Love on a Time Limit - Chapter 2

The interior set was ready, and the lighting technician was in position.

Ruan Jinjin sat amidst a room full of vibrant blooms as the perfect lighting slowly drew near.

Song Ming held up the camera, framing the girl’s quiet, delicate demeanor in the viewfinder. Her slender figure exuded a striking fragility, a stark contrast to the bold, willful girl she had been just fifteen minutes ago.

With detached precision, Song Ming scrutinized the lighting and angles, ensuring the true star of this shoot was showcased to its fullest—the full set of luxury jewelry adorning Ruan Jinjin’s neck and head.

This was a new product line from the brand, targeting girls aged seventeen to nineteen. The collection needed an infusion of youth and dreamlike charm, hence Ruan Jinjin’s selection as the model.

But Song Ming herself felt nothing for this kind of beauty.

Untempered, unblemished vitality was lovely, yes—but also so simplistic it failed to hold her interest.

She preferred something fiercer, more stubborn, something resolute and aggressively beautiful.

Like… the memory of a champagne-colored skirt brushing past, a once-vivid image surfacing hazily in her mind.

“Ms. Song Ming.”

Someone called her name.

Song Ming blinked, her thoughts interrupted, the half-formed image sinking back into the depths of her consciousness.

“Ms. Song Ming,” the lighting technician—a bearded man in a baseball cap—spoke up awkwardly, “is this lighting not working anymore?”

Song Ming reviewed the shots she had already taken. The lighting was fine.

“No,” she said, lifting the camera again. “Let’s do another set.”

Ruan Jinjin frowned at Song Ming, her pretty eyes brimming with reluctance.

This set required the model to wear a look of confusion and bewilderment while facing the flowers—an expression Ruan Jinjin was clearly not delivering.

Song Ming lowered the camera and tilted her head slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Surrounded by flowers, adorned with priceless jewelry, bathed in light and attention, Ruan Jinjin took it all as her due.

Yet the one person who should have been wholly focused on her—the one behind the lens—seemed distracted.

Song Ming waited for her response, strands of her medium-length hair falling across her face, fragmenting her gaze into irregular patches.

“You’re not paying attention,” Ruan Jinjin said, her chin lifting habitually. “Everyone here is working seriously. If the final shots turn out poorly because of you, are we all supposed to stay late to make up for it?”

The brand representative overseeing the shoot inhaled sharply, their expression shifting dramatically. The crew members and makeup assistants standing at the periphery exchanged glances, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Silence settled over the set. No one dared to respond to Ruan Jinjin.

But Song Ming smiled.

“Have you seen my shots?” she asked mildly.

Ruan Jinjin faltered.

Song Ming dipped her head slightly, allowing herself a quiet, unseen smirk.

Then, with a casual flick of her overgrown bangs, she finally mustered some energy.

“Alright, since you think I’m not focused, you’d better cooperate properly from now on.” Song Ming met Ruan Jinjin’s gaze, her usually misty eyes catching the light tailored for the model, gleaming like emeralds—clear and brilliant.

At first, Ruan Jinjin didn’t understand her meaning, her frown deepening—until Song Ming raised the camera again—

“What’s with this expression? Wasn’t the product concept discussed beforehand? Is a girl’s youthful shyness supposed to be conveyed through frowning and wide-eyed stares?”

Song Ming’s voice suddenly dropped low, startling Ruan Jinjin. Memories of being scolded by her mentor flashed through her mind.

“Softer, more relaxed,” Song Ming then gentled her tone. “Think of someone who’s recently made your heart flutter. Is he outstanding? What about him captivated you?”

Ruan Jinjin paused—this was a question she’d never considered. She only ever admired her own beauty. Instinctively, she tilted her head and glanced at Song Ming.

Click—

Song Ming captured that fleeting moment, her lips curving as she studied the deer-in-headlights confusion frozen in the frame. Finally, something resembling genuine spark—though unfortunately, this shot wasn’t commercial enough.

“Y-you just took it like that?” Ruan Jinjin was nearly hysterical. Caught off guard, she hadn’t even had time to strike her most flattering pose!

“Mhm,” Song Ming replied casually. “Look at the camera.”

Ruan Jinjin instinctively arranged her features into the meticulously practiced, most photogenic expression.

Here we go again, Song Ming thought to herself. Adjusting the equipment lightly, she remarked, “Your eyes are asymmetrical.”

“What?” Ruan Jinjin stiffened, nearly leaping up. “Where? How are they asymmetrical?”

“Just kidding,” Song Ming said without a shred of guilt, setting the camera aside and meeting Ruan Jinjin’s gaze with utter nonchalance.

“You—you—” Ruan Jinjin’s chest heaved, clearly furious.

Unfazed, Song Ming stood and sauntered closer, tossing out lazily, “The expression’s not right.”

Ruan Jinjin jutted her chin stubbornly, glaring as Song Ming approached.

Without even looking at her, Song Ming walked to the center of the set, plucked a flower, and held it up thoughtfully. “This kind of bewilderment—lost, uncertain, at a loss. Understand?”

“No,” Ruan Jinjin retorted, chin still raised.

Song Ming glanced at her before turning away. “If I were to kiss you right now, what do you think the reason would be?”

Ruan Jinjin’s defiant expression froze as she stared at Song Ming in shock—those green eyes like deep ocean waters, her sharp, Southern European features, fair skin, and lips curved with an ambiguous tenderness, real or feigned.

Ruan Jinjin’s pulse skipped a beat, her rhythm thrown off.

“Here, the flower’s for you.” Song Ming casually tucked the blossom she’d been holding into Ruan Jinjin’s palm. The stem, warmed from lingering between Song Ming’s fingers, carried a trace of body heat.

When the camera lifted again, Ruan Jinjin’s demeanor was far more fitting—her gaze distant as she studied the flowers, finally aligning with the theme of youthful innocence.

“Good job.” After finishing two sets, Song Ming praised, pleased.

Ruan Jinjin turned toward her, a flicker of something new glimmering in her eyes—there and gone, barely traceable.

Song Ming paused, suddenly remembering the next shoot’s theme: The Nightingale and the Rose.