Love on a Time Limit - Chapter 3

“The Nightingale and the Rose” theme was intensely romantic, demanding high expressiveness from the models. Yet Ruan Jinjin carried only an innocence and naivety that didn’t match her personality, devoid of love.

During a break in shooting, Song Ming walked over to Ruan Jinjin with two cups of coffee in hand.

Ruan Jinjin turned her head, eyeing Song Ming with slight wariness.

As if oblivious to her subtle resistance, Song Ming gently placed one of the coffees in front of Ruan Jinjin, curling her lips into a smile. “Americano, no sugar.”

Ruan Jinjin gave Song Ming a skeptical glance before pulling the coffee toward herself. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular.” Song Ming set her own coffee down on the table and took a seat beside Ruan Jinjin, stretching her long legs casually.

Ruan Jinjin recalled Song Ming’s earlier words to her and frowned again. She turned to Song Ming, intending to snap back, but her gaze landed on Song Ming’s profile, and for a moment, she was distracted.

Backlit, Song Ming’s long lashes cast delicate shadows, their tips seemingly dusted with flecks of gold.

Song Ming’s beauty was profound—she had inherited the striking contours of her Southern European mother, and her rare green eyes added an air of mystery. When she fixed her gaze on someone, those eyes were like whirlpools, and few could resist their pull.

Suddenly, an image flashed through Ruan Jinjin’s mind—Song Ming silently scrutinizing her from behind the camera. An inexplicable dryness tightened her throat.

The proud model gripped the Americano and took a large sip.

Song Ming, who had seemed lost in thought, turned to her at the sound and chuckled softly. “Thirsty?”

Ruan Jinjin froze mid-motion. “No.”

Seemingly indifferent, Song Ming leaned back lazily in her chair. “Got any ideas for the next shoot?”

“You mean ‘The Nightingale and the Rose’?” Ruan Jinjin mumbled around the straw.

Something weighed on her mind, though she couldn’t quite name it. She only felt uneasy—especially when near Song Ming.

“Right,” Song Ming replied with a bright smile. “Love—do you understand it?”

Ruan Jinjin was stunned. She had no real grasp of love, yet under Song Ming’s gaze, she felt an inexplicable fluster.

The sound of her own racing heartbeat was deafening.

——

Song Ming thought the timing was about right.

If Ruan Jinjin didn’t understand love, then she’d just have to let her experience it firsthand.

Originally, “The Nightingale and the Rose” shoot was scheduled for later, but Song Ming had pushed to move it up.

In the frame, Ruan Jinjin wore a red dress, her eyes burning with a fervor she herself hadn’t noticed.

The event organizer’s representative had been worried about this theme for a while. Ruan Jinjin’s temperament was obvious to anyone with eyes—could someone as brash and unsubtle as her really embody the tender, melancholic essence of “The Nightingale and the Rose”?

If the final shots turned out poorly, not only would the designer throw a fit, but the CEO backing the new collection would also hold him accountable.

Fortunately, Song Ming’s involvement was a guarantee of quality. The moment the raw images appeared on screen, the organizer’s rep—who had been on edge for weeks—nearly shed tears of relief.

Feng Ting exclaimed excitedly, “Song Ming, you’re a godsend!”

“Mmm,” Song Ming responded indifferently, standing behind the display as she reviewed the photos. “Have Xiao Yang start retouching these. Depending on my schedule, we’ll decide who shoots the rest of the series.”

“Alright, alright,” Feng Ting, now that she had fulfilled her superiors’ instructions, felt much more relaxed. The smile on her face couldn’t be contained as she happily escorted Song Ming out of the photography studio.

The two walked side by side through the exit gate when suddenly some commotion could be heard from behind.

Feng Ting turned around to see Ruan Jinjin standing at the door of Song Ming’s dressing room, looking quite displeased as she stopped a staff member to ask, “Where’s Song Ming?”

The sound had already distorted by the time it reached the gate, making it hard to hear clearly. Feng Ting only caught the words ‘Song Ming’ and felt her heart skip a beat again. She couldn’t help but glance cautiously at Song Ming, wondering why they seemed to be at odds now when they had just been working together so well earlier.

Song Ming stood in Ruan Jinjin’s blind spot, mentally clicking her tongue in annoyance. She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and perched them on her nose, then wrapped an arm around the dumbfounded Feng Ting, saying cheerfully, “Let’s go.”

Feng Ting, being held by her, walked out of the venue in a daze, thinking confusedly: I was just here to see Song Ming off… We’re not that close, right? Why is she holding me like this?

…Song Ming’s embrace is so warm. I wonder what perfume she’s wearing—light and subtle, yet somehow addictive.

Feng Ting was led all the way to the parking lot by Song Ming.

The arm around her shoulder withdrew, and Feng Ting suddenly snapped back to reality as the weight lifted.

Behind the sunglasses, Song Ming flashed a bright smile and patted Feng Ting’s shoulder. “Today’s collaboration was great, thanks to your coordination outside the set. Let’s work together again sometime.”

Song Ming had been rather lethargic during the shoot, seemingly uninterested in engaging with others. Feng Ting had never seen her smile before and was momentarily stunned.

Song Ming didn’t mind her dazed expression. After tossing out that line, she turned and got into her car with a flourish, driving off without a second glance.

In the wake of the McLaren’s exhaust fumes, Feng Ting snapped out of Song Ming’s spell, rubbing her temples as she tried to recall: What was I worried about again?

The scenery flew past on either side as Song Ming gripped the steering wheel, letting out a pleased sigh.

Ruan Jinjin was looking for her. Song Ming didn’t dislike the idea, but today, she wasn’t in the mood for entanglements. Someone with Ruan Jinjin’s temperament would undoubtedly be a handful once involved. Song Ming shouldn’t have provoked her in the first place—after all, she didn’t care whether the final photos turned out top-tier or just good.

But back in the studio, when Song Ming caught Ruan Jinjin’s blunt yet awkward gaze, she saw a depth charge dropped into her otherwise dull life.

Lately, her days had been too monotonous. She craved something fresh and exciting.

Besides, that little model was so proud—she wouldn’t really be heartbroken over anyone, right?

Halfway through the drive, the car’s phone rang. Song Ming glanced at it and answered casually.

“Boss Song, finished shooting the Lovish jewelry series?” the person on the other end asked.

“Yeah,” Song Ming replied offhandedly. “You didn’t expect me to shoot the entire line, did you?”

“No, no, of course not! How could we keep bothering you with such small jobs?” The usually dignified ‘Yue Xi’ boss, Ji Shan, sounded ingratiating and desperate. “Director Song, I’m begging you—come back to the studio one more time. There’s a job here that only you can handle. No one else can pull it off!”

“Not going,” Song Ming said without hesitation. “I’m tired.”

“No, no, no!” Ji Shan wailed. “Half a month, just half a month, my dear President Song. After handling this deal, I won’t bother you for half a month, okay? Do whatever you want—I swear I won’t disturb you.”

Song Ming scoffed lightly. “If I really didn’t want you to find me, do you think you could?”

“Heh,” Ji Shan chuckled slyly. “It’s just that you refuse to leave City A. Otherwise, where would I even look for you?”

Ji Shan had said it offhandedly, but Song Ming frowned as if some hidden nerve had been struck—one even he wasn’t fully aware of. “It’s just a city. What’s there to refuse leaving?”

Ji Shan, sharper than Song Ming, immediately realized he’d touched on a forbidden topic and quickly changed the subject. “Ancestor, dear ancestor, just come, alright?”

Glancing back at the waiting client, Ji Shan gritted his teeth and added, “There’s an underwater photoshoot coming up in a few days. The model’s a retired synchronized swimmer—gorgeous face, perfect figure, absolutely stunning!”

“Hmm?” Song Ming’s impatient expression faltered slightly.

“I asked around—she’s just like you,” Ji Shan said mysteriously. “Also single.”

“…Hmph,” Song Ming turned the car around. “As if that’s what I care about?”