Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 2

The interior set was ready, and the lighting technicians were in position.

Ruan Jinjin sat amidst a room full of delicate, blooming flowers as the perfect light began to settle around her.

Song Ming held the camera. Through the viewfinder, the girl appeared quiet and tranquil, her slender frame projected a powerful sense of fragility, making her seem like a completely different person from the arrogant, willful girl of fifteen minutes prior.

Song Ming adjusted the light and angles with a cold, analytical eye, focusing on highlighting the true protagonist of the shoot: the full set of luxury high jewelry adorning Ruan Jinjin’s neck and ears.

This was a new product line from the brand, targeting girls aged seventeen to nineteen. Because the collection required an infusion of youth and dreaminess, they had chosen Ruan Jinjin as the model.

However, Song Ming personally felt nothing toward this kind of beauty.

While a pure, unblemished vitality untouched by hardship was certainly beautiful, it was also too simple to be interesting.

She preferred beauty that was intense, stubborn, firm, and filled with a certain aggressiveness.

Just like… a champagne-colored hemline sweeping through her memory, something once etched into her mind resurfacing through a blur.

“Teacher Song Ming.”

Someone called out.

Song Ming blinked. Her train of thought was broken, and the image that had been about to surface sank back into the deep sea of her consciousness.

“Teacher Song Ming,” the lighting technician, a man with a beard and a baseball cap, spoke up somewhat sheepishly, “Is this light no longer suitable?”

Song Ming looked back at the photos she had already captured; the light had been caught quite well.

“No,” Song Ming raised her equipment again. “Let’s do another set.”

Hearing this, Ruan Jinjin frowned and looked toward Song Ming, her beautiful eyes filled with reluctance.

This set required the model to face the flowers with an expression of confusion and bewilderment. Ruan Jinjin’s current expression was clearly inappropriate.

Song Ming lowered her camera and tilted her head slightly. “What is it?”

Sitting among the fresh flowers and wearing priceless jewels, Ruan Jinjin was used to light and attention gravitating toward her. She took it for granted that these things belonged to her.

She found it irritating that the one person who should be most focused on her, the person behind the lens seemed distracted.

Song Ming waited for her response. Her mid-length hair fell across her eyes as she tilted her head, fragmenting her gaze into irregular shards.

“You aren’t focused,” Ruan Jinjin said, her chin habitually tilting upward. “Everyone is working hard right now. If the final photos are bad because of you, do you expect everyone to stay late and work overtime with you?”

The brand representative monitoring the shoot from the sidelines let out a soft gasp, their expression turning colorful. The stagehands and makeup assistants standing on the periphery glanced at each other, their eyes wide with shock.

The room fell silent. No one dared to respond to Ruan Jinjin.

But Song Ming laughed.

“Have you seen my results yet?” Song Ming asked back in a mild, slow tone.

Ruan Jinjin stiffened.

Song Ming looked down slightly, letting out a soft laugh where others couldn’t see. After laughing, she casually brushed back her overly long bangs, finally showing a bit of spirit.

“Fine. Since you think I’m not focused, make sure you cooperate well for the rest of this,” Song Ming said, looking at Ruan Jinjin. Her eyes, usually misty, reflected the specialized lighting set up for the model, becoming as clear and brilliant as emeralds.

Ruan Jinjin didn’t understand what she meant at first, her brow still furrowed deeply until Song Ming raised her camera once more.

“What is that expression? Were the product concepts not communicated beforehand? Is the innocence of a young girl supposed to be expressed by frowning and staring?”

Song Ming’s voice suddenly dropped an octave. Ruan Jinjin flinched instinctively, memories of being scolded by her tutors rushed to her mind.

“Softer. Relax,” Song Ming said, her voice softening again. “Think of someone who recently made your heart flutter. Are they exceptional? Why did they make your heart skip a beat?”

Ruan Jinjin paused. This was a premise she hadn’t considered, she usually only admired her own beauty. She instinctively turned her head toward Song Ming.

Click…

Song Ming captured the moment. Looking at the deer-like expression of bewilderment frozen in the viewfinder, her lips curled upward. Finally, there was something that could be called “soul,” even if this specific shot wasn’t commercial enough.

“You…you just took it?” Ruan Jinjin was nearly frantic. She had been caught off guard and hadn’t had time to pose her best expression!

“Mm,” Song Ming replied casually. “Look at the lens.”

Ruan Jinjin instinctively struck her well-practiced, “perfect” pose that suited her features best.

Here we go again, Song Ming thought. She lightly adjusted the settings and said, “Your eyes are asymmetrical.”

“What?” Ruan Jinjin froze, then practically jumped up. “Where? Where are they asymmetrical?”

“I lied,” Song Ming said without a shred of guilt. She set the camera aside and looked at Ruan Jinjin as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You… you…” Ruan Jinjin’s chest heaved; she looked incredibly angry.

Song Ming didn’t care. She stood up and walked toward Ruan Jinjin, saying lazily, “Your expression was inappropriate.”

Ruan Jinjin stiffened her neck and stared stubbornly as Song Ming approached.

Song Ming didn’t look at her. She simply walked to the center of the set, picked up a single flower, and held it before her eyes for a moment. “I want this kind of confusion. Directionless, lost, uncertain. Do you understand?”

“I don’t,” Ruan Jinjin snapped, her neck still stiff.

Song Ming glanced at her, then turned and asked, “If I were to kiss you right now, why do you think I would do it?”

Ruan Jinjin’s resistant expression froze. She stared at Song Ming in shock. Those green eyes were like the deep sea, her features possessed a crispness typical of Southern Europeans, and her skin was fair. Her lips were tilted in a slight smile, carrying a hint of affection that was hard to tell if real or fake.

Ruan Jinjin’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Her rhythm was thrown off.

“The flower is for you.” Song Ming casually pressed the flower she was holding into Ruan Jinjin’s palm. The stem had lingered between Song Ming’s fingers for a long time and still carried the warmth of her skin.

When she raised the lens again, Ruan Jinjin’s state was much more appropriate. She looked at the flowers with a dazed expression, finally aligning with the theme of “youthful innocence.”

“Well done,” Song Ming praised after finishing two sets of photos, her mood noticeably improved.

Ruan Jinjin looked toward her. In the depths of her eyes, a new emotion was flowing, flickering past so quickly it was almost impossible to catch.

Song Ming froze for a moment. She suddenly remembered that the theme for the next shoot was “The Nightingale and the Rose.”