It was currently deep night, not yet reaching dawn.

Su Zan was rarely having a wellness party at home when he saw the WeChat message and nearly kicked the foot bath bucket to pieces.

He pushed away the cat sleeping lazily in his arms and was about to craft a reply when his phone rang—Qiandeng’s PR department was calling.

Getting a call from PR in the middle of the night was like hearing knocking at three in the morning—never good news.

Connecting this to Ji Qinghe’s WeChat content, Su Zan’s heart lurched violently, and he answered the phone almost with the mentality of being raided and having accounts frozen.

The PR department gave a brief and concise situation report.

The more Su Zan listened, the darker his expression became.

By the time he hung up, his face was black as the bottom of a pot.

At this crucial moment when Shen Qianzhan was desperately trying to facilitate cooperation, false rumors about Xiang Qianqian and Ji Qinghe had exploded. The negative impact this would bring was unimaginably vast.

Xiang Qianqian missing out on Bu Zhong Sui’s fashion resources was minor; ruining Shen Qianzhan’s plans was what mattered.

Su Lanyi was half-reclining on the chaise lounge, watching her younger brother jump around like he had fleas ever since taking that call, feeling annoyed: “What happened?”

Su Zan had a belly full of fire. Su Lanyi not asking would have been fine, but her question was like lighting a firecracker and roasting it over flames—crackling and exploding chaotically.

Su Lanyi listened silently to the monologue-like event summary, lazily lifting her eyelids: “Wasn’t the trending topic removed? The news was also suppressed. What else do you have to worry about?”

“You don’t understand!” Su Zan launched into another barrage-like output, finally making Su Lanyi understand the thorniness of this matter.

She didn’t think this was anything too difficult to resolve. Glancing at the mess of the overturned foot bath and wet water stains on the floor, she said indifferently: “Never go by your own assumptions. If you suspect Xiang Qianqian secretly contacted Ji Qinghe behind your back, then just ask. If that’s really the case, it’s not too late to make plans.”

She closed her eyes, her voice lazy: “As for Qianzhan, you don’t need to worry. Don’t you know her capabilities? When she secured Bai Xuan’s tribute drama, I told you all that many people in the industry would be jealous—you should prepare early.”

After speaking, she snorted disdainfully: “You’ve followed Qianzhan for two years but haven’t learned an ounce of her composure.”

The composed Zhan far away in Hangzhou had been cursing the damn man all the way.

It wasn’t until she returned to the hotel and separated from Qiao Xin that she finally stopped to catch her breath.

The coffee had been drunk for nothing—it didn’t quench her thirst at all.

She kicked off her small leather boots, didn’t even change into slippers, and went barefoot to get mineral water. After drinking half a bottle in big gulps, the restless fire in her heart was finally soothed. She took out her phone to check.

An hour had passed, and neither Su Zan nor Meng Wanzhou had made any moves.

Meng Wanzhou was understandable—innocently caught in her anger, it would be difficult for him to make any response.

But what was up with that brat Su Zan? Why hadn’t he come to pay his respects yet?

This matter wasn’t big if you didn’t make it big, wasn’t small if you didn’t make it small—it all depended on the specific circumstances.

If Ji Qinghe had taken a fancy to Xiang Qianqian and intentionally wanted to develop feelings with her, then being exposed by netizens was just his bad luck.

But if Ji Qinghe had been set up, in the current situation, Shen Qianzhan was most likely the prime suspect.

Not only would cooperation fall through, but even their past sleeping-together friendship would be gone.

Shen Qianzhan figured Su Zan wouldn’t make such a foolish move, but with matters undetermined and knowing nothing about the side details, she was like a person with blocked ears and eyes, unable to be of any use.

After calming down, Shen Qianzhan’s mind finally regained clarity. She glanced at her phone one last time, picked up her pajamas, and went to wash up first.

After bathing, it was past midnight.

Her body, rinsed by hot water, finally felt the belated fatigue.

The originally planned face mask and full-body spa were ruthlessly canceled the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Shen Qianzhan sat before the mirror, meticulously applying toner and moisturizer.

The woman in the mirror had delicate bare features, beautiful bones, skin that was white with a hint of pink from the recent bath, like the finest congealed jade, clear and light.

Shen Qianzhan gazed at herself in the mirror with fascination, clicking her tongue appreciatively—this hotel’s mirror was still inferior to those at Ji Chuner Bay, where even the bathroom was equipped with unbeatable filters.

Didn’t these hotel managers know that a mirror that could make women look radiant and beautifully diverse could attract how many female customers?

After finishing her basic skincare, Shen Qianzhan slowly moved to the bed.

The phone she’d deliberately ignored all evening lay peacefully at the bedside, its screen dark and locked.

She glanced at it once, then went to organize the bedding.

Glanced again, then dawdled to boil some water.

It wasn’t until Shen Qianzhan had nothing left to do and was bored enough to start counting hair strands that the room’s doorbell chimed softly, with Qiao Xin’s slightly drowsy voice sounding outside: “Sister Zhan, are you asleep?”

Shen Qianzhan shuffled in the hotel’s fabric slippers to open the door.

Outside, Qiao Xin with dark circles under both eyes looked at Shen Qianzhan, who was still radiant and beautiful even before bed, and felt energized. She suddenly remembered a certain rumor from about a year ago.

Qiao Xin had joined Qiandeng after graduation, always working as Shen Qianzhan’s planning assistant.

When Qiandeng had project investments, Shen Qianzhan, as producer, would be stationed long-term with the crew. As her assistant, Qiao Xin was almost inseparable from her.

Due to the crew’s work nature, Shen Qianzhan handled accounting calculations and funding coordination during the day, and after the director wrapped up at night, still had to gather everyone for meetings.

One day, it was the male lead’s birthday, and the director gave them half a day off—a rare leisure moment.

When the rest of the cast and crew returned from work, they happened to witness this male lead being kicked out of Shen Qianzhan’s room after an unsuccessful attempt at offering himself.

This incident was already quite awkward.

To avoid delaying the crew’s progress, Shen Qianzhan didn’t pursue it and forcibly suppressed the matter. The film did indeed wrap on schedule as planned, but not long after the wrap party, news about this male lead’s failed seduction attempt somehow got spread around.

The entertainment industry was full of true and false revelations anyway.

Shen Qianzhan’s beauty was well-known. Over the years, people of all genders had tried to advance through sexual favors and unspoken rules. Although Shen Qianzhan consistently refused and never accepted, her high ranking in looks made her a frequent target of jokes.

That male lead, perhaps having his tail stepped on by someone, publicly mocked Shen Qianzhan for not knowing propriety. He said that day he’d gone to share birthday cake, but when Producer Shen opened the door, she was in revealing pajamas, disheveled, apparently trying to seduce someone.

He continued with veiled sarcasm, implying that her room saw countless men coming and going every deep night, questioning who was more innocent than whom.

At that time, Shen Qianzhan valued her reputation more than her life and absolutely wouldn’t tolerate such provocation.

She released the video evidence she’d already preserved onto the platform, directly igniting attention about certain dark rules within the industry.

What Qiao Xin remembered now was what that male artist who’d orchestrated his own downfall had said.

He’d said: “A woman like Producer Shen has a figure that seems sculpted by hand, point by point. Every measurement is perfect just by visual estimation. Actually holding her would be the ultimate human treasure. What man could resist?”

She was a woman, and even she couldn’t resist.

But right now, she had more important matters.

Qiao Xin snapped back to reality, struggling to look away and trying to appear less like a drooling lackey: “Sister Zhan.”

Just as she began, Shen Qianzhan stepped aside, indicating she should come in to talk.

Qiao Xin quickly waved her hands: “Nothing urgent, I can finish in a few words, won’t disturb your rest.” She waved her phone, “Su Zan seems to have something urgent to find you about, but couldn’t get through. I just called you and found your phone was off, so I came to check.”

Phone off?

Shen Qianzhan internally cursed, but maintained her composed exterior, even nodding reservedly: “Just finished bathing and didn’t notice. I understand.”

Qiao Xin nodded, looking at her with concern: “Then you handle your business first, I’m going back.”

After seeing Qiao Xin back to her room, Shen Qianzhan quickly closed the door and pounced toward the bedside to grab her little phone.

Taking selfies was too battery-draining, and she’d been cursing Ji Qinghe all the way, completely oblivious that her phone battery was critically low.

Shen Qianzhan plugged in her phone to charge while dangling her feet beside the bed, waiting for it to boot up.

A few minutes later, the successfully restarted phone immediately flooded with several WeChat notifications.

Before she could look closely, Su Zan’s call arrived instantly.

She answered leisurely, her voice cold as mist, emotionlessly saying “Hello.”

Su Zan on the other end was like a fish on the verge of suffocation returning to water, dramatically taking a deep breath: “Sister Zhan, you finally acknowledged me, wuwuwu.”

Shen Qianzhan strived for a noble and aloof tone, asking softly: “What’s the matter?”

“Let me start with the important stuff.” Su Zan mentally prioritized the issues, carefully saying: “First, you probably already know—Xiang Qianqian made trending topics again with scandal news. Second, after the incident, lawyers from President Ji’s side issued a warning to Qiandeng. Third, President Ji proactively asked me for your WeChat.”

Shen Qianzhan had been listening casually until Su Zan’s last word fell. She clicked her tongue and said: “This is what you call picking the important stuff?”

Su Zan was confused: “Otherwise?”

“Obviously Ji Qinghe proactively asking for my WeChat is most important.” Shen Qianzhan scoffed lightly, not hiding her disdain: “This represents phased progress, a milestone victory.”

Su Zan: “…” Are you sure?

But at this moment, he absolutely didn’t dare to pluck hairs from the tigress’s back, only carefully following along: “Before President Ji asked for your WeChat, he also told me to expect a lawyer’s letter. Are you certain this is phased progress, a milestone victory?”

Shen Qianzhan instantly sobered up.

Wait, she seemed to have overlooked some things.

“Did you investigate this Xiang Qianqian matter?” she asked.

She definitely hadn’t done it, but from Su Zan’s implications, Ji Qinghe had also been set up. As the prime suspect, it was quite logical for Ji Qinghe to suspect she’d instructed Xiang Qianqian to approach him, take these photos, and force him into compliance by binding Bu Zhong Sui to the scandal. This damn man was completely capable of thinking that way.

“I investigated.” Su Zan kept it brief: “I called Qianqian. She did indeed contact President Ji privately, but she said she really wouldn’t dare to spy on President Ji.”

The breathing on the other end grew heavy. Su Zan immediately remembered the physical relationship between Shen Qianzhan and Ji Qinghe, quickly adding: “Of course, she’s definitely not innocent. What we can confirm now is that she did contact President Ji privately, but she didn’t arrange for the photos to be taken, and this incident wasn’t her doing.”

Perhaps feeling this explanation lacked persuasive power, Su Zan thought for a moment and added: “I mentioned to you before that Qianqian seemed to be dating someone. Now it looks like she’s not dating, but privately found herself a patron.”

Su Zan remembered Xiang Qianqian’s hushed words before hanging up: “It’s not convenient for me to take calls right now, let’s contact tomorrow, okay?” His mood became somewhat complicated.

“Before I gave President Ji your contact card, I explained everything to him. But whether President Ji believes it or not, I don’t know.” Su Zan sighed deeply: “My sister says we’re being targeted by jealous people. I don’t know if this incident will affect you and President Ji.”

Shen Qianzhan couldn’t say either.

Ji Qinghe was profound and unfathomable, difficult to read. The Ji Qinghe unlocked in different locations was completely different.

She touched her chin and sighed along: “We’ll see when the time comes. If Ji Qinghe absolutely detests me and cooperation is completely impossible, we can only think of other solutions.”

Su Zan felt regretful: “If we can’t cooperate with President Ji, does the current concept for the tribute drama need to be completely scrapped? If President Jiang is dissatisfied, there are protective clauses allowing unilateral contract termination.”

“I know. Hanging up now.”

Shen Qianzhan hung up and went to check WeChat friend requests.

In the request list lay a white avatar with the single character nickname “Ji” as the latest application.

The application note below was fresh and unconventional—

“Don’t belong to the zodiac dog, but have bitten you.”