Ji Qinghe’s response came too smoothly, leaving Shen Qianzhan momentarily bewildered. When she figured out his meaning, she first raised her eyebrows, then smiled with relief, taking it as a joke.

But when Shen Qianzhan turned her head, trying to laugh it off cheerfully as she would with any other joke, she discovered that Ji Qinghe seemed to be serious.

He remained focused on the road conditions, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t smiling, hadn’t even spared her a glance, his expression slightly condensed, his profile lines as if drawn with a brush, possessing a natural artistic quality.

His appearance leaned toward the cold side. When not speaking, unless deliberate, no one would see the words “approachable” or “amiable” on Ji Qinghe’s face.

The last time Shen Qianzhan had seen him with this demeanor was when signing contracts before New Year, when his entire being radiated the coldness and seriousness of pure business.

She had always felt she couldn’t see through Ji Qinghe. His thoughts were deep, his mind unfathomable, and when scheming against people, he left no traces. Every confrontation left her not only at a disadvantage but always falling into traps he had set at unknown times, ending up in embarrassment each time.

This time was different.

He made no pretense, showed no strong signals, just straightforwardly and directly informed her of his attitude—he wasn’t joking.

Unconsciously, Shen Qianzhan began replaying every scene in her mind from the moment she stepped into the courtyard that afternoon.

From Elder Ji’s friendly gestures toward her, to Ms. Meng Qiongzhi turning to speak with her at the stove, to the final farewell scene.

Elder Ji’s personal curiosity about her was only displayed during that brief journey from the main room to the kitchen. Ms. Meng never directly inquired about her personal information, always maintaining the politeness and distance appropriate for treating a guest.

She parted her lips, wanting to say something, but the atmosphere in the car had already been reset to the awkwardness and silence from when they first got in, thanks to Ji Qinghe’s earlier statement.

They rode in silence all the way to the parking lot. Before Ji Qinghe got out, he adjusted the somewhat loud music to a volume suitable for conversation: “You don’t need to worry—they still think I’m in the secret admiration phase and won’t have any opinions about you.”

This type of topic had always been sensitive between Shen Qianzhan and Ji Qinghe.

Normally, given Shen Qianzhan’s personality, she would have engaged in sharp verbal sparring by now, regardless of whether her words matched her feelings, she would definitely appear unmovable in attitude. But today’s situation… was somewhat abnormal.

That scene behind the screen—while Ji Qinghe had acted on impulse, Shen Qianzhan couldn’t fool herself… she not only hadn’t pushed him away but somewhat enjoyed that suspended feeling in her heart, the sudden strike in midair followed by the rapid descent into disorder.

Her nature still accepted the validation of being admired, desired, and possessed, especially when that person was Ji Qinghe—the one who had breached her defenses and made her willing to share intimate moments with him.

She quickly thought about how to respond to his statement.

Saying “I didn’t take it to heart” lacked weight, while asking “Why should I worry?” seemed frivolous. This was the first time Shen Qianzhan felt the air in the car was so thin.

Fortunately, a phone call came at the perfect time, rescuing her from the inescapable situation.

Shen Qianzhan said “Wait a moment” and checked the caller ID. Seeing it was Su Zan calling, she quickly had an excuse: “Su Zan is probably calling about the script.”

Ji Qinghe nodded, indicating she should answer first.

Shen Qianzhan didn’t answer. She let the buzzing continue, as if completely forgetting what they had been discussing, saying: “Thank you for Elder Ji and Ms. Meng’s hospitality tonight. Please convey my gratitude to them again, Mr. Ji.”

Ji Qinghe turned to look at her.

He was calm, even somewhat leisurely. That expression on his face carried the implication of “let’s see what else you can make up.”

Shen Qianzhan remained unperturbed, asking him: “When are you returning to Xi’an?”

“Not decided.” Ji Qinghe paused for a moment, saying: “Ming Jue will arrange it. I’ll have him notify you in advance.”

After speaking, he rubbed his lips with his thumb, his voice slightly low: “Tomorrow is Thursday?”

The vibrating call ended. Shen Qianzhan instinctively looked down at her screen, confirming the time: “Yes, Thursday.”

Ji Qinghe seemed to consider for a few seconds, saying: “I have something urgent tomorrow, so I won’t attend the script meeting. Have Su Zan send the meeting record audio and text files directly to Ming Jue.”

The excuse of “something urgent” lacked sincerity. If not for his bland tone that carried no emotion, Shen Qianzhan might have thought her tactlessness had angered him.

She was slightly surprised but didn’t show it on her face, agreeing readily. After watching Ji Qinghe leave, she stood there for a while, completely puzzled.

Was this bastard not wanting to see her tomorrow, so he suddenly had something urgent?

Or after getting what he wanted again, did he suddenly find it boring?

No way?

Ji Qinghe’s goal couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just a kiss, could it? That casual?

——

The bastard’s dramatic change was too great. Shen Qianzhan spent the entire night pondering at which moment his psychology had become twisted.

When she realized she had spent so much mental energy on such a boring matter, Shen Qianzhan felt like she had been struck by lightning, jolting awake.

After a night of light sleep, Shen Qianzhan woke up the next day with a splitting headache. Everything she could see was dim and dark, with distant high-rises shrouded behind gray curtains, indistinct and unfathomable.

She lay in bed for a while. When Mother Shen came in to urge her up after seeing she hadn’t gotten up on time, she finally supported her heavy head and got up for work.

When Old Shen was taking her downstairs, he worried: “The weather forecast says there’s another cold wave coming. With the Lantern Festival approaching, don’t get trapped in Beijing unable to return.”

Shen Qianzhan pressed the floor button, joking: “Are you getting tired of seeing me and eager to return to your hometown?”

“Nonsense.” Old Shen laughed and scolded her: “You’re as petty as a needle, won’t even let me worry. I’m concerned about the pond in the backyard—there are fish in it.”

This year’s Spring Festival weather was abnormal. With recent snowstorms everywhere, disaster relief galas were held one after another, no wonder Comrade Old Shen was anxious. Shen Qianzhan didn’t take it seriously, offered a few comforting words, and drove to work.

The script meeting was scheduled for the afternoon, partly to accommodate Jiang Juanshan and Lin Qiao—one in the south of the city, one in the north, making transportation inconvenient. Secondly, to consider Ji Qinghe’s schedule. Shen Qianzhan had coordinated with Ming Jue several times, knowing he was busiest in the morning, always trying to arrange afternoon time.

Now that he was absent, Shen Qianzhan had no intention of postponing. She instructed Qiao Xin to take good meeting notes, and at three o’clock sharp, started the meeting on time.

This hastily assembled core creative team—whether Jiang Juanshan or Lin Qiao—were both experienced screenwriters, not newcomers. Lin Qiao and Shen Qianzhan had collaborated many times with great understanding. The first half took only an hour to determine the revision direction.

During the break, Su Zan went downstairs to buy coffee and returned with Su Lanyi, who sat in on the second half of the script meeting.

After the script meeting ended, Su Lanyi was quite interested, not only requesting the meeting records but also asking the screenwriters to prepare a proposal, turning their creative direction and inspiration into a PowerPoint presentation.

After assigning this “homework,” seeing the heavy snow outside, she specially arranged for the company’s business car to take the screenwriters home.

Jiang Juanshan had driven his own car and politely declined. Seeing everyone’s attention fall on Lin Qiao, he hooked his lips and answered for her: “No need to trouble yourselves, I’m going the same way.”

Seeing these two weren’t just being polite, Su Lanyi gave up and had Su Zan escort them downstairs.

Once the small conference room was empty, the sound of equipment running became particularly clear.

Shen Qianzhan organized the meeting records while archiving them. After Qiao Xin turned off the projector, she came over to organize the meeting files.

Su Lanyi sat for a while, perhaps finding it too quiet, and flipped through the printed outline on the table, asking Shen Qianzhan about her next work arrangements.

“Finalize the outline and first episode script within this month,” Shen Qianzhan scrolled her mouse, quickly browsing: “Teacher Jiang and Lin Qiao collaborate very well, completing faster than I expected. If they maintain this pace, filming can be put on the agenda.”

Shen Qianzhan’s work pace was notoriously demanding, with project difficulty comparable to jumping into boiling oil.

Su Lanyi rarely interfered in this aspect. She elegantly finished reading the outline and nodded approvingly: “Are you favoring Director Shao Chouxie?”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t answer immediately. She beckoned and took a USB drive from Qiao Xin: “Su Zan is interested in cinematography. He recently edited several segments of Director Shao’s classic shots.” She turned the computer screen toward Su Lanyi and opened the player.

Su Lanyi noticed a file labeled “Ji Qinghe” on her computer desktop and raised her eyebrows slightly: “What’s this?”

Shen Qianzhan followed her gaze and explained: “Files related to Mr. Ji.”

When negotiating contracts with Bu Zhong Sui at the end of last year, Shen Qianzhan had personally overseen several revisions for convenience, keeping it on her desktop for easy access. Later, as cooperation continued and materials and messages accumulated, she often directly dragged files and images into this folder.

Su Lanyi had asked casually, and upon hearing this, looked a couple more times and smiled: “You and Mr. Ji are quite interesting—one has a dedicated desktop folder, the other only shows interest in topics about you at dinner.”

The mouse over the video file slowed a beat. Shen Qianzhan looked up at Su Lanyi.

The latter shrugged lightly, speaking in a gossipy tone: “After Xiang Qianqian terminated her contract with Qiandeng, she arranged for Mr. Ji and me to have dinner together.”

Shen Qianzhan had heard Su Zan mention this. She had worn down one of her fingernails at the time, making it quite memorable: “When Xiang Qianqian was at her peak at Qiandeng, I didn’t see you treasuring her much. Now that she’s terminated her contract, you’re having dinner together?”

“If I’d known she was the one arranging it, would I have gone?”

When Xiang Qianqian made a fuss about terminating her contract with Qiandeng, she naturally offended Su Lanyi badly. Su Lanyi originally had no intention of letting Xiang Qianqian off easily—forget about whether Xiang Qianqian could smoothly terminate her contract, she could drag out the lawsuit for a year and a half. If Ji Qinghe hadn’t intervened, this matter definitely wouldn’t have ended well.

“That old fox Jiang Yecheng arranged it, claiming it was another money-making opportunity. I went thinking there was business, only to watch Jiang Yecheng’s oily performance, disgusting me terribly.” Su Lanyi shook her head with distaste: “When I could barely stand it anymore, Mr. Ji finally arrived. He didn’t need to give Director Jiang face—scanned the room, didn’t even sit down, just stood for a moment and said if people weren’t all present, don’t waste his time.”

“Director Jiang was completely bewildered, asking who else hadn’t arrived.” She sipped her straw, looking at Shen Qianzhan with ambiguous eyes.

Well.

No need to name names—Su Lanyi’s gaze clearly and obviously pointed to her.

Shen Qianzhan remained composed, clicking on the video with steadier breathing than Su Lanyi: “I didn’t expect my name could now lure this big shot.”

Su Lanyi laughed: “Haven’t I told you before?” Her features were bright and beautiful with distinctive appeal. Staring at someone so intensely made her extremely aggressive: “I just love seeing you refuse to admit it—it’s particularly charming.”

“Do you really think Mr. Ji gives face to just anyone?” Su Lanyi propped her chin, smiling: “In my opinion, you’re acting spoiled because you know you’re favored.”