After sending the WeChat messages, Shen Qianzhan went to the bathroom.

The soundproofing in the bathroom was extremely poor, like her high school dormitory—once night fell and all was quiet, snoring would rise from all sides like being surrounded by enemies. Through just one wall, telling the roommate in the next bed to “go eat shit” would be heard clearly, drawing bursts of laughter.

She washed her hands while looking at her reflection in the mirror, her face slightly haggard from staying up late.

The sound of running water flowed through the pipes, dripping and leaking, rushing down like a mountain flood bursting through a dam in the dead of night.

The whispered voices next door seemed to grow softer, muffled through the wall like a television covered with cotton, noisy yet never clear enough to understand the content.

Shen Qianzhan turned off the water, carefully dried her fingers, and returned to bed.

Her phone screen still displayed the page from before she left—a rambling, pointless… little essay she’d sent to Ji Qinghe.

In power-saving mode, the phone screen was dim and somewhat straining on the eyes.

She leaned against the headboard, reviewing word by word the “relationship insights” she’d passionately created. Once she realized what she’d actually said, Shen Qianzhan nearly wanted to take out a massive insurance policy on herself.

She instinctively tried to recall the messages, but it was already past the recall time limit—too late.

Shen Qianzhan suddenly couldn’t bear to imagine Ji Qinghe’s expression when he woke up the next morning and saw these messages.

Would he misunderstand that she wanted to break up?

Would he think she was being difficult and pretentious?

She made a soft hissing sound, suddenly feeling the situation was quite troublesome.

Just as she was pondering how to gracefully yet dignifiedly salvage her affected words, light footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by knocking.

Completely unprepared, Shen Qianzhan was startled, her heart racing wildly.

She glanced at the time displayed in the upper right corner of her screen—3 AM, deep into the night.

She didn’t make a sound, waiting for quiet outside the door.

After a moment, the knocking stopped. The hallway fell silent for an instant, then a cool, clear female voice slowly said: “Qianzhan, it’s me.”

Su Lanyi’s appearance here was truly unexpected to Shen Qianzhan. So unexpected that after opening the door, she forgot to invite her in to talk, just standing in the doorway facing Su Lanyi, who stood under the hallway lights draped in cold solemnity.

Su Lanyi didn’t mind. She smiled and explained: “I just arrived today.”

“Thinking you and Su Zan were both busy, I didn’t want to bother anyone.” After speaking, she naturally glanced behind Shen Qianzhan and asked: “President Ji isn’t here?”

Shen Qianzhan’s briefly warmed heart instantly plummeted back into an ice cave. She suddenly remembered that Xiao Sheng’s “Spring River” had just wrapped, and Su Lanyi’s appearance here might not just be a whim.

Thinking of Xiao Sheng, her mood became subtle, and even her response was somewhat distracted: “President Ji is on a business trip. Are you looking for him?”

Su Lanyi met her gaze, and after a long moment said: “No, I came to find you.” She paused, then said: “Shall we go for a walk? The late-night food stall downstairs seems to still be open.”

Her voice was gentle, but her tone brooked no refusal.

Shen Qianzhan had no intention of opposing her and nodded in agreement: “Let me change clothes. Wait a moment.”

Ten minutes later.

The two walked together to the barbecue stall downstairs from the hotel.

The night was deep, and the barbecue stall was empty. Only the owner was counting ingredients, preparing to close shop.

Hearing movement, he turned to look and quickly called out: “Perfect timing! Half an hour later and I’d be closed. The baskets are over there—take whatever you want to eat and I’ll grill it for you.”

Shen Qianzhan had been here several times and knew her way around.

She remembered Su Lanyi avoided lamb and organ meat, made her selections, and handed them to the owner. Then she went to the freezer and got two bottles of Snow Beer and Arctic Ocean soda.

In Qiandeng’s early startup days, Su Lanyi handled everything personally—attending drinking parties, meeting investors, signing contracts.

Shen Qianzhan often accompanied her, leaving hotels and nightclubs one moment, then entering wellness porridge shops and barbecue stalls the next.

This reunion over barbecue had been years in the making—so long that she couldn’t even remember when the last time was.

At this moment, as if by telepathy.

Su Lanyi propped her chin, casually remarking: “The last time we sat eating barbecue like this was three years ago. Right after the awards ceremony ended, I grabbed my little dress and sat with you on a Beijing street eating late-night snacks.”

Shen Qianzhan also began to reminisce: “Also in May. Beijing was hotter that year than usual.”

Su Lanyi smiled, supporting her cheek as she looked at Shen Qianzhan, eyes sparkling: “Yes, besides barbecue, I remember I also ordered lobster. Two pots each of thirteen-spice and spicy, ate until the buttons on my dress popped.”

The dress worth hundreds of thousands—even its buttons were too precious to lose.

At the time, both of them couldn’t even be bothered to wipe their hands covered in sauce and oil, frantically huddling together to search the ground for the button.

The day before, they’d been dieting to fit into that dress, to walk elegantly on the red carpet for just a few minutes. Yet the moment the event ended, they were binge eating at a street food stall, popping the buttons of their shapewear.

Perhaps the contrast was too great—who knows who started laughing first, like a wound spring, causing the other to laugh until completely powerless. The matter of finding the button was left unresolved.

In the years that followed, such scenes never appeared again in Shen Qianzhan’s memory.

As if with that button’s disintegration, they too had parted ways from that moment, drifting further and further apart.

She picked up her beer and raised it halfway.

Su Lanyi smiled and tacitly raised her can to lightly tap against it.

The alcohol stung her throat slightly. Shen Qianzhan coughed twice before managing to speak: “I originally planned to wait until the end of the month when I return to Beijing to invite you to dinner.”

She paused, then got straight to the point: “You must have heard about Xiao Sheng’s situation.”

As the boss of Qiandeng, Su Lanyi couldn’t possibly be unaware of Penglai Chenguang’s withdrawal of investment.

When Shen Qianzhan heard Shao Chouxie mention this, she guessed there would inevitably be a conversation between her and Su Lanyi. She just hadn’t expected it to come so quickly, so unexpectedly.

“Yes, I heard.” The smile at Su Lanyi’s lips faded slightly as she looked at her deeply for two seconds. “Xiao Sheng has ill intentions and did wrong—he deserved it. I’m very fortunate you weren’t hurt.”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t respond, waiting for her to continue.

“The suggestion to cooperate with the film city came from you. I always thought you knew about it, so I didn’t refuse cooperation with Zhao Zongchen.” She pursed her lips, somewhat helpless: “You know that ‘Spring River’ caused serious losses for Qiandeng. My cash flow is tight—I had no choice but to accept the olive branch extended by investors for the company to barely maintain normal operations. I…”

Shen Qianzhan interrupted her: “General Manager Su, I understand.”

“Standing in the position of company decision-maker, your actions are beyond reproach. I also believe that setting aside prejudices and achieving win-win outcomes is the best way for Qiandeng’s future development. If you had truly refused cooperation because of my personal grudge with Penglai Chenguang, I would feel unworthy instead. So for any of Qiandeng’s decisions, you don’t need to explain anything to me.”

Su Lanyi was struck speechless, instantly unable to say anything.

Shen Qianzhan was too calm—calm to the point of being detachedly indifferent, like untouchable mist that existed visibly yet remained beyond reach.

She had originally come with the intention of appeasing her. According to plan, she would first stand in Shen Qianzhan’s position, sharing her outrage and jointly condemning Xiao Sheng. Then she would move her with emotion and convince her with reason, revealing her helplessness. Shen Qianzhan held shares in Qiandeng—she was also a beneficiary of this cooperation. She wouldn’t fail to understand!

But the solution that had always worked effectively in the past was today like a runaway horse, completely beyond her control.

Shen Qianzhan was far from finished speaking. She bit her straw and seemingly casually brought up: “What are you considering regarding Xiao Sheng?”

Su Lanyi fell silent for a moment, somewhat uncomfortably avoiding her gaze: “Tomorrow his resignation letter will reach my desk. I’ll agree to let him leave Qiandeng.”

Shen Qianzhan laughed coldly.

She should be satisfied—her war with Xiao Sheng could be won without deploying a single soldier, achieving ultimate victory. She should be satisfied.

Especially this time, even Su Lanyi stood on her side, protecting her dignity, safeguarding her interests, giving her full respect and dignity. But Shen Qianzhan knew this was just a condition—a completely unequal and unfair exchange condition.

These past two years, with Xiao Sheng confronting her from afar, Su Lanyi was not unaware. This situation of opposition and mutual constraint was even orchestrated by her. She was like an emperor, manipulating power tactics between her palms.

Shen Qianzhan didn’t believe she would so easily abandon this chess piece she’d cultivated for years and finally achieved some success with. The only explanation was that sacrificing this piece could exchange for greater benefits.

What benefits would make her willing to sacrifice Xiao Sheng?

Shen Qianzhan thought it over and over—there was only one thing: “You want to trade Xiao Sheng for me cooperating with Penglai Chenguang?”

She had guessed it that night. Since Zhao Zongchen had come knocking, his grudge remained unresolved, and he wanted to make her suffer. She had used Xiao Sheng to humiliate him so thoroughly—someone as petty and vindictive as him must have been so angry at home that he couldn’t eat or sleep well. How could he possibly let it go?

Look, here it came.

Su Lanyi smiled silently. Supporting her chin, she looked at Shen Qianzhan as if appreciating some interesting object: “Qianzhan, don’t think of me like that.”

She played with the beer can with her fingertips, her voice soft, as if comforting: “I know your relationship with Zhao Zongchen is tense. If our two companies cooperate, it’s clearly sacrificing you. I never planned it that way, and I couldn’t bear to see our friendship destroyed like that.”

After speaking, she frowned slightly, showing some worry, and said hesitantly: “I came this time to repair relations with Penglai Chenguang. Also to discuss with President Ji whether there’s a way to help Qiandeng smoothly get through this period. Once ‘Spring River’ airs and funds recover, all problems will disappear—wouldn’t that be perfect for everyone?”

She was ostensibly offering advice, but actually testing the waters.

Watching Shen Qianzhan’s expression change from shock to undisguised mockery, her palms grew cool and gradually began to sweat. The confidence she’d arrived with crumbled bit by bit under Shen Qianzhan’s gaze, like sand in an hourglass, completely overturned.

She felt inexplicably panicked, her smile gradually becoming unsustainable.

After a long time, just when Su Lanyi could no longer bear the eerie atmosphere, Shen Qianzhan rubbed her forehead and actually laughed.

The way she looked at Su Lanyi changed from confusion to understanding, then to indifference—like gazing at a complete stranger, without a trace of emotion: “Let’s end this here.”

“These past few years can be considered repayment of the kindness you showed me initially. I’ve repaid it almost completely.”

When Su Lanyi arranged for Su Zan to come over and had her delegate some producer tasks to Su Zan, Shen Qianzhan had already noticed. Su Lanyi’s feelings toward her had probably long since turned to thoughts of replacement.

She had just underestimated human nature and misjudged her position in Su Lanyi’s heart.

“Su Lanyi.”

“Let’s part ways.”