This decision was somewhat impulsive for Shen Qianzhan.

But after she spoke, she felt incredibly relieved. As if deep in her heart, such a secret thought had always existed, quietly waiting for the right moment to strike.

Su Lanyi was stunned.

Her fingers holding the beer can stiffened. In her shock, her fingertips loosened and she couldn’t hold it steady, spilling beer all over the table.

At this moment, she couldn’t be bothered to clean up, looking at Shen Qianzhan with eyes full of disbelief beyond the shock and disappointment: “What did you say?”

Shen Qianzhan: “I said let’s part ways.”

She took a quiet breath, her tone calm: “I can’t accept you repeatedly extracting benefits from me.”

Su Lanyi instinctively made excuses: “I didn’t, when did I ever…”

“When Xiang Qianqian broke her contract.” Shen Qianzhan looked up, her eyes calm yet stern: “When Star Ocean Media tried to break through me to reach a peaceful contract termination with Qiandeng. You said you couldn’t swallow this insult, couldn’t set a precedent of artists betraying and leaving yet still having a good ending, firmly refusing negotiation and unwilling to reconcile.”

“When peaceful contract termination failed, Star Ocean Media, to build momentum for Xiang Qianqian’s lawsuit, directed negative public opinion toward Qiandeng, creating the narrative that my poor treatment of Xiang Qianqian led to her inability to bear Qiandeng’s unfair treatment, forcing her to resolutely defect from Qiandeng.”

She set Su Lanyi’s overturned beer can upright, then pulled out several tissues to block the table edge, stopping the beer from trickling down to the floor.

“You told me to be careful and resolve it quickly.”

“From the company’s perspective and your perspective, I thought your considerations were objective, and I accepted this response method. But what did you do?”

“You exploited President Ji’s reluctance to see me caught in public opinion storms, and under his three-way mediation, demanded benefits sufficient to fill your ambitions, choosing reconciliation.”

Su Lanyi pursed her lips and said nothing.

The way she looked at Shen Qianzhan was no longer as dismissive as before, gradually growing serious.

She had never seen Shen Qianzhan show expressions of amusement and mockery in front of her. Most of the time, Shen Qianzhan would casually wait for her to give orders.

Just as she didn’t interfere with Shen Qianzhan’s work affairs, Shen Qianzhan rarely pointed fingers at her decisions. If she felt the company decisions were fine, she would accept them and execute. Only rarely would she offer opinions for corrections.

Su Lanyi had long grown accustomed to this interaction pattern, accustomed to Shen Qianzhan being her loyal subject, charging into battle for her, shouting and fighting.

Suddenly, heaven and earth turned upside down. The Shen Qianzhan before her, though still looking familiar from her memory, felt as strange as meeting someone for the first time in a crowd.

Su Lanyi’s heartstrings tightened, instinctively wanting to say something to salvage the situation on the verge of falling apart: “Are you blaming me for not considering your situation, disregarding your wishes, and putting you at the center of the storm?”

She raised her lips in a smile, her tone carrying a hint of humble reconciliation: “I think you’ve misunderstood.”

“How much thought did you put into Xiang Qianqian to elevate her to her current height? I disagreed with the contract termination partly considering the company’s investment in her, not wanting to cheaply benefit Star Ocean Media. Secondly, it was for your sake. If President Ji couldn’t bear to see you targeted, could I bear it? With a more comprehensive solution available, I was naturally willing to compromise—this way all three parties benefited, didn’t they?”

Shen Qianzhan smiled and said: “This is the first time I’ve discovered General Manager Su is so eloquent.” After a pause, she corrected: “What I saw wasn’t three-party benefits.”

“Bu Zhong Sui had to both buy off Star Ocean Media and balance Qiandeng—it was tantamount to ceding territory and paying reparations. In theory, Bu Zhong Sui and Qiandeng only had a cooperative relationship. I’m just a producer—even if I were caught in scandal, replacing me would be fine and wouldn’t affect project progress at all. Who he did this for is crystal clear. Even if he willingly played the fool, I was forced to accept a favor.”

“Moreover.” Shen Qianzhan’s tone shifted slightly, with a half-smile: “Currently, except for handling Xiang Qianqian’s work affairs, Star Ocean Media has to split all contract-generated benefits three ways with Qiandeng. In this matter, only Qiandeng was the biggest winner.”

Other related parties made compromises to varying degrees.

The smile completely disappeared from Su Lanyi’s face.

She couldn’t understand why things had developed this way, but Shen Qianzhan’s every word left her unable to refute.

Yes.

Qiandeng only agreed to peaceful contract termination with Xiang Qianqian after receiving benefits. She not only exploited Star Ocean Media but also made Ji Qinghe compromise, providing fashion resources to elevate Qiandeng’s artists.

But weren’t these all standard operations?

In business matters, she ran a company, not a charity. If conditions could be negotiated, then everything was negotiable. Without benefits, why should she do this?

Su Lanyi couldn’t stand in Shen Qianzhan’s position to consider her feelings. She even couldn’t understand her current display of indecision and emotion-first approach.

They had fought in this industry for years—how could they still hold naive expectations about benefit exchanges?

But she couldn’t ask this aloud.

She didn’t feel she had done wrong or gone astray—it was Shen Qianzhan who didn’t understand her, couldn’t sympathize with her situation, her difficulties. What right did she have to question her?

After a long time, Su Lanyi finally found her voice and asked quietly: “If you were dissatisfied with me, why didn’t you say so?”

“I wasn’t dissatisfied.” This conversation with Su Lanyi made Shen Qianzhan feel the night was cold and her heart colder. The last bit of gratitude and reluctance she felt toward her died bit by bit, completely gone.

“Whatever you wanted to do, I tried my best to help you accomplish.”

“That was my way.”

Shen Qianzhan looked at her and said slowly: “But you don’t cherish it, so I’ll always be disappointed.”

She wasn’t being emotional. When dealing with problems, Shen Qianzhan remained clear-headed and rational. That’s why she had acquiesced to Su Lanyi constantly taking from her, constantly harvesting.

But everything has limits—things, people, and feelings alike.

Those who’ve walked far can’t turn back, and she was exhausted, stopping at a brand new crossroads.

No more forcing it.

Time to part ways.

The final conversation ended with Shen Qianzhan’s words: “I’ll still be responsible for ‘Time,’ and after wrapping, I’ll return to Beijing to submit my resignation. I’m willing to transfer my Qiandeng shares. You can also make any reasonable requests within reason, and I’ll agree to them all.”

Shen Qianzhan showed no nostalgia, and Su Lanyi made no attempt to retain her.

Things seemed to settle in this pre-dawn conversation.

On the way back, Shen Qianzhan kept her head down the entire time.

For such a short distance, she took twice the usual time to get from the hotel lobby back to her floor.

She wasn’t watching the road.

So much so that she walked right up to her room door before realizing someone was standing there—someone who should still be in Hong Kong at this moment.

The moment Shen Qianzhan appeared, Ji Qinghe sensed something was wrong with her condition.

She rarely had this dejected aura of someone who’d been defeated in battle, as if covered from head to toe with a protective barrier, her entire being radiating “stay away.”

From seeing those WeChat messages she’d sent right after getting off the plane, to rushing back to the hotel only to find her gone, his accumulated dissatisfaction had gradually peaked with each passing second of waiting.

He had planned to have a good night-long talk with her once they met face to face—position negotiable.

She wouldn’t get off easy until she admitted her mistake.

But when he actually saw her, the negative emotions in his heart immediately vanished. Even the day’s back-and-forth travel troubles dissolved instantly like smoke and clouds, light as morning mist.

Shen Qianzhan stopped a few steps away, staring at him intently.

Somewhat surprised, but also somewhat delighted.

Even, the moment she saw him, an inexplicable sense of grievance welled up in her heart, making her nose tingle with the urge to cry.

This emotion was both foreign and sudden, leaving a shallow mark on her heart without warning.

Shen Qianzhan took a deep breath, adjusted her emotions, and walked up to him as if nothing had happened.

Reaching him, she tilted her head slightly to look up at Ji Qinghe.

Under the soft lighting, his gaze was deep, like a moonlit lake surface with rippling light.

Shen Qianzhan nearly lost herself.

She reached out to wrap her arms around his waist, hugging him, and asked quietly: “Why did you come back after all?”

As she drew close, her fragrance filled his nostrils.

Ji Qinghe wrapped one arm around her shoulder while using his other hand to take the room card she was holding, moving to open the door.

There were too many night owls in the crew—the hallway wasn’t a place for conversation.

After entering the room.

Ji Qinghe released her and first loosened his tie.

He was still wearing the dark suit from his meeting, with the waistline slightly tailored to perfectly accentuate his tall, straight figure like a pine tree.

His fingers were long and slender, positioned on the tie knot like a slow-motion movie scene, full of restraint and temptation.

While Shen Qianzhan was swallowing hard, she suddenly recalled something that had been temporarily forgotten after Su Lanyi’s interruption, seeing it in his somewhat sinister gaze…

Had she just made some wild statements in WeChat?

Then she thought of how Ji Qinghe had seemed to be waiting at the door for a while. Her muddled brain felt like it had been struck with a blunt instrument, instantly becoming crystal clear.

Watching him loosen his tie and begin unbuttoning his suit, Shen Qianzhan panicked and immediately explained: “I just went to the barbecue stall downstairs with General Manager Su.”

Ji Qinghe quirked his lips, indicating she should continue.

His eyes never left her, but his hands moved to his waist, methodically beginning to unbuckle his belt.

Shen Qianzhan’s mouth went dry. Her eyes wandered before she managed to say with forced composure: “We just discussed some business matters. After talking, I came back.”

He had already unbuckled his belt. Then, with a swift motion, he gripped the buckle and pulled the entire belt out.

Without the belt’s constraint, Ji Qinghe’s pants dropped a few inches, barely hanging on his hips, ready to fall but not quite falling.

Shen Qianzhan was so stimulated by this scene she nearly had a nosebleed. She quickly covered her nose, took two steps back, and looked at him warily.

She retreated one step, Ji Qinghe advanced one step.

She retreated two steps, Ji Qinghe advanced two steps.

Until Shen Qianzhan could retreat no further, he finally drew close, captured her hands, bound her wrists with the belt, and lifted her to sit on the table.

Under the tactical standoff of advance and retreat, Shen Qianzhan was already flushed red with embarrassment. Now that Ji Qinghe had her on the chopping block, she felt a sense of relief instead.

Sitting there, meeting his gaze at eye level, she gritted her teeth: “Whatever you want to ask or interrogate, just give me a quick end.”

Ji Qinghe smiled.

The smile was wicked and ill-intentioned: “Why don’t you tell me yourself?”

What should I say?

Shen Qianzhan’s liver trembled under his gaze. All her dejected and sad emotions disappeared as she focused on dealing with the demon king on the verge of eruption.

She bit her lip, raised her belt-bound hands, looped them over his head and around his neck, taking the initiative: “I slammed the table at her. I said I quit, we’re parting ways.”

She stared unblinkingly at Ji Qinghe and said: “I’m unemployed.”

Ji Qinghe’s gaze focused, eyebrows raising slightly: “That’s quite good.”

“I’m just short of a wife. Consider it—how about changing your status?”