Almost at the moment Shen Qianzhan’s gaze met his, Ji Qinghe leaned down. His slender fingers gently clasped her neck, lifting her chin.

He bent down and bit her jaw with his mouth. He deliberately intended to leave a mark, applying considerable force. Even when she pounded on him with her fists, he didn’t let go.

During this moment of stalemate, Xiao Sheng knocked on the door again: “Producer Shen?”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t dare make too much noise. Seeing that Ji Qinghe had finally relented and released his grip, she raised her hand to touch her jaw. The tip of her jaw bore two rows of teeth marks—not too deep, but they probably wouldn’t fade for at least the time it takes to brew tea.

She was angry at Ji Qinghe’s pettiness but didn’t dare lash out. When getting down from the table, she deliberately stepped hard on his foot and warned him in a low voice: “Don’t make a sound.”

The candlelight of the scented candle flickered twice on the windowsill. With his back to the light, his facial features were blurred, only those eyes remaining bright and clear in the darkness.

Shen Qianzhan couldn’t help but stare at him for a few more moments, muttering to herself: Even now when she hadn’t nodded in agreement, this damn man’s jealousy was already this intense. What would happen if they got together in the future? Would she have to report every encounter with a member of the opposite sex without any concealment?

She straightened her collar and hem, confirming she looked proper, then picked up the candle to open the door.

Before opening the door, she gripped the handle and looked back at him once.

Ji Qinghe sat in her previous spot, his form merged with the darkness.

With light before her eyes, Shen Qianzhan couldn’t make out his appearance clearly. She could only sense his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her, carrying weight that made her shoulders feel heavy.

She turned around and opened the door.

Xiao Sheng was leaning against the wall. Seeing her open only a gap wide enough for her body to pass through, he instinctively glanced inside: “Producer Shen, sorry to disturb you so late. I haven’t interrupted anything important, have I?”

Shen Qianzhan had never gotten along with Xiao Sheng. With no one else around now, she couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. Standing with one hand on the door and holding the candle with the other, she looked at him through the candlelight: “Knowing you’d interrupt something important yet still disturbing me—Producer Xiao is doing this on purpose, isn’t he?”

Her voice could be sweet or seductive. Speaking in such an affected, pinched tone, it was hard to tell whether she was joking or truly being sarcastic.

Xiao Sheng didn’t want to bicker with her and start a conflict. He looked left and right before asking: “Is it convenient to go inside and talk?”

There’s a grown man hiding in the room—you tell me if it’s convenient?

But she certainly couldn’t say that honestly. Shen Qianzhan smiled and deflected: “When Producer Xiao knocked just now, you shouted loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. If there’s really business to discuss, call a few relevant people. You entering my room alone in the middle of the night—if word gets out, it won’t look proper.”

Xiao Sheng frowned and explained: “It’s related to what you mentioned this afternoon. Should we discuss it right here at the door?”

“This afternoon’s matter?” After thinking for several seconds, Shen Qianzhan glanced toward Su Zan’s room next door: “You don’t mind if our little President Su joins us to listen, do you?”

Xiao Sheng followed her gaze, knowing she meant Su Zan. The flashlight he’d been pointing at the ground lifted to shine on Shen Qianzhan, then moved casually to the tightly closed door next door: “President Su lives there?”

Shen Qianzhan suspected he had already seen the bite mark on her jaw. Feeling stifled and annoyed but unable to explode, she closed the door and went directly to knock on the neighboring door.

Su Zan had been listening through the wall for quite a while and was already waiting to open the door.

Shen Qianzhan had just raised her hand without even touching the door when Su Zan pulled it open and politely invited both of them in.

Though Xiao Sheng’s relationship with Su Zan was average, he always fawned over him for Su Lanyi’s sake. Shen Qianzhan listened to him chattering behind her like firing a cannon, making small talk with Su Zan. She blew out her candle and sat down in the chair in front of the TV cabinet, urging Xiao Sheng to get to the point.

Xiao Sheng unwrapped a pack of cigarettes and gave one to each of them. When lighting Shen Qianzhan’s cigarette, she avoided him and tucked the cigarette behind her ear: “I’ve already brushed my teeth, so I won’t smoke.”

He didn’t insist. His gaze swept around the room, somewhat surprised to see three beds in Su Zan’s room: “How did the production assistant arrange President Su’s room? Even if there was nowhere else to stay, they shouldn’t make you squeeze into a room with three beds.”

Su Zan hadn’t mentioned the supplies to Xiao Sheng yet. Even the production assistant had been given advance notice, told that he’d called two friends to bring supplies in, and once the snow stopped they’d leave—instructing them not to spread the word.

Hearing this now, he glanced at Shen Qianzhan. Seeing she didn’t stop him, he explained: “Wasn’t the crew short on supplies? I called two friends to bring me a truck of supplies. Everything’s stored in the hotel warehouse. The snow won’t stop, so they can’t leave and are sharing a room with me.”

Xiao Sheng fell silent for a moment. Just as he was about to continue questioning, Shen Qianzhan impatiently interrupted: “What’s the matter? Can you tell us now?”

“It’s like this…” Xiao Sheng mentioned that after the meeting ended, he separately gathered a few capable people for another small meeting. Everyone was very supportive of the self-rescue cooperation model with the film studio. After discussion, they felt it would be more efficient to act in batches—Xiao Sheng would handle negotiations with the film studio partners to see if they were interested in cooperation, while Shen Qianzhan would return to Beijing to seek Su Lanyi’s approval and draft specific contract terms.

“If it weren’t for the power and water outages and no signal, seeking President Su’s approval would just take one phone call.” Xiao Sheng glanced at Su Zan, seeing he wasn’t displeased, and continued: “Given the current situation, even if the snow stops, it’ll take time for it to melt. Producer Shen’s visit this time has resolved our urgent crisis, and I’m very grateful. President Su and Producer Shen were sent by President Su to help, and now that our predicament is resolved, there’s no reason to keep you both here suffering.”

His words were heartfelt and earnest, sounding like he was considering Shen Qianzhan and Su Zan’s welfare. But thinking deeper, he was actually finding a pretext to send these two imperial inspectors back to Beijing.

Shen Qianzhan smiled—this was exactly what she wanted: “Since Producer Xiao is so earnestly requesting my help, I have no reason to refuse. When does Producer Xiao want us to leave?”

Xiao Sheng was somewhat surprised that Shen Qianzhan was so agreeable. He couldn’t help but glance at her a few more times. Recalling the row of bite marks he’d glimpsed earlier, he suddenly understood: “The production assistant can arrange transportation for you tomorrow.”

Su Zan frowned slightly, seeming to have something to say. After his lips parted and closed several times, he caught sight of Shen Qianzhan from the corner of his eye. Seeing she had no objections, he agreed.

After seeing Xiao Sheng off, Su Zan grumbled as he closed the door: “When I get back, I need to file a complaint about him to my sister. I’ve only been here a few days, and he’s already eager to get rid of us. Great—now he’s taken the supplies for free and we’ve solved their problems too. I feel like this whole trip hasn’t been appreciated at all.”

“It was never going to be appreciated.” Shen Qianzhan wasn’t too indignant about Xiao Sheng’s approach. When Su Lanyi sent her and Su Zan here, she said it was to help solve problems, but that reason only accounted for half. The other half was to pressure Xiao Sheng—she was annoyed at his incompetence for wasting the company’s money unnecessarily.

Su Lanyi’s goals had already been achieved. Now that Xiao Sheng had given her a legitimate reason to return to Beijing, there was really no need for Shen Qianzhan to stay longer, earning resentment while being uncomfortable herself. Besides, with no electricity, water, or signal—how could someone like her, who demanded to look refined at all times, grit her teeth and endure?

This news was undoubtedly good news for Shen Qianzhan.

She picked up the kindling from the table and struck a match to relight the candle: “Alright, pack up. We’re going back to Beijing tomorrow.”

As soon as the candle flame brightened, Su Zan made a sound of surprise and leaned in to examine the bite mark on her jaw closely: “You two were that intense?”

The next morning, Ji Qinghe and Ming Jue left first, flying from Nanjing to Xi’an.

After Shen Qianzhan and Su Zan inventoried the warehouse supplies and properly handed them over to the production assistant, they followed shortly after, taking a car back to Beijing.

Once they left Wuxi territory, cell phone signals returned. Shen Qianzhan’s phone buzzed incessantly with all kinds of messages.

She first reported her safety to the elder Shens, then checked the final outline for Time and the first episode script that Qiao Xin had just sent.

She then reported Spring River crew’s predicament and solution to Su Lanyi. After some thought, she crafted her words, disguising Ji Qinghe’s act of sending warmth as her commissioning him to help purchase and transport supplies, and submitted the expenses to Su Lanyi.

With Su Zan as a witness, to avoid discrepancies in their stories that might cause misunderstandings, Shen Qianzhan treated Su Zan to grilled sausages at a service area during their journey and they coordinated their accounts.

Su Zan ate with grease running down his mouth, chewing while mumbling: “I know, you don’t want to owe President Ji. Don’t worry, if my sister asks, I’ll say the same thing you did.”

“Wrong.” Shen Qianzhan poked him with her bamboo skewer: “How can you be so stupid? Is this about owing or not owing?”

If those supplies had been a gift from Ji Qinghe to her, she would have accepted them gladly. But those supplies were for resolving Spring River crew’s urgent crisis. Taking them for nothing—could her conscience handle that?

Shen Qianzhan spent some time helping Su Zan understand this logic, while she worked non-stop, rapidly giving instructions to Qiao Xin to expedite Time’s progress.

The most vulnerable preparation period for any project had passed smoothly. Now in the script phase, things were about to get truly busy.

After returning to Beijing, Shen Qianzhan immediately grabbed Jiang Juanshan and Lin Qiao for script meetings.

With the first episode script ready, the director lineup was quickly finalized. On the day Shao Chouxie signed his contract, the first five episodes of Time were completed. Shen Qianzhan prioritized contacting Ai Yi to secure the platform channel.

The subsequent processes proceeded step by step, methodically. The project progress bar shot up like a rocket, climbing steadily.

On the day the first ten episodes of Time were finalized, Shen Qianzhan gathered the core creative team in the conference room for a meeting.

As usual, Ji Qinghe didn’t attend, only having Ming Jue participate via online video conference.

The main content of this meeting was to draft a list of lead actors, with Shen Qianzhan handling artist negotiations and actor contracts.

Shen Qianzhan had discussed lead actor candidates with Qiao Xin on the day the script was submitted.

She favored Song Yan and Fu Yang. Song Yan was a rising dark horse with excellent audience appeal and reputation. With Fu Yang, they had both a mentor-disciple relationship and promotional value, plus gossip heat. Both actors had solid acting skills and could mutually benefit each other. Their appearance and star power were sufficient to match Time’s lead roles.

Ai Yi leaned toward Chu Sisi, believing her image better matched the female lead, though she was quite satisfied with Fu Yang as the male lead: “Producer Shen’s eye for male beauty is really excellent—we think alike.”

Shen Qianzhan smiled without warmth and retorted: “After all, the heart isn’t old, and male beauty is in its prime. Sister Ai has a family and home, with a mature and steady husband—how could she still fancy these young hotshots in the industry?”

Su Zan nearly laughed out loud. Struggling to contain himself, he could only redirect the topic to the screenwriters: “Do either screenwriter have suitable candidates to recommend?”

Lin Qiao shared Shen Qianzhan’s aesthetic preferences. Her lifelong wish was for Fu Yang to star in her scripts. Without considering the investors present, she enthusiastically voted: “Fu Yang is especially good—he could definitely carry the male lead role. Choosing Song Yan for the female lead would also work. If these two paired up again, they’d definitely generate buzz.” After speaking, she suddenly looked wistful, gazing hopefully at Shen Qianzhan: “But Fu Yang is hard to get—not only is his fee high, but his requirements for scripts and production teams are very demanding.” With Song Yan and his rumored romance currently hot, what if he declined to avoid suspicion…

Jiang Juanshan said nothing. He glanced coolly at Lin Qiao, twirled his pen, and passed the speaking opportunity to the next person.

Ming Jue, displayed on the projection screen, paused slightly. He glanced somewhere off-camera, and after receiving some kind of permission, cleared his throat: “President Ji has complete trust in Producer Shen’s judgment.”

“Producer Shen’s choices have always been professional, with high-class aesthetics and refined taste.” Ming Jue smiled meaningfully, his gaze settling on Shen Qianzhan’s face: “President Ji says fees aren’t a problem—invite whoever you want.”

Amid the envious looks around the table, only Shen Qianzhan remained unmoved.

She suspected the damn man was praising himself but couldn’t expose him. Seeing everyone’s attention focused on her, she coughed lightly to ease the awkwardness: “There’s no need for such trust in me, is there? I’ll have Qiao Xin organize the invitation list and actor profiles to send to President Ji.”

The invitation list couldn’t be decided in one meeting. After the meeting ended, Shen Qianzhan had Qiao Xin send the materials to Ji Qinghe.

The moment the materials were sent to his email, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

—Ji Qinghe calling.

Shen Qianzhan answered: “Hello?”

“No need to look at the actor profiles. Choose according to your preferences.” He seemed busy—there were whispered conversations audible through the phone, unclear but continuously noisy.

She deliberately played dumb: “According to my preferences? What preferences do I have?”

Ji Qinghe made a sound of acknowledgment and asked: “Not like me?” He laughed, his voice low and intoxicatingly deep: “Producer Shen doesn’t know yet that I grew up to look exactly like your type?”

The other end seemed shocked—all voices unanimously fell silent.

Ming Jue’s face was ashen: President Ji, do your parents know you’re like this?