A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex (GL) - Chapter 1

Snowflakes swirled outside the window of the guesthouse as the small town near the Arctic welcomed the dazzling auroras following the G4 geomagnetic storm.

“I heard an actress surnamed Rong is coming. They say she’s breathtakingly beautiful, the kind that could topple kingdoms. I wonder if I can get her autograph.”

The words Lan Mingyu had said before leaving tightened Luo Mijin’s chest, her already muddled mind spiraling further out of control.

In her hallucination, time seemed to rewind, she was back in that midsummer, standing beneath the blooming orange blossom tree, watching that person walk toward her.

Just as she was about to reach out, the figure dissolved into distant starlight, shattering into pieces.

For so many years, she had tried desperately not to think of that person, yet it was all in vain.

Her silver hair, damp with moisture, fell over her forehead as Luo Mijin lay limp on the floor like a beached fish, unable to move.

After a long while, she dragged herself to the bathroom, turning on all the faucets in an attempt to drown out the storm of thoughts with noise.

**

“My award-winning actress, my CEO, are you trying to kill yourself drinking this much?” Yan Si, Rong Qingyao’s assistant, pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed helplessly. “You know exactly how many people are just waiting for you to slip up so they can take advantage.”

The woman had strikingly beautiful peach-blossom eyes, with deep-set double eyelids that swept elegantly toward her temples. Her noble bearing was softened by the flush of alcohol on her cheeks.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Rong Qingyao’s sharp, indifferent gaze was veiled beneath long lashes, though she faltered slightly when she caught sight of the auroras.

Yan Si paused—it was true, they wouldn’t dare. Rong Qingyao had long since secured her position, and she was no longer the same person she once was.

Who would have thought that a background less illegitimate daughter could, through sheer force of will, invest, acquire, and consolidate power so swiftly that even the industry’s heavyweights now tread carefully around her?

“You could film snow scenes anywhere, yet you insist on freezing in the Arctic Circle,” Yan Si muttered, checking her phone’s schedule. “Two days left this week—tomorrow’s the business gala, the day after is your father, Old Master Cen’s, birthday, and then there’s this film.”

The woman’s misty autumn-like eyes lowered, revealing nothing of her emotions.

A beauty like Rong Qingyao, with her exquisite bone structure, carried every emotion,  anger, joy, sorrow with effortless grace. The assistant was momentarily entranced before snapping back to reality.

“Still, Old Master Cen has been restless lately, buying up scattered shares wherever he can.”

Her employer always kept her schedule packed to the brim, leaving no room for rest.

She operated with machine-like precision, undisturbed by any unexpected disruptions—except for tonight’s uncharacteristic indulgence in alcohol.

Rong Qingyao’s lashes fluttered slightly. “It’s fine. Go rest.”

“Alright, here’s your keycard.” Yan Si hesitated before adding, “The guesthouse is simple in layout. The rest of the crew is on the third floor. You’re in 402, I’m in 401. The hot water and heating work fine, it’s decent enough.”

The hallway carpet was thick, muffling the sound of Rong Qingyao’s red-soled stilettos as she walked. Her gaze remained fixed on the auroras outside as she replied softly,

“It’s fine.”

Her voice was always this gentle and detached, as if nothing in the world could unsettle her.

Having been by Rong Qingyao’s side for so long, Yan Si understood that this was the woman’s self-defense mechanism, forged under the relentless pressure of work and the intricate dance of social politics.

“I’ve prepared sleeping pills for you too, but try to take them sparingly if you can manage to sleep.”

Rong Qingyao smiled gently. “Alright.”

The guesthouse was decorated with distinct Eastern charm carved walnut doors, even aged colored paper cuttings.

Rong Qingyao swiped her keycard to open Room 402. A biting wind stirred her cascading black hair, through which a jade-green hairpin faintly glimmered.

“What’s going on? They didn’t even close the window?” Yan Si rushed forward to assess the situation.

Stepping into the entryway, Rong Qingyao saw pale curtains billowing as delicate snowflakes danced through the air. The wind’s chill amplified her slight tipsiness from three parts to seven.

Yan Si quickly shut the window and shrugged. “Probably the owner’s oversight. You should rest early after drinking. I’ll have security tightened, should I send up some sobering soup.”

Before she could finish, the indifferent expression on Rong Qingyao’s elegant face shifted. A slender finger pressed against her lips, signaling silence.

She’d heard a voice she could never forget.

“Mingyu, are you tired? Can we leave now?”

Her bl00d surged violently. Rong Qingyao felt her heart stop before pounding erratically, each beat threatening to shatter the constraints of time.

Her assistant watched helplessly as Rong Qingyao strode unsteadily toward the bathroom with desperate determination.

Inside, Luo Mijin lifted her head from the water, struggling to turn off the faucets to avoid worrying Lan Mingyu. She was no longer the autistic child who needed constant care her social adaptation had improved greatly.

This was just a momentary lapse.

“Mingyu, I’m fine. We can go now,” Luo Mijin repeated, but received no response. Puzzled, she wiped the water from her eyes.

When she turned, her blurred vision gradually cleared.

Rong Qingyao stood at the bathroom doorway.

The Rong Qingyao who always slipped through her fingers. The Rong Qingyao who excelled at disappearing.

Luo Mijin’s heart plummeted. Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t move or speak, her breath catching like a plant battered by rainstorms.

After seven years, one glance at Rong Qingyao felt like salvation.

Even if she couldn’t discern whether this was the Rong Qingyao from her persistent hallucinations or the real one.

Steam curled through the bathroom, carrying a distant, pristine fragrance that twined through the air.

The scent of snow.

More enduring than any memory.

Rong Qingyao gripped the doorframe until her knuckles whitened, then regained composure through sheer willpower.

The woman wore a seductive velvet qipao slit to the thigh, pale skin flashing with each graceful step. Her snow-like aura contrasted sharply with her devastating beauty—a temptress with the demeanor of an unapproachable ice queen.

They locked eyes, two pairs of dark pupils staring unblinkingly, like reunited lovers or sworn enemies.

Time crystallized around them. The world might crumble or rebuild itself, but in this suspended moment, nothing else mattered.

Luo Mijin instinctively glanced at Rong Qingyao’s wrist pale and slender, with no red string tied around the bone.

“You must be the previous guest,” Yan Si interjected at the right moment, quickly contacting the homestay owner. “Director Rong, it seems there was a mix-up with the booking. The two guests in this room were supposed to have left a day earlier.”

No one responded. Yan Si felt uneasy, she had never seen Rong Qingyao like this before.

Though her expression remained as cool and detached as ever, something had shifted. It was like thorns sprouting from a rose, flames igniting in the snow, or a heart pierced and bleeding crimson.

“Um, I’ll go check with the owner first,” Yan Si stammered, not daring to linger, and hurried out.

In the midst of this awkward and silent standoff, Rong Qingyao’s face was utterly impassive. Luo Mijin’s earlier words still echoed in her ears.

“Mingyu, I’m fine. We can go now.”

We.

Such an intimate word.

It finally came back to her when checking in, the owner had mentioned that a pair of very close friends were staying here.

Very close friends. How close?

Close enough to travel together to this remote Arctic town to see the Northern Lights?

She also noticed Luo Mijin was only wearing an oversized white shirt, the silver fabric shimmering softly. The damp T-shirt clung to her slender waist, revealing the delicate curve of her collarbone.

Rong Qingyao’s fingers instinctively clenched, then relaxed just as quickly.

She was the one to break the silence, her tone light and careless.

“Long time no see.”

“Long time no see,” Luo Mijin replied haltingly, bracing herself against the sink for balance.

“Where have you been all these years?”

“In the hospital.”

“Are you doing better now?”

“Much better.”

“Never thought I’d run into you here. Accompanying a friend to see the Northern Lights?” Rong Qingyao smiled faintly, the slightest emphasis on friend and Northern Lights—imperceptible to anyone else.

“Something like that,” Luo Mijin murmured, unable to meet her gaze, her eyes fixed instead on the bathtub’s near-overflowing water.

Rong Qingyao saw the evasion in her expression, as if speaking now was akin to cheating, something that would upset that friend.

“So reluctant to see me?” Having processed the shock of their reunion, Rong Qingyao grew more composed, her faintly mocking smile exuding a devastating allure.

“No, it’s not that,” Luo Mijin lowered her damp lashes, her words faltering, her voice tinged with a desperate, unnatural evasion. “My friend will be back soon. We have to go.”

We again.

Rong Qingyao paused, her face serene and beautiful. “It’s freezing out. Would you like to have tea together?”

Her invitation was flawlessly graceful, the kind no one in the world could refuse.

“Or milk tea, if you prefer. Just old classmates catching up,” she added smoothly.

Luo Mijin froze, then after a long silence, replied,

“We’re leaving soon. There’s no time.”

“Is that so? What a shame,” Rong Qingyao said, her smile still faint, as if she didn’t truly mean it.

Outside the window, the sky was heavy with cold, falling snow. By eight o’clock, it was already pitch-dark, a vast, isolated blue, tinged with oppressive black.

In their locked gaze, Luo Mijin was ultimately the first to yield, averting her eyes. Rong Qingyao’s face remained composed with a perfectly measured smile, bordering on indifferent calm.

The wooden door of the room was pushed open and then shut with a loud bang, startling the two from their silent standoff.

“Luo Luo, I’m back. We can go now.”

“Why didn’t you close the door properly? Still as careless as ever.”

Luo Mijin trembled slightly, her damp, vacant eyes regaining a sliver of focus. “Sorry, my friend is back.”

“Friend?” This was the first time in seven years since their breakup that Rong Qingyao had heard Luo Mijin apologize to her. She wanted to be magnanimous and say it was fine.

But she couldn’t.

Because Luo Mijin owed her an apology , just not for something like this.

In an instant, memories she thought she had forgotten surged back like a tidal wave, drowning her, suffocating her.

The dim yellow light of a shabby rented room, damp kisses, unrestrained possession—once entwined as if there were no tomorrow.

Rong Qingyao had believed Luo Mijin would stay by her side forever—until the eve of that first snowfall, when they never met again, parting just like that.

This person had regretfully exited her life, disappearing into heights she could never reach, not even given the chance for a proper goodbye.

Because Luo Mijin had promised to stay forever, she had believed it, becoming a complete fool.

Rong Qingyao couldn’t stop staring at Luo Mijin—her silver-white hair, slender fingers, and reddened eyes.

“Well, I’ll take my leave first,” Luo Mijin murmured, lowering her head as she moved toward the door.

The woman’s slightly drunken gaze was like a tranquil lake, yet the moment Luo Mijin brushed past her, it boiled over.

She seized Luo Mijin, pressing her back, and slammed the bathroom door shut behind them.

The space was now sealed.

Luo Mijin felt her body ignite under the woman’s touch, an ache long forgotten.

The woman’s cascading hair carried an elusive, intoxicating fragrance, her unreasonable proximity an irresistible force of dominance and temptation.

It was a breathtaking kind of beauty eerie, mysterious, lethally alluring, enough to make prey willingly drown in it.

For a fleeting moment, Rong Qingyao’s pupils dilated in disarray. Though she was the aggressor, the moment their lips met, she was powerless to resist, craving only to be conquered, to be claimed.

“Mmm… my friend is still. ”

Lan Mingyan’s footsteps reached the bathroom door. She knocked lightly. “Luo Luo, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

On the other side of the door, Luo Mijin and Rong Qingyao were locked in a breathless tangle of lips and tongues.

“So worried about your friend?” Rong Qingyao bit down on the softness between her lips, harder, as if tracing the contours of the other’s body like a sketch. “I’ll return you to her, later.”