A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex (GL) - Chapter 3
Don’t recognize me?
Yet still ordering milk tea was the attempt at conversation a failure?
The assistant director gave an awkward smile, saying he wouldn’t disturb them further, and hurried away with his steak.
The crystal chandelier on the ceiling swayed gently in the cold breeze, becoming the sole backdrop between the two.
Luo Mijin nearly buried her face in her mug, a sour, turbulent emotion roaring inside her, locking her in a pathological loss of control.
Her fingers trembled uncontrollably, emotions like putrid sludge oozing from every pore, emitting an annoying drip-drip sound.
She told herself over and over that she was grown now capable of controlling her emotions, understanding them, maintaining the composure expected of a normal person.
“Tonight’s snow is heavy, but you can still see the stars.”
Rong Qingyao’s cold, detached voice saved her once again.
Instinctively, she looked out the window. The flurry of snow couldn’t obscure the distant starlight, and for a moment, she wondered had there ever been a time when she, in Rong Qingyao’s eyes, had shone as brilliantly as those stars?
Just once would be enough.
Luo Mijin drifted into her habitual daze, her expression distant.
Rong Qingyao turned her head, meeting Luo Mijin’s weary, lost gaze. Seeing Luo Mijin immediately avert her eyes, she didn’t take offense just smiled faintly.
“I forgot to ask, have you been well?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Luo Mijin forced herself to rally, answering haltingly, trying to sound normal.
Finally, she got a clear look at Rong Qingyao.
Still that same breathtakingly beautiful face, still surrounded by the admiring gazes of others, though now draped in an expensive coat unlike anything she’d worn before.
Of course Rong Qingyao was doing well. Someone as exceptional as her could navigate any situation with ease, no matter where or when.
Even back in their school days, she had been radiant, unreachable to so many.
“Do you still play chess?”
Luo Mijin shuddered violently. Her overly long bangs obscured her delicate, dazed eyes, and her tangled fingers clenched tighter, anxiety and gloom overtaking her pale, pretty face.
“No. I stopped.”
“Why?”
“Just didn’t feel like it anymore.” Luo Mijin knew her answer was stiff, but she couldn’t help it.
Rong Qingyao didn’t press, treating Luo Mijin’s evasive response with the same indifference one might show to a passing distraction on a snowy night.
“You seem different these days.”
“No, I—” Luo Mijin’s heart raced, her old affliction making it hard to speak.
Rong Qingyao idly picked up her champagne flute. She’d already had enough tonight, but she wanted just a little more.
“Why did you come here?”
As if feeling the cold, Luo Mijin tightened her black windbreaker around herself, revealing a wrist as pale as frost on withered grass.
“No reason. Just wanted to take pictures of the snow.” Suddenly, she winced, letting out a soft gasp.
“What’s wrong?”
“My right leg hurts.”
Rong Qingyao frowned. “An injury?”
“Something like that. I fell before.” Luo Mijin’s gaze wandered again.
“Be careful, then.”
This kind of hollow, polite small talk was unbearably dull, but it was the closest they could get to each other now.
Rong Qingyao turned away, disinterested, tightening her grip on the champagne flute. The pale golden liquid swayed, its ripples seeming to echo in her chest.
“Luo Mijin, the postcards I sent you.”
At that, Luo Mijin’s heart clenched. “I saw them.”
Rong Qingyao’s lips parted slightly, her glistening eyes under the light as deep and unfathomable as an ancient mirror, suddenly seeming to ignite a raging inferno.
“You’ve seen them, then.”
She had thought Luo Mijin never received those postcards over the years. But since she did…
Hah. She did.
After a long pause, Luo Mijin lowered her head and said with difficulty, “You said you didn’t know me?”
“You still remember me?”
Unsure how to answer, Luo Mijin shook her head, then nodded consistent with her usual chaotic, erratic logic.
Rong Qingyao knew this was just how she was and continued, “I thought you’d forgotten long ago. It’s been so long even I barely remember.”
“It has been. So long,” Luo Mijin repeated like a broken record.
Rong Qingyao gazed at her, slender fingers pressing against the cup’s edge before suddenly smiling lazily. “I was joking earlier. I’m honored you remember me.”
Uncertain which part was the joke, Luo Mijin’s tangled fingers slowly loosened, inching forward slightly before retreating unsure if she meant to reach for Rong Qingyao or if it was just another habitual, rigid motion.
Turning to head upstairs, the smile faded from Rong Qingyao’s face, replaced by an indifferent coldness.
If she had truly known and understood Luo Mijin back then, perhaps she could have waited for her on that romantic snowy day.
But the truth was, there hadn’t even been a farewell between them just silence ever since.
In this vast, relentless world, she was grateful Luo Mijin had remembered her for a few years.
“I’m leaving. Got things to do.”
Luo Mijin watched Rong Qingyao walk away, ten seconds in total.
Once, the distance between them had been so close it couldn’t get any closer. In the end, it was just these ten seconds.
In earlier years, she often wondered, if only she had run faster back then, if only she had been healthier, if only…
But no amount of “what ifs” could change reality.
The faint trace of cold fragrance lingered in the air, a scent unique to Rong Qingyao like snow.
She instinctively missed that pristine aroma.
The coffee-colored milk tea swirled in tiny whirlpools as Luo Mijin stared blankly at the figure disappearing around the stairwell.
What was this now? A brief reliving of the past?
Too bad she had no right to it.
Downstairs in the lobby, Rong Qingyao’s manager arrived belatedly, grabbing assistant Yan Si’s arm and whispering,
“Who’s that talking to our Qingyao? Striking looks, gives off this indescribable vibe. A fan who chased her here? Qingyao’s fans are way too intense.”
Yan Si shot her a sidelong glance. “Your professional instincts acting up again? Thinking of recruiting her?”That kind of decadent, mechanical, morbid aesthetic is rare in our company.” She’d blow up if she debuted.”
“Please,” Yan Si shook her head, dismissing her own suspicions. “Ask Rong yourself if she’s interested.”
Late at night, Lan Mingyu checked the car one last time before returning to Room 402.
“Do you know Rong Qingyao?”
Luo Mijin was labeling a tag with another tag when the question made her pause slightly. “Sort of,” she mumbled.
Thinking of Rong Qingyao’s words, “I thought you’d forgotten long ago. It’s been so long even I barely remember” her heart ached faintly.
Lan Mingyu was sharp. “Really?”
“Some bad things happened later,” Luo Mijin explained softly.
“I get it,” Lan Mingyu said. She had first met Luo Mijin at a snow-covered airport.
Or rather, “picked her up” was more accurate.
An autistic person stranded penniless in an unfamiliar country called M, with childlike eyes that stood out helplessly and quietly in the crowd.
“Still hypoglycemic?”
“Much better now. Mingyu, thank you for your trouble.” Luo Mijin looked at Lan Mingyu and expressed her gratitude earnestly.
She had come here to see the aurora, yet ended up inconveniencing Lan Mingyu.
“I’ve said it before, I came mainly to take a vacation myself. Besides, seeing such beautiful auroras makes the trip worthwhile.”
Luo Mijin couldn’t articulate more words of thanks, nor could she discern the sincerity in Lan Mingyu’s words, but she genuinely wanted to show better appreciation for the help received.
Before bed, she glanced at her phone and saw another text inviting her to perform with a band at a wedding ceremony.
Though she hated weddings, for the money, agreeing seemed the only option.
**
The next morning, Rong Qingyao was unexpectedly asked to film the final scene today instead of tomorrow.
While packing at the inn to catch her flight, she learned that Luo Mijin and the others had already checked out.
Another morning without goodbyes, no different from the day they broke up.
Rong Qingyao wasn’t the least bit surprised and proceeded mechanically to the airport.
“I hope this flight isn’t delayed,” Yan Si fretted in the departure lounge. “Hey, Director Rong, isn’t that…?”
Following the gaze, Rong Qingyao spotted Luo Mijin and Lan Mingyu also waiting for their flight.
The slender figure was wrapped in a black windbreaker, her flawless pale chin tucked into the collar, standing amidst the crowd like a parched blade of grass.
“They’re on our flight but probably in economy. Should we say hello?”
“Enough, do you want to get recognized?” The manager herded them toward the VIP lounge while adjusting Rong Qingyao’s mask and hat. “Thank goodness this trip was kept private. Qingya, next time you should take a private jet with bodyguards.”
Rong Qingyao’s gaze lingered on Luo Mijin for an extra second before looking away.
She’d assumed someone of Luo Mijin’s background would always fly first class.
The flight was delayed three hours as usual. By the time they buckled up with eye masks on, everyone was exhausted.
Mid-flight, the manager studied Rong Qingyao’s distracted profile. “Who is that? You seem familiar with her?”
“Hardly know her at all,” Rong Qingyao replied calmly, fastening her seatbelt.
How could she possibly claim acquaintance with Luo Mijin? She’d never truly understood her, and now there was no need to try.
She remembered Luo Mijin seven years ago, always bathed in bright lights, facing a radiant future surrounded by admirers.
While she remained trapped in the snow, still stuck in the same place today.
Rong Qingyao nearly sneered, turning instead to watch the snow-like clouds outside.
“The way you looked at her made me think you wanted to…” The manager searched for the right words.
“Wanted to what?”
“Either skin her alive or secretly keep her as a mistress.”
At this, Rong Qingyao gave no reaction, but when she lowered her eyes, a sudden darkness flickered through them.
Seeing Rong Qingyao’s indifference, the manager relaxed she knew someone like Qingyao was entirely career-focused.
The eight-hour flight left everyone drowsy. After landing in City L, the manager rushed back to the office for meetings.
On the way to get the car, Rong Qingyao suddenly called out to her assistant.
“Yan Si.”
“What is it?”
“Follow them in the car,” Rong Qingyao said, half-closing her eyes as she watched Luo Mijin get into Lan Mingyu’s car in the distance.
Yan Si froze on the spot, staring at the tall yet overly slender girl. “President Rong, what are you planning?”
Rong Qingyao was silent for a moment before raising her gaze with a faint smile, one that sounded like self-mockery, or perhaps disdain.
“I want to see.”