A Time-Limited Romance with Movie Queen Ex (GL) - Chapter 7

Luo Mijin wandered the streets outside the university, expressionless, dressed in a long hoodie.

“After the snow, when you look up at the starry sky, everything becomes new.”

She couldn’t remember where she had read that line, but it made her mood sink. It was still the transition between spring and summer winter was far away.

She pulled the brim of her baseball cap lower, wary of the gazes around her.

Not that it mattered much. She had simply abandoned a chess match halfway through because she suddenly wanted to fly across the hemisphere to see snow.

So, she had forfeited the second game.

Online criticism and doubts flooded in comments like “Another prodigy fallen from grace,” “Genius is just a marketing gimmick,” and “How can you face your audience after losing like this?”

She couldn’t understand why so many people hurled such venom at her, or why she even owed the audience anything.

“You’ve humiliated me. If you disobey again, you can stay in the hospital forever.”

Her grandfather’s words from yesterday echoed in her ears, stirring a deep disgust in Luo Mijin’s heart.

She truly hated hospitals the smell of disinfectant, the sterile, box-like rooms, the way people gathered to observe her treatment just to see if she could speak.

But she couldn’t escape. She had been born with her condition.

She remembered her grandfather staring at her impassive face before solemnly declaring:

“I shouldn’t have held out hope that you’d understand normal emotions normal society.”

She hadn’t even been able to argue.

By the time Luo Mijin truly grasped the meaning of “helplessness,” many years had already passed.

Unconsciously, she had wandered the streets for over two hours. Spotting a hotel ahead, she walked in.

Luo Mijin had never been to a place like this glittering, indulgent, and far too crowded.

But tonight, she just wanted to drift outside. Besides, four bodyguards were stationed nearby, watching her every move.

Getting a hotel room wasn’t difficult. The moment she approached the front desk, a bodyguard stepped forward with a black card. The exchange felt more like a prisoner transfer.

At least she didn’t have to count her spare change.

“Young Miss, the Master only allows you one day out each month. Please return home by tomorrow morning.”

Her grandfather had enforced this rule since childhood, one day of freedom per month. Even “dangerous individuals” like her needed fresh air.

“I know,” Luo Mijin replied calmly. “You can leave.”

“Impossible. We’ll wait outside.”

“I was thinking—” Luo Mijin suddenly felt parched. She had been craving the lemon tea from the shop across the street.

But her grandfather never allowed her to drink bubble tea or eat burgers such “junk food” violated the Luo family’s strict standards of purity and health.

She fell silent. Once university started tomorrow, she’d be fine. The bodyguards couldn’t enter campus.

Stepping out of the elevator, the hotel hallway was thick with a cold, cloying fragrance that made her stomach churn.

A soft beep sounded as she opened the door only to hear uneven footsteps behind her.

Before she could turn, a tall girl collided into her, sending them both stumbling into the room.

Luo Mijin hated being touched hated touching others. Her entire life had been a pursuit of absolute cleanliness and absolute silence.

Like a marsh after the rain, a soundless snowfield, a glasshouse full of flowers, the sky at thirty thousand feet.

An invisible boundary of safety stretched between her and humanityforbidden to probe or cross, lest the deafening clamor of slaughter would sound overhead, threatening to obliterate something.

Yet she saw the woman clutching her was crying, the narrow corners of her eyes stained red, her cool, composed face made all the more intriguing by restraint.

The woman exuded a frigid aura, as if she had traversed the auroras and icy mists from the snow-covered beaches of Alaska.

This made Luo Mijin catch a scent like snow a cold, absolute cleanness, indescribable yet strangely comforting.

She realized she had seen this woman before.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing the woman’s damp hair, Luo Mijin forced herself to steady her panic, pulling out an expensive crimson cashmere throw from her backpack and handing it over.

The warm glow of the suite’s crystal chandelier bathed Rong Qingyao, who knelt on the floor in a worn-out student’s blouse, her delicate features standing out with an ethereal beauty that tugged at the heart.

Around her slender, pale wrist was a faded red string bracelet.

“It’s so hot,” she murmured, dazed by the other’s concerned expression, the last shred of her rationality finding it all unexpected.

“If you’re hot, do you want some water?” Luo Mijin unzipped her bag again, retrieving a bottle of natural mineral water the only brand her grandfather allowed her to drink.

She crouched down to steady Rong Qingyao, unscrewing the cap and tilting the bottle to her lips as if cradling a kitten.

Drinking too fast, Rong Qingyao choked, coughing as the clear liquid glistened on her lips, nearly soaking the front of her blouse.

Only then did Luo Mijin notice how beautiful the woman’s lips were rosy and full, the upper lip distinctly shaped like an “M,” as if perpetually inviting someone to taste them.

Helping Rong Qingyao toward the bedroom, she felt the woman’s body burning hot and pliant, a kind of alluring softness she had never experienced before.

“Turn on the AC, and it won’t be so hot,” Luo Mijin set the temperature to 22 degrees. “If you’re sick, you should rest more.”

This was her first time staying in a hotel, let alone alone with a stranger. The novelty of it all left her giddy, pacing around restlessly.

“Come here,” Rong Qingyao lay back, dizzy, her voice a soft, kitten-like whimper. “Can you help me?”

“Of course. I’ve watched a lot of cartoons the heroes are always kind and responsible,” Luo Mijin babbled, her excitement making her thoughts run wild. “But I don’t have much money. Whatever you need, I’ll try to get it for you.”

She sprang up lightly, rummaging through her backpack to produce an eye mask, earplugs, an umbrella, band-aids, peppermint candies.

“Here, have a candy.” Luo Mijin peeled open the white-and-green wrapper and handed it to Rong Qingya.

The girl gripped the edge of the bed, struggling to lift her elegantly curved upper body, oblivious to her slipping blouse.

She leaned down to take the candy between her teeth, her rosy tongue glistening, soft and wet.

“Is it good? I made these candies myself. You’re the first to try them.”

“Mmm,” Rong Qingyao murmured as the fresh sweetness spread in her mouth, clarity returning briefly before dissolving once more into confusion.

Through the wrapper, she pressed a kiss to Luo Mijin’s fingers, then lifted her gaze with damp, luminous eyes.

“Don’t go.”

“I feel awful.”

“What should I do?” Luo Mijin’s sharp senses caught the thick, cloying scent of desire like a peach oozing pink nectar, overwhelmingly ripe.

“Hold me,” Rong Qingyao commanded in a husky voice, her eyes glistening as she stared at the other.

It didn’t sound like a command, but more like a plea.

And so, she got her wish.

That night, Luo Mijin crossed the safety line she had set for herself, she had never met someone who would trust her like this.

Dangerous yet fragile, wantonly alluring yet innocently aloof.

All she saw was the woman’s pleading gaze, as vibrant as spring, making her more perceptive than withered grass.

The girl’s hair curled at the ends, falling onto Luo Mijin’s thigh. She watched as the girl bit her lip, her eyes misty with tears.

“Are you having a headache?”

Rong Qingyao clutched Luo Mijin’s collar, delicate tears clinging to her dark lashes as she breathed in short, fragile gasps.

“Yes. A headache.”

“Then let me massage it for you,” Luo Mijin murmured, staring at the pale skin beneath the woman’s long, thick lashes, unsure where to even begin.

“More.”

Dazed, Luo Mijin indulged in the lingering warmth of their closeness, shedding the heavy shackles that weighed her down.

She forgot her grandfather’s stern reprimands, the ever-present noise, all the pain of being berated, misunderstood, and forcibly “corrected.”

Though she couldn’t see the snow-laden sky outside, she felt as if she had become someone entirely new.

The woman’s breath finally brushed against the faint dimple at the corner of Luo Mijin’s lips, warm and featherlight, before pressing into a kiss full of reckless hunger.

“Didn’t I say I wanted everything?”

Luo Mijin’s voice trembled slightly. “I don’t really understand.”

“Fool.”

Moonlight spilled over the woman’s slender figure her narrow waist, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades poised as if ready to take flight, her skin dewy and intoxicating.

“Jiejie, does this mean we’re dating now?”

“Dating?” Rong Qingyao’s voice was soft and sweet, sticky like honey, she was from the south, her tone naturally gentle and coy, especially in moments like this.

“Mm. After being so intimate shouldn’t we be dating?” Luo Mijin recalled TV dramas where this was always the case.

Confusion and desire tangled together, flooding every nerve in Rong Qingyao’s body. Her springwater-like eyes shimmered with overwhelmed tears, her pink tongue already tasted to a deeper, more vivid hue.

She thought perhaps this person could be trusted.

“Okay.”

In the early morning between spring and summer, the sunlight filtered in thinly. Before Luo Mijin was fully awake, she caught the scent of something clean,

Like the air after a blizzard in high latitudes, desolate and crisp.

Her eyes flew open.

The pure, beautiful woman lay curled in her arms, fast asleep. Faint red marks dotted her delicate collarbone, and further down, the porcelain curves of her body bore even more vivid evidence of the night before.

“Jiejie, are you okay?”

When Rong Qingyao didn’t respond, Luo Mijin grew nervous, her palms damp. Remembering how hard the woman had cried the night before, she asked softly,

“Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m not your jiejie.” Rong Qingyao sat up once fully awake, dressing herself with slow, deliberate movements. Her expression was calm and detached, revealing nothing.

“Then,  are you feeling unwell?”

Rong Qingyao lowered her eyes. The soreness between her legs ached faintly. “No.”

“Can I at least know your name?”

“There’s no need.”

“But last night,  didn’t we agree to date?”

Startled by the blunt naivety of the question, Rong Qingyao stood and stepped away from the bed, her gaze catching on the stark red stain on the sheets.

“Forget it. Pretend none of this happened.”

“But it did happen. How can I forget?” Luo Mijin asked, half-understanding.

Rong Qingyao’s expression was indifferent, even cold and distant yet the redness at the corners of her eyes, still swollen from crying, lent her a fragile allure.

“Remember or forget. It makes no difference to me.”

Luo Mijin was utterly perplexed. From childhood to adulthood, she had lost many things but also gained just as much. As a result, the way she looked at Rong Qingyao now resembled someone who could effortlessly obtain anything she desired.

The woman with porcelain-white skin, her neck still marked with ambiguous love bites, smiled gently at Luo Mijin yet her eyes remained cold.

“Sorry, I won’t be falling in love with you.”