Fortunately, Shen Qianzhan’s original intention wasn’t to please Ji Qinghe. Seeing that he was impervious to both soft and hard approaches, Shen Qianzhan didn’t force it anymore and turned to attend to Meng Wanzhou instead.
After dinner, Shen Qianzhan excused herself to the restroom and went to the cashier to settle the bill.
Before leaving, she didn’t forget to give Su Zan a meaningful look, signaling him to seize the opportunity.
Su Zan and Shen Qianzhan had been partners in crime for two years, developing perfect understanding. With one look from Shen Qianzhan, he immediately caught on, using the excuse of toasting to bring a teapot and sit to Ji Qinghe’s right.
The moment he sat down, Ji Qinghe looked up with cold, clear eyes. If Su Zan hadn’t been certain he wasn’t the one who’d offended him, he would have truly thought Ji Qinghe was looking at a dead man—completely without warmth.
He cleared his throat lightly, raising his voice slightly to try to ease the awkwardness: “President Ji should still remember me, right? We just met the other day at Ji Chuner Bay.”
This time, Ji Qinghe didn’t even lift his eyes, completely ignoring him.
Su Zan was completely baffled. Seeing the situation remained neither awkward nor comfortable, he could only bite the bullet and continue: “Should I reintroduce myself then?”
“I’m Xiang Qianqian’s agent at Qiandeng Pictures during the day, and Producer Shen’s part-time assistant at night. My name is Su Zan.”
After he finished speaking, whether it was Su Zan’s imagination or not, he felt the excessively cold and aloof President Ji finally seemed to give him a proper look.
“Part-time assistant.” Ji Qinghe loosened his collar, showing some interest: “You divide it into day and night?”
“Sister Zhan’s team has planning assistants. My work is more like a personal assistant, professional drinking companion.” Su Zan laughed foolishly twice, asking: “Have President Ji and my Sister Zhan known each other long? You look like very familiar friends.”
Ji Qinghe played with his cup between his fingers, saying nothing.
His features were naturally cold, even more so when he didn’t speak. Su Zan sensed his indifference and felt at a loss.
He was truly difficult to deal with—no wonder Shen Qianzhan still hadn’t gotten the big shot’s phone number.
Su Zan sipped his wine, catching sight of Xiang Qianqian who’d been ignored all evening. His agent’s professional instincts immediately activated. He rolled his eyes and cut straight to the chase: “Would President Ji be convenient to leave me your contact information?”
He waved his phone: “WeChat or phone number, either works.”
Ji Qinghe glanced sideways slightly, saying: “I don’t have WeChat.”
Su Zan was about to open the scan function when he heard this, his hand pausing as the page remained on the Moments feed he’d been browsing.
About three minutes ago, Shen Qianzhan had updated her Moments.
Whether she belonged to the zodiac dog or not was unknown, but she was certainly acting like one.
The image was a blurred wine glass, and in focus behind the glass was Ji Qinghe’s right hand playing with his cup.
Ji Qinghe chuckled softly and instantly changed his mind: “But wait a moment, I’ll have one soon.”
After settling the bill and sitting for a while.
Shen Qianzhan thoughtfully ended the gathering, citing that Ji Qinghe looked somewhat tired and needed to go home early to rest.
Shen Qianzhan had the driver take Ji Qinghe and Meng Wanzhou to the entrance of Time Hall. When the two men got out, she followed and walked a few steps with them.
Seeing her so courteous, Meng Wanzhou remembered yesterday’s hasty departure when Shen Qianzhan left without a proper farewell, and sighed with some regret: “Producer Shen is so interested in watch collecting. When the association organizes activities soon, I’ll let you know. Come join us if you’re free.”
Shen Qianzhan had spent considerable effort on Meng Wanzhou that evening, almost completely figuring out the Beijing Watch Collectors Association’s organizational situation. She smiled and agreed.
She was worried about not having a reasonable, legitimate excuse to appear before Ji Qinghe and maintain her presence.
After chatting with Meng Wanzhou, Shen Qianzhan turned her gaze to Ji Qinghe, completing the most important part of her entire playing-hard-to-get plan: “President Ji.”
She took a deep breath, as if making some difficult decision, her tone serious: “Since we have no fate for cooperation, I won’t come disturb you again in the near future.”
Meng Wanzhou interjected: “Weren’t you two talking just fine yesterday?”
Shen Qianzhan, like an ethereal white lotus, showed grievance in her eyes, hesitating to speak: “President Ji doesn’t quite approve of me. I also feel that cooperation should be mutually willing—it can’t be forced.”
Having enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Shen Qianzhan tonight and particularly appreciating her carefree, unpretentious personality, Meng Wanzhou looked at Ji Qinghe with clear condemnation.
Shen Qianzhan stopped at just the right point, patting Meng Wanzhou’s shoulder: “Don’t worry, it won’t affect our drinking and chatting together.” After speaking, she looked at Ji Qinghe again, waving: “President Ji, rest early and take care of your health.”
Ji Qinghe showed no emotion throughout, only finally reacting when he heard “take care of your health”: “Don’t worry, after all, my wish is to die beneath peony flowers.”
His gaze fell on Shen Qianzhan’s face, lingering for a moment before saying: “Watering peony flowers requires much care and effort. I’ll take good care of myself.”
Shen Qianzhan’s smile stiffened, nearly failing to maintain it.
She pretended not to understand, keeping a friendly expression for farewell while internally screaming: “Just get the hell out of here.”
In the following days, Shen Qianzhan kept her word and didn’t go to Time Hall to maintain her presence.
She only had Su Zan update his Moments at irregular times daily, ensuring visibility to one specific person—Ji Qinghe.
Sometimes posting work status—endless morning meetings, work reports, meeting rooms full of people.
Sometimes posting after-work status—drinking parties, dinner gatherings, KTV.
And sometimes, even more perversely, posting high-definition, uncensored work photos of Shen Qianzhan.
Su Zan’s Moments comments went from initial “Rich second generation having financial crisis?” and “Dog, you’ve changed” to “Su Zan wake up, you’re just a rich second generation who only knows how to wine and dine.” Feeling dead inside, he set his Moments to be visible only to Ji Qinghe.
Shen Qianzhan was also busy, meeting with screenwriters, constantly reviewing works, and screening suitable writing candidates.
Her Moments went from coffee and milk to goji berries in thermos cups, with Meng Wanzhou persistently liking every post.
After a week of such busyness, Shen Qianzhan went on a business trip.
The first to breathe a sigh of relief was Su Zan, who almost immediately had his assistant go to a fireworks shop to buy the loudest bundle of skyrockets to celebrate.
When Shen Qianzhan learned this news at the airport, she smiled without warmth and pulled up Su Zan’s WeChat for a cordial call.
Su Zan was accompanying Xiang Qianqian to an audition. When he received Shen Qianzhan’s call, his heart skipped a beat. He quickly covered his phone and hid in the nanny van: “Sister Zhan?”
Shen Qianzhan asked: “What are you busy with?”
“Accompanying Qianqian to auditions. Isn’t Director Lei’s new movie casting? We ran into him while drinking health tea a couple days ago and got an opportunity to try out. How about you? Was your flight delayed?”
“No.” Shen Qianzhan stood in the boarding queue, reminding him: “Don’t forget to post on Moments.”
Mentioning this made Su Zan feel weak all over. He sighed helplessly and asked: “Sister Zhan, can this actually work? I’ve been posting on Moments for a week and President Ji hasn’t even given a single like.” The guy probably didn’t even look at Moments, and might even avoid people from Qiandeng when he saw them.
Shen Qianzhan countered: “What else then? Xiang Qianqian just got some free time and you’re already worried about her exposure and fans forgetting her. If we don’t maintain presence with Ji Qinghe, what if he completely forgets about cooperation?”
Su Zan frowned, his face full of disapproval: “I thought from the beginning that your retreat-to-advance strategy would hurt the enemy by ten thousand but damage yourself by eight thousand. Don’t end up killing yourself with your own game.”
And there was something he didn’t say.
He always felt that Sister Zhan using his Moments to create a persona of working hard and living positively was particularly like someone who’d been dumped by a scumbag, deliberately creating an image that she was living well without him, trying to strike back at the unappreciative bastard and make him see the error of his ways.
He tapped the armrest and suddenly had an epiphany, asking: “Sister Zhan, I have a particularly bold idea.”
Shen Qianzhan had just finished boarding and was looking for her seat number, asking casually: “What idea?”
Su Zan said: “Your Xi’an affair—it wasn’t President Ji, was it?”
Shen Qianzhan: “…” Did your mouth get blessed or something? Stop your dangerous thoughts right now.
Su Zan had just asked casually. According to his expectations, Sister Zhan should have laughed heartily after hearing this, either scolding him for having no sense of propriety and being unrealistic, or laughing in a flirtatious and amorous way, shamelessly saying she’d love to but didn’t have such good fortune.
But now, there was complete silence on the other end, no response at all, only the faint sound of flight attendants’ gentle announcements at the cabin door.
Oh no, oh no.
He seemed to have accidentally triggered his “crow’s mouth” talent skill again.
Su Zan’s brain buzzed for a while, unable to believe it: “Damn, really?”
Shen Qianzhan seemed to just come back to her senses: “Fake.”
Su Zan knew Shen Qianzhan too well. He didn’t believe those two words at all, stammering incoherently: “The man you slept with seven or eight times in one night was President Ji?”
Shen Qianzhan helplessly rubbed her forehead: “Seven or eight times is a bit exaggerated…”
Su Zan immediately didn’t know whether to first show admiration and respect for Ji Qinghe’s impressive stamina or cheer for Sister Zhan. No wonder Shen Qianzhan hadn’t mentioned any other men lately—the charm of rekindled old flames was clearly much greater.
He rubbed his hands together, nervous yet excited: “So between you two now, who’s more of a scumbag?”
Shen Qianzhan hung up with a snap.
Shen Qianzhan only brought Qiao Xin on this business trip to Hangzhou.
A month ago, Qiao Xin had submitted an original script outline that passed internal evaluation. After a week of phone contact, Shen Qianzhan felt the efficiency was too low and decided to personally fly to Hangzhou to meet with the main creative team face-to-face.
She always acted decisively. Arriving in Hangzhou at noon, she roughly finalized cooperation intentions by afternoon, and even had leisure to stroll West Lake with Qiao Xin in the evening.
Unfortunately, Shen Qianzhan wasn’t born to enjoy life. While posing for selfies on the second-floor balcony of Starbucks, her phone automatically pushed an entertainment news notification—Popular starlet Xiang Qianqian spotted with sugar daddy on nighttime street stroll.
Shen Qianzhan immediately lost interest in selfies. She casually clicked on the message to browse the exposé.
The report claimed that a helpful netizen walking their dog had encountered Xiang Qianqian on a nighttime street stroll with her boyfriend, intimately holding hands and interacting.
Below this report were images of Xiang Qianqian and Ji Qinghe walking side by side in a blurry nighttime setting. Three photos total: the first showed Xiang Qianqian turning to smile sideways, maintaining a fist’s distance while walking alongside Ji Qinghe; the second showed Xiang Qianqian looking down at the road with the caption “shyly looking down”; the third was…
Shen Qianzhan clicked to enlarge the image, zooming in on their supposedly clasped hands—the details were too blurry to make out anything clearly.
Rationally, she was certain Ji Qinghe and Xiang Qianqian couldn’t possibly have met more than three times to develop such familiarity. But emotionally, using herself as an example, she’d slept with Ji Qinghe after knowing him just one day. If the two of them wanted something to happen, given they’d known each other for a week, anything was possible.
Shen Qianzhan felt genuinely sour.
She angrily pulled up Meng Wanzhou’s WeChat account and in one breath, blocked and deleted him.
An hour later.
Su Zan’s WeChat rarely received two messages from Ji Qinghe.
One said: “Expect a lawyer’s letter.”
The other said: “Give me Shen Qianzhan’s contact.”