Shen Qianzhan shot him a reproachful glance.

This glance carried slightly lowered eye-tails and shimmering water-like light. It looked like a warning, but appeared more like “you really dare to say that”?

Su Zan originally didn’t think anything of it. The people he usually encountered—those who made crude jokes, told dirty stories, and groped girls right in front of him—what kind hadn’t he seen?

Even when Shen Qianzhan unleashed like a flood from the Yellow River, rendering those investors who loved taking advantage speechless, almost wanting to hand over men to her on the spot—he’d witnessed such legendary scenes too.

Yet this particular glance gave him an awkward sense of voyeurism, making him blush with pure innocence from neck to ear tips.

He nervously shrank into the corner, trying to merge into the wall to minimize his presence.

Through a door, the sizzling sounds of oil spattering mixed with fragrant fish aromas drifted from the kitchen.

Old Shen pushed open the sliding door, poking his head out to remind: “Go wash your hands, dinner’s ready.”

Su Zan felt reprieved, rushing to the kitchen in a few steps: “Uncle, let me help you.”

Shen Qianzhan poured out the tea dregs, supporting herself with her palm as she rose from the soft cushion, gesturing for Ji Qinghe to go first. She stayed behind, scalding all the cups in boiling water and arranging them neatly.

The kitchen sliding door opened, releasing hot steam as Old Shen came out carrying dishes. Seeing her dawdling, he urged: “Hurry up, wash your hands and help.”

Shen Qianzhan agreed, releasing the teacup and going to set the table.

Old Shen’s cooking had no particular sophistication—it all depended on ingredients.

One bag of flour yielded a steamer of dumplings and also shaped glutinous rice balls for fermented rice wine.

Mother Shen was even more skillful, managing a table of hearty dishes while still having leisure to make papaya stewed with snow clam.

Smelling that nourishing sweet dessert, Shen Qianzhan finally felt the authentic sensation that celestial palaces couldn’t compare to earthly fireworks.

She served Ji Qinghe a small bowl, placing it beside his hand: “Although this is after-dinner dessert, I’ll allow you to taste it first.”

Ji Qinghe glanced at her without refusing.

His features were cool and clear. When he spoke little, he appeared somewhat distant and aloof, difficult to approach.

Su Zan had been intimidated by him from the start. In occasions with Ji Qinghe present, even his socializing became proper and respectful, lowering his eyes submissively. From the moment they sat at the table, when Ji Qinghe didn’t move, he didn’t move either, not even making the slightest sound moving his bowls and chopsticks.

Even someone as naturally familiar as Su Zan was restrained and cautious, showing just how stiff the dinner table atmosphere was.

Ji Qinghe clearly realized the atmosphere was somewhat cold and hard. He didn’t disappoint Shen Qianzhan’s attempt to smooth things over. After tasting a spoonful of snow clam, he naturally picked up the conversation: “Has Aunt specially learned Cantonese cuisine? The sweetness and fragrance are maintained very well, even slightly better than Guangzhou Restaurant.”

“I didn’t specially learn it.” Mother Shen smiled: “I learned it after watching Qianzhan’s little aunt make it a few times. Qianzhan is picky about food, but with this dessert, she eats however much I make.”

Ji Qinghe glanced slightly, saying: “It’s indeed very good. If it weren’t for fear of being presumptuous, I’d want to have my family’s chef come learn from Aunt.”

Mother Shen was charmed into beaming: “What’s presumptuous about it? As long as you like it.”

Shen Qianzhan had never cared about the story behind snow clam before, purely worried that this shameless dog of a man Ji Qinghe would actually send his chef to visit repeatedly. She hurriedly changed the topic: “My little aunt? Which little aunt?”

“Don’t remember Liangliang little aunt?” Mother Shen didn’t notice at all, following her words: “She grew up with mom. She was even the one who accompanied me during your birth. Later she married and went to Guangzhou with her husband’s family, only returning a few years ago. I originally wanted you to acknowledge her as your godmother, but your grandmother said godmothers couldn’t be acknowledged casually, so it was dropped. When you were small, you looked forward to her return every New Year, but when you grew up, you forgot everything.”

Having stepped into a minefield while trying to change topics, Shen Qianzhan silently sipped her papaya stewed with snow clam without making a sound.

But Mother Shen was relentless: “I was thinking if you came home this year, I’d take you to visit little aunt’s house. Her daughter just had a baby at the beginning of the year. You two are close friends, so you should go see.”

The scolded Shen Qianzhan angrily kicked Ji Qinghe’s foot.

She originally meant to vent her displaced anger, but he interpreted her action as a request for support. After a brief reaction, he joined the conversation: “Aunt must have come to Beijing for Qianzhan’s grandfather? How long do you plan to stay?”

Mother Shen’s tone softened slightly, speaking gently to Ji Qinghe: “Until after the Lantern Festival. Qianzhan is the only girl in our family, so I want to spend more time with her this trip. I heard from Little Su that you two have a project collaboration?”

Ji Qinghe nodded slightly: “My profession happens to align with Qianzhan’s new project.”

Mother Shen, keenly catching the “Qianzhan” address, perked up mentally, her expression becoming even more amiable: “Looking so young yet already accomplished in your career.”

Alarm bells immediately rang in Shen Qianzhan’s heart. To prevent Mother Shen from asking topics like “how old are you,” “are you married,” “do you have a girlfriend,” or “how is our Qianzhan,” she quickly served dumplings to everyone’s bowls: “Eat while chatting, they won’t taste good when cold.”

Mother Shen wasn’t someone who chatted inappropriately. Originally, if Shen Qianzhan hadn’t interrupted, she wouldn’t have used her elder status to ask such rude questions. Seeing her daughter’s guilty conscience now, a scale immediately appeared in her heart.

She looked deeply at the composed and reserved Ji Qinghe, smiling as she urged the young people to eat more.

After three rounds of wine and five courses, Su Zan found his unrestrained feeling again and stopped being tense, holding a wine bottle and drinking with Old Shen: “I didn’t like eating fish as a child. Our housekeeper had to pick out all the bones before I’d eat. When I grew up and became sensible, I couldn’t have others serve me like that anymore, so I stopped eating fish.”

He hiccupped and said: “There were only two times in my life when I thought fish really tasted good. Once was in Miyun, when Sister Zhan and I just joined a production team for a project. On wrap day, Sister Zhan took the whole crew to eat fish. A big iron pot stewed a fish even larger than today’s. The fish meat was so tender it melted with just a press of the mouth—I even cried from eating it.”

Old Shen was getting a bit tipsy, forgetting that Ji Qinghe didn’t drink, and turned to ask if he wanted some.

Shen Qianzhan intercepted, focusing intently on scooping her small papaya while blocking alcohol for Ji Qinghe: “I said he can’t drink. Go boast with Su Zan.”

Old Shen obligingly added another half measure to Su Zan’s glass: “The fish you ate wasn’t just fish—it was blood, sweat, and dreams.”

Su Zan sobbed: “Exactly! I never knew the money I spent was so hard to earn. I went home and cried holding my mom all night, promising never to spend recklessly again. If I spend recklessly again, I’ll be a bachelor for life.”

Shen Qianzhan explained from the side: “Su Zan’s promises have never been very credible. Don’t look at all the pretty girls around him—he hasn’t had one reliable relationship.”

She ate a bit too much tonight. After forcing down the last bite of snow clam, she touched her belly and sighed deeply—damn it, what happened to eating only until seventy percent full?

But Ji Qinghe’s focus wasn’t on this: “Is working with the crew very hard?”

Shen Qianzhan squinted, answering: “It’s okay? I’m used to it. For film and television projects, the main workload is half in pre-production preparation and half in post-production filming. Working on projects is like crafting art—who doesn’t suffer?”

“Screenwriters constantly revising scripts, suffering; actors memorizing lines and filming under scorching sun, suffering; production assistants setting scenes and laying tracks, also suffering. But these are all part of the job.” Shen Qianzhan clinked her teacup casually with his: “But don’t worry, President Ji. The contract is crystal clear—I’ll do my best to make you feel at home on set.”

Ji Qinghe chuckled: “I was asking about you.”

Shen Qianzhan paused, and after understanding, said “oh” and answered perfunctorily: “My most difficult work content should be serving you financial daddies?”

Ji Qinghe didn’t know if he understood or not, responding ambiguously: “Serving me is indeed quite hard.”

Su Zan, who was discussing where the second fish tasted best, accidentally overheard and interjected: “President Ji, you’re definitely easy to work with. My Sister Zhan once encountered investors who forced our creative team to listen to their stories and insisted we change the male lead to match them. You don’t know—that weirdo even forced the screenwriter to take out their computer and revise on the spot that night. If we’d really changed it, could it still be filmed?”

His mouth kept moving without delaying his drinking with Old Shen: “Sister Zhan went up and closed the screenwriter’s computer, telling me to take the person away first. After I got the screenwriter in the car and came back, Sister Zhan had already resolved the situation.”

Shen Qianzhan smiled without explaining, but added an ending: “Later the investment fell through, and I received angry calls every day for a month.” This industry had all kinds of people—nothing was too bizarre to be real.

She pressed down Old Shen’s wine bottle, frowning: “Dad, Su Zan has had too much. Don’t drink with him anymore. If you crash here later, you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

Old Shen tried to regain control of the wine bottle: “He’s not drunk yet.”

Shen Qianzhan wouldn’t let him.

In the standoff, Su Zan hiccupped again and asked Old Shen: “Old Shen, you drink so much—your future son-in-law won’t be able to handle it.” His eyes were bleary as he looked toward Ji Qinghe: “Like my President Ji—doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol.”

Old Shen laughed: “Little Ji isn’t going to be my son-in-law, so not drinking doesn’t matter.”

Su Zan gave a strange laugh, cupping his face with both hands, slurring: “You’d have to ask my President Ji about that—you don’t get to decide.”

Shen Qianzhan grew more alarmed, fearing Su Zan would spill everything in his drunken state. Without negotiation, she forcibly evicted him: “It’s getting late. I’ll send Su Zan home first.”

“No way.” Su Zan resisted: “I promised Uncle we’d stay up together for New Year’s Eve.”

Shen Qianzhan laughed coldly: “You say no and it’s no? Get up, we’re going home.”

Seeing that being unreasonable didn’t work, Su Zan immediately switched tactics to playing pitiful: “I’m stuck to the chair.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…”

Hearing the commotion, Mother Shen came out from the kitchen: “Let me tidy up the guest room. Little Su can stay the night?”

Before Shen Qianzhan could object, Ji Qinghe squinted and said: “Qianzhan is a light sleeper. Su Zan’s drinking behavior is poor—if he makes noise in the second half of the night, she probably won’t sleep well. I’ll take him with me.”

Mother Shen agreed this made sense. She made hangover soup and had Shen Qianzhan put it in a thermos for Su Zan to take.

When seeing them to the door, Su Zan looked at her listlessly, pitifully saying: “Aunt, I’m no longer your beloved Little Su Su.”

Mother Shen couldn’t help laughing: “What’s wrong with this child when he’s drunk?”

Shen Qianzhan put on her coat and took her car keys. Seeing Ji Qinghe steadily supporting Su Zan, she went to press the elevator button: “Mom, go back inside. I’ll come back after dropping off Su Zan.”

Mother Shen agreed, instructing all three to be careful on the road. After watching them enter the elevator, she closed the door. Turning back, Old Shen stood under the entrance light, looking thoughtful: “How does Little Ji know Dengdeng is a light sleeper?”

After throwing Su Zan in the back seat, Shen Qianzhan was about to go around to the driver’s seat when Ji Qinghe opened the passenger door, indicating she should get in first: “Give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

Shen Qianzhan matter-of-factly tossed him the car keys and got in the passenger seat.

On New Year’s Eve night, Beijing’s streets had dramatically fewer vehicles, unlike any other time.

She propped herself against the window watching the night scenery for a while, then suddenly remembered an issue that couldn’t be ignored: “Are you really taking Su Zan to your place?”

Ji Qinghe focused on driving, not even sparing her a glance: “Otherwise what, leave him at your house?”

Shen Qianzhan was at a loss for words.

She turned to look at Su Zan, who was resting with closed eyes and gradually snoring: “I’m afraid you can’t take care of him.”

Ji Qinghe didn’t immediately respond. He turned his head, glancing at her casually: “Didn’t I take quite good care of you and me?”

Shen Qianzhan looked puzzled: “When did I ever trouble you to take care of me?” After speaking, she realized he was referring to that night in Xi’an, and couldn’t help raising her eyebrows: “Princess carry, mandarin duck bath? Your taste is quite heavy.”

“There was Meng Wanzhou.” Ji Qinghe’s grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as he adjusted the air conditioning vent: “Do you usually drive with the vent blowing directly at you?”

Shen Qianzhan: “Is there a problem?”

Ji Qinghe didn’t mind her rather aggressive tone, saying: “That night the air conditioning was blowing on your back, and you hummed delicately for quite a while.”

Shen Qianzhan fell silent.

She turned to look at the buildings racing backward outside the window. In the distance, an office building had perimeter landscape lights forming a giant screen, displaying some corporation’s New Year greetings to Beijing citizens.

This city’s lights remained undiminished, still brilliant.

“I don’t know how many years it’s been.” She sighed: “From having a stable job to complete failure, then from having nothing to where I am now. I forgot how long it took to pay off debts. The first year after clearing debts, I bought a car. For a parking space, I moved twice. In the year Beijing housing prices soared, I bought an apartment. I haven’t properly celebrated New Year for a very, very long time.”

Ji Qinghe had never comforted anyone. Hearing her tone, it seemed like she was moved by the scene, so he didn’t respond.

“When I first came to Beijing, I didn’t encounter the predicament of renting basements or having only one meal a day. When I could afford to live alone in a studio apartment, I never imagined I’d later be destitute with nowhere to turn. When I thought I couldn’t get through it, things took an unexpected turn and led to now. Last year I couldn’t foresee meeting you, and I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year.” Shen Qianzhan pulled her sleeve to wipe the car window. She vaguely saw something flash by, but before she could focus, it vanished without a trace.

Outside the car window, the night was deep and thick. Ji Qinghe slowed down.

Those white foam-like shadows flashing past the window finally became clear. Under the streetlights, large snowflakes came in dense succession, thick and continuous.

Ji Qinghe stopped at a red light.

The street was empty, with only one car parked far away in the left turn lane.

Car lights flickered. Against the background of heavy snow outside the window, he turned to look at her, his eyes dark as this night: “You can make a wish to me. It’s valid every year on this day.”