When Meng Wanzhou was pacing around the activity room entrance for the third time with a broom, Shen Qianzhan had just finished a pot of rose tea.

While lamenting that the afternoon tea was too bland without hazelnut chocolate cookies, she glanced at Meng Wanzhou wandering at the door like a wandering spirit and asked: “Does Boss Meng have such… abundant energy and ample time every day?”

Ji Qinghe followed her gaze to NPC Meng Wanzhou, who had been quietly maintaining his presence outside the window, lightly swiping across the touchscreen of his laptop: “This shop barely has any customers all year round, so this is his normal state.”

Shen Qianzhan made an acknowledging sound. Though curious about what Meng Wanzhou lived on normally, she didn’t ask further.

Stories only become stories when told by the person involved. If she asked Ji Qinghe without permission, that would be gossip.

As a professional producer, Shen Qianzhan wouldn’t allow herself to leave a bad impression of being gossipy and meddlesome with her investor daddy in the early stages of cooperation.

This was both professional ethics and moral cultivation!

She was still basking in her own moral high ground, undergoing spiritual elevation.

Ji Qinghe was completely unaware of her rich inner drama. He casually glanced at Shen Qianzhan, who was biting her pen cap in a daze, and said: “Meng Wanzhou doesn’t always stay in Beijing. He studied watch restoration with me under the old master.”

This piece of history was somewhat unexpected.

Shen Qianzhan instinctively asked: “Then when I contacted him through Hangjia last time, he said he wasn’t skilled in watch restoration?”

“He wasn’t wrong either.” Ji Qinghe chuckled lightly: “He gave up while still learning theoretical knowledge at the entry level.”

Shen Qianzhan rarely found herself at a loss for words. She scratched her head and asked: “At what age did you start learning restoration under Grandfather Ji?”

She remembered that when Ji Qingzhen became famous domestically for restoring the wooden Sanskrit clock, he was already middle-aged, not young anymore.

“I don’t remember.” Ji Qinghe scrolled the document to the final signature and seal section, his gaze shifting lightly to look at her: “Probably when you were still sucking on pacifiers, I was already handling screwdrivers.”

Shen Qianzhan felt insulted: “I’ll only be thirty next year, show some respect?”

Ji Qinghe retorted: “Thirty already? Does Producer Shen’s age grow by months? You were clearly twenty-four in June.”

Shen Qianzhan immediately laughed in exasperation, rolling up her sleeves and silently cursing the damn man: “When President Ji claimed to professionally leech off family with a general store at home, he wasn’t so honest either.”

Qiao Xin’s face went pale.

She quietly tugged at Shen Qianzhan, trying to remind her they were still at Party A’s negotiation table.

“Fair enough?” Ji Qinghe’s gaze was frank, his demeanor leisurely: “I do leech off family quite a bit.”

Ming Jue, who had helped Ji Qinghe expand Bu Zhong Sui’s territory by at least twice, felt somewhat speechless: “…” According to President Ji’s definition of leeching off family, those without some capability might not even qualify to claim they leech off family.

He silently took the laptop Ji Qinghe pushed over and went next door to print.

When the printer’s paper-feeding sounds came through, Shen Qianzhan’s reason, which had flown away in anger, finally returned somewhat. She pressed her lips together, muttering dissatisfiedly: “President Ji’s eloquence—it’s a shame not to debate.”

Seeing he’d teased enough, Ji Qinghe knew when to stop: “Not a shame, after all, there are more important things to do.”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t want to acknowledge him at all.

Listening to the rhythmic printing sounds from next door, imagining stacks of RMB flying into bank accounts soon, she instantly calmed down.

Tsk, how had she become just like Su Zan now? Really growing older without growing wiser.

Why get angry with the financial daddy? Was money not good to count, or was daddy not fragrant enough?

She smiled sweetly, pouring Ji Qinghe a cup of lukewarm clear tea: “We’ll be signing the contract soon. Please drink some clear tea to moisten your throat.”

Qiao Xin, who had witnessed Shen Qianzhan’s lightning-speed face change throughout: “…”

She felt she might never be able to become a producer.

—

The afternoon progressed rapidly. Besides successfully signing Ji Qinghe’s employment contract, both parties drafted an agreement outline regarding investment amounts and cooperation conditions.

As producer, although Su Lanyi had delegated authority to Shen Qianzhan to make many major decisions independently, matters concerning Qiandeng’s interests meant she only represented Qiandeng in negotiations with Ji Qinghe—final decisions still required Su Lanyi’s approval.

The investment contract definitely couldn’t be signed immediately.

However, Shen Qianzhan was already very satisfied with the current progress.

Seeing time approaching dinner, with the day’s mission completed, Shen Qianzhan generously suggested treating everyone to dinner.

Ming Jue glanced at his watch and politely declined for Ji Qinghe: “Very sorry, Producer Shen. President Ji has a 10 PM flight to New York tonight, so he can’t dine together.”

Shen Qianzhan paused in collecting her documents, glanced at Ji Qinghe who was drinking water, and asked: “How long will President Ji’s business trip be?”

“One week.” Ji Qinghe met her gaze, those eyes shifting between deep and shallow under the lights: “Let Ming Jue continue handling the contract—won’t delay your matters.”

Shen Qianzhan had only asked out of casual concern, but seeing his misunderstanding, she opened her lips but didn’t explain further.

Before leaving, Shen Qianzhan specifically asked Meng Wanzhou, who had swept his way to the front hall with his broom, if he wanted to have dinner together.

Meng Wanzhou had been quite happy, having just put down the broom he’d been holding all afternoon, preparing to go back and change clothes. But seeing that Ji Qinghe hadn’t come out with Shen Qianzhan, he suddenly remembered something and hesitantly said: “I just remembered, Qinghe has to catch a flight tonight. I’ll see if there’s anything I can help with—better not go.”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t insist. She had only asked out of politeness anyway.

Meng Wanzhou’s reaction was completely within her expectations.

She smiled and said: “Next time then. When President Ji returns from his business trip, I’ll treat everyone to dinner together.”

Once back in the car, Shen Qianzhan pulled poor, pitiful, and innocent Meng Wanzhou back from WeChat’s blacklist to her friends list.

—

The following work gradually got on track.

Shen Qianzhan focused intently on supervising legal affairs and Ming Jue polish the contract.

Usually, as soon as work started each day, Shen Qianzhan would grab her thermos and take root in the legal department supervisor’s office.

Su Zan had been avoiding her for several days. Only after finally getting his hands on the Christmas limited edition makeup gift set did he discover… Shen Qianzhan had been too busy supervising contracts to spare him any attention these past few days.

After another failed attempt to find her, Su Zan asked Qiao Xin: “Where’s Sister Zhan? Has she fallen for another handsome guy in legal affairs?”

Qiao Xin had been working frantically under Shen Qianzhan’s high-pressure work environment, her feet barely touching ground, her eyes puffy. Hearing this, even her breathing sounded tired and hoarse: “Unless you have something important, don’t bother looking for her. She’s nearly driven the entire legal department crazy lately.”

Su Zan stroked his chin, unclear whether he believed it or not: “That troublesome?”

Mentioning this topic, Qiao Xin’s face immediately contorted: “Bu Zhong Sui is too difficult to deal with. President Ji’s special assistant is meticulous and demanding. The contract has been revised three times and new disagreements keep emerging.”

Su Zan had been busy recently handling Xiang Qianqian’s negative publicity, either in the PR department or out on field work. When at the company, he feared being caught by Shen Qianzhan for retaliation, let alone joining the excitement—he avoided her path entirely, naturally knowing nothing about Qiandeng’s cooperation with Bu Zhong Sui.

Now seeing Shen Qianzhan absent, he simply pulled up a chair beside Qiao Xin, eating her snacks while asking: “How did Sister Zhan negotiate with Bu Zhong Sui? Looking at her daily residence in legal affairs, it’s like she’s afraid the other party will regret it after realizing she got a good deal.”

“You could say that.” Qiao Xin recalled the conversation between Shen Qianzhan and Ji Qinghe that afternoon, selecting what she could share to educate Su Zan: “Sister Zhan’s estimated project funding is 300 million. President Ji agreed without even asking questions.”

Usually when Shen Qianzhan went to discuss investments, even the most familiar and trusted investors would thoroughly interrogate about how long the invested funds would take to produce results, when returns were expected, and project revenue risk assessments—practically wanting to press the producer’s head and force her to write a guarantee.

She’d never seen anyone like Ji Qinghe, who simply accepted everything after basic understanding.

Su Zan wasn’t surprised: “Rich people don’t care about such small money. 300 million for Sister Zhan to play with doesn’t matter to them.”

Hearing 300 million called “such small money,” Qiao Xin’s face contorted beyond expression management: “Boss Su, please don’t say that. I’m afraid I’ll start resenting the rich and take it out on you too.”

Su Zan twitched his lips without smiling: “I count as rich? I’m about to beg on the bridge.”

Qiao Xin added quietly: “You’re the kind of rich who’s squandered everything. I’ve never seen a man who throws money away better than you.”

Su Zan hissed, about to argue that Ji Qinghe’s 300 million wasn’t throwing money away either. But reaching his lips, he felt it wasn’t rigorous enough. With his Sister Zhan’s capabilities, that 300 million probably really wouldn’t be wasted…

Though he lacked business acumen, long-term exposure had left him not so naive.

Ji Qinghe’s investment was most likely aimed at boosting Bu Zhong Sui watches’ reputation and status—essentially buying advertising space.

If the 300 million investment could thoroughly develop Bu Zhong Sui watches’ domestic market, making it the most recognized luxury brand, Bu Zhong Sui would clearly profit from any angle.

Thinking this way, Su Zan vaguely sensed Ji Qinghe’s precise calculations beneath his refined surface. He suddenly felt somewhat sympathetic toward Shen Qianzhan.

If President Ji really had his eye on his Sister Zhan, with all these schemes and machinations emerging endlessly, who knew when Shen Qianzhan might be calculated right under Ji Qinghe’s suit pants.

He threw the beef jerky into his mouth and patted Qiao Xin’s shoulder encouragingly as he stood: “Work hard. When you do well, wait for President Ji to give you a red envelope.”

Qiao Xin slowly typed a question mark: “Why would President Ji give me a red envelope?”

Su Zan smiled mysteriously and profoundly, walking straight into Shen Qianzhan’s office with his Christmas gift box.

Shen Qianzhan received Su Zan’s WeChat message just after happily cracking her small whip.

Confirming the final contract version could be sent to Bu Zhong Sui that afternoon, she finally moved her precious posterior and left the legal department.

—

Beijing winters brought warm, dry sunshine.

On good weather days, one could see wind dispersing smoke and dust for miles, leaving the sky azure blue and clear.

When Shen Qianzhan passed through the corridor returning to her office, she was greeted by exactly this path of afternoon sunlight.

The building blocked winter winds outside windows. When she looked into the distance, she could see crowds at the nearby mall entrance. The giant screen showed New Year countdown video previews. The brilliant sunlight made her squint slightly, as if suddenly discovering another new year approaching.

She stopped, about to send Ji Qinghe a WeChat message.

Her phone vibrated lightly, receiving Meng Wanzhou’s message first, as if he’d discovered a new world: “I’ve been released?”

Before Shen Qianzhan could reply, another WeChat message quickly followed.

Meng Wanzhou asked: “Producer Shen, are you free on the evening of the 31st?”

Shen Qianzhan thought it over and replied: “Free.”

That would be during New Year’s holiday—aside from entertainment events, basically no serious business.

Meng Wanzhou invited her: “Our association organized a singles mixer for men and women.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…” Damn? Are you trying to get me killed by Ji Qinghe?