A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 47.2

As if now, it was Rong Qingyao who refused to back down.

Luo Mijin blinked, feigning deep thought. “Ah, it was years ago. All in the past, just a sudden episode. And since I’ve recovered, the details are a bit hazy.”

Rong Qingyao remained composed, offering a considerate suggestion:

“Then let’s arrange a full medical checkup for you sometime, just to make sure there aren’t any lingering issues.”

Before Luo Mijin could refuse, Rong Qingyao cut her off. “It’s better to be safe, especially now that Zhiwen’s awake. You’ll need to be in good health to take care of her, right? After all, she still has heart surgery ahead.”

“…Right,” Luo Mijin conceded, unable to argue. She could only nod in agreement.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll find time to accompany you for the check-up.”

“Um, Rong… Rong Qingyao, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Luo Mijin’s hesitant demeanor made her thoughts immediately clear to Rong Qingyao.

“You want to move out as soon as possible?”

Having her intentions seen through so quickly, Luo Mijin decided to stop beating around the bush. “Yes. Since Zhiwen has woken up and is gradually recovering, with the heart surgery being arranged, I no longer have a reason to keep living with you.”

“Hmm.” Rong Qingyao responded with a noncommittal sound, signaling Luo Mijin to continue.

“Don’t worry, I’ve kept track of all the expenses. Zhiwen and I will work together to pay you back every penny with interest.”

“Seems like you really enjoy having me as your creditor, don’t you?”

Luo Mijin awkwardly struggled to respond. Setting aside their past relationship, Rong Qingyao had gone above and beyond to help her and her sister. Now, wanting to leave so abruptly felt rather ungrateful.

“I wasn’t being considerate enough. If you ever need me, I’ll do my best to help.”

“Oh? Then what about the limited-time dating agreement we signed?” Rong Qingyao raised an eyebrow. “If fake lovers don’t live together, it’s easy for others to see through the act. I bet Scott is already questioning our relationship. Are you really going to abandon me halfway?”

“I… won’t move out that quickly. I’ll still be here when you need me.” Suddenly mustering courage, Luo Mijin asked, “Have you really never considered changing your marriage candidate?”

“Back to square one. If I change my marriage candidate, who should I choose?” Rong Qingyao joked, her eyes fixed intently on Luo Mijin. “You?”

“Finding… finding a place to live isn’t easy,” Luo Mijin said with a nervous laugh, shaking her phone slightly. “Let alone a marriage candidate.”

“True. Since you put it that way, I’ll help you look for a suitable place too, so you can focus on repaying your debt.” Rong Qingyao stood up and nodded, her face wearing an understanding smile.

“Then I—” Before Luo Mijin could finish, Rong Qingyao suddenly swayed weakly, on the verge of collapsing. Luo Mijin rushed over to catch her.

Having just bathed, Rong Qingyao was wearing an avocado-green spaghetti-strap dress that accentuated her figure and fair skin, serene as fine jade.

The straps were already loose, and in her haste, Luo Mijin’s fingers pressed against the front of the dress, nearly exposing the soft pink curves beneath.

“What’s wrong? Why did you faint?” Luo Mijin quickly withdrew her hand, her gaze fixed on Rong Qingyao’s pale face.

Rong Qingyao weakly clung to Luo Mijin, breathing lightly. “I don’t know… suddenly felt dizzy.”

“Lie down on the sofa first.” Luo Mijin scooped her up and carried her to the living room couch. “I’ll call Dr. Claire.”

As she turned to fetch her phone, Rong Qingyao grabbed her wrist, her voice frail. “I don’t want to see a doctor… or go to the hospital.”

“Then what should we do?” Seeing Rong Qingyao so delicate and vulnerable, Luo Mijin’s voice softened.

“Some warm water and cold medicine will do.”

“But you might be sick…”

“Please?” Rong Qingyao pleaded softly, her bare back like a length of silk shimmering with a pearlescent sheen, occasionally dotted with an unnatural flush.

Luo Mijin turned her face away, thinking for a long moment. “But if you’re sick, you should still see a doctor.”

Knowing she was just being stubborn, Rong Qingyao cut straight to giving orders. “I’m so thirsty. Can I have some water?”

Sure enough, Luo Mijin’s attention was immediately diverted. “I’ll go pour you a drink.”

“I want lemon water, not too sour,” the woman cooed, clutching a silk blanket as she gave her instructions.

“Should I add two spoons of honey then?”

Receiving Rong Qingyao’s approval, Luo Mijin dashed off to the kitchen like an eager puppy boiling water, washing the glass and fresh lemon, slicing it, and adding two spoons of honey.

Meanwhile, Luo Mijin’s phone, left on the living room sofa, buzzed incessantly again. It was a call from Wei Xiashuang.

Rong Qingyao stared coldly at the screen, hesitating whether to answer or simply hang up.

“The lemon’s only steeped for two minutes. It needs a bit longer for the flavor,” Luo Mijin’s voice called from the kitchen.

Flustered, the woman grabbed a pillow, trying to muffle the ringing by pressing it over the phone.

Fortunately, the call disconnected automatically after going unanswered for too long.

“That’s fine. Could you go upstairs and grab the cold medicine for me? It’s next to the TV cabinet in the home theater on the second floor. You’ll find it if you look.”

“I’ll go right now,” Luo Mijin replied without suspicion, rushing upstairs in a hurry.

While Luo Mijin was upstairs fetching the medicine, Rong Qingyao switched the phone to silent mode, then curled up on the sofa, feigning complete innocence.

“Luo Mijin, I think I really have a cold. I feel awful.”

Buried under the blanket and surrounded by gold-embroidered pillows, the woman’s pale, delicate skin shimmered with a golden, almost theatrical fragility.

Luo Mijin glanced at the prepared cold medicine, then at Rong Qingyao’s frail, languid form sprawled on the sofa, and asked with some difficulty, “Are you okay? Should I feed you the medicine? Do you have the strength to sit up?”

The living room’s blinds cast faint tree shadows as Rong Qingyao nodded weakly. “Please feed it to me. My head is spinning.”

“Alright, alright. I’ve never taken care of a sick person before, but it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Rong Qingyao secretly laughed at Luo Mijin’s flustered words but maintained her innocent facade. “Luo Mijin, sorry for the trouble.”

Her thick, soft hair cascaded over her neck and chest, her luminous skin and delicate collarbones peeking through the fragrant, dark tresses like hidden treasures.

To check Rong Qingyao’s forehead temperature, Luo Mijin had to brush aside those silky strands. The fleeting touch of warm, soft skin sent an electric shiver through her.

Rong Qingyao knew the art of retreating to advance. Propping herself up with one hand, she furrowed her delicate brows and put on a brave yet pitiful front. “If it’s too much trouble, I can manage on my own. Don’t worry about me, go rest.”

Luo Mijin suddenly felt that leaving now would make her seem heartless and cold.

“It’s fine, I can do it.”

Bathed in the soft glow of the living room, Luo Mijin gently cradled Rong Qingyao, lifting a spoonful of medicine to her lips. The woman’s misty eyes flickered between focus and daze, her voice breaking with a sob.

“This medicine’s so bitter. I don’t want it anymore.”

Luo Mijin was startled by Rong Qingyao’s tearful reaction. She remembered Rong Qingyao as someone who never acted spoiled, someone who took medicine without complaint. Back then, she mistook it for maturity and strength, but it was just the resilience of a child who had no one to pamper her.

“You should drink a little. I’ll give you candy after, okay?”

“No, I want some porridge.”

“Then I’ll make some for you. Take your medicine first.”

“Fine,” Rong Qingyao deliberately put on a reluctant expression, though her real intention was to keep Luo Mijin from noticing the messages on her phone.

Before long, the doorbell of the villa rang urgently. Luo Mijin, who was in the middle of cooking porridge, walked out of the first-floor kitchen in confusion.

“Would anyone come over on the weekend?”

Rong Qingyao lay weakly on the sofa, her cheeks and the corners of her eyes flushed from the fever, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I don’t know. I didn’t invite any friends over.”

“Then I’ll go check the door.”

Outside stood Wei Xiashuang, dressed in flamboyant attire. The moment she saw Luo Mijin opening the door, her face lit up with a smile.

“Luo Luo, why didn’t you answer my call?”

“You called me? Sorry, I was busy and didn’t hear it.”

“Well, you should set a special ringtone for me then.”

Luo Mijin replied sheepishly, “I’ll pay more attention next time.”

“I showed the music demo you gave me to the arranger at the studio. She was really impressed and wants to meet you to discuss it in detail.” Wei Xiashuang walked in casually, but upon seeing Rong Qingyao, she raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Qingyao’s here too today? Don’t you have work at the company?”

Rong Qingyao hugged a pillow and gave a soft “Mm.”

“Sure, I’d be honored,” Luo Mijin said, then frowned slightly. “Will there be a lot of people at your studio?”

“Quite a few. Including me, there’s recording, instruments, arrangement, choreography, stage design, visuals, lighting, and cameras, over a dozen people. Why?”

“Can we keep the meeting small? I’m not comfortable around too many strangers.”

Wei Xiashuang burst out laughing, her tone indulgent.

“Of course! I’ll be with you the whole time. No need to be nervous.”

“Thank you,” Luo Mijin lowered her head, feeling like she was causing trouble.

Seeming to sense Luo Mijin’s thoughts, Wei Xiashuang brushed it off reassuringly.

“Don’t overthink it. People with special talents always have quirks that set them apart. I once met an amazing arranger who was way harder to deal with, he insisted on measuring his water to exactly 45 degrees with a thermometer, or else he’d get diarrhea. Pretty wild, right?”

Luo Mijin shook her head, feeling Wei Xiashuang was being overly protective of her.

“Right, Qingyao? Don’t you think Luo Luo has a real talent for music?” Wei Xiashuang turned to ask the “sick beauty” curled up on the sofa, her delicate face pale yet strikingly beautiful.

“Yes, she’s very talented and likable.”

“See? Even Qingyao says so,” Wei Xiashuang continued persuading Luo Mijin. “Just come with me now, it won’t take long.”

“Right now?” Luo Mijin’s brows furrowed, and she instinctively glanced back at Rong Qingyao.

“It’s fine, go ahead. I’ll be okay.” Rong Qingyao held the delicate teacup handle, looking magnanimous and obedient as she watched Luo Mijin.

“Qingyao, why don’t you call your assistant Yan Si to take care of you?”

“She’s on leave,” Rong Qingyao said, her fair and lovely face forcing a smile as she struggled to get up and pour tea for Wei Xiashuang. “I’m quite sick, so I can only offer you green tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

Wei Xiashuang took the Longjing tea from Rong Qingyao, momentarily stunned.

In her eyes, Rong Qingyao had always been someone of high status, her emotions never showing on her face. This coquettish, pleading demeanor was utterly unheard of and unseen before.

“Qingyao, are you sure you’re really alright?”

“It’s fine. Your matters are more important, don’t worry about me.”

The woman spoke with understanding and reason, only to break into another violent fit of coughing. Her delicate frame trembled, her face deathly pale, while her lips damp and flushed from the medicine, added a touch of alluring charm to her otherwise composed and selfless demeanor, enough to make one’s thoughts waver.

Luo Mijin stood between the two women, her gaze fixed on Rong Qingyao, brimming with faint distress.

“I’m fine, it’s just a fever. I can take care of myself alone,” she murmured, her thick, curled lashes lowered, her voice soft and fleeting. “You two should go.”

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