat at opposite ends of the sofa. After one episode of the cartoon playing on the wall-mounted TV ended, the cheerful opening theme automatically started again, starkly out of place with the current atmosphere.

A deep sea of silence formed between them. Whoever spoke first would be like tossing a pebble into the unfathomable ocean, tides ebbing and flowing, cold and frost under the moonlight.

Everyone would only exhaust their courage in endless waiting.

“What do you want to talk about?” Luo Mijin’s gaze kept shifting restlessly. She didn’t want to mention that man in front of Rong Qingyao, but it seemed their conversation could only revolve around him. “Mr. Scott has already listened to the song demo I submitted.”

“Yes, he told me,” Rong Qingyao picked out the cherry tomatoes from the fruit yogurt one by one, then pushed the bowl toward Luo Mijin. “Eat some. You’re too thin.”

Uncertain of the purpose behind Rong Qingyao’s sudden, polite gesture, Luo Mijin coldly refused:

“Miss Rong, I still have work to do. If there’s nothing else, I should probably leave.”

“Are you feeling better?” Rong Qingyao glanced at Luo Mijin, noticing she had grown even thinner, her chin sharper than before as if a gust of wind could knock her over.

“Much better, thank you for your concern.”

Rong Qingyao subtly studied Luo Mijin. She knew full well that Luo Mijin’s younger sister, Luo Zhiwen, was suffering from worsening heart disease.

She understood Luo Mijin’s current state of mind the only family that mattered to her hanging between life and death, like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from or escape.

“I’ve already learned everything about Zhiwen’s condition.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Luo Mijin’s already gloomy mood sank even lower. She didn’t understand why, when she was the one who was sick and flawed, the punishment always fell on the people she cared about.

Hadn’t it been enough that Luo Zhiwen shielded her from their father’s slaps when they were children?

“I’ve already arranged for a heart disease specialist for Zhiwen, along with 24-hour care and better medical facilities.”

“That’s unnecessary. I can take care of Zhiwen myself.”

Ignoring Luo Mijin’s words, Rong Qingyao continued softly:

“I know you can take care of Zhiwen, and you’ve done wonderfully. But if we transfer her to a private hospital, I can provide the best nursing conditions. I promise she’ll live a long life. Don’t worry, you won’t have to do anything. I just want to help Zhiwen. She’s my friend too.”

“Nothing free comes without a price,” Luo Mijin lifted her eyes, enunciating each word. “It usually means I can’t afford it.”

“You won’t have to bear anything,” Rong Qingyao’s voice gradually cooled.

“Given our relationship, I don’t see any reason to accept your kindness.”

Rong Qingyao let out a light laugh, half-probing, half-defensive. “Luo Mijin, what kind of relationship do you want us to have?”

“You’re very generous, and I know you and Zhiwen are close,” Luo Mijin suppressed the turmoil in her heart, forcing herself to remain steady. “But I have no reason to accept. I don’t even have anything of equal value to offer you in a fair exchange.”

“I don’t need money, nor do I need you to do anything for me.”

“Whatever you need, I can’t afford it.”

“You don’t have to pay anything. You can stay,” Rong Qingyao leaned lazily against the velvet sofa, her careless demeanor veiling a seductive springtime allure and an utterly unreasonable demand. “I’ll ensure the safety and well-being of both you and Zhiwen.”

As if her thoughts had already been laid bare before Rong Qingyao, Luo Mijin remained silent, her pale eyes looking as though they might shatter.

“You!”

“I know you want to trade your life for Zhiwen’s.”

Though their time together might not have been long, Rong Qingyao considered herself the person who understood Luo Mijin best in the world. This girl was stubborn to a fault.

Her younger sister, Luo Zhiwen, had once picked Luo Mijin up from the depths of the mountains and wandered the streets with her. They had relied on each other for survival.

Without her sister, Luo Mijin would surely have died long ago in those deep, forgotten woods where their parents were buried.

Luo Mijin believed her life was naturally something she could exchange for Luo Zhiwen’s.

Rong Qingyao hadn’t intended to rush things, knowing that Luo Mijin required gentle, careful handling otherwise, she would only hurt her.

But she couldn’t stand by and watch Luo Mijin do something as foolish as “trading hearts.”

This girl was sometimes too stubborn, and when she dug in her heels, only extreme measures could stop her.

“Luo Mijin, by reason and by sentiment, you should accept my help.” Rong Qingyao reclined on the velvet sofa, her petal-like lips parting. “Stay by my side.”

“Accept your help?”

“Mhm. It’d be best if you agreed willingly.” The woman closed her eyes indifferently.

“What kind of help are we talking about?”

“At the very least, the kind that stops you from doing something stupid.”

Luo Mijin recalled Rong Qingyao’s earlier attempt to transfer her to a private hospital. The woman’s possessiveness was probably acting up again.

“The kind where we have to sleep together?”

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