When Shen Qianzhan said on the phone “just felt the clothes might be a bit tight,” she thought Ji Qinghe hadn’t heard. Turns out he was waiting to settle old scores in person.

How could she answer at a time like this?

Mindful of Meng Wanzhou cooling off in the courtyard, she didn’t dare speak loudly, only mumbling vaguely: “Can’t I look?”

“You can.” He laughed quietly, releasing her earlobe to nibble her neck instead, voice hoarse: “Even playing with it would be fine.”

She didn’t want to.

At least not now.

She breathed slightly, pushing him: “I’m a bit hungry.”

“Aren’t I your takeout?” He was determined not to let her go, gripping her hand back to the original place, his palm enveloping hers, through a layer of suit pants, teaching her bit by bit.

His voice was extremely low, so low that any distraction would make his words incomprehensible.

Shen Qianzhan was so embarrassed her toes curled. Now she felt—what was perverted about just staring at a crotch?

Ji Qinghe was the perverted one!

This person always liked doing things against doors. Previously it was Ji Lin, this time Meng Wanzhou. The more people around, the more excited he seemed.

Her fingers ached, palm burning hot, like holding a volcano forged from molten rock, waiting for it to awaken from dormancy.

He kept soothing her, kissing from her eyelids all the way to her lips, finally lingering and wandering, prying open her teeth, sucking her tongue tip, entangled beyond return.

The entryway had only one wall lamp for lighting. Through the glass shade, the light was dim with warm twilight tones, like the last ray before sunset—stunning as flowing sand.

Shen Qianzhan wore no makeup, shrouded in this lamplight like a mountain spirit emerging from lantern-lit paintings.

Before losing reason, Ji Qinghe lifted her up, pressing her against the entryway storage shelf.

He bit her lips, saying quietly: “Don’t cry out.”

As these words fell, he kissed her deeply, also biting that unvoiced moan into his tongue tip, swallowing it whole.

He pressed against her lips, eyes clearly burning with fire, yet his voice remained extremely calm and controlled: “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Shen Qianzhan was like a lone boat swaying in hurricane waves, humming softly, struggling to answer: “Going to Qiandeng for resignation procedures, and submitting investigation materials.”

Ji Qinghe hummed agreement, asking: “Want me to accompany you?”

Shen Qianzhan’s legs felt sore and swollen. She bit her lips, swallowing the soft moan at her mouth, glaring at him: “Do you think I’m not already… conspicuous enough?”

The last few words were directly scattered by his impact.

She was frightened into locking around him tightly, her fingers at his nape scratching him once.

Ji Qinghe hissed lightly.

He maintained the previous second’s deep and harsh position, deadlocked with her for several seconds, then negotiated: “Should I carry you upstairs?”

Shen Qianzhan nodded.

She held on with difficulty, all strength drained from her body, limbs weak.

She buried her head in his neck hollow, arms around him growing tighter and tighter with each step he took.

Ji Qinghe had never experienced this bone-deep exhaustion that felt like having his spine extracted, leaving nothing behind. Just barely after entering the room, holding her to calm down briefly, he then placed her on the bed, boldly and directly striking like lightning, constantly tormenting.

Shen Qianzhan was like a drowning fish, gradually suffocating.

He was still asking: “After leaving Qiandeng, what are your next plans?”

Knowing this was his usual method of diverting attention, Shen Qianzhan didn’t want to follow his lead. Her eyes half-open, half-closed, like distant mountains seen the day after rain, held hazy mysterious fatal allure.

She parted her lips, humming silently.

The way she looked at him was like casting hooks. Only after he took the bait did she delicately utter two sounds, saying: “Planning to live in drunken dreams and death with you.”

In the end, Shen Qianzhan indeed died a few small deaths.

She nestled in Ji Qinghe’s arms like a lifeless doll, languidly with only sharp little teeth for defense.

——

Ji Qinghe, afraid she’d wake hungry in the night, sent Meng Wanzhou to buy porridge to keep warm.

Meng Wanzhou grumbled unhappily: “She’s your wife—why should I buy porridge?”

Ji Qinghe replied: “Bullying you for being a lonely bachelor with no sex life.”

Meng Wanzhou: “Fuck? Is this the attitude of someone asking for help?”

Ji Qinghe countered: “Who’s asking whom?”

Meng Wanzhou had relied on Ji Qinghe’s breath these years, naturally like the Monkey King in Tathagata’s palm, unable to make waves.

He resignedly got up, going to the courtyard to ride his little Harley.

On the road to buy porridge, Beijing, this night city, was also lazily turning over, lights brilliant.

He stopped his motorcycle in front of the porridge shop, sitting astride the seat with legs together, collecting forest energy. Then his phone vibrated with another text from Ji Qinghe: “Interested in changing jobs?”

——

The next day, Shen Qianzhan went to Qiandeng for the handover.

The day Su Lanyi suspended her, besides submitting her resignation letter, she also applied to Qiandeng and Bu Zhong Sui for crew dissolution.

With Bu Zhong Sui’s approval first, Qiandeng quickly compromised under investor pressure.

So Shen Qianzhan’s return to the company was only for signing papers, completing resignation procedures, and packing her personal belongings.

After signing, she casually asked HR: “Where’s President Su?”

“President Su is upstairs.” HR had a good relationship with Shen Qianzhan. Seeing her about to leave after completing procedures, both regretful of her departure and pitying her situation, they kept her briefly, secretly passing information: “After the crew’s production assistant accident, Producer Xiao came once, saying he’d help check the crew staff’s emergency contacts.”

“Young President Su also came recently for the list. Hearing our department discussing this matter, he flew into a rage.”

Shen Qianzhan wasn’t surprised by Xiao Sheng’s interference, but was surprised about Su Zan: “Su Zan came for the list?”

HR hesitated for seconds, nodding, very subtly saying: “Young President Su seemed to think these events were too coincidental, wanting to investigate. President Su knows everything, turning a blind eye, completely letting him handle it.”

Shen Qianzhan nodded slightly, indicating understanding.

The “Time” incident caused citywide uproar—Qiandeng internally must have countless private talk and gossip.

Probably several perceptive people could see this storm was two tigers fighting, with the loser leaving.

She wasn’t stingy about releasing maximum goodwill before departure. After thanking HR, Shen Qianzhan returned to her office to pack personal items. After bidding farewell to colleagues who came to see her off after years of cooperation, she carried her weighty years at Qiandeng, preparing to leave.

But stepping into the elevator, she suddenly changed her mind, pressing the up button to find Su Lanyi.

The latter seemed to be waiting for her too. Seeing her enter, her tense shoulders relaxed slightly as she stood up from behind her desk.

Shen Qianzhan met Su Lanyi as when they were still friends. She greeted kindly, naturally found a seat, quietly waiting for her to speak.

Su Lanyi wasn’t as calm as her. Pressing the desk corner, meeting Shen Qianzhan’s gaze for moments, she asked: “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” She knew this question was incredibly stupid, but deep inside urgently needed an answer from her.

Shen Qianzhan thought, then asked: “The company’s out of money, right?”

“Did Xiao Sheng threaten you by holding the company’s weak points?”

“Can you solve it yourself?”

Her three consecutive questions were all unrelated to herself.

Su Lanyi was amazed by her understanding, laughing bitterly: “Su Zan fought with me earth-shakingly over you. After returning home yesterday, he even broke off relations with me in front of our parents, saying he doesn’t recognize me as his sister.”

Her throat felt bitter, saying quietly: “Why don’t you ask why I didn’t save Qiandeng?”

Perhaps due to returning to her own territory, Shen Qianzhan felt much more confident in Beijing than in Wuxi.

She crossed her hands, pondering for seconds, then corrected: “Su Zan wasn’t for me—he was for his own persistence and pure kindness. He doesn’t understand inter-company interests, nor commercial competition’s fierce stakes. Never hand the company to him—it would definitely go bankrupt.”

Su Lanyi smiled, this time much more composed: “You’re right.”

Shen Qianzhan’s visit wasn’t sentimental.

She just felt Su Lanyi, as an indispensable figure in her life, might become strangers and passersby afterward. Not bidding proper farewell would be unfair to everything she’d contributed to Qiandeng over the years.

Even if what she did wasn’t purely for Qiandeng, but also for herself.

Just as she considered how to express making Su Lanyi feel the importance of losing her, Su Lanyi, who had been staring at her, suddenly said: “I really envy you.”

Shen Qianzhan was puzzled: “Envy me for seven-year cycles, falling to rock bottom again?”

Su Lanyi smiled, denying: “No.”

She didn’t delve deeper into this topic, nor ask about Shen Qianzhan’s next plans. In fact, those familiar with Shen Qianzhan’s methods knew such public opinion couldn’t trap her long.

Her current silence was just waiting—waiting for a suitable opportunity to speak out.

Once she grasped this opportunity, turning the tide would be imminent.

And someone was plotting to give her such an opportunity.

So Su Lanyi felt envious—she envied Shen Qianzhan for having such a trump card, enabling victory regardless of circumstances.

Shen Qianzhan found a document from her cardboard box, handing it to Su Lanyi: “This is an equity transfer agreement.”

“‘Time’ probably cost you considerable money. I don’t have more, but give you this—better than nothing. I’ll also leave cleanly, without attachments.”

Su Lanyi’s face stiffened, seemingly unable to believe Shen Qianzhan gave away such an important thing so easily: “Your shares could completely be used to bargain with me.”

Shen Qianzhan smiled extraordinarily freely: “Only you value profit so much. Last time when I had nothing, you pulled me up. After I stood up by myself, money became less important to me. Something I can earn anywhere—why value it so heavily? Only with a clear conscience can I continue walking confidently and keep smiling.” She waved her hand, adding: “I know exactly what kind of person you are, so I never blamed you from the start. But if you hadn’t abandoned me, I planned to weather this crisis with Qiandeng.”

“Unfortunately, you gave up.”

This remained Shen Qianzhan’s concern about Su Lanyi.

Perhaps only after completely severing profit ties could they coexist peacefully.

Su Lanyi was more surprised by another matter.

Holding the equity transfer document, her expression was strange: “You don’t know?”

“President Ji bought ‘Time’s’ copyright from Bai Xuan.”

Shen Qianzhan seemed not to hear clearly, smile still at her lips but brows furrowing: “What did you say?”

Su Lanyi swallowed, saying: “‘Time’s’ copyright is in Bu Zhong Sui’s hands.”

“You don’t know at all?”