Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 6

When Feng Ting called, Song Ming was sitting on a silver-bright alloy stand, communicating with a model.

The entire venue was high and cavernous. The voices of people coming and going inevitably echoed through the space, making the atmosphere feel slightly noisy.

This shoot was for the cover of a top-tier domestic fashion magazine. The model, wearing high-impact avant-garde makeup, lay back on rust-red velvet to strike a pose. Song Ming hung over the model from above with her equipment to take bird’s-eye shots.

Today, Song Ming wore only a white camisole. A silver necklace swayed gently against her collarbone, paired with her usual practical cargo pants. Her slender, lithe physique was on full display.

Song Ming observed the model through the lens, noticing that her gaze remained distant and unfocused; she was struggling to find the right “feeling.”

“Nervous?” Song Ming moved the equipment aside and glanced at the model.

Song Ming had one leg hooked over the alloy stand, holding her heavy camera with ease in both hands. The smooth muscle lines on her slender arms were visible, a casual, wild beauty that unconsciously captivated anyone who looked at her.

Song Ming spoke nonchalantly, her eyelids drooping slightly. She carried an air of arrogance, yet it felt entirely natural for someone like her.

The model looked up at Song Ming, meeting those aloof, grey-green eyes that watched her without a ripple of emotion. For some reason, she found it impossible to get into character.

Song Ming gave a faint smile. “No need to be nervous. You were doing great just now.”

The model’s breath hitched, offering an ambiguous, double-edged hint: “Teacher Song… I’m not very good at this. Can you… teach me?”

…Not good at this?

This model wasn’t a newcomer like Ruan Jinjin.

Song Ming looked down at the seductive model with total inner indifference, thinking: Some of the accusations thrown my way are truly unfair. Clearly, some things aren’t entirely my fault.

Just as Song Ming was about to respond, her phone, which had been set aside, began to ring.

It was Feng Ting. On the other end of the line, Feng Ting tentatively asked if Song Ming was interested in supervising the remaining series of their previous shoot.

“Didn’t we already discuss this?” Song Ming stood by the edge of the venue, crossing her arms lightly. “Luo Ren will finish the remaining series.”

“Well… that was the plan, yes,” Feng Ting sounded like she was in a difficult spot, her words hesitating. “But Teacher Song, can’t you really come over one more time? You don’t even have to shoot, it’s enough if you’re just there.”

Song Ming had the time, but she wasn’t particularly willing. “Since I don’t need to shoot, what would I be doing there?”

“Oh, just… come and supervise!”

Feng Ting was at her wit’s end. Over the past two days, her “happiness index” had suffered a landslide drop.

Everything had changed since Song Ming stopped participating in the shoot. Just after solving the most difficult series, Feng Ting realized that Ruan Jinjin had become completely uncooperative. No matter who was behind the camera, Ruan Jinjin found something to complain about. The already high-maintenance young heiress was now being even more nitpicky, making life miserable for the entire crew.

Recalling Ruan Jinjin’s dark expression and tantrums over the past few days, Feng Ting pleaded again, “Song Ming, please just come. Just come and keep things on track for us.”

Song Ming wasn’t interested. She turned halfway around and happened to lock eyes with the model from the current shoot.

The model was surrounded by the makeup team and assistants, yet her gaze pierced through the crowd to land on Song Ming.

After a moment’s thought, Song Ming declined. “I won’t be going. Luo Ren is very professional, he doesn’t need me to supervise.”

Taking advantage of a break in the shoot, Song Ming walked to a secluded spot and lit a cigarette. As she exhaled a puff of smoke, she reflected on how it seemed no one had been able to truly catch her attention over the past two years.

Not long after that incident, she had lost interest in the Song family and stepped down from the core decision-making level, spending over a year idling away.

Come to think of it, there didn’t seem to be anything in this city worth staying for.

“Are you on a break?” A woman’s slightly husky voice came from behind.

Song Ming closed her eyes wearily, still looking at the greenery outside the window. It wasn’t until the sound of high heels drew closer that she finally turned around.

Chen Yang, the model who had just been hinting at her, walked up to Song Ming and stopped. They both leaned against the same railing.

The makeup on Chen Yang’s face had not been washed off yet, it was exaggerated and bold.

Setting the makeup aside, Chen Yang herself was no longer a young, naive girl. A thirty-year-old woman possessed a charm that young girls lacked. Even if she wasn’t “perfect,” she was confident due to her wealth of experience, and every gesture was filled with allure.

“I know you, Teacher Song.”

“Oh? Isn’t it normal to know me?” Song Ming replied lazily, looking away.

Technical skill aside, her temperament was a frequent topic of discussion in the photography world. It was a small circle, it wasn’t strange for a model to have heard of a photographer’s reputation.

“No, it goes back further than that,” Chen Yang watched Song Ming intently, her gaze soft, like a trap hidden under lush green grass. “Back to when everyone called you President Song.”

Song Ming’s hand paused in the middle of a drag.

Chen Yang’s words reminded her of her two brothers, whose brains weren’t quite up to par. Back when she was President Song, she had to deal with those two idiots every single day.

She heard they hadn’t been behaving themselves lately, it seemed she would have to find time to return to the Song residence.

“That certainly is a long time ago,” Song Ming brought the cigarette back to her lips. “How come I don’t remember meeting you?”

As Chen Yang looked at Song Ming, who despite her lazy demeanor, still exuded an innate nobility, her heart skipped a beat. When she first saw Song Ming at a banquet years ago, Song Ming had been standing in the center of the crowd, holding a glass of champagne, elegant yet casual. Her expression carried a natural arrogance, she didn’t care about the gazes of others because she was, without question, the focal point.

Back then, Song Ming was so young. Too young.

She was only in her teens, her skin and body radiating intense vitality, yet she could converse fluently with top industry titans at a business banquet. Her ambition and aura, which defied her young age, had flared up without concealment. To Chen Yang, it was the most potent aphrodisiac.

The look of total disregard for others in those grey-green eyes was the final drop of dew that caused Chen Yang to fall.

Chen Yang had craved Song Ming since then.

“Well?” Song Ming asked, glancing sideways when the other woman remained silent for a long time.

Back then, Song Ming was as far away as the horizon, unreachable. Now, Song Ming had stepped down from her pedestal herself and refused to go back.

Chen Yang took a step forward, leaning in close. A strand of her hair brushed against Song Ming’s cheek. “We are both adults. To not pester and not speak of ‘love’ is a virtue.”

Chen Yang’s tone was lighter than the breeze. After saying this, she lightly squeezed Song Ming’s hand. Her gaze was as thick and sweet as syrup as it wrapped around Song Ming for a moment before she turned and walked back toward the set.

Song Ming held the cigarette between her teeth, still maintaining that nonchalant look.

She tilted her head, thoughtfully watching Chen Yang’s retreating figure. Then, she raised the hand Chen Yang had just squeezed and gave her fingers a slight rub.

Between them, a black room key card was revealed.