The elevator arrived.

Ji Qinghe was the first to step out of the elevator.

There was a sliding glass door at the entrance between the parking garage and the elevator. The moment Ming Jue pushed the door open, the chaotic airflow from inside the parking garage mixed with the sound of tires scraping against the ground rushed in all at once.

He held the glass door open, turning slightly to the side to let Ji Qinghe go first.

With this glance up, Ming Jue finally understood what riddle Ji Qinghe had been playing with him earlier.

Shen Qianzhan was dressed in a light beige professional outfit, her stiletto heels planted firmly—one foot on the license plate, the other braced against the bumper—as she sat squarely on the hood of the car. That posture of hers was like someone coming to collect insurance payments, exuding an aura of “settling accounts” from head to toe.

Ming Jue could see these two had something to discuss. Without even bothering to make an excuse, he turned around and went back to the elevator to wait on the first floor.

The parking garage was well-ventilated from all directions, with cold air circulating everywhere.

Ji Qinghe looked her up and down, his gaze lingering for a few seconds when it fell on her exposed ankle: “Aren’t you cold?”

Cold!

Shen Qianzhan curled her ankles inward, forcing herself to maintain her imposing presence: “I was waiting for you.”

A faint smile played at the corners of Ji Qinghe’s lips: “I know.” He extended his hand, gesturing for her to come down so they could talk.

Shen Qianzhan had seized the high ground precisely to suppress Ji Qinghe’s height advantage. At this moment, she simply ignored his offered hand of friendship, looking down at him from her elevated position: “There’s something I want to confirm with President Ji.”

The moment Ji Qinghe entered and saw Qiao Xin, he knew he couldn’t hide his visit to Qiandeng from Shen Qianzhan. Meeting her in the parking garage wasn’t surprising either, and he was crystal clear about what she wanted to confirm.

His gaze dropped to her exposed ankle, and he naturally withdrew his hand to lightly touch her ankle.

He performed this action decisively, as if only to check whether she was cold, barely grasping it before quickly letting go: “There’s a medical saying that feet are a person’s second heart.” His gaze lowered slightly as he indicated: “The ankle is an important gateway for blood circulation in the feet.”

After saying this, he didn’t leave room for discussion—one hand supporting her lower back, the other passing through the bend of her legs, lifting her down from the hood: “You’re the one who’s afraid of the cold, and you’re also the one who wants to maintain appearances.”

Ji Qinghe unlocked the car door, his attitude domineering: “Get in and talk.”

Shen Qianzhan opened her mouth to argue: “When have I ever been afraid of the cold?” Last year, Qiandeng invested in filming a road suspense movie, dealing with both the Northwest plateau and snowy mountain peaks. To capture the scenery, the film crew lived on the snowy mountains for nearly half a month. Even Su Zan couldn’t hold up, but she wore the same set of outdoor windproof down jacket for half a month, bouncing around energetically as if she hadn’t come to suffer but to go on a wilderness adventure.

When Ji Qinghe disagreed with her, he never hesitated to show his disdain: “Not afraid of the cold?”

His tone was too forceful, completely lacking any sense of negotiation.

Shen Qianzhan had originally come with the mindset of settling accounts, but from the moment he stood before her, she—who had come to collect protection money—found herself retreating step by step, gradually falling into the position of having protection money collected from her.

She suppressed her inner irritation and said in a low voice: “I just need to confirm one thing, no need to make such a fuss.”

Ji Qinghe blocked her path, studying her intently for several moments before picking up the conversation: “Xiang Qianqian?”

His frankness left Shen Qianzhan momentarily uncertain whether she should continue asking. She tucked her long hair behind her ear, carefully choosing her words: “Did President Ji help her at President Jiang’s request or because of me?”

Shen Qianzhan was obviously a smart person.

She was skilled at logical thinking, able to eliminate shallow answers from the start.

Sometimes Ji Qinghe wasn’t sure whether this rationality of hers was good or bad, but for him, it certainly wasn’t friendly enough.

He didn’t answer directly: “What answer do you expect to get from me?”

Ji Qinghe’s features were stern and cold, his oppressive presence invisibly trapping her within the space of their shared breath: “If you’re not prepared to handle the consequences, don’t ask so many questions, hmm?”

The implication of this statement was obvious—it was related to her.

Shen Qianzhan immediately thought of those scandalous press releases that Bu Zhong Sui’s PR department had suppressed back then, and she bit her lip.

Qiandeng’s PR department had prepared for battle, but the period before New Year passed peacefully without stirring up the slightest ripple.

The New Year had passed too comfortably; she had almost forgotten about this matter.

Shen Qianzhan looked up, and after maintaining eye contact with him for three seconds, she conceded: “I owe you.” She didn’t want to say more and turned to leave. After taking only two steps, she remembered something: “President Ji’s family has such vast wealth and influence—surely you wouldn’t even covet my family’s thermal container?”

Ji Qinghe’s focus was clearly different from hers: “Auntie still wants to cook for me?”

The corner of Shen Qianzhan’s mouth twitched. This time she truly left without any lingering attachment, turning on her heel and walking away.

Once she entered the elevator area, the company’s warm air hit her face.

Shen Qianzhan straightened her spine, like a proud little peacock with her chin slightly raised, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

It wasn’t until she stepped into the elevator and could no longer feel Ji Qinghe’s gaze that she suddenly crouched down, rubbing her ankles that had turned red from the cold.

Freezing to death!

When it came to her appearance, Shen Qianzhan’s standards for herself were simply harsh. Whenever she went out and might encounter people, she had to be armed from head to toe. Even when she didn’t want to do her makeup, she would still apply some Armani tinted moisturizer to brighten her complexion.

As for clothing, forget about thermal underwear—she even found woolen skirts too bulky in winter. Apart from two down jackets that permanently occupied the bottom of her closet, her wardrobe was filled with elegant, stylish long coats, not to mention different occasions requiring different dress codes.

Her strict self-discipline and constant pursuit of perfect refinement were often used as positive examples by many agents in their training classes, making her a model of image management. Consequently, when Shen Qianzhan occasionally appeared on the same stage or encountered certain artists, they would always treat her with reverence.

Being cold was simply the price paid for maintaining grace—not worth mentioning.

Not long after, as Ai Yi had previously mentioned, Qiandeng peacefully terminated its contract with Xiang Qianqian.

Less than an hour after the company’s statement was made public, Jian Xin Productions’ period political drama eagerly announced Xiang Qianqian’s costume fitting photos.

This maneuver, Shen Qianzhan could understand.

Xiang Qianqian’s fans were currently feeling sorry for all the grievances she had suffered at Qiandeng. Although they weren’t grateful for Qiandeng’s generous peaceful contract termination, they promptly ceased hostilities to show their stance. At this moment, it was precisely the peak period for fans’ passionate declarations of “I want to accompany my sister on her journey until the world ends and seas run dry.” Jian Xin had seized upon this fan psychology and made an extremely strong show of presence.

Su Zan placed the buzz surrounding that yet-to-air but already popular period political drama “Phoenix’s Return to Court” in front of Shen Qianzhan, saying with dissatisfaction: “Although I’m quite pleased that Xiang Qianqian can get good resources after leaving Qiandeng, why does it make me so angry?”

“That’s normal.” Shen Qianzhan squinted while filing her nails: “Even someone as magnanimous as me gets angry, let alone someone like you whose cultivation hasn’t reached that level yet.”

Su Zan had Su Lanyi above him, making him well-informed. Hearing this, he leaned in like a fly drawn to smell: “Your anger shouldn’t just be about Jian Xin, right?”

Shen Qianzhan glanced at him sideways, not taking the bait: “What rumors have you heard now? Tell me.”

“I just know that Xiang Qianqian’s peaceful contract termination with Qiandeng was entirely thanks to President Ji. When I asked my sister, she said I’m just a kid and shouldn’t get involved, didn’t reveal a single word.” Su Zan couldn’t keep things to himself—once he started talking, he spilled everything: “A couple days ago, my sister had dinner with President Ji and the others. Xiang Qianqian was there too, and it disgusted my sister so much she left halfway through the meal.”

Shen Qianzhan pressed the small file too hard, grinding down half her nail.

She stared at it for a while, finding it more and more unsightly, and simply used nail clippers to cut off the damaged nail in one clean snip.

Only after finishing did Shen Qianzhan’s rationality return.

She looked at the one stubbed nail that had broken formation and felt like crying.

How ridiculous—what business was it of hers who Ji Qinghe had dinner with? Why was she getting worked up over nothing?

That said, when Shen Qianzhan finished her nails and headed home that evening, seeing Ji Qinghe in the parking garage made her little heart tremble with honest emotion.

She felt somewhat surprised, along with some other emotion she couldn’t quite name fermenting within her.

In the few steps Shen Qianzhan took to reach him after parking her car, she went through all possible reasons for his visit. But all her speculation crumbled to dust the moment she saw Ji Qinghe lift a thermal container from his car.

Her facial expression cracked slightly, her tone failing to conceal her surprise: “You came to return the thermal container?”

Ji Qinghe pulled his hand from his suit trouser pocket and lightly adjusted his glasses: “Very unexpected?”

A bit.

But she certainly couldn’t say that directly. Shen Qianzhan slightly embellished: “I was just joking that day, and for you to personally deliver it back…” She stopped at just the right point, showing an appropriately awkward smile. She was completely unlike the person who had questioned whether Ji Qinghe’s vast family wealth meant he would even covet a thermal container.

But the moment Shen Qianzhan took hold of the thermal container, its substantial weight made her cast a suspicious glance at him: “There’s something inside?”

“Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.” Ji Qinghe lifted his wrist to check the time, seeming to question her work hours: “Did you work overtime today?”

Shen Qianzhan was too embarrassed to say she had gone to a nail salon after work to fix her nails, her voice slightly flat: “No, I just came back late.”

Ji Qinghe had no reason to monitor her schedule. He nodded slightly: “Please convey my gratitude to Auntie.”

His politeness made Shen Qianzhan somewhat uncomfortable. She probed: “Have you eaten? Would you like to come up to my place and eat together?”

Ji Qinghe hesitated for a moment.

His hesitation was timed perfectly, like the string of a marionette, suspending Shen Qianzhan’s heart in mid-air with anxious uncertainty—neither letting her relax nor allowing her peace of mind.

Just as her patience was wearing thin and she was about to change her mind, he declined unhurriedly: “I’d better not disturb you today.”

Shen Qianzhan let out a breath, unsure whether the stone that had been hanging by a thread had settled or was still lodged in her chest. She nodded, waiting for him to take the initiative to say goodbye.

After a brief pause, Ji Qinghe mentioned seemingly casually: “I heard from Dr. Fei that the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Yes.” The thermal container was somewhat heavy to carry with one hand, so Shen Qianzhan used her other hand to support it from below: “My mom wants to accompany him, and I need to take her there tomorrow too.”

“Cardiac surgery is quite delicate, and the operation will take quite a while.” Ji Qinghe’s tone was casual: “Post-operative recovery is lengthy, and he’ll need careful care after discharge.”

Shen Qianzhan had no knowledge in this area and simply nodded: “Thank you for the reminder, President Ji.” With one sentence, she pushed the atmosphere that had just warmed and drawn closer back to a distance.

Ji Qinghe frowned almost imperceptibly: “You don’t need to call me President Ji in private.”

Here it comes, here it comes.

The romance novel plot point where changing how you address someone brings you closer!

Shen Qianzhan’s heart was turbulent, but her surface remained calm: “Alright, I’ll listen to you.”

This sentence appeared to be agreement and compromise on the surface, but it was actually like a thorny stem—whoever touched it got pricked.

The trouble was, these thorns were soft ones that only caused pain without drawing blood.

Ji Qinghe raised an eyebrow slightly, not forcing the issue: “As you wish.”

He lifted his wrist to check the time again: “I have something to do later, should I go now?”

The second half of his sentence carried a slight questioning tone, as if asking for her opinion.

“Alright.”

Shen Qianzhan glanced down at his feet, where the snow on the car wheels had melted into water, gathering damply into a puddle.

She didn’t know how long Ji Qinghe had been waiting for her here.

Compassion stirred in her heart. Her hand reacted before her brain, and she stepped forward to tap on the car window: “Ji Qinghe.”

The car window on the driver’s side rolled down. Ji Qinghe rested his knee against the window frame, his expression somewhere between a smile and not: “I was just wondering when you would call out to stop me.”