Time passed at an unhurried pace, like water flowing silently through a colander.

The crew went through the same daily cycle—starting work, being on duty, wrapping up, meetings, accounting, and calculations.

In the blink of an eye, “Key of Time”‘s filming period in Wuxi was more than halfway through, approaching its end.

August, the beginning of autumn.

It happened to be Shao Chouxie’s birthday.

To celebrate the director’s birthday and reward the staff who had worked hard for months, the crew wrapped early and gathered for a barbecue dinner.

Today they were conveniently filming on location, so the outdoor lighting and equipment were readily available.

The crew’s enthusiasm for the gathering was unprecedentedly high. In no time, they had set up barbecue grills by the lake. Some strung meat while others washed vegetables, and before long, they had the charcoal burning properly and started grilling meat with sizzling sounds.

Shen Qianzhan always enjoyed the fruits of others’ labor.

She settled comfortably into a small lounge chair, listening to the conversation between two men nearby.

This past month, apart from necessary meetings, Ji Qinghe rarely traveled on business.

With Ming Jue representing him back in Beijing to oversee the company, he contentedly remained in Wuxi as a leisurely behind-the-scenes boss.

Life on set was monotonous.

Except for actors immersing themselves in their roles, experiencing different lives daily, for the rest of the crew, filming cycles were long with repetitive processes. If not for mobile phones connecting them to the outside world, it would truly be like living in isolation in a primitive small society.

In such a harmonious work environment where you saw the same people day in and day out, inevitably friendships, romances, and flings would bloom.

Ji Qinghe and Fu Yang belonged to the first category.

Fu Yang had considerable expertise in timepieces. Additionally, Fu Yang’s brother Fu Xun worked year-round with antiques and cultural relics, so through exposure, he had developed intense interest in Qing Dynasty Qianlong period collection clocks.

During filming breaks, he would consult Ji Qinghe on how to determine the collection value of antique clocks.

Shen Qianzhan was especially tolerant of good-looking men. With Fu Yang’s appearance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ji Qinghe, even if they weren’t facing the misty riverside lake but rather a “fragrant” sewage ditch, she would still find it pleasing to the eye.

The world of appearance-focused people was just that simple and pure.

Not long after Shen Qianzhan started eating barbecue, Su Zan, who had disappeared all afternoon preparing a birthday surprise for Shao Chouxie, finally appeared.

Besides cake and flowers, he had arranged a row of fireworks along the embankment by the river.

As Shao Chouxie closed his eyes to make a wish and blew out the candles, fireworks erupted across the river, brilliant and dazzling. In an instant, everyone felt transported into a dream, with vast stretches of fireworks overhead falling like tassels, sparkling and enchanting.

Cheers and exclamations erupted along the riverbank, transitioning from daylight to night in a moment, plunging into the noisy summer carnival.

Shen Qianzhan watched all this with a smile. For a moment, she felt it would be quite nice if her producing career froze at this point—tonight’s atmosphere was no less impressive than any awards ceremony stage.

Just as this thought arose, she suddenly remembered her large flat that still had an unpaid mortgage and the new Mercedes she had long coveted.

It would still be more valuable to freeze at an awards ceremony stage…

If she truly stopped here, who would pay for her luxurious pursuits?

Lost in these thoughts, she caught sight of the financial backer next to her from the corner of her eye. Shen Qianzhan immediately became serious, clearing herself of any suspicion of frivolous spending: “The cake and flowers were charged to company accounts, the fireworks were Su Zan’s personal expense—I didn’t approve any vouchers.”

Hearing his name, Su Zan thought Shen Qianzhan was calling him and came running over with a skewer of grilled meat in his mouth: “Sister Zhan, did you call me?”

Shen Qianzhan looked at him being as endearing as a little puppy and was about to reach out to ruffle his head when her hand had barely risen before being interrupted by Ji Qinghe’s ill-timed light cough.

Dating under the watchful eyes of the entire crew, they had long developed a poetic and meaningful tacit understanding.

Usually, coughing meant “not allowed,” clearing throat meant “watch your conduct,” running fingers through hair meant “need rescue,” and touching nose meant “prepare to retreat.”

Besides these behavioral arts, there were many small signals through glances and words.

It wasn’t deliberately established by either party, but naturally and skillfully developed into secret codes that only heaven, earth, you, and I knew.

Shen Qianzhan looked sheepish and turned to glance at him.

This exchange of meaningful looks appeared to Su Zan, an innocent puppy lacking in romantic sensibilities, as naked “husband-fearing.”

While swallowing his half-cooked grilled beef, he said sourly: “Sister Zhan, since you got together with my President Ji, your status has plummeted straight down. Even talking to me for a few extra words requires reading his expressions.”

Hiding her relationship with Ji Qinghe from Su Zan was absolutely impossible.

During the heavy snowfall in Wuxi after New Year’s, when Ji Qinghe and Ming Jue braved the snow to deliver supplies, he had unilaterally determined these two had something going on. Not to mention after joining the crew, living next to Shen Qianzhan and being forced to overhear countless inappropriate sounds through the walls…

This ironclad fact didn’t require Shen Qianzhan’s word-for-word personal admission.

Just after Su Zan finished speaking, Ji Qinghe cast an indifferent glance his way.

His intimidating power over Su Zan was like an eagle pursuing a rabbit—the instinctive suppression of the strong, while Su Zan’s fear and awe of him stemmed from the natural submission of the weak.

Without Ji Qinghe even needing to speak, Su Zan immediately dared not act presumptuously anymore and obediently ate his grilled meat skewer.

It was only after having Ji Qinghe that Shen Qianzhan began enjoying this feeling of being protected. Seeing the situation and fearing it would leave an indelible shadow on Su Zan’s tender heart, she casually changed the subject, asking about whether Su Zan’s afternoon preparations had gone smoothly.

“How could there be any problems with that?” Su Zan smiled: “Only the fireworks took some effort. If it weren’t for your birthday coming only once every four years, I’d definitely prepare something grand and ceremonious for you every year. Director Shao’s celebration was nothing compared to what yours would be.” After finishing, he ate his grilled meat skewer clean and ran back to continue asking Qiao Xin for more skewers.

Someone in the distance lit sparklers.

Small clusters of sparks scattered like stars plucked from the sky, flickering and bright.

Shen Qianzhan stopped to watch for a moment.

The liveliness here was too real, instead giving her a sense of illusory disconnection from reality.

She turned to look at Ji Qinghe, who happened to be looking at her as well.

Their gazes met with telepathic understanding as they quietly withdrew from the bustling scene by the riverbank.

There was an open parking lot by Linjiang Lake where all the crew’s prop trucks and business cars were parked. The drivers originally watching the vehicles had also been called by the crew assistants to eat barbecue and share cake.

Once people left, the atmosphere dissipated.

The livelier the beach became, the quieter and more desolate this place appeared.

The two walked along a section of the beach’s boardwalk.

Evening brought wind. Under two or three street lamps, the wind rustled the leaves of the roadside trees.

“In another week, filming in Wuxi will be finished and the crew will relocate back to Beijing.” Walking under the tree shadows, Shen Qianzhan hooked his pinky finger: “I want to arrange for the Penglai Eight Immortals Treasure-bringing antique clock and the copper-plated Four Horses Golden Goblet enamel relief antique clock to be transported back to Xi’an tomorrow.”

Ji Qinghe had no objections: “Then I’ll arrange it.”

He drew her hand into his palm. “When we return to Beijing, will you still stay with the crew?”

“You don’t have to.” Shen Qianzhan glanced at him twice, saying: “I can’t get away.”

This trip back, besides submitting her resignation and handling the handover, she also needed to formally plan her own future path.

Although during this period whenever she had free time she considered whether to join another film company or become an independent producer, due to the distance, she couldn’t meet with the responsible parties of those companies, so she hadn’t been able to make a final decision.

“Before, I used to be especially happy when the crew could return to Beijing for location shooting.” Shen Qianzhan looked up at the night sky.

The weather wasn’t good tonight. Through the gaps in the leaves, she could only see clouds obscuring the moon. The sky above the city was like an open steamer basket, with heat and humidity condensing and refusing to disperse, misty and hazy.

Wuxi’s summers were hot and rainy.

Having grown up here since childhood, Shen Qianzhan didn’t find this climate particularly uncomfortable. On the contrary, the daily thunderstorms left the air fresh and comfortable afterward, perfect for enjoying the cool night air.

Once the topic turned to returning to Beijing, certain issues could no longer be ignored.

Hearing this, Ji Qinghe asked: “Have you made plans?”

Although he was with the crew daily, spending every moment with her, their personal time was limited, usually only in the latter half of the night. If he hadn’t yet gone to sleep, he would visit her room, or if Shen Qianzhan finished her work early, she would knock on his door first.

Most of the time was spent either in intimacy or tenderness, nightly passion leaving them content and forgetful of worldly concerns.

They rarely discussed her work plans or the next steps in their relationship.

“Before returning to Beijing, I want to give Su Zan a heads-up first.” What troubled Shen Qianzhan most was Su Zan.

He was loyal and righteous, having been wholehearted toward her all these years. Without involving matters of principle, Su Zan would be her best friend for life. But if she were to leave Qiandeng, her relationship with Su Zan might not remain as pure as it was today.

Thinking this way, Shen Qianzhan suddenly felt regretful: “I can celebrate my birthday in February next year, but unfortunately Su Zan won’t be able to fulfill his promise of organizing a grand and ceremonious thirty-first birthday celebration for me.”

Ji Qinghe suddenly laughed, his tone dangerous: “Am I dead to you?”

“My girlfriend’s birthday, and I’m supposed to let another man organize something grand and ceremonious for her?”

Raindrops began falling, cold and cool.

Initially, Shen Qianzhan didn’t realize it was raining. When her face felt cool, she thought it was lake water blown up by the wind and wiped it away while internally criticizing his pettiness.

“You won’t even let me talk about it—next you’ll want to control my dreams too?”

Ji Qinghe glanced at her with scattered attention and threw out a sentence: “Song Yan’s birthday is coming up too. Since we’ve already celebrated Shao Chouxie’s birthday, before the crew wraps, I’ll allocate a separate budget for her birthday party, inviting top stars and celebrities. What do you think?”

“I don’t think much of it.” When the matter concerned herself, Shen Qianzhan reacted more strongly than anyone: “Why would you remember Song Yan’s birthday? What does Song Yan’s birthday have to do with you? Does she not have a boyfriend or management company that you need to worry about her?”

Having achieved his goal, Ji Qinghe’s eyes sparkled with mirth, his lips curved in a half-smile: “Song Yan is Bu Zhong Sui’s brand ambassador. As the brand’s responsible party, can’t I celebrate her birthday to maintain our cooperative relationship?”

The latter half ended with a rising intonation, his tone insufferably smug.

Knowing Ji Qinghe was deliberately provoking her, Shen Qianzhan naturally wouldn’t truly get angry. But given the tight logic of his words with no loopholes, she momentarily couldn’t find any point to refute.

Slightly annoyed, she tightened her grip on his fingers, saying against her true feelings: “Of course you can. It would be best to truly invite celebrities and stars so everyone can see how much Bu Zhong Sui values its spokesperson.”

Ji Qinghe didn’t dare tease too much, afraid she might truly get angry and he’d have to sleep alone tonight.

He lowered his gaze, using his fingertip to wipe away the raindrop that had fallen on her brow, then along her cheek, lifting her chin to kiss her: “I understand, I can’t.”

“If you want to celebrate your birthday,” Ji Qinghe kissed her eyes, speaking softly in the curtain of falling rain, “I’ll just speed up time a little.”