A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 44.2

But she didn’t dare ask, didn’t want to hear Rong Qingyao say she liked someone else with her own ears.

“It is childish,” Rong Qingyao murmured, her eyes deep. To hide her emotions, she lifted Mint Candy from her lap, pretending to inspect its paws for cleanliness.

“So, how long is ‘limited-time’?”

“Until the engagement ceremony. Does that work for you?” Rong Qingyao’s gaze was profound, as if layered with unspoken thoughts.

“And if by then there’s no effect…” Luo Mijin stopped herself mid-sentence. If there was no effect, then what?

Acting as the ex-lover of the person she still loved, to get back at that person’s fiancé?

Luo Mijin found it absurd so absurd it made her chest tremble slightly.

“Can’t you just call off the engagement?” she blurted out impulsively.

Rong Qingyao tightened her grip on the kitten’s front paws. “Then who would I get engaged to?”

Luo Mijin avoided her gaze, forcing a carefree smile. “There must be other, better options.”

“Like?” Rong Qingyao leaned slightly forward, Mint Candy in her arms. The curve of her neck dipped into snow-white softness, wrapped in black fabric, exuding warmth and fragrance.

Staring at Mint Candy’s two eyes, Luo Mijin stiffened against the chairback, her slender fingers twisting together as she stammered, “You could find other talented young men. I’m sure you’ll meet someone you like more, someone more suitable, someone better.”

Rong Qingyao couldn’t help but let out a soft, lazy laugh while holding the cat.

No, never again. She could never like anyone else, no matter how good or suitable they were for her, Rong Qingyao thought.

“Am I wrong?” Luo Mijin asked earnestly, gazing at Rong Qingyao as if genuinely wishing for her to find happiness in someone else’s arms.

The woman’s narrow, dark, beautiful eyes misted over with a faint shimmer, rippling with an intoxicating allure.

Perhaps Bai Jinhuai was right, she was the only one who hadn’t moved on. She had been foolish over Luo Mijin too many times and could never regain her wisdom.

Losing was inevitable.

But she refused to accept it. She refused to let the person who had once sworn eternal love to her move on so easily. She wouldn’t allow it. She would force it, by any means necessary.

Noticing Rong Qingyao’s teary eyes, the misty haze in her gaze, her lower lip bitten tight that familiar look of suppressed grievance, Luo Mijin panicked. She wanted to reach out and steady Rong Qingyao by the shoulders but hesitated, flustered and unsure.

“Rong Qingyao, were you forced into this? Did Scott and the others pressure you into this engagement?” Luo Mijin hovered beside Rong Qingyao, shifting positions restlessly before obediently crouching down to peer into the woman’s expression, like a clumsy but devoted puppy. “Or was it someone else? Your father, perhaps? Old Master Cen?”

“No, don’t jump to conclusions,” Rong Qingyao murmured, inching a few centimeters closer to Luo Mijin, her cloud-like hair brushing faintly against Luo Mijin’s nose.

“I don’t believe it. Scott is already a terrible person, and your father… is no saint either,” Luo Mijin muttered, thinking of how Rong Qingyao’s childhood and youth had been marred by abandonment.

Now that Rong Qingyao had grown up, this so-called “good father” had suddenly taken her back clearly a case of the weasel paying respects to the hen, with no good intentions.

“So, what? You want to fight for me? Beat them black and blue?”

Luo Mijin was about to reply, “Of course I want to thrash them, but that’s a childish way to handle things,” but she stopped.

Her pale, beautiful eyes dimmed, and at the same time, Rong Qingyao lowered her head. The two fell into a tacit silence.

Perhaps it was because they both remembered that day years ago when Rong Qingyao, working at a milk tea shop, had been harassed by some local students and Luo Mijin had fought them on the spot.

It was the first time someone had ever protected Rong Qingyao. Since childhood, she had been taught that she could rely on no one but herself, that trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Everything she had seen and heard had reinforced the cruelty of the world.

But that day changed everything. Someone who had never been cared for was promised protection.

No, not just promised. Luo Mijin had truly protected her.

Like a miracle in her barren, lightless life.

“What I meant to say is… if you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do everything I can to help,” Luo Mijin said after composing herself, choosing what she thought were more appropriate words. “I know now that fighting isn’t the answer.”

“But… thank you. I feel better now.” Rong Qingyao even had the urge to stroke Luo Mijin’s fluffy silver hair, to have her hold her close.

If only those lost seven years could be reclaimed. If all the hurt could be undone. No, she didn’t need undoing. She just wanted this person to fall in love with her again.

“That’s good. That’s good.”

Only then did Luo Mijin realize how improper her position was crouched beside Rong Qingyao’s thigh. Flustered, she offered a small smile and quickly returned to her seat.

By chance, their eyes met again. Rong Qingyao’s gaze was as gentle and serene as ever, yet brimming with detachment and misty allure piercing, devastatingly captivating.

Even when she looks at you intently, in truth, you don’t exist in her eyes at all.

Yet it’s precisely such a person even when you know she doesn’t see you, doesn’t care about you that you can’t help but draw closer to, until you’re reduced to ashes.

“So, will you sign?”

Still lost in the woman’s allure, Luo Mijin asked dazedly, “Sign what?”

“The limited-time dating agreement. Didn’t you say you wanted to help me? This is the best way to do that.” Rong Qingyao lowered her long lashes, suppressing that inscrutable, shadowy longing.

Having a “legitimate” reason to keep this person by her side was still a rare kind of progress.

Luo Mijin was momentarily unsure whether to refuse or agree, pressing her lips together in stillness.

Fortunately, Rong Qingyao was exceptionally “considerate,” handing her a glass of water as if to soothe her. “Have some juice. You can think it over. I’ll give you plenty of time just don’t keep me waiting too long, okay?”

Her voice was soft and gentle, almost impossible to resist. Luo Mijin took the glass and nodded lightly. “Okay, sure.”

“It’s ten now. Would you like a little midnight snack? I’ll make something.”

The tenderness and care she had received tonight were overwhelming, almost making Luo Mijin feel as though they were still together. The sensation was so intoxicating that it was hard to refuse.

But she didn’t dare accept any more. Fleeting moments of intense happiness only bred dependency, followed by impossible delusions.

“No need, I’m not hungry. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Rong Qingyao stood up on her own, gracefully walking out of the study. “Have a little. Besides, I’m hungry.”

Hearing Rong Qingyao say she was hungry, Luo Mijin’s resolve wavered.

“I was busy with work today and barely ate dinner,” Rong Qingyao’s voice softened at the end, as if refusing to join her for a snack would be some unforgivable betrayal of a beauty’s expectations.

Luo Mijin relented. “Alright, fine. Just a little.”

“Good girl.”

Yan Si had mentioned that Luo Mijin ate very little and had a poor appetite, which only made Rong Qingyao more determined to cook for her.

Since it was already late, she didn’t go to great lengths just stir-fried some seasonal vegetables, made sweet and sour pork with pineapple, and blanched okra.

After setting the eggs to boil, she decided to take a shower first before coming back to eat together.

“Luo Mijin, turn off the gas in seven minutes. You can do that, right?”

“Ah, yes, I can. Go ahead and maybe change into something else,” Luo Mijin replied, secretly hoping Rong Qingyao would leave quickly and put on something more conservative.

The woman emerged from her shower with damp black hair, her face cool yet flushed, her gold-rimmed glasses glinting with a chilly spring light aloof, relaxed, and faintly weary.

Rong Qingyao naturally began peeling the boiled eggs, deliberately separating the whites from the yolks. She placed the whites in her own bowl and the yolks in Luo Mijin’s, crushing them with just the right amount of locust honey to make them fragrant and creamy.

Both of them froze for a moment.

It was Luo Mijin who broke the silence. “You still remember I don’t like egg whites.”

“Mhm, you’re a picky little thing.”

This time, Luo Mijin didn’t argue. She just scooped up the honeyed yolk with a spoon and ate it bite by bite.

“Eat slower. You’ll choke,” Rong Qingyao poured a glass of warm water. “Here, drink if it’s too dry.”

“There’s a gathering tomorrow night. I need you to come with me,” Rong Qingyao said lightly.

“A gathering?”

“Mm. Scott’s throwing it for his little boyfriend. It’s a small group, just familiar faces. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, sure,” Luo Mijin agreed readily, her lingering anger toward Scott making her more willing to comply.

“Then come with me. You need to try on your dress for tomorrow,” Rong Qingyao took Luo Mijin’s hand and pulled her toward the upstairs wardrobe, leaving no room for refusal.

Inside the wardrobe, Rong Qingyao picked out two similarly styled dresses, both floor-length gowns with delicate straps, elegant and refined.

At a glance, no one would notice that her brooch and Luo Mijin’s cufflinks were actually a matching set.

Without waiting for Luo Mijin to respond, she shoved all the clothes into her arms. “Wear this tomorrow. No refusals.”

“But—”

“No buts. Have you changed your mind about helping me?”

Luo Mijin: “…”

“Fine, I’ll wear it.”

“Remember to stick close to me at the banquet.”

“Okay. I don’t know anyone else there anyway.”

Early the next morning, Luo Mijin was dragged out of bed by Rong Qingyao under the pretext that she was feeling down and needed company. The moment Luo Mijin showed any reluctance, the woman would subtly display a hint of unforced sadness, as if on the verge of silent tears.

They remained inseparable until they got into the car for the evening banquet.

Watching the fleeting fireworks outside the window, Luo Mijin felt like she was dreaming like she had become a tiny firefly in that shower of sparks, carried forward by time but uncertain if there was an exit ahead in life.

The banquet was arranged to be quiet and relaxed. Few people drank alcohol, and those who did opted for low-proof red wine or fruit wine.

White-clad waiters carried white bone china cups filled with honey-scented sweet tea, its golden glow both enchanting and elegant.

On matching bone china saucers beside them were chocolate cookies sprinkled with a touch of mint dew.

At the banquet, the moment Scott spotted Luo Mijin, he reflexively stepped back, trying to hide behind Bai Jinhuai.

“What are you doing? A grown man acting so scared?” Bai Jinhuai, never one to spare Scott any mercy, seized the opportunity to tease him relentlessly. “What, you think she’s going to ambush you with a club today or something?”

“Can’t you tell Riddle looks like the type who’s really good at fighting?” Scott muttered from behind him.

“I really don’t see it. She’s all slender limbs just tall, that’s all. Meanwhile, you’re built like a tank with that tan, yet you’re such a coward.” Bai Jinhuai deliberately held up his pinky to emphasize his disdain.

“You haven’t seen her aura. If you had, you’d be trembling too. And with Qing that ruthless boss who kills without blinking, how am I supposed to survive?”

“Just survive, I guess.”

“Remember three years ago when your and Qing’s company faced that hostile takeover? The way she fought back was downright suicidal. The other side wanted to destroy her, so she bit back without regard for cost. Even if she ended up with nothing, she made sure they were crippled too.”

Scott pulled Bai Jinhuai aside, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray to calm his nerves.

“Qing was betting that the other side couldn’t afford to lose as much as she could mutual destruction, the barefoot against the shod, a rock smashing porcelain,” he blurted out Luo Mijin’s words verbatim. “I think they’re alike in that way.”

“Uh, what nonsense are you spouting?” Bai Jinhuai was still processing Scott’s clumsy Chinese when Scott, noticing Luo Mijin was no longer looking his way, launched into another ramble.

“I feel like if Riddle ever got into a fight, she’d be the type to ignore her own injuries just to make sure her enemy got thoroughly beaten. You know what I mean? That’s called being ruthless.”

“You have a point there. I remember Qingyao mentioning when she was drunk that Riddle once got into a fight for her.”

“See? What did I tell you?”

“Alright, enough,” Bai Jinhuai noticed a boldly dressed woman heading straight for Rong Qingyao’s group. Sensing trouble, she decided to go watch the drama unfold. “I’m going over to say hello.”

“What about me?” Scott looked miserable, still clutching Bai Jinhuai’s sleeve.

Bai Jinhuai turned back with a helpless expression. “You? You’re on your own. Shouldn’t have taken on the role of the scumbag.”

Scott: “…”

These people really knew how to kick the ladder after crossing the bridge.

Meanwhile, Rong Qingyao was about to take Luo Mijin to a quieter spot on the balcony when they were abruptly interrupted.

“Qingyao, where did you meet such a beautiful girl?” Wei Xiashuang turned to Luo Mijin, extending a hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Wei Xiashuang.”

Luo Mijin hesitated briefly before smiling faintly. “I’m Luo Mijin.”

“You have dimples when you smile so cute. I’m Wei Xiashuang, and like you, I’m into music.”

Rong Qingyao’s expression darkened, though she restrained herself for propriety’s sake. Wei Xiashuang had previously composed music for one of her films and was somewhat well-known in the industry.

Seeing the awkwardness, Bai Jinhuai stepped in.

“At a bar. Qingyao met her at a bar. This lovely girl is an amazing drummer.”

“Then you won’t mind if I borrow Xiao Luo for a bit, Qingyao? Just for a little while, I’ll bring her right back.” Wei Xiashuang smiled at Luo Mijin. “Could we talk about music?”

Luo Mijin was about to refuse when a thought crossed her mind. She nodded and followed Wei Xiashuang aside.

“Qing’s plan isn’t working at all. Riddle’s practically being snatched away this circle isn’t exactly known for restraint behind the scenes.” Scott reappeared from the shadows, gloating. “Qing’s usually so good at conversation. Why doesn’t she just join them and talk music? It’s not like she can’t.”

Bai Jinhuai gave Scott a pained look. “You don’t know this, but Qingyao excels at everything except music. She once signed up for drumming and composition lessons, but the teacher refunded her and told her to try something else.”

“Seriously? You’re not messing with me, are you? There’s actually something Qing can’t do?”

Bai Jinhuai smirked. “Exactly. No one’s perfect, not even Qingyao. Haven’t you noticed she never sings at our gatherings or film crew parties? There was a movie that wanted her to sing the theme song after three days in the studio, everyone gave up.”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve never heard her sing a single note. I just thought it was because she’s aloof and distant.”

“Qingyao is aloof, but she’s also genuinely tone-deaf.” Bai Jinhuai glanced at Rong Qingyao’s stormy expression and lowered her voice.

“She could still talk music even if she doesn’t know it. Plenty of people in this industry fake it. With her eloquence, why is she holding back this time?”

“Anxiety clouds judgment, surely you understand that?” Bai Jinhuai sighed helplessly. “Otherwise, would she go through all this trouble?”

For Rong Qingyao, loving someone meant daring to reveal one’s true self, to voice affection openly, and to wait faithfully for that one person.

To outsiders, this seemed utterly anti-capitalist, counterintuitive, anti-utilitarian even antithetical to Rong Qingyao’s very nature.

No cost calculations, no weighing of pros and cons. She would willingly invest immense time, endure sleepless torment, yet still stake everything on this gamble.

This wasn’t about winning or losing, it was choosing to live a life either with that person or without them.

Unable and unwilling to change her heart, she’d “rather die in solitude than live in compromise.”

“I just casually play the drums, nothing special,” Luo Mijin cautiously answered Wei Xiashuang’s questions while intermittently checking if Scott was approaching Rong Qingyao.

Meanwhile, Rong Qingyao sat nearby with composed indifference, seemingly unaffected by Scott’s presence, which slightly eased Luo Mijin’s mind.

“You’re too modest. Few earn Jinhuai’s praise, and besides, you came with Qingyao. I’ve always trusted her judgment.”

Luo Mijin, uncomfortable with such enthusiasm, strained to maintain politeness.

“Xiao Luo, I have many excellent music arrangers, vocal coaches, and instrumental teachers there. You should exchange ideas with them.”

They faintly detected Wei Xiashuang’s pronounced interest in Luo Mijin.

At this moment, Scott whispered to Bai Jinhuai:

“Would you say Qing’s shot herself in the foot this time? Built a bridal chamber only for another? Look how murderous Qing’s expression is.”

Just as Bai Jinhuai was about to retort, they saw Wei Xiashuang hand Luo Mijin a business card.

“Here’s my contact. May I have yours?”

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