Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 11

“You’ve been smoking more and more heavily lately,” Ji Shan said.

“Have I?” Song Ming countered lazily.

The meeting had long since ended, and the people from Jiaxin had already departed. The conference room door stood wide open, but Song Ming remained in her seat, unmoving. Her head rested against the back of the chair, her slender neck arched like a swan’s. Her gaze fell meaninglessly on a single point on the ceiling, hands resting casually on the armrests. Her posture and expression carried a hint of decadence.

A thin lady’s cigarette was clamped between her fingertips, the crimson spark burned slowly, turning the tobacco into ash.

“Yeah,” Ji Shan muttered, grabbing a paper cup to catch the ash before it hit the floor. “You’re basically a chimney.”

Song Ming continued to stare at the ceiling. Hearing Ji Shan’s complaint, she let out a soft laugh. She brought the filter to her lips, took a deep drag, and defiantly exhaled a cloud of smoke from her lungs.

Watching the smoke drift slowly across the conference table, Ji Shan hardly knew what to say.

Song Ming was a rare, incredibly reliable person. No matter how thorny the case or how complex the situation, as long as she was willing to take it on, it would be solved perfectly. It was as if her vision and ability had no limits, her mere presence brought peace of mind.

But on the rare occasions when things went wrong and Song Ming was in a foul mood, a disturbing streak of “madness” would faintly surround her, a madness that looked down on everyone and disregarded the value of all things.

In moments like these, Ji Shan felt as if Song Ming was looking for someone to drag down with her in a mutual destruction.

Fearing she might actually go to extremes on a whim, Ji Shan quickly interrupted his own dark thoughts: “Hey, that job for Zeyun you promised to take, are you still doing it? They’ve been waiting.”

Song Ming frowned, finally pulling her gaze away from the ceiling. “Who accepted it?”

“Ah… haha,” Ji Shan gave a dry laugh, realizing his slip of the tongue. He looked embarrassed. “I took it. Haha, I took it on your behalf.”

Song Ming looked away, lifting the cigarette to her lips again. She spoke somewhat indistinctly, “I’m not shooting. Don’t find me any collaborations other than Jiaxin for now.”

“Huh?” Ji Shan was nearly at a breaking point. “You’re skipping work again?”

“Why not?” Song Ming stood up and grabbed her phone.

At the end of an old street in A City, a place filled with mid-century European style houses that had practically become a hub for elite clubs, sat a cafe. Ivy climbed the red brick walls and the shop’s name was casually carved in artistic script on a raw wood sign. There were few customers, the small shop remained quiet from morning till night.

The copper bell hanging above the door frame chimed “ding-dang” as a regular customer walked in.

The shop appeared empty, the counter was unmanned.

“Welcome.” A nonchalant voice drifted from the back of the shop. A tall woman with short hair stepped out from behind a half-closed door. As her gaze swept over, her grayish-green eyes left a deep impression.

“What can I get for you?”

The customer instinctively glanced at the vintage wall clock. Sunlight filtered through the ivy and windows, casting shadows across the counter. In the pale gold light, Song Ming’s expression was peaceful and natural.

The owner of this shop didn’t seem to look like this the last time they visited, but the shop was often closed for long periods, so the customer couldn’t be certain if their memory was failing them.

“Heh,” a soft laugh followed. A woman’s voice, languid and soulful, trailed behind. “How could I trouble you to act as my server?”

A beautiful woman with her hair partially gathered up stepped out. Her phoenix-like eyes curved slightly as she gave the customer a friendly smile. “Hello.”

That’s more like it, the customer thought, finally relaxing. So the owner wasn’t the one with green eyes after all.

After seeing off the only person who could be considered a regular, Jiang Linzhi unhurriedly used a towel to dry the water from her hands. “Sweetheart, you haven’t come to see me in a long time.”

Jiang Linzhi was a French-Chinese woman. Every movement she made carried a French flair. In the glimmer of her eyes lay a gentle light sufficient to drown anyone.

Song Ming sat at a small table in the shop. Hearing this, she smiled and opened her arms toward Jiang Linzhi. “Well, here I am.”

Jiang Linzhi looked back at Song Ming with a hint of surprise. Their gazes collided, and she sensed a different nuance in Song Ming’s frank look.

After a moment of thought, Jiang Linzhi set aside what she was doing. She walked gracefully to Song Ming, looked down at her for a moment, and then leaned in close.

Song Ming didn’t flinch or look away, meeting her gaze openly. A stray lock of hair slid from Jiang Linzhi’s ear against her pale cheek, neither of them moved to fix it.

Song Ming’s arms remained open.

After a long pause, Jiang Linzhi sighed softly. Her manicured finger tapped the tip of Song Ming’s nose. “Darling, you stopped loving me a long time ago.”

Song Ming’s expression faded. she lowered her arms, looked down, and let out a mocking laugh. “Heh, does there always have to be love?”

Jiang Linzhi straightened up. “It makes no difference to me, of course. Wasn’t it you who refused?”

“What?” Song Ming was stunned, her brow furrowing as she looked up.

Jiang Linzhi walked gracefully to the seat opposite Song Ming and sat down. She rested her chin on one hand, tilting her head slightly in a playful gesture. “Isn’t that right?”

She possessed a curious mix of a mature woman and a young girl; the gesture didn’t feel out of place on her.

Song Ming glanced at her, and the denial that was on the tip of her tongue felt too bothersome to voice. The feeling of irritability surged again, so Song Ming simply lit a cigarette.

As the smoke drifted, Song Ming sank into her thoughts.

Jiang Linzhi raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over Song Ming without reservation. She confessed, “Sweetheart, if you’re willing to try loving me, we could certainly try again.”

Song Ming turned to look at her.

Jiang Linzhi leaned forward, her expression serious. “You’re really different right now.”

“No.” After a moment of silence, Song Ming rejected her flatly.