A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 49.1

The hotel room’s humidifier seemed to sense someone entering the bedroom, dutifully lighting up with a warm glow and releasing puffs of orange-scented mist.

The woman’s dark eyes were hazy like fog, glistening with the moisture of intoxication. She kissed without restraint, her voice soft and nasal, making her seem more like the one being forced.

Tonight’s moonlight was faint, and the diamond-shaped window on the balcony wasn’t properly closed, allowing warm night air to drift in.

With just a light kiss, the woman’s entire body flushed red rapidly, contrasting against her porcelain skin like the gradient hues of magnolia buds in early spring.

The thought of being entered by Luo Mijin felt like taking a painkiller with no side effects.

Because Rong Qingyao was weak and dazed, barely able to stand, Luo Mijin’s push wasn’t forceful enough to be effective instead, it felt more like caressing the woman’s delicate, soft body.

“Rong Qingyao,” Luo Mijin called out in a low voice, unable to push her away. She had witnessed the power of this “drunkard” before and didn’t dare underestimate her. “You’re drunk. Don’t do this.”

Of course, only a drunk person would insist they were pretending or not drunk at all.

“Doing what?” Rong Qingyao lifted her damp eyes, pulling back a few centimeters before kissing her again, brushing against the corner of Luo Mijin’s lips with a soft laugh. “Doing what exactly?”

A drunkard was unreasonable and utterly shameless. Breathing in the woman’s sweet, clean scent, Luo Mijin gritted her teeth and said:

“I’m not your fiancé. Please get that straight.”

Rong Qingyao clung to Luo Mijing’s shoulders, her hazy, narrow eyes gazing at her intently before she bent at the waist and knelt into her embrace, panting softly. Her crimson lips hovered just out of reach as she murmured in a whisper:

“I know. I know very well.”

“You’re Luo Mijin.”

“You know?” Luo Mijin’s voice carried confusion as she was forced onto the sofa, unable to move.

“Mhm.”

“Then you should get up right now. Don’t,  don’t joke like this.”

Remembering the kiss from the day they reunited, Rong Qingyao had dismissed it as a drunken joke. What was she going to do now?

History repeating itself, the same old tricks only to pretend nothing happened the next day and continue living half-truths.

By then, Rong Qingyao might go ahead with the engagement, get married, and return to a normal life. But Luo Mijin couldn’t do that.

She couldn’t!

Accepting the fact that Rong Qingyao was getting engaged, watching the date draw closer day by day, it had already drained all her strength.

Maybe it was her own fault for not being firm enough. She had promised to stay away, to simply witness Rong Qingyao’s happiness from afar.

But she was never satisfied, too greedy, occasionally daring to entertain self-deceiving fantasies.

“I’m not joking,” Rong Qingyao gently cupped Luo Mijin’s face, surprised to see moisture in her eyes. “Why are you crying?”

Understanding that reasoning with someone half-drunk was impossible, Luo Mijin turned her head away, expression cold, brows tightly furrowed as she said:

“It’s nothing. Just tired. I’m not crying.”

If heaven were kind enough to turn back time, to return to the past, she would tell Rong Qingyao all her grievances, her unhappiness, her willfulness.

She knew Rong Qingyao would understand, would forgive her, would love her.

But now, she couldn’t say anything at all.

In truth, she understood Rong Qingyao this woman was soft-hearted, unable to bear others’ suffering, instinctively radiating warmth and kindness. But she had to soberly refuse.

“Why won’t you even talk to me anymore?” Rong Qingyao looked even more aggrieved than Luo Mijin, her hands tightly clutching the hem of Luo Mijin’s clothes, her coolly beautiful face stubborn yet sorrowful.

Just like the day they broke up, Rong Qingyao had silently pleaded with her like this, and she had ignored it.

Because of cowardice, because of hesitation, because of fear, because of the terror of loss, she had retreated, made the wrong choice, and regretted it for a lifetime.

She thought she was bold and impressive, but in reality, she was just a self-deluded clown.

Luo Mijin wanted to burst into tears, wanted to rush forward and embrace the woman tightly, but she felt she had no right, she was just an ordinary person who lacked courage and thus lost everything.

What right did she have to empathize with Rong Qingyao’s joys and sorrows? What right did she have to hold her?

She felt that in this life, she always shrank back at crucial moments. Sometimes, she truly hated herself for it.

Seeing Luo Mijin unwilling to speak, Rong Qingyao didn’t press her. Instead, she gently embraced her, stroking Luo Mijin’s silky white hair as if soothing a cat.

“If you don’t want to talk, then don’t. We can talk later, okay? I won’t force you.”

The same words as before, the same tender voice and warm embrace, Luo Mijin wished she could drown in it forever. She wanted to hide Rong Qingyao away, just like those beloved things that belonged only to her.

But her beloved game console had still been discovered, smashed and trampled.

From then on, she learned a lesson: if you can’t protect something, don’t hope to possess it.

“Rong Qingyao, thank you,” Luo Mijin murmured, breathing in the familiar scent of the woman’s soft hair, feeling a wave of contentment. “But I have to go. Let me go.”

Rong Qingyao, who had been relatively calm, immediately activated her defenses upon hearing Luo Mijin say she was leaving and asking to be released.

Clarity vanished, replaced by the surge of innate possessiveness mingled with resentment and panic. The woman’s lowered eyes were unreadable, her face growing paler, her lips bitten until they were as red as rose petals.

A sick loss of control was inevitable. She pressed close to Luo Mijin’s ear and asked with deliberate clarity, “You really want to leave? Where will you go? Will you disappear for another seven years?”

“No… stop this,” Luo Mijin withdrew her fingers, which Rong Qingyao had been idly toying with, but the woman suddenly stood up, her slender waist bending lightly as she hooked a bottle of cherry-flavored rum over.

Rong Qingyao’s bathrobe, already loose from their tussling, slipped further, the rosy peaks of her chest flickering in and out of view. Yet she seemed utterly unaware, simply uncorking the bottle and taking a large swig.

The drink she had meant to pour for Luo Mijin ended up entirely in her own stomach. Her gaze held only a second of clarity before she leaned in again, demanding a kiss.

When Luo Mijin bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, Rong Qingyao’s eyes welled with tears, but she pressed forward regardless, resentment and adoration warring in her gaze.

Their love had been too brief; their regrets, too long.

“Do you like me?” Though she knew Luo Mijin wasn’t entirely lucid, even a muddled confession would be enough to delight her.

“Not talking?” Seeing Luo Mijin remain silent, the woman slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch.”

Noticing Luo Mijin obediently withdrawing her hand without touching her at all, the woman let out a somewhat aggrieved whimper and half-heartedly slapped Luo Mijin a few times.

“You have no conscience.”

“Mm,” Luo Mijin didn’t dare use too much force the room was filled with porcelain and glassware, and she was terrified Rong Qingyao might get hurt. “That’s exactly why you should stay away from me.”

“Do you still like me?” The woman’s lips and mouth were soaked in alcohol, her eyes stormy and unreadable, her delicate fingers unyielding as they gripped Luo Mijin’s chin.

She had figured it out, people change. How could anyone stay the same?

The grind of life, the sycophancy and exploitation of the social ladder, the passage of time, separation and reunion, all of it could leave a person unrecognizable.

But it didn’t matter.

The cherry-flavored liquor was forced down Luo Mijin’s throat, and she swallowed reflexively, the burning sensation spreading from her mouth all the way to her stomach.

She wasn’t much of a drinker, and dizziness threatened to overtake her at any moment. All she could vaguely hear was the woman’s soft yet resolute voice repeatedly demanding, “Do you still love me or not?”

Rong Qingyao clung to Luo Mijin’s shoulders, only for Luo Mijin to wrap an arm around her waist in return. It was impossible to tell who was more desperate, who was more eager.

The black dress clung tightly to Rong Qingyao’s body, the alcohol soaking through until it was nearly transparent.

A kiss like this every second of it felt like walking a tightrope. But neither of them cared anymore.

Taking advantage of Luo Mijin’s drunkenness, the shadows and desires in Rong Qingyao’s heart grew unchecked, and she couldn’t resist initiating a round of “Punishment and Reward Questions.”

She pushed Luo Mijin down, straddling her, leaning in to occasionally trace the shape of Luo Mijin’s lips with her own, teasing until Luo Mijin tried to flip them over only to be pinned back down.

“Don’t move,” Rong Qingyao’s voice, laced with drunkenness and breathless huskiness, was irresistibly alluring as she issued what sounded like a command brimming with dominance. “I want it like this.”

“But you, what about us now?”

The alcohol had dulled Luo Mijin’s mind, leaving her to act on instinct. She wanted to press closer to the woman who smelled like cold, pristine snow, but after receiving a fleeting kiss, she was pushed away again.

“I ask, you answer. Understand? Can you do that?”

Luo Mijin’s eyes were hazy, and it took her a long time to process the words. But seeing that it was Rong Qingyao speaking to her, she instinctively relaxed and nodded.

This deep-seated, natural trust cooled some of the boiling heat in Rong Qingyao’s heart.

“Luo Mijin, have you had any girlfriends in the past seven years?”

“No,” Luo Mijin answered like an obedient child, her eyes flushed with obvious intoxication, the dimples on her cheeks deepening with her smile.

Whenever she drank, Luo Mijin became talkative someone usually so quiet could suddenly ramble on endlessly. The only catch was that she’d fall asleep quickly, so Rong Qingyao fired off question after question, leaving no room for rest.

“Have you ever liked or had a crush on anyone else?” The woman leaned down, her voice clear and sharp, exuding an overwhelming sense of control. “Other than me.”

“Other than you? Absolutely not. Not a decade ago, and not decades from now either.”

“Good girl.” Rong Qingyao pinched Luo Mijin’s chin, rewarding her with slow, deliberate kisses along the corners of her lips. Her voice was slightly hoarse, carrying a lazy, satisfied tone like the delight of having gotten away with something wicked.

The earlier questions hadn’t really mattered. It was best if Luo Mijin had never liked anyone else but even if she had, Rong Qingyao would just take her back.

Yet the question that followed was laden with too many emotions resentment, anger, sorrow, pain, and bewilderment…

“That day when you broke up with me, you had no choice, didn’t you?”

“Which day?”

“Seven years ago.”

Drunker than before, Luo Mijin stared at Rong Qingyao for a long while, her consciousness growing hazy.

“That day, the snow was so heavy.”

“Yes, 2,642 days ago, January 1st at 6:17 PM. It was snowing heavily, and you broke up with me over the phone,” Rong Qingyao stated calmly, pinpointing the exact time and place. “I was in our home at the time, staring at the empty room. We had promised to spend the weekend together.”

Hearing the words “broke up with me over the phone,” Luo Mijin’s eyes flickered with pain for a few seconds. For some reason, she suddenly pulled Rong Qingyao closer, tentatively kissing her before pressing down fiercely.

Their time living together hadn’t been very long. Cut off from financial support, they had lived frugally  yet they had been so happy.

They had kissed each other countless times, each time with a desperate intensity, as if there were no tomorrow.

For lovers, it had been an overwhelmingly sweet experience. But in the vast emptiness that followed their separation, it twisted their hearts, making it hard to breathe over the years.

Now, revisiting the past, gazing at each other’s flushed faces and dazed eyes, it felt like rediscovering an anchor, something lost and found, so close it seemed within reach.

Rong Qingyao’s eyes were filled with a dazed pleasure, her crimson lips parting and closing as if in invitation. “Like before… choke me while you do it.”

In this moment, she craved pain more than ever, the kind that brought reality and existence into sharp focus.

As if possessed, Luo Mijin wrapped her slender, jade-like fingers around the woman’s neck, pressing lightly, feeling the pulse of blue veins beneath thin skin.

Rong Qingyao’s phone rang at that moment her manager’s name flashing on the screen. Probably something about today’s red carpet or negotiations for her next film.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Luo Mijin asked, puzzled. “The caller seems urgent.”

Rong Qingyao was instantly irritated, wanting to snap at her, but the words came out soft and powerless. “How am I supposed to answer like this?”

The phone rang persistently four times before finally falling silent, its last gasp two text messages before going quiet.

Pleased by Rong Qingyao’s helpless, controlled reaction, Luo Mijin slowed down, her mind buzzing with excitement.

Rong Qingyao was left hanging, her eyes fluttering open to gaze at Luo Mijin’s wild, beautiful profile.

“Mmm… it’s unbearable like this. Please don’t stop, move.”

Luo Mijin remained still. Driven to tears by frustration, Rong Qingyao’s eyes grew wet and red, her voice hoarse as her pale, delicate body moved slightly on its own.

Luo Mijin’s long, bony fingers disappeared and reappeared in rhythm.

Seeing Luo Mijin still frozen, Rong Qingyao huffed angrily.

“Stop moving. My punishment and reward questions aren’t finished yet you still haven’t answered me.”

Luo Mijin obediently stopped, her clear, bright eyes fixed intently on Rong Qingyao.

“What was the question?” Her mind went blank. What had Rong Qingyao just asked?

“Don’t try to dodge or laugh it off. My intel comes from Zhiwen. She said you had no choice but to break up with me. Admit it.”

Luo Mijin stared at Rong Qingyao in a daze, nodding before shaking her head.

“What does that mean? Are you deliberately avoiding telling me?”

“No,” Luo Mijin murmured, noticing the crystal-clear tears clinging to Rong Qingyao’s lashes. Out of habit, she lowered her head to brush them away.

“Don’t look at me,” Rong Qingyao covered Luo Mijin’s eyes with her hand, but the movement inadvertently pressed against a deep, sensitive spot, sending a surge of heat through her. “Take it out.”

Drunk, Luo Mijin reacted sluggishly, showing no intention of withdrawing.

“And, Luo Mijin, why do you have scars on your wrist?”

“Scars?” Luo Mijin pulled her hand out and examined it carefully, frowning in thought before giving an answer that left Rong Qingyao speechless. “Just an accident.”

“You be serious. How could you,  mmm, get hurt like that?”

“Just an accident,” Luo Mijin blinked innocently, genuinely believing her answer was perfectly reasonable.

Rong Qingyao suddenly regretted feeding Luo Mijin so much alcohol. But if she hadn’t, this woman would have run away. Now, drunk, she was just slow and clueless.

A lose-lose situation.

“Did someone hurt you?”

The next second, Luo Mijin leaned in close, sweetly calling her “senpai,” and instantly, Rong Qingyao’s body melted, her coherent thoughts scattering like mist.

She was like a shattered, decadent, irredeemable rose, steeped in the intoxication of wine and desire, falling into an abyss yet at the same time, she resembled an untouched snow lotus, pristine and untouchable.

Her delicate collarbones were painted in shimmering hues, her back flushed with an alluring crimson. No one could resist the fantasies of lust.

“Luo Mijin, no.”

But afterward, whether through threats, bribes, or pitiful pleas, Rong Qingyao received no response.

The woman’s slender waist trembled under the impact, as if it might snap at any moment, her pale shoulder blades fluttering like the wings of a butterfly about to take flight.

By the end, dawn had begun to break, and Rong Qingyao had to admit that under these circumstances, having a proper conversation was impossible. A miscalculation on her part.

Morning mist drifted lazily, a sliver of sunlight slipping through the curtains. The world was silent and peaceful, tempting one to waste the entire day in its embrace.

“Qingyao, are you awake? I need to talk to you.” The agent’s knock was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough to rouse the lightly sleeping Rong Qingyao.

The woman pulled the blanket over the still-sleeping Luo Mijin, hastily threw on a robe, and went to the living room to open the door.

“Qingyao, why didn’t you answer my calls yesterday.” The agent’s words died in her throat as she froze in place.

Rong Qingyao’s robe was slightly open, revealing her jade-like neck and collarbone, dotted with faint cherry-colored marks.

A few small bruises added a fragile, almost cruel beauty, stark against her snow-white skin.

As an adult, the agent recognized instantly what kind of intense, passionate night had left such marks.

No wonder she hadn’t answered the phone. Who could have, under those circumstances?

“What about yesterday?” Rong Qingyao murmured, still drowsy, her voice light and airy.

“Qingyao, you… um… be careful,” the manager said with a startled expression, gesturing vaguely between her neck and collarbone.

She quickly motioned for Rong Qingyao to step inside, lest some lurking paparazzi catch a glimpse, what a scandal that would be. A triple-crown actress caught in an affair before her wedding? Who could handle that?

Rong Qingyao, however, remained composed, even exuding a languid satisfaction, her eyes and brows brimming with a bewitching allure. She adjusted her collar nonchalantly and asked,

“So early. What’s the matter?”

“It’s already noon. How is that early?”

Only then did Rong Qingyao check the time properly. Last night, Luo Mijin had kept her up without rest, her heart racing as hormones and dopamine surged generously for the first time, leaving her body and mind in bliss.

Seven years had passed so long that memories of such things had faded into distant recollections. She had thought she’d lost interest, that she wouldn’t get addicted again.

Yet, after just one night, she was utterly consumed, craving more the moment she tasted it. From abstinence to indulgence, the shift required no transition at all.

Since her university days, she had ventured alone into foreign lands, entered the cutthroat world of fame, climbed the ranks of the entertainment industry, navigating every social circle without a moment’s respite.

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