Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 14

The side profile of Yu Zhaowan bore a resemblance to Zhou Jibai.

When Yu Zhaowan lowered her eyelashes, softening the presence of her overly beautiful eyes, Song Ming would be reminded of the way Zhou Jibai used to sit beside her.

As Song Ming sat eating with Yu Zhaowan, this lingering sensation refused to dissipate.

“What are you looking at?” Yu Zhaowan asked with a beaming smile.

Amidst the lush greenery of the restaurant, Song Ming clicked off her phone screen and looked up. “Nothing.”

She had taken Yu Zhaowan away from the filming location for lunch, her original plan to seek some peace and quiet alone had gained an extra character.

“Filming is truly exhausting,” Yu Zhaowan didn’t press further. Her pale, delicate hand picked up the chopsticks, her movements slow and elegant. “Teacher Song, your requirements are truly too high.”

Yu Zhaowan seemed to be from Jiangnan; her tone was soft and melodic when she complained.

Song Ming didn’t answer. Her gaze followed Yu Zhaowan’s movements slowly, her mind wandering as she made a cold, objective judgment: Indeed, she is a sight to behold.

She possessed a face strikingly similar to Song Ming’s ex, yet her personality was the polar opposite. She lacked the free spirited, passionate nature of Jiang Linzhi, resembling instead the spring waters of the south, naturally gentle and inclusive… a silent drowning.

It was just right.

“Why isn’t Teacher Song speaking?” Yu Zhaowan looked up slightly, her eyes shimmering like ripples on water.

Her acting skills had merit as well, very good, in fact. Meeting Yu Zhaowan’s gaze, Song Ming curled her lips into a natural smile. “If the advertisement doesn’t turn out well, it wouldn’t be worthy of you.”

Yu Zhaowan froze for a moment, the pearl earring dangling by her cheek swaying gently.

Once lunch was over and the bill was settled, Song Ming reached out her hand to Yu Zhaowan first.

Song Ming’s hand was slender with distinct knuckles, naturally extended toward the other woman.

Yu Zhaowan looked down at the clear lines on Song Ming’s palm. Her lashes fluttered before she placed her own hand into Song Ming’s grasp. Unlike Song Ming, she put a lot of effort into hand care; her skin was smooth and tender, her bone structure small and narrow, perfectly encased by Song Ming’s hand.

After a brief moment of contact, Song Ming released her hand once she had helped Yu Zhaowan up. “Let’s go.”

Song Ming was tall and had a long stride, walking quickly. Yu Zhaowan, wearing high heels, had to trot a few steps to keep up, her curled hair bouncing against her back. “Where are we going?”

Song Ming tilted her head, catching the exact moment Yu Zhaowan’s hair fell back onto her shoulders.

“Back to the set, of course.” Song Ming smiled and turned her head, slowing her pace.

Yu Zhaowan’s beauty was indisputable; she had fought her way to the top based on her looks alone. More rare was the aura she possessed. Under the right lens, her overly beautiful face projected a cold, fragile sense of story, a powerful memory point.

“This take should be fine, right?”

Yu Zhaowan, dressed in wide-sleeved robes, stood next to Song Ming. She leaned over to look at the monitor, whispering a soft complaint into Song Ming’s ear.

She wore a minimalist, water green hanfu dress. Her long hair had been dyed back to black and straightened, pulled halfway back with a simple jade hairpin that perfectly matched her ethereal, refined temperament.

A long strand of the hairpiece slid down Yu Zhaowan’s shoulder, the tip brushing against the back of Song Ming’s hand. Song Ming didn’t pull away.

“This take is very good,” Song Ming replied.

Yu Zhaowan turned her face, her nose barely ten centimeters from Song Ming’s. She said naturally, “You’re harder to please than the director.”

Song Ming didn’t shy away. She tilted her head slightly in response, her gaze sweeping over the corner of Yu Zhaowan’s lips. “Then what do you want to do after work? It’ll be my turn to accompany you.”

Yu Zhaowan’s eyes lit up. “Go shopping with me. You drive very well.”

Song Ming smiled nonchalantly. “You want me to be your driver?”

“Yes!” Yu Zhaowan’s eyes crinkled with a brilliant smile.

Song Ming’s gaze returned to the monitor, her smile turning indecipherable. “Alright.”

The Tea Room Confrontation

During a break, while Yu Zhaowan went to film the next shot, Song Ming entered the tea room with her cup. Ji Shan appeared suddenly like a ghost, slipping in after her.

Song Ming looked back at him. “Why aren’t you discussing the brand concept with Lin Yu? What are you doing here?”

Ji Shan crossed his arms, standing in the middle of the room with a judgmental frown, staring at Song Ming.

Losing interest, Song Ming withdrew her gaze. “Did Lin Yu strike you dumb?”

Ji Shan choked for a moment, nearly letting a retort fly before taking a deep breath to suppress it. “My dear ancestor, why are you flirting with the model again?”

“Model?” Song Ming asked, frowning.

“Oh, actress,” Ji Shan realized his slip of the tongue. “This time it’s an actress.”

“Don’t you think she’s beautiful?” Song Ming started the electric kettle, planning to switch things up with a cup of tea.

Ji Shan couldn’t agree, his face practically screaming ‘my life is hard’. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit unethical?”

Song Ming didn’t hesitate for a second. “Cut the crap.”

Used to Song Ming’s willful behavior, Ji Shan tried to be the voice of reason. “Even if you are the Song Ming, you can’t keep doing this. It ruins your reputation.”

“Even if I am Song Ming?” She turned around completely to face him, asking with a mocking smile, “Who have you been listening to?”

“Uh…” Ji Shan stammered. “It’s just… Lin Yu’s attitude toward you was so… I did a little bit of investigating…”

Song Ming let out a huff of a laugh, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “And what did you find?”

“Ahem,” Ji Shan felt strangely awkward. “I figured you wouldn’t change your surname… and the only ‘Song’ that could make Lin Yu act like that is the Song family of the Songyun Group…”

He looked at her uncertainty. Song Ming, looking bored and weary, looked away and gave a noncommittal “Mm.”

“You really are?” Ji Shan lost his cool. “The third young lady of the Song family?”

“Third?” Song Ming snapped back to attention, her gaze turning hostile. “Are you putting those two idiots ahead of me?”

Ji Shan: “…”

He didn’t quite understand the internal drama of the wealthy. However, seeing that the young masters of a billionaire family were treated with the same contempt as he was, he felt a strange sense of equilibrium.

Song Ming couldn’t be bothered with him. Since they weren’t in the same social circles, it was normal for Ji Shan not to know the nuances of her relationship with the Songs.

Ji Shan sighed in relief and slipped toward the door to leave. But thinking of Yu Zhaowan, he couldn’t help but peek back in. “About that…”

“Don’t be annoying.”

The cold words were tossed out of the tea room, hitting Ji Shan in the face. He clicked his tongue; there really was nothing he could do about Song Ming.