Shen Qianzhan’s original intention was to express that her understanding of Xi’an wasn’t deep. Though she had feelings for it, compared to Ji Qinghe whose ancestral home was Xi’an, she was merely a passing traveler through this city, able to offer only morning dew-like appreciation that bloomed toward the sun.

Under normal circumstances.

Shen Qianzhan’s level of word choice and sentence construction among the usual “let’s drink one, all feelings are in the wine” and “I’ll drink first as respect – however strong the wine, my sincerity is that genuine” was practically at grandmaster level in the language arts department.

When she wanted beautiful imagery, she could deliver a string of metaphors without repeating words, praising from spring, summer, autumn and winter through seas drying and stones crumbling. When she wanted profound implications and sophisticated context, she could immediately recite the classic anthology of five thousand years of Chinese poetry backwards. Even when wanting simple daily elegance with luxurious context, she could praise from Chanel to Louis Vuitton.

Her knowledge reserves and cultural appreciation standards could meet the different needs of all industries and age groups – truly a Chinese literary database harvesting machine.

Compared to “tourist affection” or “passerby sentiment,” the precise use of “fleeting passion” was absolutely natural, each word hitting the mark perfectly.

But the problem also lay in that mark…

She was too carried away with her cleverness, completely ignoring that the person who’d shared fleeting passion with her was sitting on the other side of the dining table.

Fortunately, Shen Qianzhan’s on-the-spot adaptability and psychological endurance were solid as rock, steady as Mount Tai.

After a brief loss of emotional control, she most naturally tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and raised her wine glass in a distant toast to Ji Qinghe: “Compared to President Ji, my understanding of Xi’an is indeed too shallow. Even if I gave my all, I’d be nothing more than the most inconspicuous drop of morning dew in the history of this sixteen-dynasty ancient capital.”

Ji Qinghe looked at her for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

He raised his hand to loosen his tie, leaned back in his seat, and changed to a more casual posture: “Today we won’t discuss Xi’an’s thirteen dynasties of history.”

“Let’s just talk about Producer Shen’s fleeting passion.”

Shen Qianzhan: “…”

So he hadn’t heard a single word of her forceful attempt to regain dignity just now, and insisted on being petty?

The bastard was truly small-minded.

“Speaking of which, I really did scout Xi’an. In the original proposal, the protagonist was born in the 1980s, right in the era of rapid development, caught in the transition between old and new times. Unfortunately, Xi’an lacks particularly suitable filming locations and doesn’t have economically viable studio districts. Building our own sets would easily exceed budget.” Shen Qianzhan pretended to casually change the topic, with regret in her voice: “Now the project’s creative team is leaning toward filming in Beijing and is modifying the character’s background.”

Unfortunately, though it was a good move, Ji Qinghe wasn’t buying it: “Producer Shen says there are no suitable filming locations?”

He didn’t take his wine glass, his gaze falling on a glass filled only with clear water beside him. His fingertips tapped on the table surface, as if considering whether to make do with a sip of the now-cold water.

Shen Qianzhan’s temple twitched slightly, vaguely sensing a headache coming on.

Knowing that Ji Qinghe was publicly digging a trap for her, yet unable to think of a perfect solution for the moment, she could only bite the bullet and hum in acknowledgment, waiting for his follow-up.

Ji Qinghe finally picked up the glass and took a sip of clear water, asking her unhurriedly: “Qinghe Third Lane isn’t suitable either, hmm?”

“A semi-open ancient garden district, private environment, verifiable history. Xi’an’s most famous internet celebrity scenic spot, a holy land for romantic encounters.” His speech was very slow, as if afraid Shen Qianzhan couldn’t hear clearly, each word pronounced with particular clarity: “Producer Shen surely hasn’t been there, right?”

Shen Qianzhan’s smile instantly vanished.

Memories related to Qinghe Third Lane almost immediately leaped onto paper.

For a moment, she particularly wanted to return to that bed and kick this bastard off it to let him experience what “June spring breeze like scissors” meant – specifically cutting down towering pillars.

It was already just performative professional fake smiling to see who was most dedicated. When she was happy, her smile still held some sincerity; when unhappy, she was too lazy even to pretend and directly pulled a long face.

“Been there.” She set down her wine glass, her voice cool: “Since President Ji seems quite interested in our project, why don’t you give me a work email or contact information after we wrap up tonight? I’ll send you a copy of the proposal.”

Her obvious mood change caught everyone who had been smilingly listening to their “pleasant conversation” off guard.

Su Zan was even more bewildered – where was his Sister Zhan who was smooth in all directions and could handle any situation? Who was this woman who wanted to stab President Ji?

Did she still want the investment? Did she still want the project? Did she still want the bonus?

He laughed dryly while quietly tugging at Shen Qianzhan, asking through gritted teeth: “Sister Zhan, do you want to go to the restroom to calm down?”

Shen Qianzhan felt she was quite calm.

From the moment Ji Qinghe appeared, she had secretly calculated that this cooperation would likely fall through.

In her years in the industry, except for nurturing her own artists to exchange for cooperation resources, she had never mixed personal feelings into any project. She only hoped Ji Qinghe would be aloof and disdainful enough not to acknowledge her, so that after tonight’s gathering ended, bridges would be bridges and roads would be roads, as if they’d never met.

How much sincerity could there be in a one-night stand?

If she hadn’t been greedy for beauty and bewitched, she wouldn’t have fallen into such a huge trap.

In this industry, maintaining a clean reputation was far too difficult.

The reputation Shen Qianzhan had conscientiously built over years – she didn’t want it ruined overnight because of tabloid news with an investor.

So the best approach was – no cooperation, no crossing boundaries, no repeating mistakes.

A peaceful evening.

Seeing the dinner approaching its end, Shen Qianzhan excused herself to the restroom and conveniently settled the bill.

When she returned, she unsurprisingly saw Ai Yi waiting for her by the washstand, touching up her lipstick.

Ai Yi: “Such a temper tonight?”

Shen Qianzhan turned on the faucet and carelessly rinsed the back of her hands without responding.

Ai Yi glanced at her through the mirror, capped her lipstick, and put it back in her purse: “You can’t possibly fail to see that Jiang Yecheng intends to establish cooperation with President Ji, right?”

“Isn’t securing investment my job? What’s President Jiang worrying about?” Shen Qianzhan turned to pull tissues and dry her hands, nonchalantly arranging the stray hairs at her forehead strand by strand.

Ai Yi chuckled and shook her head: “Qianzhan, Bai Xuan signed the contract with Qiandeng. As Party A, he has the right to make Qiandeng change producers.”

“Besides, I heard that to secure this tribute drama, you accepted Bai Xuan’s unreasonable terms.” She leaned against the wall, her smile neither salty nor bland. Though appearing otherworldly, she was operating with a drug dealer’s heart: “I won’t elaborate on this drama’s importance to the platform. Let me give you a heads up – if you offend people and get replaced, I can’t make breach-of-contract decisions for your sake.”

Shen Qianzhan arranged the last strand of hair properly. Looking at her glamorous, stunning self in the mirror, her mood finally improved considerably.

Su Zan had always thought she liked Jichun Erwan because of the hotel’s face-recognition credit service. Actually, that was only one reason. There was another reason she couldn’t directly voice – look at this mirror, like it had built-in beauty filters, so lovable.

She nodded and tucked in her chin, lowering her gaze. Seeing how her palm-sized face became even smaller from this angle, she was finally satisfied: “Not bad.”

This light comment from Shen Qianzhan was completely without a landing point. Ai Yi couldn’t tell for a moment whether her “not bad” referred to herself or was responding to her words.

“No need for you to breach contract,” Shen Qianzhan smiled superficially without even bothering to be evasive: “There’s no true feeling in the profit arena. Our plastic relationship can only be win-win; it can’t withstand tests.”

She turned to leave, but after opening the door halfway, remembering something, she turned back and added: “Don’t worry about changing producers. If I don’t step down, let’s see who dares to replace me.”

That said, when she returned to the private room, Shen Qianzhan still corrected her attitude and showed the enthusiasm due to Party A daddy, staying until the gathering ended.

Tonight’s poor atmosphere directly resulted in no one drinking much.

When dispersing, the atmosphere was quite cold and rational.

Though objective conditions weren’t conducive to performance, Shen Qianzhan was still good at seizing opportunities to demonstrate her excellent qualities as a caring little padded jacket.

She had Su Zan first call a driver for Jiang Yecheng to wait at the hotel entrance, preventing President Jiang from catching cold in the wind after drinking.

This thoughtfulness considerably eased Jiang Yecheng’s grim expression from the entire evening. He took the opportunity to express his eagerness to cooperate with Bu Zhong Sui, instructing her to contact Ji Qinghe more offline.

Shen Qianzhan agreed wholeheartedly, then turned to arrange things for Ai Yi.

Ai Yi’s company was nearby, and she’d driven herself. Shen Qianzhan called a designated driver for her.

After arranging everything for everyone, she seemed to finally remember she’d neglected Ji Qinghe. With apology on her face but little sincerity in her tone, she asked: “Does President Ji have a hotel to stay at in Beijing?”

Ji Qinghe had observed Shen Qianzhan’s deliberate neglect from beginning to end. Hearing this, he made eye contact with her and answered: “I recently settled in Beijing.” After speaking, his fingertips lightly tapped the table surface once.

His fingers were long and powerful with sharp, clear lines. For a seasoned hand enthusiast, they were perfect like a flawless work of art, naturally suited for admiration.

Shen Qianzhan looked once, then again. That suffocating feeling of being grabbed by the neck returned.

As if he wasn’t tapping the table to relieve boredom, but had ulterior motives in keeping score with her.

Shen Qianzhan tried to maintain composure: “Should I call a driver for you then?”

Ji Qinghe looked up with an expression that wasn’t quite satisfied.

Shen Qianzhan asked again: “Should I have Su Zan drive you?”

Ji Qinghe still didn’t respond, his face clearly expressing: Su Zan – who’s that?

Shen Qianzhan really wanted to pretend she didn’t understand, but her intelligence wouldn’t allow it.

She hesitated, the words “If you’re not in a hurry, I could drive you later” stuck on her lips, unable to come out.

Ji Qinghe had no intention of making Shen Qianzhan lose face in front of business partners. He maintained his grace and said meaningfully: “No rush, I need to sober up.”

Jiang Yecheng and Ai Yi, who had just shifted to leave, exchanged glances, each seeing the same question in the other’s eyes: Had he been drinking tonight?