When Shen Qianzhan spoke, she always left herself room to maneuver.

Three parts truth, seven parts pretense.

If the other party didn’t pick up on her cues, she wouldn’t feel embarrassed either—she could simply brush it off with a joke or some playful banter.

Ji Qinghe initially hadn’t figured out this trait of hers, mistakenly thinking that Shen Qianzhan’s decisiveness was truly decisive, non-negotiable. When he occasionally hit a wall with her, he always felt it was just that the timing wasn’t right, that the conditions weren’t ripe.

Only recently had he discovered it. Shen Qianzhan harbored a little girl in her heart—that girl was spoiled and willful, completely opposite to the intellectual independence, elegance, and refinement she showed to the world.

He raised his hand and stroked her hair.

The person buried against his neck instantly quieted down.

Ji Qinghe took the opportunity to pinch the back of her neck. Her neck was slender, the skin at her nape whiter than snow, soft and smooth.

“Ms. Meng once kept a cat, a Ragdoll breed.” His voice was slightly low, like the sound of an ancient violin, his tone carrying a hint of restrained weariness. “Later, busy with work, my grandfather took it home to care for it.”

“I looked after this cat. It had a gentle temperament, as if it was born without any temper.”

Shen Qianzhan listened quietly, not responding.

“Only after spending more time together did I realize it wasn’t that it had no temper—it had just wandered through life and learned to hide and show vulnerability.” His palm was slightly warm, his fingers moving from her nape to her earlobe as he said in a low voice, “You’re the opposite. You don’t know how to show vulnerability; instead, you’re used to pretending to be strong. Over time, even you yourself believe that’s how you should be—invincible.”

Ji Qinghe lowered his head.

The distance between them was already extremely close. With this lowering of his head, whether intentional or not, his lips brushed across her brow, leaving a light kiss.

Shen Qianzhan closed her eyes briefly. When she spoke, she was still stubborn: “What do you mean I ‘believe’? I am invincible.”

Ji Qinghe chuckled softly, his fingertips pinching and caressing her earlobe as he asked, “Weren’t you breached last night?”

Last night?

The words were on the tip of Shen Qianzhan’s tongue when she suddenly remembered something. Her face flushed hot, and she fell silent.

In the past, she would always curse him as a bastard, a pervert, calling it all bluster. But tonight, perhaps genuinely tired, she didn’t even have the energy for verbal sparring and remained quietly speechless.

Ji Qinghe let her play mute.

After about ten minutes, Shen Qianzhan’s phone vibrated with an incoming WeChat message.

She kept her eyes closed, ignoring it.

At her nose tip was that familiar cold fragrance—woody and crisp, shifting from light to faint.

She nuzzled his neck with her nose, the hand around his neck fumbling to pinch his earlobe. She really couldn’t understand what drove Ji Qinghe’s habit of pinching her neck and earlobes, but thinking about it from his perspective, it was probably like her own preference for pinching Ji Qinghe’s various muscles—simply personal taste.

After playing with it for a while, remembering she still had a meeting when she returned, it really wasn’t appropriate to waste time here being affectionate and lingering. She could only regretfully return to the passenger seat and head home.

——

Over the next few days, Shen Qianzhan busied herself with Su Zan planning the shooting schedule, coordinating with all parties to delay Song Yan’s joining the crew, holding meetings until dawn night after night.

During this period, the only thing that could give Shen Qianzhan any relief was her period arriving as expected.

With a huge weight lifted from her heart, she was in excellent spirits, walking around like a human shot of dopamine, radiating spring sunshine for several consecutive days.

On this day, she heard there was a major scene of Fu Yang restoring clocks.

After dinner, Shen Qianzhan went to the film set to watch on location.

Shao Chouxie placed special importance on this scene, intending to make it into behind-the-scenes footage to edit into his personal documentary. When Shen Qianzhan arrived, filming had already begun. She stood outside the set, watching Fu Yang sitting at the table within the layered enclosure of the scene, tinkering with clocks.

Most of the props on set were ones Shen Qianzhan had commissioned the props team to create—replicas made in 1:1 ratio based on the clocks displayed in Ji Qinghe’s workshop at Time Hall, intentionally aged counterfeits.

Her Xi’an trip had been postponed due to time constraints, and she hadn’t gone yet. Now, watching everyone rushing through scenes with deliberately aged props, she touched her chin and asked Qiao Xin if a short-term schedule could be arranged soon—she needed to make a quick trip to Xi’an to borrow some equipment.

Originally, if not for the Song Yan incident, she would have already arranged her itinerary properly, just waiting for Song Yan to join the crew before taking three to five days to visit Xi’an and meet with old Mr. Ji Qingzhen.

Professional shots could also be filmed after Ji Qinghe provided more guidance.

But with Song Yan’s injury, the crew joining time was delayed, many scenes had to be rearranged and postponed, making everything seem tense and hurried.

Lost in thought.

The filming stopped, and Ji Qinghe was coordinating shooting angles with Shao Chouxie.

Wearing gloves, he readjusted the watch strap holder, demonstrating the actions step by step through disassembly.

She approached and stood behind Ji Qinghe.

In the silent set, only his clear voice could be heard providing step-by-step explanations.

May weather had become abnormally hot.

Shen Qianzhan saw dampness at his temples, sweat seeping out, and beckoned for a small fan.

He seemed to sense it. His explanation paused momentarily, but he didn’t turn around, still focused on the screwdriver seat in his hands, carefully disassembling the clock’s intricate gears and balance wheels one by one.

These past few days, while Shen Qianzhan was busy, Ji Qinghe hadn’t been idle either.

When she held evening meetings with the director and others, he would teach classes in the adjacent room, giving Fu Yang intensive tutoring on the basics. The curriculum had progressed from clock disassembly a few days ago to assembly and troubleshooting.

Shen Qianzhan had used the excuse of bringing late-night snacks to spy on them. These two slept even later than she did every day, working as diligently as if they were training another court craftsman rather than cramming for filming purposes.

——

There was media coverage in the afternoon.

After spending some time at the film set, Shen Qianzhan paid out of her own pocket for Qiao Xin to order some afternoon tea. Partly to reward the cast and crew, partly to curry favor with the visiting media.

The recent news about the fight in the “Spring River” crew and Song Yan’s accidental injury had stirred up quite a storm online. Wuxi Film and Television City was experiencing a small peak in visitor traffic.

Media reporters and paparazzi often lingered outside the “Time” crew as well, hoping to gather information.

Ever since learning that the rumors between Fu Yang and Song Yan were true, Shen Qianzhan had been worrying like an old mother, and with Song Yan still recuperating, she was forced to provide cover for Fu Yang.

With the recent tense situation, she was both guarding against opponents who might use rumors against her and worried about “Time” being leaked. She nearly developed dark circles from stress and sleepless nights.

During the meeting the night before last, her suggestion to open media visits received unanimous support and was put on the agenda.

Seeing the time approaching, Shen Qianzhan arranged the media reception area and instructed Qiao Xin to distribute drinks and cakes to the early-arriving reporters. She also took two portions herself to personally deliver to Ji Qinghe and Shao Chouxie on set.

When she returned to the set, only Shao Chouxie sat behind the monitor smoking.

Shen Qianzhan handed him the drink and looked around without seeing Ji Qinghe. She asked, “Where’s Teacher Ji?”

Shao Chouxie flicked his cigarette with his finger and said, “You can tell he’s not here from the fact that I’m smoking.” He turned his head with a smile, pointing his cigarette toward a path outside the studio, indicating a direction. “He should have gone to wash his hands.”

Shen Qianzhan looked in the direction he pointed—beyond the door was a lush grove of trees, the view filled with blazing sun.

Without an umbrella, her high heels clicked on the stone path for nearly two minutes before she finally spotted Ji Qinghe at the washbasin.

This place was secluded. Beyond the lawn was a lake where a period drama crew was currently renting the location for filming. A single crew member guarded the only pathway; otherwise, there was little foot traffic.

Shen Qianzhan didn’t make a sound.

She bit her straw, sipping coffee while squinting to watch Ji Qinghe splash water on his face.

He wasn’t wearing glasses. His face was soaked with water, even his hair wasn’t spared, dripping steadily. Seeing her approach, he leaned against the washbasin waiting for the water to dry somewhat before wiping his hands dry and walking toward her.

Shen Qianzhan offered him a cold drink.

Ji Qinghe didn’t take it.

He looked down at the straw she had bitten flat, pulled the coffee from her palm, unscrewed the lid, took two sips, and returned it to her. “Drinking coffee? Not sleeping tonight?”

His action of taking her coffee was too practiced. Only when the coffee was back in her hands did Shen Qianzhan react.

She was dumbfounded.

She wanted to protest but felt making such a big deal over such a small matter was excessive. Not making a scene left her feeling bullied for nothing, caught between responses until the optimal reaction time had long passed.

“I saw Qiao Xin arranging your schedule.” Ji Qinghe held her drink as they walked back. “Planning to make time for Xi’an?”

Shen Qianzhan was surprised by his perceptiveness. “My directive just came down and you already know?”

Ji Qinghe raised an eyebrow, reminding her, “We were originally planning to go to Xi’an these few days anyway.”

While watching her footing on the slippery stone path, he added, “Some props are too new—the flaws are obvious.” He pursued perfection in everything, sometimes as demanding as Shao Chouxie.

Shen Qianzhan shared this concern. She also wanted to visit Mr. Ji’s workshop to see if it could provide more creative inspiration for “Time.”

With filming just begun, adjustments were still possible. Later on, there would be no need to go to Xi’an, let alone seek creative inspiration.

“Wait until tonight.” Shen Qianzhan sipped her coffee. “We should know the timing tonight.”

——

Shen Qianzhan’s Xi’an trip was scheduled that very night—three days total, departing the evening after tomorrow.

The day she was set to leave happened to be when Song Yan returned to “Spring River.” Xiao Sheng contacted her through Qiao Xin, asking if she had time for dinner together—he wanted to apologize for the trouble his poor management had caused her.

Shen Qianzhan had just finished bathing and was preparing to rest.

Her Xi’an trip needed early arrangement. How could she have time to accompany Xiao Sheng for dinner and listen to his apologies? She wasn’t afraid of shortening her lifespan.

She was increasingly dissatisfied with Xiao Sheng and somewhat displeased with Su Lanyi’s favoritism. Unfortunately, in the workplace, throwing tantrums wouldn’t make people think she was genuine—they’d just think she was arrogant and lacking in manners.

No matter how unhappy Shen Qianzhan felt inside, she could only smile and have Qiao Xin reply: “I’ve been traveling recently. Let’s have dinner when I return. As for apologies, Producer Xiao is too polite. We’re all colleagues and should naturally support and cover for each other.”

Qiao Xin naturally heard the insincerity in her words and, after adding some polish, conveyed the message to Xiao Sheng.

That night after falling asleep.

Shen Qianzhan’s mind was filled with the ups and downs of recent years. Like a fleeting glimpse, she reviewed in her dreams everything that had happened over these years.

From establishing the artist management department to Xiang Qianqian’s contract termination and departure; from the rumors sparked by Su Zan’s social media posts to the PR pressure applied by Su Lanyi; from being trapped in Wuxi with the “Spring River” crew to today’s Song Yan injury caused by Xiao Sheng’s team, dragging her down.

Each incident was like a storm at sea, from calm waters to sudden tempests.

She woke with a start in the middle of the night. When she fumbled for her phone to check the time, she discovered only a brief half hour had passed since she’d fallen asleep.

She was covered in cold sweat, feeling sticky and uncomfortable all over. Just as she got up to shower, the doorbell rang.

At 1 AM, which male ghost was relying on his looks to knock on doors seeking pleasure?

Shen Qianzhan was puzzled.

Outside the door, Ji Qinghe’s lowered voice was crisp as cold pine: “It’s me.”

Oh, not a male ghost—a male fox spirit.