A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 46.1

Rong Qingyao held the small medicine bottle in her hand, smiling lightly as if it were nothing. “I had a minor injury before, nothing serious.”

“You don’t want to tell me the truth?” Luo Mijin suddenly seemed much sharper, her words piercing straight through Rong Qingyao’s thoughts.

“This is the truth.” Part of it, at least.

Rong Qingyao’s tone remained steady and gentle, leaving Luo Mijin no room to find further flaws.

She didn’t want to use the pitiful and terrifying memories of the past to win Luo Mijin’s sympathy. What she wanted to confirmat least for now was whether Luo Mijin still harbored pure affection for her.

Even if that affection was pitifully scarce, she didn’t want it tainted by other emotions.

The chime of a text message from Luo Mijin’s phone sounded particularly grating to Rong Qingyao’s ears.

“You seem quite busy these days. Compared to before, you’ve gotten much better at making friends.”

Before Luo Mijin could respond, the woman chuckled softly. “Did I hit the mark? Wei Xiashuang invited you out for dinner?”

The sky darkened gradually, and the white oleanders in the distance resembled flames fading from blue to purple under the night.

Luo Mijin was still reading the message on her phone, failing to detect the jealousy and veiled threat in Rong Qingyao’s words.

Only after she finished reading the last punctuation mark did she realize how close Rong Qingyao had gotten.

Close enough that a single lift of her hand could either help the woman put on or take off that sheer black silk camisole.

She understood that Rong Qingyao was likely acting out of habitual protectiveness, not wanting her to interact too much with Wei Xiashuang. But she had her own thoughts and didn’t wish to remain forever sheltered under Rong Qingyao’s wings.

“We’re just going to talk about music. I’ll be back soon,” Luo Mijin said after a pause. “I’ll take a cab by myself, no need to worry. Nothing will happen between us.”

“Talk about music?” Rong Qingyao repeated flatly, her deep eyes unreadable.

“Yeah. I’ll come back on my own tonight.” Luo Mijin could see the faint shadows beneath the woman’s porcelain skin. “You should rest early, don’t stay up late.”

To Rong Qingyao, those words carried a different meaning, Luo Mijin found her an inconvenience, wishing she’d just go to sleep and stop interfering with their plans.

“I can’t sleep. Insomnia.”

Luo Mijin looked up slightly in surprise. “Is it because of your injury!”

“She’s so thoughtful, even offering to buy you a new drum set,” Rong Qingyao couldn’t help the jealousy and resentment seeping into her tone.

Luo Mijin took a step back, speaking firmly. “I won’t accept it. No rewards without merit.”

“So you would if you had merit?”

“What do you mean?” Luo Mijin didn’t quite grasp the riddle in Rong Qingyao’s words.

“Nothing.” Rong Qingyao deflated, returning to sit at the stone table, frustrated at her own cowardice and equally annoyed with Luo Mijin.

It had been like this even back in university this person, without doing anything, shone like a radiant little planet, attracting all sorts of demons and monsters who flocked to her.

Not only did she have countless admirers on campus, but her online popularity was also terrifyingly high. She usually had to wear a hat when going out, or else being recognized would stir up another storm.

“Then I’ll go. Bye.” Luo Mijin fell silent for a moment but didn’t press further.

“Mm.”

Luo Mijin hesitated, wanting to share her thoughts with Rong Qingyao, but then suddenly remembered they weren’t in a romantic relationship. Saying more would only make things more awkward between them.

She nodded at Rong Qingyao, turned back into the villa, changed her clothes, and left.

Rong Qingyao remained seated where she was, feeling as though she were floating in the middle of a lake above its deepest waters, far from the warmth and light of the shore.

“Listen, Qingyao, think of this as a test for your Luo Mijin. If she gets lured away by Wei Xiashuang’s sweet talk, then she was never worth waiting for all this time. But if she doesn’t, doesn’t that just prove your love is unbreakable, steadfast till death?”

Five minutes after Luo Mijin left, Bai Jinhuai emerged from some hidden corner, plucking a flower and twirling it in her fingers as she watched the cold, distant woman sitting alone in the garden.

“Why are you back again?” Rong Qingyao asked, her gaze fixed on the butterflies in the terrarium, her expression grave.

“Well,  didn’t you say this plant, what’s it called, Ma Lan can be made into banlangen? I just happen to have a cold, so I thought I’d pick some.”

The unremarkable-looking flower, under the pitch-black sky, carried an elegance akin to a fluttering butterfly.

Rong Qingyao stared at Bai Jinhuai expressionlessly. “You’d get banlangen faster if you just went to a pharmacy.”

“Fine, I was eavesdropping on you two earlier,” Bai Jinhuai finally admitted when she saw Rong Qingyao wouldn’t budge. “Hey, Riddle never mind. Did Luo Mijin really go to meet Wei Xiashuang again? Just treat it as the heavens still testing your love.”

Testing?

Testing their love?

How could something that didn’t even exist need to be tested?

Rong Qingyao let out a cold laugh, feeling as though she had exhausted every possible solution but still couldn’t find the answer.

She didn’t want to hurt Luo Mijin, didn’t want to trap her, didn’t want to become some gilded, exquisite birdcage.

“Do you really think I could trap her?”

Bai Jinhuai nodded in agreement. “Even if you trapped her body, you couldn’t trap her heart.”

She didn’t dare say it outright, but in truth, she didn’t think Luo Mijin was the one trapped, it was Rong Qingyao.

Even now, Bai Jinhuai believed Rong Qingyao should decisively let go of the past, seek out her true soulmate, and stop wasting what remained of her youth.

“Yes, you can’t trap a heart,” Rong Qingyao murmured, her eyes fixed on the roses sprouting in the corner, her tone laced with bitter self-mockery.

Perhaps Luo Mijin’s heart had never been with her had never belonged to her at all. Just as Luo Mijin’s grandfather had once said, she was merely a toy that resonated with Luo Mijin in the human world. A toy so novel and fascinating that Luo Mijin couldn’t resist playing with it.

Both the toy and the one playing with it had fallen into a self-constructed illusion of “love,” unable to break free.

But toys always lose their charm eventually.

Noticing the utter indifference in Rong Qingyao’s expression, Bai Jinhuai tentatively asked,

“Qingyao, do you also think it’s time to let this relationship come to an end?”

Perhaps because she had wandered too long in a world of solitude, perpetually wrapped in an unrelenting chill, even the brightest July sunlight couldn’t dispel the cold clinging to the woman.

Rong Qingyao lowered her head and let out a soft laugh. Seven years, what was even left between her and Luo Mijin now?

A broken game console, worn-out chess pieces, shared bottles of soda, or the countless stars they’d once gazed at together?

Her desperate gamble might cause Luo Mijin distress and hesitation.

She had also considered giving up perhaps that would free everyone from this torment.

An inescapable lifetime of solitude was something she had never thought to flee from.

But from beginning to end, perhaps in matters of love, she had never witnessed a proper example.

Her so-called father hadn’t taught her about love, and her mother hadn’t taught her about letting go.

“Giving up feels like a waste, considering you’ve searched for her for seven years without a single day’s pause. But not giving up makes you seem like a fool, mainly because the sunk cost is too high. The Luo family isn’t some ordinary household; all kinds of information are kept tightly under wraps. You investigated for so long before and still came up empty-handed.”

Bai Jinhuai rambled on with her analysis for a long while before looking up to find Rong Qingyao no longer standing there.

“If you don’t like what you hear, you just walk away, how rude.”

After grumbling, Bai Jinhuai let out a long sigh, remembering the half-year seven years ago when Rong Qingyao had been a wreck over Luo Mijin, nearly losing half her life in the process. How many people in this world could endure such an all-or-nothing kind of love?

Would Luo Mijin be the exception?

Bai Jinhuai wandered back to the living room and saw the slender beauty curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. Her elegantly structured face was pale and distant, a sickly flush lingering at the corners of her eyes.

“Did you drink?” Bai Jinhuai asked, spotting the amber liquid with ice on the table.

Rong Qingyao lifted her eyelids slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around her. The delicate curve of her willow-like waist traced an enchanting silhouette.

“Just a little.”

“Insomnia again?”

Rong Qingyao closed her eyes, her face haggard, as if she had already fallen into a deep slumber.

Bai Jinhuai shook her head and turned up the air conditioning slightly.

Humans were such hypocrites. They could swear in speeches or advice that people shouldn’t abandon suffering, yet they still drowned their sorrows in whiskey and pills to escape reality.

**

A few days later, after finishing her performance at the bar, Luo Mijin received a call from the private hospital.

“Miss Luo, I’m pleased to inform you that your sister, Luo Zhiwen, has woken up. Her condition is stable now. If it’s convenient, you may visit her at the hospital.”

After a few seconds of silence, Luo Mijin thanked the doctor calmly and explained that she would arrive at the hospital within an hour.

“Dr. Claire, is there anything else I need to prepare? Should I sterilize myself or something?”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “Miss Luo, your sister isn’t that fragile. If you really want to bring something, you could get her favorite flowers. Just avoid food or drinks her diet needs strict monitoring right now.”

“Alright, thank you, Dr. Claire. I’ll be there soon.”

Luo Mijin calmly bid farewell to her bandmates, changed her clothes, and, since Yan Si was away on a business trip with Rong Qingyao, took a taxi alone to the private hospital.

Though it was the rainy season, the heavens seemed to take pity tonight, briefly halting the downpour so that Luo Mijin, her mind both exhilarated and dazed, could reach the hospital without trouble.

On the way, she stopped by the flower shop she often visited and bought a simple bouquet of sunflowers for Luo Zhiwen, the kind they had both loved from the very beginning.

The corridor of the private hospital stretched long and silent. The glow of the fluorescent lights overhead streamed from the right, layer by layer, casting their brilliance into the quiet night.

The polished floor reflected the long shadows of windows and a figure, a figure with flowing silver hair and the hem of their clothes swaying gently in the night breeze.

Luo Mijin had just arrived on the floor where Luo Zhiwen’s hospital room was located when she spotted the doctor waiting there, as if they had been anticipating her for some time.

“Dr. Claire.”

Claire, the attending physician at the private hospital, nodded at Luo Mijin and said gently,

“Family member, the patient’s condition has stabilized for now. You may go in to see her, but please don’t stay too long. It’s best to keep the visit within an hour.”

“Okay, yes, I understand. Thank you, Dr. Claire,” Luo Mijin replied, her silver hair slightly disheveled, fluffy like summer grass, faintly obscuring her striking eyes and brows.

The hospital room was impeccably clean and warmly decorated, with fresh sunflowers in the vase replaced daily.

Opening the window revealed the distant, turbulent blue sea and a garden lush with tropical plants, the air refreshing.

Luo Zhiwen lay thin on the hospital bed, her frame noticeably smaller than before, making her eyes appear large and her dark pupils strikingly vivid. Due to treatment, much of her hair had been shaved, leaving only wispy white strands drifting lightly.

“Zhiwen,” Luo Mijin murmured, staring at her for a long moment, unsure what to say. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Luo Zhiwen replied, tilting her head. She wanted to offer Luo Mijin a generous smile but was hindered by the numerous medical devices attached to her.

“How are you feeling? Does it still hurt anywhere? Are you uncomfortable in any way?”

“I knew you’d talk a lot as soon as you arrived,” Luo Zhiwen managed a faint smile. “I’m alright. Just can’t move much. After lying here so long, the doctor says I’ll need months of rehab.”

“That’s okay. I can stay with you. I already know all the quiet parks with nice surroundings. Once you’re discharged, I’ll take you there.”

“Great, then I’ll count on you,” Luo Zhiwen said, pausing before continuing, “Have you gone back to visit Grandpa over the years? Or paid respects at his grave?”

Luo Mijin froze. The word “Grandpa” had faded from her life many years ago.

She lowered her head with a self-deprecating smile. “If Grandpa knew in the afterlife, he wouldn’t want a granddaughter like me visiting him. He probably thought I brought him a lifetime of shame.”

Luo Zhiwen couldn’t argue. She sighed helplessly.

“It’s fine. We never wanted to go back to that family anyway. Losing it completely isn’t a pity. Just seeing you again is enough for me. It’s been over seven years since we last met, since that year.”

“Thank goodness we met that one time,” Luo Mijin nodded in agreement.

“The Luo family’s decline to this state actually had signs long ago,” Luo Zhiwen said, her tone icy.

Parents who could abandon their autistic child that family must have been rotten to the core.

Luo Mijin bowed her head, unsure how to respond. The Luo family had sheltered her, giving her over a decade of pampered luxury, where she lacked for nothing.

But they had also given her a life like hell, as if repaying a debt, where what she received had to be repaid twofold.

“After Grandpa fell ill and passed, the tree fell and the monkeys scattered. No one pays attention to the Luo family anymore. It’s hard for us to pursue careers in the military or politics now.”

“Did you ever really want that kind of life, high status, power, and endless scheming?”

“It’s not a matter of wanting to or not, I simply can’t adapt.”

Luo Zhiwen wanted to nod, but the tubes prevented her from moving. “What are you doing now?”

“Playing drums in a band at a bar. We perform four or five times a week, enough to get by.”

Luo Zhiwen knew full well that her treatment wasn’t cheap. Luo Mijin’s life couldn’t possibly be as easy as she made it sound.

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