A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex (GL) - Chapter 2

This unexpected reunion escalated into rising body heat within the cramped bathroom.

Luo Mijin could no longer distinguish whether her weakness and trembling came from low bl00d sugar or the electrifying sensation of skin-to-skin contact with the woman.

Her breaths were filled with the faint, cool fragrance unique to Rong Qingyao like being drenched in the misty spring rain of a mountain.

“Luoluo, what’s wrong?” Lan Mingyu’s knocks grew increasingly urgent.

She twisted the doorknob, only to find it locked.

“Luoluo, don’t scare me…”

The more frantic Lan Mingyu’s knocking became outside, the deeper Rong Qingyao kissed her.

By the end, the woman’s slender waist had melted into a puddle of spring water, barely able to stand upright only because Luo Mijin held her.

“You’re drunk, Rong Qingya.”

Unaccustomed to being addressed so formally by Luo Mijin, Rong Qingyao felt dazed. The flush of intoxication bloomed like rippling crimson around her eyes.

“Luoluo, are you okay?” Lan Mingyu’s voice carried a noticeable sob, Luo Mijin’s autism made her far too worrisome. “Say something.”

“Mingyu, I’m fine. Don’t cry,” Luo Mijin replied nonchalantly, if one ignored the faint, watery rasp in her voice.

“Okay, I won’t cry. I’ll wait for you.”

“Alright.”

Even though she was face-to-face with Luo Mijin, Rong Qingyao had the illusion that she was the one standing outside the door.

The intoxication dissipated abruptly. The woman pushed Luo Mijin away.

In that instant, the boiling spring water between them stilled, cooled, and froze over.

Like frost forming on withered grass, severed by a massive scythe, leaving only the chaotic scent of greenery lingering in the air.

The broken frost and grass, powerless, could only surrender to their fate.

“My apologies. I drank too much and lost my composure.” Rong Qingyao removed the jade hairpin from her lips to tidy her hair, her slender arms pale and delicate. Her tone was excessively indifferent, yet unnervingly composed.

The steam blurred her striking, alluring features. Her full, crimson lips, as if stained with bl00d, exuded a dangerous temptation.

“I regret any inconvenience caused. If you wish, I can make it up to you.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Luo Mijin’s gaze wavered. Slowly, she wiped the lipstick smudged on her lips, then instinctively hid her left wrist behind her back.

It was clear she wanted this to end as quickly as possible.

When the bathroom door reopened, Lan Mingyu looked over anxiously. Seeing nothing amiss with Luo Mijin aside from her damp hair, she was about to relax until she spotted Rong Qingyao behind her.

The woman carried herself with elegant intellect and noble grace, yet Lan Mingyu inexplicably felt Rong Qingya’s gaze was serpentine seductive yet predatory, as if she might snap or spiral into madness at any moment.

“What’s going on here?” Lan Mingyu eyed them suspiciously.

Suppressing an unnatural tremor, Luo Mijin said, “I slipped in the bathroom. She happened to help me.”

Lan Mingyu immediately grew concerned, pulling Luo Mijin close to inspect her. “Where did you fall? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I just slipped. It’s nothing.”

“Really? Last time, you didn’t even realize you had a 39-degree fever.”

Luo Mijin wasn’t adept at comforting others. Like a programmed response, she could only repeat, “It’s fine,” over and over.

Listening to their familiar banter, Rong Qingyao stood quietly to the side, the crystal chandelier’s light illuminating the cold detachment and faint mockery in her eyes.

“Thank you for helping Luoluo,” Lan Mingyu finally extended her hand after a long pause. “I’m Lan Mingyu, and you are?”

“Rong Qingyao.”

Lan Mingyu took two seconds to react before exclaiming in surprise:

“Rong? So you’re the big celebrity here filming, right?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a big celebrity, just an actress.”

“No wonder you looked so familiar! You’re even more beautiful in person than on screen.”

“You flatter me.”

Lan Mingyu observed Rong Qingyao elegant, breathtakingly beautiful, with no discernible flaws except for her icy aloofness. Her earlier judgment that this woman seemed unsettlingly eerie now felt inexplicable.

“You helped Luoluo. How can we thank you? You probably lack nothing.”

Lack nothing.

Rong Qingyao silently repeated the words, her lips curving into a smile. “It was nothing.”

“Well…” Lan Mingyu thought for a moment before saying sincerely, “I hope one day I can return the favor. Just name it, and I’ll do my best.”

A peculiar glint flickered in Rong Qingyao’s eyes, as if suppressing something unspeakable. She lowered her dark lashes, her tone faintly haunting. “If that day comes, I hope Miss Lan won’t hesitate to part with what she treasures.”

Lan Mingyu sensed hidden meaning in her words but couldn’t grasp it yet.

“It’s past eight, we should go,” Luo Mijin checked his phone, his tone slightly stiff.

“No time for an autograph now,” Lan Mingyu smiled politely at Rong Qingyao. “We’ve booked a hotel. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Rong Qingyao watched with shadowed eyes as Luo Mijin carried his suitcase away.

**

First floor of the guesthouse.

“A snowstorm’s coming later traveling won’t be safe,” the kindly elderly owner pointed at the thickening snow in the yard. “Let me discuss with the film crew about letting you stay another night.”

Through the heavy glass door, snowflakes swirled in the night, their crystalline forms visible under the lights. Traveling indeed seemed unwise.

“But the hotel I booked is less than five kilometers away?”

The old woman shook her head. “No one plows the roads during Christmas. Driving would be too dangerous.”

“Alright, I’ll ask the crew if we can stay.” Lan Mingyu turned to Luo Mijin. “Luoluo, should we check with Miss Rong?”

Luo Mijin’s eyes were red, his expression dazed, his voice locked in mute distress.

Rong Qingyao’s assistant, Yan Si, was about to rush upstairs when she saw the woman descending gracefully, her face bare of makeup, the lipstick vanished.

She removed it already? That fast?

“Director Rong, the snow’s too heavy. The owner wants those guests to stay overnight,” Yan Si whispered.

Rong Qingyao’s gaze swept past the darkened sky to the tranquil lamplight, where a figure stood, fragile as frost, making the scene dreamlike.

“Miss Rong is here let me ask for you,” the owner said quickly.

Luo Mijin’s hands twisted together, his knuckles stark before abruptly separating, fingers striking the wooden counter with a dull thud.

Though not loud, it was enough to startle everyone present.

“What’s wrong?” Lan Mingyu immediately patted Luo Mijin’s back with practiced ease, whispering her concern. “Is the crowd making you uncomfortable?”

She glanced around the lobby, which had been nearly empty moments ago but was now bustling with activity due to Rong Qingya’s arrival.

Crew members and fellow actors filed out one after another, greeting Rong Qingyao with polished courtesy.

“Good evening, President Rong.”

“Qingyao-jie, we’re shooting the final scene the day after tomorrow. I’m already feeling reluctant to say goodbye.”

“Qingyao-jie, you’re still up this late?”

Rong Qingyao responded to each with a graceful smile warm enough to be engaging, yet never overly familiar or dismissive.

She was like a cold, ethereal moon, pure and untouchable, yet inspiring all beneath her to awaken and chase after her light.

“Please feel free to stay another night. It was our oversight to ask you to leave so abruptly,” Yan Si said, catching Rong Qingya’s subtle glance and smoothly stepping in to persuade them.

“But you already compensated us threefold,” Lan Mingyu replied politely, glancing back at Luo Mijin. “Though the snow is heavy, we often drive at night. We’re used to it.”

“Safety comes first.”

“It’s mainly because my friend doesn’t like crowded places.”

“Your friend?” Yan Si followed Lan Mingyu’s gaze and finally took in Luo Mijin’s appearance like a beauty straight out of a manga, with silver hair and pale eyes, wild and untamed.

A character from a comic struggling to adapt to the human world seemed oddly fitting.

Rong Qingyao descended the stairs unhurriedly, the sway of her black qipao revealing slender, porcelain ankles that dazzled the eyes.

“The snowstorm is severe. If anything were to happen to you on the road tonight, how could I ever rest easy?”

Her words were flawlessly considerate, leaving Lan Mingyu momentarily speechless.

Despite Rong Qingya’s visibly indifferent and distracted expression, there was something hypnotic about her like a carefully laid trap.

This woman had a way of making you feel as though her concern was tender and genuine, as though you mattered deeply to her.

To reject her outright would surely break her heart.

And who could bear to shatter such a beauty’s heart?

“Alright, everyone’s worked hard today. President Rong is treating everyone to a late-night feast seafood, steak, drinks, champagne, wine, milk tea, all you can have!” Yan Si seized the moment to liven up the atmosphere, seeing that the two were swayed.

Once the crowd was distracted, Rong Qingyao could finally retreat. Otherwise, she’d be swarmed by endless pests.

With things put this way, Lan Mingyu felt refusing further would be impolite.

“Alright then.”

“I’ll arrange a new room for you,” the innkeeper said, relieved, addressing Lan Mingyu and Luo Mijin.

Rong Qingyao intervened smoothly, “No need for the trouble. I’ll take another room instead.”

“Thank you,” Lan Mingyu said quickly before stepping outside to retrieve their belongings from the car.

Seizing the moment, Rong Qingyao glided to Luo Mijin’s side, stopping a meter away, her figure swaying elegantly in the black qipao.

“Have some milk tea, as my apology.”

She turned her head slightly to order an unsweetened cup, no sugar at all.

“Thank you,” Luo Mijin managed a faint smile, a hint of dimples appearing on her cheeks. She wanted to look up at Rong Qingyao but found even the slightest movement difficult.

Seeing Luo Mijin still clasping her hands together as she always had, Rong Qingyao felt a faint, irrepressible sense of security stir within her.

Soon after, she withdrew naturally, only to be immediately surrounded by a crowd of fawning admirers.

Lan Mingyu returned to Luo Mijin’s side, holding a cup of hot milk tea and a steak cooked medium-rare.

“Want some sugar? I grabbed a few extra packets from the kitchen.”

“Sure.”

From a distance, Rong Qingyao watched through the crowd as Luo Mijin added two packets of sugar to the milk tea.

Loose, soft hair fell forward as Luo Mijin gripped the mug’s handle and took a sip of the sweetened tea, wisps of steam veiling that pure, dazed, beautiful face.

The deep-set eyes no longer held the innocence of the past, nor that effortless air of pride something Rong Qingyao had once believed was innate, unchangeable even in death.

Lan Mingyu was still eating when Luo Mijin carefully maneuvered through the crowd, mug in hand, heading upstairs.

“I didn’t know your tastes had changed so much,” Rong Qingyao said softly, casting a thoughtful glance at Lan Mingyu.

If Luo Mijin could lie now, then starting to take sugar in tea wasn’t so strange.

After all, seven years had passed.

“Yeah,” Luo Mijin replied in a muffled murmur, eyes reddening further.

Outside, the snowstorm raged, the aurora vanishing beneath the heavy darkness like a mask concealing unspoken thoughts.

“Director Rong, still up so late? I’ve got a fine bottle of wine, shall I send it to you?” The assistant director of the film hurried over, laughing loudly, his gaze sycophantic.

Rong Qingyao had been discovered by this film’s director, starring in a movie about an exiled princess biding her time before reclaiming her throne, a role that catapulted her to fame. Later, she ventured into business, her sharp investment instincts allowing her to amass capital rapidly.

The assistant director glanced at Luo Mijin standing beside Rong Qingya, assuming this must be a friend or perhaps a lover?

Who knew Director Rong had such tastes? No wonder the last person he’d sent over had been politely but firmly returned.

“Director Rong, who is this to you?”

Luo Mijin’s heart clenched abruptly.

“Nobody,” Rong Qingyao said lightly. “We don’t know each other.”