A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex - Chapter 58

Under the glaring lights, Rong Qingyao deliberately gave Luo Mijing a hard shove. “Even if I could keep you here, I can’t keep your heart. If you don’t want to stay, just leave.”

Luo Mijing was breathing heavily. The moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the surroundings of the villa. The sound of the wind rustling through the grass and leaves was amplified to an almost surreal degree.

The urge to flee froze in the air the moment Rong Qingyao called her out.

For a moment, Luo Mijing was stuck—unable to leave, yet unsure if she should stay. She could only stand there, dumbfounded.

“I wasn’t leaving. I just… I just felt a little cold and wanted to grab a jacket,” Luo Mijing finally managed to explain, her voice strained. “I was going to come right back.”

The corner of Rong Qingyao’s lips curled into a cold smile as she picked up a thin gray cardigan from the side. “Isn’t this your jacket?”

“Ah, yes, it is,” Luo Mijing stammered, her embarrassment overwhelming. “I… I didn’t see it earlier.”

“You brought this in yourself just now.”

Realizing she was only digging herself deeper, Luo Mijing took a deep breath, ready to explain further, when Rong Qingyao suddenly gripped her chin.

The woman was so slender that the blue veins beneath her pale skin were visible. In the dim light, she looked fragile, almost vulnerable.

Yet her expression was icy, even intimidating. “Luo Mijing, I’ve told you before—if you don’t love me, you can just say it. There’s no need to hold back.”

So what if she wasn’t loved? The world was full of people who weren’t loved, full of people who couldn’t love the ones they desired.

She had lived like that for seven years. She could keep living like that—it didn’t matter.

But when Luo Mijing saw the glistening in Rong Qingyao’s eyes, the way she stubbornly pretended nothing was wrong, all her unease and hesitation vanished.

“That’s not it, Senior. I’m just… not ready yet. I don’t know how to love you properly.” Unable to hold back, Luo Mijing pulled Rong Qingyao into her arms, just like she used to.

Seven years had left more than just emptiness in her heart—it had left her with an overwhelming sense of unworthiness.

That feeling had controlled her for years, making her waver between searching for Rong Qingyao and letting her live happily without her.

From yesterday until now, an immense happiness had descended on her like fireworks, crackling and bursting above her head. She didn’t know if the next moment would bring even greater joy or if it would all disappear.

The moment she was embraced, all of Rong Qingyao’s frustration, sadness, and disappointment melted away. She inwardly scolded herself for being so weak, yet she still nestled softly into Luo Mijing’s arms.

So close that their skin touched, as if they were melting into each other.

“I don’t believe you. You’re too good at lying,” Rong Qingyao murmured stubbornly, deliberately exhaling softly against Luo Mijing’s neck, occasionally tugging at her collar to pull her closer.

“Then how can I make you believe me?” Luo Mijing looked down at the enchanting woman in her arms—her slender waist, long legs, porcelain skin, cascading dark hair, the delicate straps resting on her collarbones, her lips moist and rosy.

And behind those silver-rimmed glasses, those damp, uncertain eyes gazing up at her.

Rong Qingyao hooked her arms around Luo Mijing’s neck, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes slightly, her soft lips parting.

“Luo Mijing,” she whispered. “Take off my glasses for me.”

“Mm, okay,” Luo Mijing’s fingers trembled as she slowly removed the silver-rimmed glasses and set them aside.

Unintentionally, she caught glimpses of the woman’s snow-white thighs, the soft curve of her abdomen, and that warm, tight place that had once clenched around her.

“Are you really this nervous just facing me?” The woman was perceptive, leaving Luo Mijing no room to retreat, her breath carrying a faint, mocking hum. “Or is it because you’ve done something guilty and can’t bring yourself to confess?”

Luo Mijing’s heart tightened. “No.”

“Better not have,” the woman said, sitting elegantly, her head slightly bowed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “If I find out, I’ll make you—”

Her deliberate pause stretched the moment between them, suspended in tension.

“Make me what?” Luo Mijing frowned slightly, but before she could ask further, the cold, snow-like scent enveloped her—

The woman had leaned in, her delicate fingers tracing the collar of Luo Mijing’s shirt.

“Regret it deeply.”

The woman’s perfectly proportioned curves bent enticingly in Luo Mijing’s arms, as if forced into submission.

The lines of her neck were fully exposed, flawless as jade… yet already tinged with a flush of desire.

But her fierce, threatening expression—like a small beast baring its claws—was a far cry from her usual composed demeanor in social and professional settings, making it all the more precious and endearing.

It wasn’t the commanding presence she usually wielded so effectively.

And so, Luo Mijing laughed—”inopportunely.”

“What’s so funny?” Rong Qingyao shot her a glare.

“You’re adorable.”

Rong Qingyao seemed pleased, temporarily nestling into the emerald-green cigar chair in the room and gesturing for Luo Mijing to come over and hold her.

“It’s cold. Come warm me up.”

Fortunately, Luo Mijing was slowly catching on, and the way she settled into the chair with Rong Qingyao perfectly matched the woman’s expectations.

The room fell into silence. The woman nestled between Luo Mijing and the dark green chair, the crystal chandelier casting a soft glow on the sliver of her exposed profile, like scattered pink flowers of the goldenrain tree, dappled in light and shadow.

After a long while, just as Rong Qingyao was about to drift off, Luo Mijing suddenly asked, unprompted:

“Senior, did my grandfather do something terrible to you?”

If… if Rong Qingyao had never stopped loving her, Luo Mijing could easily imagine what she must have endured.

She had thought her compromise would ensure Rong Qingyao’s safety. Her senior should have been surrounded by warmth and love, not subjected to deliberate attacks, rejection, or the oppression of power and privilege.

Believing that Rong Qingyao was living well had been her only solace all these years.

Now that faith had crumbled, and inside, she was nearly sobbing uncontrollably.

Thinking back to the two choices Old Master Luo had given her back then, Rong Qingyao felt nothing but relief and disdain. She didn’t regret her decision.

Even if she had to relive it countless times, she could never betray her heart.

“Luo Mijing, but the outcome was good, wasn’t it? I gambled right—you didn’t let me lose,” Rong Qingyao’s eyes glistened faintly. “I hesitated too, but deep down, I just couldn’t give up.”

She was forced to leave her homeland alone, drifting in foreign lands. To survive, to study, to grasp that slim hope of success, all she tasted day and night were the bitter tears, like chewing on the cold glow of snowflakes filling the sky.

Yet she always believed they would meet again. She had been striving for that day all along.

“Senior, you should hate me.”

Rong Qingyao shook her head with a smile, “Still so silly.”

“No, Senior, it shouldn’t be like this,” Luo Mijing could no longer hold back, tears streaming down her face as she cried like a lost child. “You should be living well.”

“Be good, Luo Mijing. Listen to me—don’t resent or loathe our past, alright? The past, as long as it belonged to us, was perfect. Even the regrets, the missed chances, the cruelty, the despair.”

“Those moments also formed the universe where we meet now. The pain, the beauty, the radiance we experienced—they were all stars we extinguished together.”

During all those hopeless days and nights, she had asked herself—was it worth it?

Sometimes, it seemed she had to admit that waiting—waiting a year or two, waiting five or six—might end in nothing. One day, she might hear from a phone call about Luo Mijing’s happy news with someone else. It truly seemed so unworthy.

But who could calculate how unworthy it was?

If she believed it was worth it, then it was.

Luo Mijing pressed her damp eyes into Rong Qingyao’s long hair, breathing in her own cold, familiar scent.

“They’ll become ropes, binding me tightly together,” the woman murmured, as if recounting some ancient fable.

Even now, Luo Mijing remained her light.

The light she had once wanted to hate fiercely, had once wanted to forget—yet still loved.

In her entire bleak life, no one had genuinely wanted to get close to her. Only Luo Mijing had transformed into light, sincerely wishing to warm her.

Seven years had worn away too much resentment and melancholy. Besides, she had never hated Luo Mijing to begin with.

She only hated that she wasn’t by her side.

“Senior,” Luo Mijing suddenly lifted her head, struck by realization. “You showing up at that Aurora-viewing inn wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

Rong Qingyao rolled her eyes at Luo Mijing and didn’t answer, merely turning to the other side with the blanket in her arms, letting Luo Mijing chatter by her ear.

“Senior, was it? Was it?” The more Luo Mijing thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

Back then, since she had decided to see the Aurora on a whim, most nearby hotels were fully booked. Only that inn had vacancies.

The owner had vaguely mentioned that someone reserved the inn every year to view the Aurora, which was why rooms were available.

“Right! And when I got there, I wanted to buy a new tent as backup, but the owner said a film crew had reserved them all.”

Rong Qingyao pinched Luo Mijing’s lips, ripples stirring in her eyes. “Alright, little detective, you’re right about everything. Let’s sleep first, hm? Come here, I’ll hold you.”

“Okay.”

“Take off your pants to sleep,” Rong Qingyao glanced at Luo Mijing’s overly conservative and thick sleepwear, issuing the command lightly.

Luo Mijing’s breath hitched. “But I’m only wearing one pair…”

“My blanket is thick. You’ll overheat and catch a cold,” Rong Qingyao side-eyed her, teasing deliberately. “Or are you too embarrassed because you have ulterior motives?”

“I don’t! I’ll take them off right now.”

Rong Qingyao suppressed a smile in her heart, watching lazily as Luo Mijing quickly burrowed under the blankets. “What are you so nervous about? I’m not going to eat you. Let’s sleep first.”

The two slept until the afternoon before waking leisurely. After dawdling in bed with the curtains drawn until evening, they suddenly got the whim to set up a tent in the backyard for fun.

The little horse brought out to graze and stretch its legs clip-clopped eagerly before them, prancing back and forth in hopes of getting a few carrots. Unfortunately, these two were purely here to play at setting up the tent and had no time to indulge the horse.

It could only snort out a puff of white air indignantly before trotting off with its little hooves.

Once the tent was set up, the two eagerly crawled inside. Rong Qingyao knelt on the soft mattress, the silky sheets beneath her shimmering like moonlight.

“Senior, don’t you have work tomorrow?” Luo Mijing glanced around at the tent’s lavish setup—home theater, grill, camping stove—leaving no doubt this would be a sleepless night. “It’s windy here, won’t you catch a chill—”

Before she could finish, her phone rang at the worst possible time, the screen displaying “Lan Mingyu.”

“Senior, I need to take this call.”

“Take it later,” the woman murmured, kissing her regardless, her eyes damp, lips soft.

Seven years apart had left them as awkward as college students tasting forbidden fruit for the first time.

The tent flapped noisily in the wind, but inside, it was filled with panting and the wet sounds of lips and tongues meeting.

The woman’s slender waist arched, stretched pale, driven to the brink of delirium. The pillow propping her hips was grass-green, like sunlit meadows swaying in midsummer.

Outside the tent, the housekeeper’s voice rang out loud and robust.

“Miss Rong, the chicken soup you asked me to stew is ready—perfect timing. Should I bring it over?”

Hearing no response, the housekeeper assumed she hadn’t heard clearly and stepped closer.

“Miss Rong, Miss Luo, the weather forecast says there might be showers tonight. Why don’t you skip the tent and come back inside for some soup?”

The wind was strong tonight, and even through the tent, the fragrant aroma of chicken soup seemed to reach them.

“Senior, want some soup?”

Rong Qingyao bit her lip and shot Luo Mijing a look that was both cold and alluring. “How am I supposed to drink it now? This is your fault.”

Seeing Rong Qingyao’s weak, breathless state, Luo Mijing nodded to herself. “Senior, I think you really need some nourishment. I’ll go get the soup.”

Watching Luo Mijing pull out a wet wipe and leisurely clean her fingers, Rong Qingyao wanted to bite her. Who stops halfway to go fetch soup…?

“I’ll get it. Sister Qingyao is… a bit indisposed at the moment.”

The housekeeper, who had cooked for Rong Qingyao for years, grew concerned. “What’s wrong with Miss Rong? Did she catch a cold? I’ve told her time and again to sleep early. After such a severe injury, she still doesn’t take care of herself—it’s so worrying.”

“Sister Qingyao’s past injury… was it very serious?” Luo Mijing asked quietly, studying the housekeeper.

“Yes, she needed a long recovery, and the aftereffects were severe—constant insomnia.” The housekeeper gave Luo Mijing a puzzled look. As Rong Qingyao’s lover, how could she seem to know nothing about this?

“Thank you, Auntie,” Luo Mijing steadied herself. “Let me take the chicken soup over.”

“Alright then. I’ve added morel mushrooms and astragalus herbs to the soup—good for nourishing qi and beauty. Make sure you both drink plenty.”

“Will do, thank you, Auntie.”

Rong Qingyao lay limp on the soft cushion inside the tent. When she saw Luo Mijing return holding a porcelain bowl—the heat shielded by a thick silk cloth underneath—she barely had the energy to react.

“Senior, have some soup first.”

Perhaps Luo Mijing’s voice was too gentle, or perhaps it was because she had been taken so deeply earlier, but Rong Qingyao was too exhausted to notice the subtle shift in her tone.

Cradled in Luo Mijing’s arms, she felt the younger woman’s hand glide over the delicate curve of her waist—gripping tightly for just a moment before abruptly loosening again.

After finishing the soup, Rong Qingyao found herself wordlessly carried out of the tent and all the way back to their master bedroom on the third floor.

“Senior, let me help you bathe.”

“Mmm, I can do it myself,” Rong Qingyao replied shyly, clutching her clothes tighter. The lingering sensation of being stretched open was still there—she didn’t even need to look to know how swollen she was, let alone the scattered marks covering her body.

Luo Mijing smiled, her lowered brows carrying a wild, brooding intensity. “Let me help you.”

The bathtub here was immaculate—platinum-finished, spacious enough to comfortably fit two.

After settling Rong Qingyao back on the bed to rest, Luo Mijing returned to the bathroom to fill the tub with hot water, flower petals, and hyacinth-scented essential oils.

“Luo Mijing, you can go now. I can manage.”

“How can I? Senior, you just told me not to leave earlier. How could you change your mind so quickly?”

“But—” Rong Qingyao’s eyes flushed red, but Luo Mijing’s words left her with no room to argue.

Seeing this, Luo Mijing smiled faintly before turning back to test the water temperature.

Her slender, jade-like fingers trailed through the clear water, stirring up soft, wet sounds.

The sight sent an indescribable shiver through Rong Qingyao. How could she have known Luo Mijing had gotten even more skilled at “playing in the water”? Within moments, her body had melted all over again.

The tide that had been held back by fingers earlier now came crashing down in waves.

“Luo Mijing, I just remembered—in a few days, I have to fly to another city for a variety show. Can you help me pack?”

“Isn’t that still days away?”

“It’s tomorrow. Go now,” Rong Qingyao shot her a faintly resentful look.

“No rush. I’ll still have the energy to pack for you later,” Luo Mijing remained unmoved, her fingers deftly pouring in the oils and petals.

She had even prepared fruit wine.

Rong Qingyao’s skin was pale and warm to the touch, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades dotted with faint bruises, her waist dipping into the water’s hazy depths.

“Senior, I have a question for you later. Can you promise to answer honestly?”

Rong Qingyao furrowed her brows, her damp gaze unfocused.

Pink, tender flesh peeked out between Luo Mijing’s long, jade-like fingers before being pressed back in. She was a complete mess, while Luo Mijing—aside from slightly damp hair—remained impeccably dressed, presentable enough to receive guests at any moment.

“Luo Mijing, I’m so tired… Mmm, please, no more.” She couldn’t muster the energy to entertain Luo Mijing’s questions. “Ask me tomorrow. I’m exhausted today.”

“But you just said you have work tomorrow and need to fly to another city.”

Having gone too long without intimacy, the woman’s delicate brows—like distant mountains—involuntarily furrowed. Now her gaze grew unfocused, lips lightly bitten, her speech fragmented.

“That’s exactly why… we’ll talk after I return.”

“No can do. Tell me, how did you get hurt?”

“Mmm… no, I won’t say. Want to sleep.”

“You’ve only been awake for four hours,” Luo Mijing remained unmoved, stubbornly pressing her question. “Was it my grandfather who hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

The woman’s already alluring lips were kissed into an even more wanton state of disarray. Her body, floating and sinking in the waves, grew warm and helpless, yielding completely to Luo Mijing’s alternating torment and release.

Luo Mijing’s kisses were soft and light, continuously accommodating each deep thrust until, after one prolonged shudder, Rong Qingyao retaliated by biting Luo Mijing hard.

“Senior, are you some kind of demon? Always craving human flesh?” Luo Mijing winced in pain but only increased her pace and intensity, feeling the tightening embrace grow even fiercer.

“You… Luo Mijing, ah—” Rong Qingyao’s eyes welled with involuntary tears as her body went completely limp.

The heat clinging to Luo Mijing’s fingers had reached an exquisitely perfect height.

Rong Qingyao had drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness several times before Luo Mijing, thoroughly satisfied, carried her to the bathroom for another round of cleaning, then tucked her into the warm, dry bed.

As she opened the bathroom door, Luo Mijing felt something soft brush against her foot. Looking down, she saw the odd-eyed lion cat, Mint Candy.

“Meow,” Mint Candy trilled, circling Luo Mijing anxiously.

Soon, the cat darted past Luo Mijing and made a beeline for Rong Qingyao, who lay unconscious on the bed.

Luo Mijing was busy blow-drying Rong Qingyao’s hair and had no time for Mint Candy, repeatedly blocking the cat’s attempts to burrow into Rong Qingyao’s arms.

Only after everything was settled did she crouch down to address Mint Candy.

“Are you hungry?”

Rong Qingyao usually boiled shrimp for Mint Candy as a nightly snack, but tonight, after being reduced to sobbing exhaustion, she had completely forgotten.

“Meow meow meow!” Mint Candy, seeing Rong Qingyao unresponsive, grew even more frantic, pacing the floor and occasionally flopping onto the wool rug to roll over and expose its belly, displaying every trick in its repertoire of flattery.

Luo Mijing decisively scooped up Mint Candy. “Stop yelling, I’ll cook for you.”

After a glance at Rong Qingyao sleeping peacefully in bed, she followed Mint Candy downstairs to the kitchen, where she prepared fresh shrimp.

“Has your owner been doing well these years?” Luo Mijing set the food before the cat and crouched beside it, occasionally poking its chubby cheeks.

Mint Candy ignored her, wholly absorbed in devouring the shrimp.

“Keep eating like this, and you’ll turn into a little barrel.”

Seeming to understand, Mint Candy let out two indignant meows before snatching the last piece of shrimp and darting away.

Early the next morning, as Rong Qingyao descended the stairs, a ball of white fluff came barreling toward her, rubbing frantically against her legs while meowing loudly.

As if it had suffered some great injustice.

“Mint Candy, are you hungry because you didn’t get midnight snacks yesterday?”

“I boiled shrimp for it yesterday.” Luo Mijing, who was following closely, hurriedly explained that she had taken care of the chubby cat the day before, hoping to win Rong Qingyao’s “forgiveness.”

Rong Qingyao still didn’t want to acknowledge Luo Mijing. Who told this person to have no restraint whatsoever, leaving her with an aching waist and still swollen down there.

Now even holding Mint Candy had become somewhat difficult.

Luo Mijing knew he was at fault and guiltily rubbed his nose. “I won’t be like yesterday anymore.”

Mint Candy glanced at Luo Mijing before burying its head into Rong Qingyao’s embrace, rubbing back and forth with a wronged expression.

“Neither of us will believe you.”

The woman wore a backless evening gown of satin material, elegant and graceful in its lines, accentuating her slender and exquisite figure.

Because the marks on her body hadn’t faded yet and her skin was so fair, even powder couldn’t conceal them, forcing her to wear a silk scarf for cover.

At this moment, Yan Si had already driven the car to the front gate, ready to take Rong Qingyao to the airport.

“I’ll be away on business for three days. Be good at home, and you must get my permission before meeting anyone. Especially Lan Mingyu,” Rong Qingyao hooked her arm around Luo Mijing’s shoulder, her gaze both alluring and sharp. “Understood?”

“Mhm, understood.”

“Zhiwen will be arriving soon. Remember to open the door for her.”

“Okay.”

But right after Rong Qingyao left in the car, Luo Zhiwen arrived home. Seeing only Luo Mijing, she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“Where’s Qingyao-jie?” She surveyed the simply yet elegantly decorated room and asked in a disappointed tone.

“She had work today and just left.”

“Then after lunch, come shopping at the supermarket with me. I want some gummy bears.”

Luo Mijing looked at Luo Zhiwen suspiciously. “Is your body up for that right now?”

“Mijing, the doctor said I need moderate exercise now—going out to help restore bodily functions. It’s best to spend more time with family to maintain a happy mood.”

“Gummy bears aren’t exactly healthy food. Are they really okay for a patient like you?”

“Enough, you’re such a nag. Thankfully Qingyao-jie arranged for me to live right across from you two. If anything happens, I’ll hear you if you call out.” Luo Zhiwen said helplessly, “The doctor already approved my discharge for recuperation while waiting for a suitable heart donor. I’m not that fragile.”

Luo Mijing carried Mint Candy toward the kitchen, casually explaining Luo Zhiwen’s condition to the cook.

“Hey, how have things been between you and Qingyao-jie lately?” Luo Zhiwen followed him, scrutinizing Luo Mijing up and down. “I really can’t stand you—making Qingyao-jie be the one to confess to you. You, you… if Qingyao-jie hadn’t been unable to forget you, I wonder what would’ve become of you. Quite the act you put on at such a young age.”

An act that made her think Luo Mijing could really let go of Rong Qingyao.

Luo Mijing: “…”

“Yeah, things are good. I just keep remembering things from the past.”

“Then why don’t you two revisit those old places together? Relive the past while looking forward to the future.”

Luo Mijing’s heart stirred. “Hmm, that makes sense. I’ll discuss it with Xuejie.”

“What’s there to discuss? You have money and time now—perfect to scout things out for me. Once I recover, I’ll go back with you next time.” Luo Zhiwen made herself at home, sweetly telling the cook she wanted to eat now because she was eager to go shopping for things to bring back home.

**

Several hours later, Luo Mijing couldn’t win against Luo Zhiwen’s persistence and had to accompany her to the supermarket near their home.

But they hadn’t been shopping long before seeing a large crowd gathered up ahead—not shopping, just standing there staring at something.

They walked over curiously, faintly hearing a familiar voice.

On the large screen TV hanging in the supermarket, the host exaggeratedly spoke into the microphone:

“Oh my! It seems Qingyao, you really loved this first love of yours, huh?”

The entire audience—both on set and those watching at home—held their breath, eager to hear Rong Qingyao’s response.

After all, in their eyes, throughout her six or seven years since debut, Rong Qingyao had practically no romantic rumors. Occasionally, when fans or reporters made surprise visits to filming sets or caught candid shots of her on the streets, there was never any ambiguous figure by her side.

The media had jokingly labeled her as asexual, a puritan, until this year when she suddenly announced her engagement—only to cancel it shortly after. And now, here she was on a variety show, publicly discussing her love life for the first time.

Luo Zhiwen tugged at Luo Mijing excitedly, whispering in a hushed voice, “Hey, hey, it’s Qingyao-jie! So beautiful and stunning. No wonder they say she’s even more gorgeous off-screen—the camera doesn’t capture even a tenth of her beauty.”

“It’s not as exaggerated as you’re making it out to be,” Luo Mijing replied, her eyes fixed on the screen, an unconscious smile playing on her lips.

“Pfft, you’re really good at playing humble, huh? Bet you’re secretly over the moon. Wait—they’re talking about your first love now,” Luo Zhiwen said, brimming with gossipy enthusiasm. “Let’s just stand here and watch. This show’s gonna be great. Look, even all these people stopped shopping just to watch.”

On the TV screen, the woman dressed in a black-and-white uniform held the microphone, pausing thoughtfully for a moment, her expression calm and composed.

“That’s not for me to say. It depends on how she feels about it.”

“Wow, Qingyao, true to your scholar roots—even talking about love with academic precision,” the host quipped, immediately responding with enthusiastic praise.

The audience erupted in cheers and chatter.

“Qingyao, the next segment of our show is calling your first love. Otherwise, we can’t be sure if this first love of yours is even real!”