Becoming the Comfort Alpha for the Aloof Movie Queen - Chapter 14

“I want to love Ming Tanqing for the rest of my life.”

The servant came to call for her a second time.

Ming Tanqing was in no hurry to respond. She leaned over slightly, meeting the eyes of the Alpha sitting on the sofa.

“Miss Liang, do you need to rest here for a moment longer?”

Such close proximity, paired with such a gentle tone.

The person who had led her into despair was Ming Tanqing, yet the person gently comforting her now was also Ming Tanqing.

How could Liang Ruojing possibly let go?

Liang Ruojing stared into Ming Tanqing’s eyes. “Mm, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Ming Tanqing gave a nod of acknowledgment and followed the servant downstairs.

Liang Ruojing’s gaze remained glued to Ming Tanqing’s figure.

Long after that silhouette had vanished, she remained unable to forget the sight, lowering her head to hide her emotions.

She curled herself up again.

The corners of Liang Ruojing’s mouth curled up uncontrollably.

Her hand pressed against her cheek; it was terrifyingly hot.

It seemed she liked Ming Tanqing even more now.

In private, Ming Tanqing was actually such a gentle person.

So this was what Director He meant by “cold exterior, warm heart.”

Physically, Liang Ruojing’s longing for the Omega’s pheromones had not yet dissipated. Her heart throbbed violently, which she dismissed as the excitement of a fan toward their idol.

From beginning to end, in front of Ming Tanqing, Liang Ruojing conducted herself as a junior.

Years of habit were hard to change.

Even though Liang Ruojing had seen Ming Tanqing in a state of passion, and even though Ming Tanqing’s pheromones were still lingering around her now, Liang Ruojing’s mindset remained that of the original fan waving a flag in support.

Liang Ruojing recalled the little moments they had shared, and she nearly moved herself to tears.

Ming Tanqing was too wonderful; she wanted to love Ming Tanqing for a lifetime more.

After the meal, Fang Zezhi called Liang Ruojing over.

The results of her gland examination were out.

“All indicators are normal…”

Fang Zezhi’s gaze moved down the page. When she saw the column for average pheromone concentration, she paused for a few seconds and asked, “Xiao Liang, did your rut just end?”

“Yes,” Liang Ruojing thought for a moment. “Last time it ended around December 26th. It’s still early.”

“It’s not that early,” Fang Zezhi smiled. “It’s been half a month already. You should be careful lately. Sometimes, an Omega’s pheromones can inversely affect an Alpha. With such high-intensity pheromone exchange between you and Miss Ming every week, it’s normal for your rut to come early.”

Liang Ruojing nodded. She had always known very little about physiological matters.

She raised a question: “Doctor Fang, will the rut affect the treatment? Will it delay Sister Ming’s progress?”

“You…” Fang Zezhi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the question.

She had known for a long time that Liang Ruojing was a die-hard fan of Ming Tanqing.

Fang Zezhi looked at another report on the desk, her expression inevitably carrying a hint of sighing.

“Miss Ming… her gland condition has improved.”

Fang Zezhi was hiding a lot.

Pheromone therapy was indeed effective, but their frequency was too low.

Ming Tanqing’s glands were developmentally stunted. If they wanted to induce late-stage maturation, they needed treatment at least once every two days.

Only long-term treatment—or even marking—offered the possibility of a cure.

Fang Zezhi was deeply worried.

Currently, Ming Tanqing’s ability to go out was largely dependent on synthetic drugs.

However, this batch of drugs had a short development time; their efficacy was unstable, and there might be undiscovered side effects.

Sigh.

When Liang Ruojing heard there was improvement, her eyes instantly lit up.

“Does this mean Teacher Ming’s illness will be cured soon?”

Fang Zezhi glanced at the foolish Alpha in front of her, her heart aching.

Unfortunately, Ming Tanqing was unwilling.

Until Ming Tanqing relented, Fang Zezhi still had to help keep the secret.

“It depends on the therapeutic effect,” Fang Zezhi’s answer was vague.

This did nothing to dampen Liang Ruojing’s good mood.

As her gaze drifted, Liang Ruojing saw a journal placed by Fang Zezhi’s hand.

It was titled Frontiers in Modern Genetic Glandular Diseases.

Before she could look closer, Fang Zezhi quickly put the magazine away.

Her expression showed no sign of anything unusual. “Take care, Xiao Liang.”

“Goodbye, Doctor Fang.”

Liang Ruojing packed up her test strips and left the doctor’s office.

A servant was waiting at the door, prepared to take Liang Ruojing back.

After walking a few steps, Liang Ruojing suddenly remembered that she hadn’t taken her script.

She had left it on the coffee table in the second-floor living room.

“Do you need me to go get it?”

“No need!” Liang Ruojing forced a bright smile. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, her long legs carried her quickly out of sight.

Following the path in her memory, Liang Ruojing returned to the second-floor living room.

The balcony door wasn’t closed. Her script lay open on the coffee table; a few pages had likely been ruffled by the wind.

Liang Ruojing hugged her script contentedly and started to head back.

As she passed a room, she suddenly heard the faint sound of character dialogue.

She tried turning the doorknob.

The door wasn’t locked and opened a tiny crack.

A sapphire blue light leaked through the gap, dreamlike and ethereal, as if it belonged to another world.

“Teacher Ming…?”

Liang Ruojing pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She saw a giant screen, almost a replica of a movie theater.

But there were fewer seats—three rows of sofa chairs, roughly estimated to hold at most ten people at a time.

Not a single light was on in the room; the space relied entirely on the faint illumination from the screen at the front.

An old movie was playing. Liang Ruojing had watched it thousands of times and recognized it at first glance.

It was the first movie in which Ming Tanqing had played the lead role.

With this film, she had become the youngest Best Actress in the history of the Huabiao Awards, and she remained a legend that could not be ignored in any retrospective.

And in the midst of the light and shadow, in the very center of the screening room, sat the creator of that legend—Ming Tanqing—in silence.

This scene looked like something that only happened in dreams.

Liang Ruojing crept forward quietly. She saw half of Ming Tanqing’s body submerged in darkness, and there seemed to be a glistening moisture on her face.

Liang Ruojing stood in a daze for a few minutes.

When the movie ended and the credits began to roll, Liang Ruojing finally dared to speak: “Teacher Ming?”

Ming Tanqing moved. She turned to look over; the moisture on her face had already vanished.

That moment of vulnerability had been expertly hidden away.

She was still the Ming Tanqing of the past, the object of worship for countless people in the industry.

“Miss Liang,” Ming Tanqing showed no dissatisfaction toward Liang Ruojing’s uninvited entry. She only asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Sister Ming, thank you for helping me with the acting…” Liang Ruojing’s voice grew smaller. “Did I disturb you?”

“No.” Ming Tanqing shook her head gently.

Just then, the movie on the screen suddenly skipped.

The slow-paced piano music changed into the grand, historical sound of bronze bells. Liang Ruojing was startled.

The movie had switched to another historical piece. When the title appeared, Liang Ruojing’s pupils contracted.

Palace Lyrics.

Two years ago, when Ming Tanqing collapsed on set, it was on the filming site of Palace Lyrics.

It was said that at the time, Ming Tanqing had already finished 60% of her scenes.

Unfortunately, all that effort had come to naught.

Two months later, the studio released a statement about her contract termination, and the director forwarded it expressing regret.

A week after that, Ming Tanqing retired from acting.

As a true fan, Liang Ruojing naturally felt for her idol.

They had filmed 60%.

Behind that understated sentence lay so much of an actor’s hard work.

Even someone as powerful as Ming Tanqing—could she really have no regrets?

Liang Ruojing had always been curious about the answer, but now that the truth was before her, she couldn’t bear to look into it.

This was the dark side of the world-renowned Ming Tanqing.

Her unwillingness, her regrets.

Liang Ruojing felt as if she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to see.

She stared at Ming Tanqing without blinking.

Palace Lyrics had entered its first scene.

Later, the actress who replaced Ming Tanqing appeared.

With this film, she had swept all the major film festivals that year.

Against the background noise of the film’s dialogue, Liang Ruojing clearly heard Ming Tanqing’s reply.

“No need for thanks. I haven’t acted in a long time, so thank you as well.”

Ming Tanqing smiled faintly. Her face, illuminated by the screen’s light, possessed a breathtaking beauty, showing not a trace of emotion.

For some reason, however, Liang Ruojing’s heart ached as if someone were clutching it tightly.

Ming Tanqing’s final smile was etched into her mind. Even after a day had passed, when Liang Ruojing recalled the atmosphere of that moment, her heart still throbbed with a dull pain.

When Tang Yuecen opened the apartment door, Liang Ruojing was already awake.

After washing up, she was sitting at the dining table in a daze.

The script, covered in notes, was spread open, resting exactly on the scene in the abandoned factory.

The scene between Han Jiahe and Sun Ying.

It was also the scene between her and Ming Tanqing.

Today was the day of the audition.

Tang Yuecen had come to take Liang Ruojing to the audition set.