Arriving in Beijing, it was already deep night.

Shen Qianzhan had spent years with film crews pulling all-nighters, so day-night reversals were common. For her, any time before dawn wasn’t considered late.

She politely declined Su Zan’s offer to send a car to pick her up. After exiting the station, she and Qiao Xin each took separate taxis to go home and rest.

Only after arriving home did Shen Qianzhan remember she’d forgotten to ask Ji Qinghe about tomorrow’s association activity schedule.

She scrolled through her phone screen, sitting on her bedroom floor in contemplation for several seconds.

Since Ji Qinghe had sent the friend request, their chat box contained only the leg-breakingly flirtatious note “Don’t belong to the zodiac dog, but have bitten you” and a template message saying “You have added Ji, you can now start chatting.”

Ji Qinghe’s only contact with her had been that noon phone call. He neither chatted nor stayed in touch—she wondered what his consideration was in asking Su Zan for her WeChat.

She pinched her temples, tossed her phone aside, and went to bathe and sleep.

The next morning.

The Shen Qianzhan whom Qiao Xin claimed couldn’t get up before ten, through sheer willpower, engaged in mortal combat with her bed for half an hour before dragging her completely disobedient body up to wash and dress.

To be radiant and outshine everyone today, Shen Qianzhan got up early to apply a face mask, then carefully did her makeup. When opening her wardrobe to select battle attire, she very seriously followed the almanac’s guidance and chose today’s lucky color—white.

A woman’s best fighting condition might be the confidence displayed when looking in the mirror and thinking she’s beautiful enough to conquer heaven, earth, and all nothingness.

After admiring herself in the mirror for several seconds, Shen Qianzhan grabbed her bag and set off with high spirits and fighting determination.

Shen Qianzhan first went to Time Hall to try her luck.

Her reasoning was this: the watch collectors association was based at Time Hall, so if it was an association activity, they’d definitely move as a group. Otherwise, wouldn’t it be more convenient for collectors to meet directly at the Palace Museum entrance?

Moreover, Meng Wanzhou was extremely proud of the association being a second-level certification organization and treasured his vice-chairman position like jewelry. Rarely organizing an event, he’d definitely want to exercise his authority and enjoy himself.

So from the beginning, Shen Qianzhan had locked onto two locations.

First was Time Hall, second was the clock gallery.

Facts proved that aside from her habitual malfunction when facing Ji Qinghe, Shen Qianzhan’s intelligence was basically online.

She arrived with perfect timing. Under everyone’s gaze, she lowered her car window and waved at Meng Wanzhou with beauty and charm.

Meng Wanzhou initially couldn’t see clearly. Only after lifting his baseball cap did he recognize that the stunningly beautiful person in the car was Shen Qianzhan, who had recently blocked him.

He was so surprised his eyes immediately lit up, hurrying forward to greet her: “Producer Shen, you came! Qinghe said you were on a business trip, I thought you couldn’t make it this time.”

Shen Qianzhan parked nearby, her attitude so friendly it was as if she’d never blocked Meng Wanzhou in displaced anger over Ji Qinghe: “Originally had an afternoon flight back to Beijing today, but hearing about the activity, I took the overnight high-speed train back.”

She smiled, surveying the entire scene, trying to inquire in a natural tone: “President Ji said he’d provide commentary today. Where is he?”

Meng Wanzhou was an adult, and one who’d read countless Korean dramas and small films with script outlines.

How could he not know that Shen Qianzhan wasn’t here for his association’s activity, but was coming to pursue Ji Qinghe? But the adult world after eighteen had no taboos—adults not only loved thrills but were skilled at arranging pretenses for casual encounters.

“Next door.” Meng Wanzhou pointed to the adjacent compound with imposing walls: “He probably won’t come out until it’s time to depart.”

Confirming Ji Qinghe was right here, Shen Qianzhan felt slightly settled.

She checked her watch—mm, still early.

The Palace Museum opened at eight.

Around ten o’clock, all the collectors Meng Wanzhou had summoned were present. He registered attendance while distributing small badges printed with the “Beijing Watch Collectors Association” logo.

Even Shen Qianzhan, who wasn’t an association member and was purely occupying a tourist spot, received one.

This was when Ji Qinghe appeared.

He had a solid-colored long coat draped over his arm, wearing a cold smoke-colored sweater with a pure white diagonal-striped shirt underneath, looking scholarly and gentlemanly. His dark jeans were casually and loosely cuffed, accentuating his height and long legs, standing tall and elegant.

Shen Qianzhan couldn’t look away at first glance.

Ji Qinghe was usually composed and refined, in suits and leather shoes.

His temperament was cool, but whenever he wore cold-toned, textured shirts and coats, he could always disguise himself as harmless.

When she appreciated him for the second time, Ji Qinghe seemed to sense it, turning slightly to meet her gaze.

That look was calm and unsurprised, as if he wasn’t at all unexpected to see Shen Qianzhan here.

Shen Qianzhan seized a third look.

This glance was quite purposeful—she focused on scanning Ji Qinghe’s slender, lean waist and perfectly proportioned buttocks. She wondered what the Ji family had fed Ji Qinghe growing up; this waist-to-hip ratio was like it had been measured with a ruler, perfect beyond reproach.

She internally clicked her tongue appreciatively twice with some lingering attachment, recalling the feel of these parts of Ji Qinghe, her gaze inevitably containing some undisguisable lustful undertones.

Ji Qinghe acted as if unaware.

Though his appearance was quiet and low-key, his presence wouldn’t allow it. Almost the moment he appeared, whether those chatting in groups or fiddling with phones, everyone seemed equipped with radar, precisely focusing their attention on him.

Meng Wanzhou was also startled. After coming to his senses, he called everyone to break camp and move out.

Time Hall wasn’t far from the Palace Museum, so everyone walked there.

Meng Wanzhou was highly enthusiastic, all the way encouraging collectors to travel green and taking the lead in providing commentary, looking like his main job was being a volunteer tour guide working for love.

Shen Qianzhan hadn’t expected the cruel punishment of walking. Her high heels made movement inconvenient, walking exceptionally slowly.

She’d been worried that Ji Qinghe would remember the increasingly deep grudge between them and deliberately ignore her. But today, the damn man had changed not only his styling but apparently his conscience too, unexpectedly slowing his pace to walk alongside her.

Whether influenced by the invisible rule that beautiful people walk slowly while ugly people walk fast, Meng Wanzhou’s team was scattered and sparse, occupying half the street.

By the time they reached the clock gallery, it was already noon.

Meng Wanzhou was in high spirits, immediately organizing formations upon entry and beginning his commentary.

Discovering reality differed from what was promised, Shen Qianzhan turned around, staring intently at Ji Qinghe, whose entire aura had settled into incomparable gentleness and purity since entering: “Didn’t you say you’d provide commentary?”

Ji Qinghe withdrew his gaze from the hardwood carved tower-style self-chiming clock and looked down at her: “Yes.”

Shen Qianzhan raised her chin slightly, pointing at Meng Wanzhou who was spitting saliva in front: “Then what’s he doing?” Her face showed the heartbreak of being deceived.

Ji Qinghe smiled slightly, unhurriedly glancing at the scattered tourists around, using his eyes to direct her attention to the large clock he’d been contemplating.

“Hardwood carved tower-style self-chiming clock, the largest self-chiming clock preserved in the palace. It reports quarters above and hours below, made with three sets of interconnected bronze gear transmission systems for timekeeping, quarter-striking, and hour-striking. It was manufactured by the Qing Palace Workshop during the Qianlong era. Not only is the manufacturing technique complex, but the materials used are luxurious.” Seeing Shen Qianzhan’s half-understanding expression, he paused slightly and said: “Do you need me to explain the watchmaking process or the operating principles of this clock’s three systems in more detail?”

Shen Qianzhan turned to look at him.

His expression was neutral, but his tone clearly implied “I don’t think you’d understand.”

Shen Qianzhan was rather superficial. Her love for timepieces stemmed from two things: their expensive value and their ability to capture a maiden’s heart with their appearance. As for the principles of clockmaking and the art of manufacturing and restoration, her research into watch brands was more thorough.

Seeing her remain silent, Ji Qinghe stood before the self-chiming clock’s barrier, slightly bending down to meet her at eye level: “Same as before, today I’m only providing commentary for you.”

Shen Qianzhan wanted to feel moved, but remembering how the commentary had led to bed during their first meeting, she truly couldn’t feel touched.

Actually, Su Zan had always had some misunderstandings about her.

That original encounter with Ji Qinghe had been consensual—there was no deception involved, nor the later heart-and-kidney-torturing drama of who was more of a scumbag that he’d imagined.

It was just that she’d always liked talking big, enjoying taking verbal advantage without distorting facts.

Thinking carefully now, though she had suspicions of seduction, the one absolutely in the dominant position was that damn man Ji Qinghe.

She was silent for a moment, then compromised: “Alright then, you’ll have to work hard today.”

Afraid his words had other implications, Shen Qianzhan thought for a moment and added: “Finish your commentary quickly, then we’ll go discuss serious business.”

They were all adults who understood each other perfectly.

This watch association activity was merely a reasonable stepping stone for meeting, allowing both parties to avoid facing the naked reality directly.

No wonder this society had both humans and beasts coexisting—with a fig leaf, no one knew whether the other was human or dog.

After touring the clock gallery, Meng Wanzhou disbanded the group on the spot. He didn’t interfere with whether the collectors chose to continue touring the treasure gallery, the Grand Secretariat, or go home.

Shen Qianzhan hadn’t walked so much in a single day all year. She looked at Ji Qinghe, seeking his opinion: “Go out to talk, or just find somewhere random?”

Ji Qinghe glanced at her reddened feet and said unhurriedly: “There’s a tea pavilion ahead, let’s have some coffee.”

Shen Qianzhan had no objections.

The afternoon sunlight was perfect. The outdoor tea pavilion had sun umbrellas, and with the garden’s greenery, it felt somewhat like returning to summer.

Shen Qianzhan hesitated for three seconds in the corridor—just three seconds.

Looking at the sunlight filtering through the umbrella gaps, thinking about the enormous damage UV rays could do to skin, she said righteously: “Inside then, it’s quieter.”

Ji Qinghe seemed to know what she was thinking, curved his lips, and accommodated her graciously.

After entering, Shen Qianzhan chose a quiet corner and ordered coffee.

Ji Qinghe didn’t look at the menu, casually asking for tea.

Seeing this, Shen Qianzhan couldn’t help extending her restless little claws to lightly provoke: “President Ji is starting health maintenance at such a young age?”

Ji Qinghe was accustomed to Shen Qianzhan’s behavior and attitude of treating him like a natural enemy, being honey-tongued but dagger-hearted whenever they met. He even felt some familiarity and naturalness from it.

He replied smoothly: “There’s a peony in the back garden. Without health maintenance, I’m afraid I won’t be able to water it in the future.”

The self-inflicted Shen Qianzhan: “…”

She cleared her throat, quickly adjusting her state, and asked: “Can we start discussing cooperation now?”

Ji Qinghe had wanted to say “depends on your sincerity,” but when the words reached his lips, he changed his approach: “If the prerequisite for cooperation is having Producer Shen be that peony, would you be willing?”