Shen Qianzhan’s thought process was simple and crude.

Ji Qinghe had repeated twice that he “hoped Producer Shen wouldn’t need to come begging at his door in the future.” When he first said this, Shen Qianzhan had assumed it was just masculine pride acting up, harsh words spoken to save face.

Honestly, the first time she heard it, she truly didn’t take it seriously.

After all, from investors above to talent agencies below, this happened like clockwork every month, rain or shine, never missing a beat.

Investors had their reasons – some insisted on artistic aesthetics, others wanted their harem of beauties, and still others sought to satisfy their desire for control. The reasons were bizarre and varied, covering everything imaginable.

Usually, after making harsh threats, the most common move was to withdraw funding.

Shen Qianzhan was equally straightforward: those who breached contracts got sued; those who tried to plant their mistresses got kicked out; those who wanted to control the production and sideline her got crushed.

She handled these sugar daddy investors with ease, let alone talent agencies.

Just two days after making harsh threats, both parties would tacitly decide to never have anything to do with each other again. But after a couple of days, once Shen Qianzhan had painted her picture of success, the other party would come crawling back with their talent profiles like they had amnesia.

What could she do? She could only pretend to reconcile and continue to blacklist them.

Ji Qinghe’s situation was slightly different from the above two examples. When he mentioned that phrase for the second time, Shen Qianzhan took it seriously.

This damn man – handsome face, skilled technique, and exceptionally decisive in action.

For him to repeat the same phrase twice clearly meant it had taken root in his mind. Was this perhaps like the principle that the deeper the breathing, the more pleasurable it gets?

Shen Qianzhan figured Ji Qinghe was probably holding a grudge over her “payment for services” joke, while being certain that aside from him, there was no other suitable watch repair master who met her requirements. No matter how many somersaults she turned, she could never escape the two mountains in his palm.

Ji Qinghe’s guess was right.

She could find other investors, but currently he was indeed the only watch repair master who met her conditions.

But asking her to swallow her pride and beg Ji Qinghe – she couldn’t do it.

A woman should never compromise on her dignity and bottom line.

This was also one of the reasons she so resisted cooperating with Ji Qinghe. God knows if they really worked together, she might lose her mind again and lust after his body.

Moreover, facing a man she’d had a brief affair with day and night while pretending nothing happened, having to turn a blind eye to his beauty, being like Liu Xiahui sitting unmoved… if not for being forced by circumstances with no other suitable candidates, as if she, Shen Qianzhan, would do such unprofitable business.

Ji Qinghe looked up, his gaze falling on Shen Qianzhan’s face with a hint of scrutiny.

From the day he’d met Shen Qianzhan, this woman had been like an exquisite vase maintaining constant perfection, maintaining her 360-degree flawless aesthetic appeal twenty-four hours a day.

Today was clearly even more so.

Ji Qinghe’s gaze moved down from her deep, sunset-tinted eye makeup, noting her deliberately displayed new manicure, finally settling on her lips.

She smiled with three parts provocation and seven parts theatrical enjoyment.

Clearly, she was here to cause trouble and stir up a scene.

He chuckled softly, looking at her with deep, meaningful eyes, then picked up the children’s watch without comment.

The watch face was silver-rimmed, circular, made of ordinary material, with Minnie Mouse printed on the bottom. Both hands, long and short, were stopped at twelve o’clock.

Ji Qinghe flipped the watch over, examining the back cover: “You went to some trouble finding such a vintage watch.” He asked, “From twenty years ago?”

Shen Qianzhan nodded slightly, “First grade, a gift from my mother.”

Ji Qinghe understood. He pulled over a leather pad, casually wrapped it up, and threw it directly into a drawer of his workbench, his expression cold and voice indifferent: “Can’t be fixed. Go get another one from Meng Wanzhou.”

He smiled, each word falling with decisive force: “I’ll compensate you.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…” This bastard was ruthless, even willing to play dirty like this?

Just as she was about to argue, she heard him “shush,” his expression impatient, clearly displaying a “if you keep making trouble, I’ll deal with you” look.

Shen Qianzhan fell quiet for a moment.

The plan to disgust Ji Qinghe with watch repair… was as childish as some kindergarten-level opponent like Su Zan coming up with such a terrible idea.

She suddenly felt like she’d lost Jingzhou, the battle was lost, she was no match for Ji Qinghe at all.

Ji Qinghe unfastened his cufflinks, asking casually: “Today it’s watch repair, tomorrow what, clock repair?”

“Or do you have no plan at all, just taking it step by step, as long as you can target me?” He rolled up his sleeves, the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose flashing several streaks of cold light in the evening glow from the window.

He looked lazily tired as he pushed up his glasses frame, pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes slightly closed: “I’ve seen Producer Shen’s resume, I thought Producer Shen’s business acumen was quite formidable, but now it seems…” He opened his eyes with a mocking smile: “Nothing special.”

“Not bad.” Shen Qianzhan acted as if she hadn’t heard his last remark, calm and composed: “I just didn’t expect President Ji to be such a dog.”

Her phone vibrated lightly in her pocket.

Shen Qianzhan guessed it was Su Zan getting restless and asking about the situation. While checking WeChat, she casually asked Ji Qinghe: “Want to have dinner? My treat tonight.”

Before Ji Qinghe could refuse, she added leisurely: “Aren’t you curious about my business acumen? Give me a chance?”

Imperial Feast.

A restaurant famous for Manchu-Han Imperial Feast, a Beijing cuisine establishment where good wine needs no bush.

Shen Qianzhan called to reserve at ten in the morning and only got a private room in the afternoon.

After being seated, Su Zan handled ordering while Shen Qianzhan took care of the drinks. After cold appetizers were served plate by plate, the very ceremonious Producer Shen finally officially began, introducing Xiang Qianqian to Ji Qinghe.

Ji Qinghe didn’t touch the wine she’d just poured, instead picking up his tea to moisten his throat. Naturally, he also ignored Xiang Qianqian’s attempt to raise her glass in a toast.

After drinking his tea, he glanced at Shen Qianzhan, his words ambiguous and loaded with meaning: “Business acumen? Quite businesslike indeed.”

Xiang Qianqian felt awkward.

She turned to look at Su Zan, seeing his composed expression as if nothing was strange, and felt somewhat reassured.

Su Zan was quite used to this bickering mode of interaction between President Ji and his Sister Zhan.

After all, these two didn’t restrain themselves even in front of big shots, so they, just small fries, were even more insignificant.

Shen Qianzhan smiled, not engaging in direct confrontation: “Didn’t President Ji say he just settled in Beijing? I’m just being kind. Beijing is so big, getting around requires connections…”

Ji Qinghe interrupted her: “Bu Zhong Sui has tens of thousands of premium clients.”

Shen Qianzhan smiled slightly.

This damn man, couldn’t feel comfortable without taking a jab, could he?

She held a knife in one hand and wine in the other, directly toasting Meng Wanzhou: “Boss Meng has had it pretty tough these years, hasn’t he?”

Suddenly being cued, Meng Wanzhou put down his gossip live-streaming in the WeChat group and raised his glass for a shallow toast: “Qinghe might be different from the businesspeople Producer Shen usually deals with. He’s devoted to watch restoration, somewhat pedantic. Though scheming, he doesn’t really hold grudges…”

The more Meng Wanzhou spoke, the more he felt he was straying from his point. He immediately bit his tongue to cut losses, awkwardly forcing a conclusion: “Once Producer Shen gets to know him better, you’ll understand naturally.”

Pedantic?

That seemed unlikely.

She thought Ji Qinghe was quite modern; surely he hadn’t learned everything self-taught.

Shen Qianzhan clicked her tongue and refocused her thoughts.

Currently, she hadn’t even assembled a writing team yet. Aside from one percent of the script concept, her project preparation was still at zero.

Meng Wanzhou’s words reminded her that continuing to clash with Ji Qinghe like this was not only useless but might backfire.

She must have slept away even her emotional intelligence. She hadn’t used any of her previous techniques for coddling sugar daddy investors, yet wanted to force Ji Qinghe into cooperation – on what basis?

Shen Qianzhan came to her senses and devised a new plan.

She stood up, raised her wine glass – a great person can adapt to circumstances – and offered Ji Qinghe an apologetic drink: “President Ji, please don’t hold it against me. I’m hosting this dinner for two reasons: first, to thank Brother Wanzhou for last night’s hospitality, and second, to apologize to President Ji.”

She poured another glass, her hand steady as a rock: “It’s my fault for presuming on the few… connections between President Ji and me, being presumptuous in my words.”

Shen Qianzhan tilted her head back and drained the cup without changing expression.

Her eyes held a watery gleam, wine glistening at the corners of her lips, already showing signs of intoxication.

The room fell silent, no one daring to speak.

Su Zan was even more dumbfounded – what act was this? Before leaving, hadn’t she been calling him “damn man” with every breath, even making bold declarations about not wanting to be contradicted by Ji Qinghe, but rather wanting to contradict Ji Qinghe herself?

This was fucking surreal.

When Shen Qianzhan poured her third glass, Ji Qinghe’s expression finally changed slightly.

His gaze remained calm, only when light reflected in his eyes could one glimpse the occasional flash of clarity and restraint.

He pressed his lips slightly, seeming to want to see what else she might say, with casual indifference mixed with some capriciousness.

Shen Qianzhan dug through her repository of Chinese culture and said: “President Ji prefers quiet, yet I’ve disturbed you repeatedly with improper behavior. I deeply apologize.” She brought the wine glass to her lips, seeing Ji Qinghe seem to straighten up a bit, then added: “After these three penalty drinks, shall we laugh and let bygones be bygones?”

Without waiting for Ji Qinghe’s answer.

She raised her hand and lifted the glass. Her lips had just parted, not yet catching the wine’s fragrance, when a slender hand grasped her wrist, effortlessly but firmly restraining her.

Ji Qinghe’s voice was low and helpless: “Shen Qianzhan, I don’t believe in forcing people to drink or judging right and wrong.”

Having drunk two glasses on an empty stomach, Shen Qianzhan was slightly flushed: “So I drank for nothing?”

She asked directly, with some bewilderment in her words. This unconscious reaction was unexpectedly more appealing than the worldly, sober Shen Qianzhan.

Ji Qinghe curved his lips slightly and said: “Yes, for nothing.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…”

Damn, pleasing Ji Qinghe was even harder than sleeping with him.