A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 41.1

After uttering this rather wanton request, Rong Qingyao tugged at Luo Mijin’s collar, pulling her down bit by bit.

She buried herself in the other’s summer-grass-like lush hair, playing with the soft earlobes. Then she leaned close to Luo Mijin’s ear, parted her red lips slightly, and whispered in a cold yet bewitching, licentious tone.

“Okay?”

Born with a frail constitution, Rong Qingyao had always bruised easily from the slightest impact since childhood. Even sleeping on her family’s hard bed would leave inexplicable bruises on her body.

So, most of the time, she wore long sleeves and pants. When she had no choice but to wear a skirt, it would be a long one.

She suddenly recalled their first time in the hotel with Luo Mijin. Though Luo Mijin had been gentle and clumsy, hardly using much force, Rong Qingyao’s body had still been covered in marks small, scattered bruises that took days to fade completely.

When she went to tutor Luo Mijin afterward, the medicine Luo Mijin gave her had been effective for dissipating bruises.

“Pinch… pinch me while we do it?” Luo Mijin guiltily averted her gaze, her eyes inadvertently skimming over Rong Qingyao’s slender, pale neck. The skin there, flushed from the hot shower, was slightly reddened, with faint blue veins visible beneath.

Because she had been working at the company today, the woman was dressed in a stern, proper suit, exuding an aura of restrained studiousness prim, gentle, and beautiful.

Nothing like the kind of person who would hide in a dark hotel room with her junior, embracing, kissing fervently, begging and pleading over and over until she passed out from exhaustion.

“Mmm, okay?” Rong Qingyao knelt at the edge of the bed, gripping Luo Mijin’s collar with both hands, her pleading voice soft and sweet.

She had been suppressing these wild thoughts all this time, afraid of scaring Luo Mijin.

But tomorrow, their summer internship would end. A sense of loss and emptiness surged like a tide, and for the first time, she realized how terrified she was of losing someone.

It wasn’t even truly “losing” just that the time and frequency of their meetings would decrease from twenty-four hours a day to mere five or six hours every three or five days.

Logically, it wasn’t much different from before. Yet the mere thought of it was unbearable.

She had spent so many years alone, how could she still fear loneliness?

After her mother passed away, it was as if she had been living on a solitary planet in the universe. No one listened to her, and she never raised her voice, knowing no one would care anyway.

She wanted love, fierce, reckless, unwavering.

She wanted to feel pain, suffocation, complete possession.

As if under a spell, Luo Mijin stared obsessively at the woman kneeling before her, gently caressing that fragile, slender neck.

She didn’t dare use force, afraid she might break her.

“Luo Mijin, fill me up, okay?”

The simple, soft plea made Luo Mijin’s heart crumple and tingle. She no longer cared about colds or anything else, she just wanted to hold Rong Qingyao tight.

The woman grasped Luo Mijin’s hand on her neck with just the right pressure, pulling her closer as they lost themselves in a passionate kiss, tongues entwined.

Rong Qingyao’s eyelashes trembled, tickled by the other girl’s heated breath.

Later on, the two of them could barely stand even while leaning against the bed. Luo Mijin carried her back to sit on the chair, continuing to kiss her sometimes starting gently before deepening, then showering her with delicate, feathery pecks that made the other woman clutch her collar and whimper softly.

“Not enough,” Rong Qingyao paused, feeling as if all the oxygen had been drained from her lungs. She pulled back slightly, her eyes glazed with an intoxicating flush. “I want more.”

Luo Mijin’s vision was hazy. Just as she was about to pull the woman back in, Rong Qingyao pressed her against the back of the chair.

“Senior, what’s wrong?” Her cheeks burned not from fever, but from the faintly unusual behavior the woman had shown tonight.

“What did you promise me before?” Rong Qingyao’s lips, rosy like dew-kissed petals, contrasted with her cool, detached expression, as though she wouldn’t let Luo Mijin off easily if she answered wrong. “A wrong answer comes with punishment.”

What had she promised Rong Qingyao? Dozens of possibilities flashed through Luo Mijin’s mind to visit Yuncheng alone again, to hold Rong Qingyao while sleeping, to only eat meals made by her…

“I’ll count down for you. Seven, six, five, four…” The woman’s long, thick lashes lowered as she idly played with Luo Mijin’s silver hair. “Time’s almost up.”

Backlit, Luo Mijin’s eyes shone with nervous intensity. “I promised to listen to you.”

Rong Qingyao’s need for control was slightly satisfied. She hooked her fingers with Luo Mijin’s, her whisper cool. “Correct.”

“But you were too slow. Don’t move.”

“Too slow?” Luo Mijin protested indignantly, puffing her cheeks. “I answered correctly within ten seconds! Senior, you’re cheating. How can you cheat?”

The woman leaned down, her loosely undone collar revealing a glimpse of flushed skin and delicate collarbones, the soft swell of her chest like a rosebud waiting to bloom.

“Still arguing? That’s an extra offense. Did you do what I told you to?” Rong Qingyao sat on the edge of the bed, smirking faintly as she deliberately pressed her foot against Luo Mijin’s calf, swaying back and forth.

After half a second of thought, Luo Mijin suddenly understood, her already heated face flushing even deeper.

“I was afraid of hurting you,” she murmured, glancing at the woman’s fragile, porcelain neck, inexplicably recalling how exquisite it had felt to touch and how easily bruises would bloom there.

Luo Mijin suddenly realized that this seemingly aloof senior, who appeared indifferent to everything, was actually profoundly lonely, lonely and fragile, craving a love so fierce it could bring even the slightest peace to the depths of her heart.

As if it were an exercise in love and desire, Rong Qingyao guided Luo Mijin’s hand along the curves of her body, letting it linger like a feather against her throat.

“Try again. Choke me, don’t let me leave,” the woman whispered, locking eyes with Luo Mijin, her damp lips curling slightly.

She clung to Luo Mijin, imagining herself as a rose on a verdant vine, offering herself in pure devotion, never to be parted even for a moment.

Perhaps until now, her life had been one of unchosen bondage without enough money, time, or freedom of thought. So many things she did without knowing why, or only for hollow, utilitarian reasons.

But Luo Mijin was the only freedom she had ever known.

The dormitory, which had been very quiet, suddenly erupted into a clamor of voices after the clock struck eleven, as if Pandora’s box had been opened. People were walking back and forth outside the door, and the sound of champagne popping could be heard.

Someone even knocked on their door again, pounding loudly as if drunk.

For the moment, they ignored it.

Rong Qingyao was carried out of bed by Luo Mijin, her legs unsteady as she stepped onto the carpet, her trembling hands barely supporting her weight on the table adorned with lily of the valley.

The lilies were in full bloom, but the delicate petals trembled precariously as the table shook, the freshly watered dewdrops clinging to the edges, threatening to fall.

“Is Qingyao in this room?” someone outside asked, their voice full of confusion. “Why isn’t anyone answering the door?”

Another person, stammering as if drunk, replied, “It’s this one, I remember, Room 402.”

“Qingyao, are you asleep? Come out and join us! It’s the last night to celebrate, don’t sleep through it!”

Luo Mijin’s slender, bony hand gripped Rong Qingyao’s waist while the other continued its relentless mischief, like a storm so overwhelming it threatened to consume them both, leaving the woman too breathless to even plead for mercy.

The silver moon broke through the clouds, casting a watery glow over the room’s intimate scene.

“Luo Mijin, stop or else.” she threatened weakly, “someone’s knocking… I need to… answer.”

“Don’t mind them,” Luo Mijin pulled the fleeing Rong Qingyao back. “Senior, they’ll leave soon if no one answers.”

“Qingyao, stop sleeping and open the door! Let’s go have fun!”

“She’s not answering maybe she’s studying again, wearing headphones for listening practice or something.”

Since this had happened before, Rong Qingyao’s roommate began knocking even harder.

“Qingyao, my overachiever, stop studying! Are you trying to outshine everyone? You just finished work, and now you’re studying again give the rest of us a chance, will you?”

Rong Qingyao’s mind went blank, overwhelmed by the relentless rhythm, her vision blurring. With just a slight curl of Luo Mijin’s fingers, her body trembled violently again.

Her snow-white back arched forward, trying to escape the dizzying sensations.

The moonlight illuminated the decadent scene, Rong Qingyao caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, the faint red marks beneath her pale skin left by Luo Mijin’s touch.

Her delicate jaw brushed against dark hair, her lashes fluttering weakly, the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye faintly visible, tinged with a soft blush.

They were inseparable, like snow vines on the verge of withering entwined, unbroken, growing wild.

After waiting another five or six minutes with no response, the roommate outside finally left, grumbling in frustration.

The others who had come to invite Rong Qingyao out sighed in disappointment, some even urging the group to wait a little longer, hoping she might still emerge.

**

The next morning, as dawn barely broke, Luo Mijin awoke, her eyes bright and dewy like someone recovering from a long illness, gently massaging Rong Qingyao’s soft abdomen.

Thinking back to last night’s delirium, it seemed her senior had willingly played the role of a fragile, surrendering prey pleading yet utterly lost in the moment.

She lowered her head to gaze closely at the woman’s sleeping face. Thick, dark lashes curled slightly upward like reeds in a snowy night, veiling a clear, cold spring.

Glancing at the time, just eight o’clock, Luo Mijin couldn’t bear to wake Rong Qingyao, instead fixating on the woman’s lips.

Their shape was irresistibly plump, crimson and glistening, stirring endless fantasies and an unbearable thirst only a devout touch could quench even a fraction of that longing.

A relationship only four days old was like a cocktail of unknown composition and dazzling hues, blending intoxication, craving, sincerity, and freedom. One sip led to endless refills, bottomless as an eternal night.

“Senior, time to wake up. We need to head to the airport,” Luo Mijin murmured after waiting another fifteen minutes, reluctant but firm.

“Luo Mijin, I’m still so sleepy,” Rong Qingyao replied weakly.

“But we have to catch the flight. The other students and teachers are already gathering,” Luo Mijin said, holding her tenderly. “Have a Mint Candy, and you can sleep more in the car, okay?”

This might have been the first time Rong Qingyao had ever lazed in bed, her body so limp that sheer willpower was useless.

Though her gaze was unfocused, her lips were rosy and her skin fair, pristine and elegant. As long as the indecent marks were hidden, no one could guess the madness of the previous night.

With Luo Mijin’s help, Rong Qingyao finally packed her luggage and stepped out with dignity.

They had agreed to meet by the road outside the dorm at nine. By 8:55, they arrived just in time.

A few sharp-eyed male classmates noticed Rong Qingyao’s exhaustion and tried to push through the crowd to offer their attentions.

Fortunately, Luo Mijin was tall, with long arms and legs, shielding Rong Qingyao as she guided her to the back of the bus, leaving them grasping at air.

“Little vinegar jar, so clever,” Rong Qingyao whispered into Luo Mijin’s ear when no one was looking, her breath lingering. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

Luo Mijin’s heart swelled with joy, though she feigned sternness. “You’re just too good at attracting attention.”

When the bus passed through a tunnel, plunging the interior into darkness, Rong Qingyao used a map to hide them as she stole a brief, sweet kiss from Luo Mijin.

“Do you like this reward?”

“Love it.”

A little over an hour later, they arrived at the airport.

Luo Zhiwen had come early. Spotting Luo Mijin and Rong Qingyao stepping off the bus, she waved enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face as she clutched a large bouquet of sunflowers and chamomile.

Seeing her, Luo Mijin broke into a radiant smile, faint dimples appearing at the corners of her lips. She turned to Rong Qingyao and murmured,

“Senior, I’ll go greet Zhiwen. You can wait here.”

Rong Qingyao nearly reached out to stop her, wanting to say goodbye as well, but hesitated. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, if she followed Luo Mijin to chat with her sister, it would only invite more gossip.

So she simply squeezed Luo Mijin’s wrist.

“Okay.”

“Hey, is that Luo Mijin’s sister? The second daughter of the Luo family? They do look alike both have silver hair.”

“Isn’t it dyed?”

“No, apparently their mother is mixed-race. Probably inherited the silver hair. Honestly, the two sisters really do resemble each other.”

A few starstruck girls giggled as they commented, “With looks like theirs, they could debut right now. Forming a girl group with our Qingyao would definitely go viral.”

“Pfft, as if our department’s top student would enter the entertainment industry? Qingyao will definitely pursue her master’s and PhD, focusing on serious academics,” Rong Qingyao’s roommate chimed in. “And do you really think the Luo family would allow their children to become public figures?”

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