But how could it really be unrelated?

That experience was like walking on knife’s edge for Shen Qianzhan—every step was torment.

“I didn’t agree.” She lifted her eyes, her gaze calm as she said, “I endured Zhao Zongchen’s harassment and threats before because I believed that grievances have their source and debts have their owner. I believed that person could be found and brought back, that there was still hope for my life. But gradually, I seemed to accept that he would never come back.”

Once a person accepts reality, they begin seeking a way out.

Two paths lay before Shen Qianzhan. Either seek her own destruction and resign herself to degradation, or rise from mountains of corpses and seas of fire, reborn like a phoenix.

She no longer sat waiting for death. When Zhao Zongchen came looking for her again, she signed a gambling agreement.

“The apartment I rented was on the thirty-ninth floor. I negotiated the gambling agreement with Zhao Zongchen while sitting by the window. I told him—either give me time and I’ll repay the money when due, or I’ll jump from here today and he’ll get nothing. That’s when our feud began.”

She was disgusted by Zhao Zongchen’s transactional behavior that didn’t treat women as human beings, disgusted by his repeated verbal coercion and physical threats, and even more contemptuous of his willingness to use any means to achieve his goals.

As for Zhao Zongchen, he had hated her to the bone ever since Shen Qianzhan’s Empty Bottle crew ran off with his money.

She had calculated that he wouldn’t dare actually cause a death, forcing Zhao Zongchen to the brink of desperate action. His frantic, defeated appearance—Shen Qianzhan still remembered it clearly.

Even after Shen Qianzhan later fulfilled the gambling agreement, repaying both principal and interest, the feud between her and Zhao Zongchen remained unsolvable.

The president of Penglai Chenguang had once tried to be a peacemaker for Su Lanyi’s sake, stepping in to mediate. Unfortunately, Shen Qianzhan was unwilling to accept the gesture, and Zhao Zongchen was unwilling to swallow his pride. Naturally, the matter came to nothing.

Ji Qinghe didn’t respond immediately.

He supported Shen Qianzhan with both hands, lifting her to sit on the railing.

At her feet were twinkling star lights, and her eyes flickered like lit fireflies in the shifting light, bright then dim.

He lowered his head to kiss her forehead: “It’s all in the past.”

After speaking, he kissed her eyes.

Her eyelids trembled, slightly warm.

He lingered for several seconds, then followed the bridge of her nose to kiss her nose tip, then her lips.

Her lips were dry, slightly cool from the night wind.

He sucked on her upper lip, lingering and flowing, kissing her until she was slightly warm.

Ji Qinghe’s life, though somewhat monotonous, had been smooth sailing—he had yet to encounter too many hardships.

He never had to worry about money, and when problems arose, he had the ability to solve them. Compared to ordinary people who married and had children right after graduation, following rules, earning wages, and guarding their wives day by day, he was even more fortunate. He could choose the life and career he wanted, making decisions freely, living with ease and leisure.

The most troublesome thing he’d encountered in this lifetime was Shen Qianzhan.

He could hardly imagine how, at such a young and inexperienced age, Shen Qianzhan had managed to endure endless darkness alone and walk toward the light.

All the words he could say were too thin, far less than one ten-thousandth of what she had endured.

Shen Qianzhan rarely mentioned the past.

This period of her history was even more contemptible to her than that relationship that died without fulfillment.

Like existing in the gray zone where light and darkness meet, no one knew how deep into the dark places she had been, or what kind of despair she had experienced. No one knew how long it took her to walk through that darkness and return to the world of the living.

People without similar experiences can never truly empathize.

Her honesty with Ji Qinghe was also because she suddenly had a suspicion: “I stood up Xiao Sheng tonight. This matter probably won’t end so easily.”

Wuxi Film and Television City was Zhao Zongchen’s territory. She feared that after tonight, she’d have to guard against his underhanded moves.

“Maybe not.” Ji Qinghe’s expression turned somewhat cold, his gaze falling on some empty space in the center of the lake as he deflected skillfully: “He might not dare.”

“Zhao Zongchen dared to treat you that way before because he saw you were young and easy to fool. With his personality, he definitely has some dirty business. I’ve had Ming Jue investigate it for you. With me here, you don’t need to fear other men.”

Shen Qianzhan was stunned, then broke into a delighted smile: “President Ji, your problem-solving methods are remarkably well-practiced.”

Seeing her smile, Ji Qinghe’s lips curved slightly too. “Most things in this world can be solved with money. If money doesn’t work, then power and influence will.”

Shen Qianzhan asked, “What about you? Which approach works on you?”

He smiled seemingly carelessly, “It’s not that complicated. You’re enough.”

Soon, the days blinked by to the weekend.

Ji Qinghe and Ming Jue went to Hong Kong on business.

Shen Qianzhan couldn’t leave, so she had Su Zan see them off on her behalf.

These past few days, she had been watching the four ancient clocks borrowed from Old Master Ji like they were her own eyeballs, wishing she could monitor them twenty-four hours a day. The several crew members responsible for guarding the ancient clocks were nearly driven to nervous breakdowns by her vigilance, each one terribly tense.

Shao Chouxie feared the crew would go mad before the filming wrapped.

During the two days Ji Qinghe was still with the crew, he had consolidated all scenes involving the ancient clocks and shot them together.

This day, during the afternoon rest period.

Shen Qianzhan was lying in a reclining chair playing a wellness game when she saw Shao Chouxie walking in with his hands behind his back. She lazily lifted her eyelids and kicked a plastic stool toward him.

Seeing her unwelcoming expression, Shao Chouxie dragged the stool over to sit down, then said dejectedly, “I’m not here to ask you for money.”

Shen Qianzhan was genuinely realistic.

Upon hearing that Shao Chouxie wasn’t there for money, she immediately put on a smiling face and showed concern: “What’s wrong? You look rather unhappy. Was today’s lunch too salty, or not tasty enough?”

Shao Chouxie glanced at her and complained, “If you have time to play mahjong, hurry up and urge Teacher Song’s side. The female lead still hasn’t joined the crew—how is she supposed to develop chemistry with the male lead?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Shen Qianzhan said, “Both Teacher Fu and Song Yan are professionals. Do they really need to cultivate feelings in advance? Believe me, once you start filming, they’ll immediately get into character.”

Shao Chouxie pursed his lips, still unhappy: “I don’t care. If Song Yan doesn’t join the crew soon, I won’t film either. Facing a bunch of grown men every day—who could have any creative passion?”

Shen Qianzhan played a fortune tile, looking at him with amusement: “How was I supposed to know your creative passion needed the female lead to generate it?”

Shao Chouxie was truly unable to worry less now. He muttered, “Didn’t you say she’d wrap up and join the crew in the next couple of days?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you last night?” Shen Qianzhan drew a tile, seeing Shao Chouxie’s confused expression, deliberately kept him in suspense: “Maybe I forgot to mention it because you’ve been asking for funding too much lately.”

Shao Chouxie fell silent.

He dared not slam the table at Shen Qianzhan, nor flip his stool in her presence, so he could only sit properly as if he hadn’t heard anything.

“Spring River wraps this afternoon. If nothing unexpected happens, Song Yan should be able to join the crew tonight. I noticed she’s been quite exhausted lately and couldn’t bear it, so I had the producer schedule her scenes for tomorrow afternoon. Didn’t you get the schedule?” After speaking, she seemed to remember something and deliberately muttered to herself, “Ah, I intentionally didn’t have anyone bring it to you.”

Shao Chouxie rolled his eyes dramatically: “You only bully us few people. Would you dare mess with Teacher Ji like this?”

Shen Qianzhan laughed and didn’t refute.

How she messed with Ji Qinghe—could she let him see that? How inappropriate for children.

Seeing her not respond, Shao Chouxie didn’t probe deeper and immediately changed the subject: “Spring River has had quite a troubled fate too—first encountering snow disasters that stopped production, then internal fights that injured the lead actor. I heard a film company had already arranged to collaborate with Producer Xiao, just waiting for Spring River to wrap. But with one incident after another, the client immediately backed out.”

Shen Qianzhan was regretting playing the wrong tile by mistake when she heard this and asked casually, “Wasn’t the news about the internal fighting suppressed?”

“It was suppressed, but the commotion was so big at the time that most of the surrounding crews knew about it. No matter how well-connected Producer Xiao is, he can’t silence everyone.” Shao Chouxie sighed lightly: “The film industry is most well-informed about news. One person spreads the word, and within the blink of an eye, everyone within ten li knows.”

Shen Qianzhan: “There must be other reasons.”

Shao Chouxie looked at her and said, “I haven’t heard of any. The client probably just thinks crews that keep having incidents are unlucky. If Spring River hadn’t already secured a platform, they’d probably have trouble even negotiating with platforms now.” After speaking, he suddenly remembered the collegial relationship between Xiao Sheng and Shen Qianzhan, immediately felt he had misspoken, and quickly shut his mouth, pretending nothing had happened.

Shen Qianzhan got a pair of red dragons, discarded a white dragon, and inquired, “Which client?”

Shao Chouxie thought for a moment and said, “A local film company from Wuxi, Penglai Chenguang Pictures.”

Just as he finished speaking, Shen Qianzhan’s opponent declared a winning hand with a pure suit, and under the game’s background sound effects, she suddenly found the wellness mahjong that had been quite addictive lately completely boring.

In the evening, Song Yan arrived at the hotel with her assistant and manager, officially joining the crew.

Since Shen Qianzhan’s secret boyfriend was away on business, she was unrestrained tonight and paid out of her own pocket to treat Song Yan’s group to a simple meal.

After dinner, just as she returned to the hotel, Ji Qinghe’s video call invitation arrived right on schedule.

She kicked off her high heels, walked barefoot on the floor, and settled into the sofa.

Before accepting the video call, she even checked her reflection in the window and tidied her hair slightly.

When the screen connected, a burst of noisy background sounds came through first.

Ji Qinghe seemed to have just noticed the video had connected. Holding his phone, he moved into a break room: “I thought it would be a while before you could answer.”

Shen Qianzhan suspected the damn man was implying she was too concerned with appearance and stubbornly remained silent out of spite.

He sat down on the sofa, finally having time to look at her carefully: “You’ve been drinking?”

Shen Qianzhan had only had a small cup that evening, and was surprised he guessed correctly: “Is it that obvious?”

“Just testing you—now I know.” He chuckled several times, then made small talk: “How much did you drink?”

Shen Qianzhan held up her fingernail to the phone: “Just this much, just a taste.”

“Are you done with your meeting?”

“Ten-minute break at halftime.” He paused and said, “That’s why I left my seat immediately to call you—afraid of wasting even a second.”

Shen Qianzhan pursed her lips and smiled: “You miss me that much?”

When she said this, her tone lifted slightly, hiding a hint of coquettishness she herself hadn’t noticed.

Ji Qinghe was pleased.

His gaze seemed to see through the screen to her sitting cross-legged on the sofa, instantly reminding him of earlier that year in Beijing when she had hosted a gathering at Kunshan Lodge and invited him for Japanese food.

The commotion of his arrival had made her turn to look with her hair pinned up. That sideways glance—a beauty with features like a painting, radiant and captivating, as if it were yesterday.

He adjusted his position slightly, leaning against the sofa, gazing at her intently.

“I miss you quite a bit.” Shen Qianzhan’s lips curved slightly, her smile mischievous, her tone clearly insincere: “Don’t you want to ask which part of you I miss most?”

Ji Qinghe laughed helplessly: “There’s still one red-eye flight from Hong Kong to Wuxi tonight.”

“Shen Qianzhan, think carefully before you speak. Otherwise, you’ll face the consequences.”