After Ji Qinghe left, Su Zan made a trip to retrieve Shen Qianzhan’s phone for her.
On his return through the hotel lobby, he happened to overhear the front desk staff discussing Old Chen’s cause of death.
“I heard it was excessive work intensity – sudden death. By the time they found him, he’d been cold for half the night.”
“That can’t be right? I’ve seen the crew wrap up pretty early. Just a couple days ago, two actors borrowed rackets from us to play badminton on the open ground outside the hotel.”
“How can actors’ treatment be the same as crew members’? Haven’t you heard? Their producer uses real ancient bells as props. To prevent anyone from targeting the bells, besides their own crew maintaining nightly watch, even our hotel was required to register all personnel entering or leaving after ten PM.”
After a moment of silence, a girl’s voice sounded somewhat hollow: “The police came too. There shouldn’t be any inside story, right? It’s kind of scary to think about.”
“Girl, we live in a society governed by law. Where are all these conspiracy theories coming from? Besides, our entire hotel has been booked by the crew. During this period, everyone coming and going is either hotel staff or their crew members – not a single unfamiliar face.”
“Exactly. Before the ancient bells were brought over, the crew required our manager to install cameras in every corner of the hotel. That room housing the bells, from alarm systems to protective covers, has security levels almost matching a bank vault. Who would be so foolish as to target those ancient bells?”
Another girl chimed in: “The ancient bells are fine, and no strangers entered the hotel last night. If something had happened to the bells, the crew wouldn’t be maintaining such calm while desperately suppressing the news. They’d rather let information leak than not make a huge fuss trying to recover the bells.”
Everyone agreed.
After a while, another girl asked: “Sigh, having someone die in that room, will it affect the hotel’s business?”
“Probably. If I were a customer, not knowing would be one thing, but if I knew someone had died suddenly in that room, I definitely wouldn’t want to stay there again. Too creepy.”
“Never mind customers having to stay there – didn’t you hear several cleaning ladies discussing this morning, asking the housekeeping supervisor to hire someone new? They don’t dare go clean it.”
“The crew should compensate the hotel for losses, right? Maybe the hotel will need to renovate…”
“The dead deserve respect. Let’s stop discussing this.” The girl’s voice trembled slightly with fear: “Didn’t the manager tell us not to discuss it?”
After a few more whispered exchanges, the front desk finally fell completely silent.
Su Zan listened to everything with a grim expression, checked his watch, and left.
After the police arrived, Old Chen’s body was quickly collected.
Following case registration, scene photography, personnel registration, the police conducted simple investigations and routine questioning of several parties involved and crew leader Shen Qianzhan.
Shen Qianzhan’s professional demeanor was undoubtedly evident.
She cooperated actively, didn’t shirk responsibility, remained objective and calm. When answering questions, her logic was clear and smooth, with very little irrelevant rambling.
After completing evidence collection, the police quickly departed.
Shen Qianzhan accompanied the hotel manager to see off the police at the entrance. Only after watching the police car disappear at the end of the road did she breathe a sigh of relief and bow apologetically to the hotel manager.
The hotel manager greatly appreciated the composure, stability, and graceful demeanor Shen Qianzhan had just displayed. He consoled her with a few words as they walked back together.
Just as they reached the corridor, the assistant manager rushed over in a sweat. Seeing Shen Qianzhan standing beside his superior, he swallowed his words, hesitating: “Manager, their crew’s Producer Su has detained the entire batch of employees scheduled for the noon shift change and won’t let them leave.”
The hotel manager’s gaze sharpened, instinctively glancing at Shen Qianzhan.
Shen Qianzhan raised her eyebrows slightly but didn’t immediately defend herself, only confirming again: “Producer Su detained hotel employees?”
She changed “detained” to “kept,” using precise and gentle language that left no opening for criticism.
The assistant manager knew he’d misspoken but couldn’t worry about such details now. He complained: “Near shift change time, Producer Su brought several tall, strong men to block the employee break room entrance, not letting anyone leave. I brought security to check the situation and nearly had a conflict.”
Honestly, Shen Qianzhan didn’t believe a word the assistant manager said.
Though Su Zan was rash, he also considered consequences when dealing with situations.
Old Chen’s accidental death had already put the crew in a precarious position. Compared to the hotel, the crew was currently in a passive situation, urgently needing to rally the hotel to form a united front and collectively suppress news leakage.
He wouldn’t be foolish enough to conflict with hotel employees without cause, escalating tensions.
On this point, Shen Qianzhan still trusted him.
However, given the current situation, Shen Qianzhan couldn’t make subjective judgments, much less defend him based on “I’ve known Su Zan for years and understand his character.”
To know what really happened, she’d have to see for herself.
When Shen Qianzhan arrived at the employee break room with both the manager and assistant manager, they witnessed a scene of confrontation and deadlock.
Inside the break room, voices buzzed loudly with complaints about Su Zan blocking the door.
When the hotel manager arrived, those inside suddenly seemed to have found their backbone, launching into complaints from all directions.
One duck was noisy enough, let alone over a dozen ducks. The moment they opened their mouths, Shen Qianzhan felt her ears ringing, as if swarms of summer mosquitoes were flapping their wings, stirring up huge waves.
She frowned and glanced at the hotel manager.
The latter was also overwhelmed by the noise, drooping and cowering. He pointed to a young girl, indicating she should speak.
The girl had a quiet, gentle appearance and worked at the front desk. When called upon by the manager, she looked surprised, blushed, stepped out from the crowd, and said: “My supervisor and I got off work at 11:30 and came to the break room to clock out. When we came out, Producer Su was standing at the door with people blocking it, not letting us leave. Colleagues coming for shift change were also kept outside, not knowing what happened.”
Hearing this, Shen Qianzhan’s expression cooled slightly. She asked Su Zan: “What business do you have blocking doors here?”
Su Zan looked righteously at the assistant manager who had shrunk behind the hotel manager: “I discussed with the assistant manager early this morning that both the hotel and crew needed to maintain confidentiality. The assistant manager agreed readily, and I thought he understood the seriousness of information leaking. But within one morning, everyone from the front desk to the restaurant staff, even the landscaping gardeners, knew about it.”
“I understand that walls have ears – where there are people, there will always be discussion. So I suggested to the assistant manager that we have informed hotel employees sign confidentiality agreements to provide some restraint.”
“The assistant manager refused my proposal, telling me that what employees chat about, say, or share is their freedom. He had no authority to restrict them and wasn’t willing to take that responsibility. He told me to talk to the employees myself – whether they’d be willing to sign would depend entirely on my ability.”
Hearing this, Shen Qianzhan could roughly guess what happened.
She glanced first at the assistant manager, then extended her hand, asking Su Zan for the confidentiality agreement documents.
Su Zan was well-prepared, having printed a stack early on. Seeing this, he handed one to the manager too: “I’m also considering both parties’ reputations, hoping to reach consensus. I don’t want to make things difficult for hotel staff, but I can’t make this decision myself or bear these consequences. I can only temporarily keep everyone here until leadership arrives to make the final decision.”
The confidentiality agreement was only a few short paragraphs. Shen Qianzhan read it twice – the content was fine.
Though Su Zan’s approach was forceful, it was understandable and not particularly discourteous. If she were in his position, she absolutely wouldn’t risk letting hotel employees leave before signing confidentiality agreements.
Shen Qianzhan pondered briefly, then quickly decided: “Manager, may I have a word in private?”
She walked with the hotel manager toward the corridor, stopping at the stairwell.
“Producer Su is impatient and inconsiderate. Let me first apologize to you and your employees on his behalf.”
The hotel manager had dealt with Shen Qianzhan several times and somewhat understood her working style. He neither showed weakness nor dared slight her, smiling very politely: “My subordinate was also inconsiderate and thoughtless. Please bear with us, Producer Shen.”
After exchanging pleasantries, Shen Qianzhan cut straight to the point: “You were present when police came earlier. We reviewed hotel surveillance together – Old Chen’s death was accidental. Of course, dying suddenly during work hours at the workplace, the crew must take responsibility.”
She lowered her voice, speaking quietly: “Our crew didn’t mistreat employees. Work schedules were reasonable, with four-person rotating shifts – there were no conditions of employee exploitation that could have led to this accident. You heard me explain this to police.”
The hotel manager nodded seriously, chin slightly lowered.
Seeing this, Shen Qianzhan softened her tone, speaking gently: “But rumors are frightening. I can’t gather all informed parties to make a PowerPoint presentation and explain to each one, can I? Even if I clarified like that, private discussions wouldn’t decrease – stories change as they’re passed along. Some believe, some don’t.”
“You regularly host film crews and should understand celebrities’ influence. Once this news spreads, attention will only be high. As long as the crew publicly states facts, the show will still air without major impact. But if the hotel gets labeled with such associations, it will more or less reduce customer flow. You understand this principle, right?”
She took out a cigarette pack, offering the hotel manager a cigarette.
The hotel manager waved it off: “I can’t smoke during work hours.”
Shen Qianzhan didn’t insist. She put a cigarette between her lips without lighting it: “That’s really a pity – Producer Su’s cigarettes are all good quality.”
She tasted the faint tobacco flavor on her lips, squinting: “I know you’re in a difficult position. How about this – I’ll cover that room’s renovation costs and extend the room booking for another year.”
She avoided words like “compensation,” treating it as pure business.
In fact, Shen Qianzhan had no obligation to compensate the hotel.
The hotel manager undoubtedly understood this too.
Moreover, every word she spoke precisely hit the manager’s weak spots.
Once hotels became involved in news of guest sudden deaths, they almost invariably faced renovation or sale. Even this area’s “feng shui” could be permanently damaged by such news.
This risk was unbearable not just for the crew, but for the hotel as well.
Soon, the hotel manager relented, agreeing to have employees sign confidentiality agreements.
After reaching consensus, progress was swift.
All detained employees received lunch from Su Zan after signing confidentiality agreements, as compensation.
With the matter concluded, the tense and chaotic morning finally rushed past.
Shen Qianzhan handed all confidentiality agreements to Qiao Xin for filing, then sat at the table eating lunch while lecturing Su Zan: “Acting rashly and impulsively – how many times have I had to apologize for your mistakes over the years? Even your parents haven’t apologized and made amends for you this much, have they?”
Su Zan felt guilty but wasn’t in the wrong.
Initially intimidated by her anger, he didn’t dare face her directly. Only after her anger subsided did he lift his head from the sand, speaking righteously: “I had no choice. I started by reasoning with them nicely, but that assistant manager – small position, big attitude. He wouldn’t agree to have hotel employees sign agreements. With shift change approaching, once these people left the hotel and said whatever they wanted, it would be uncontrollable. How could I let them go?”
Anyway, the worst outcome was already here – he might as well go all in and see whose head was harder.
Shen Qianzhan’s just-calmed anger flared again at his words: “Haven’t I taught you to always keep a backup plan? With such a forceful attitude, if you push people to desperation and they oppose you directly, what can you really do to them?”
The food had long gone cold. She ate without tasting, finally setting down her chopsticks: “That assistant manager disagreed because you don’t understand how things work. He’s just an employee – with so many hotels in Wuxi, where can’t he earn a salary? Don’t you understand the principle that even a strong dragon can’t suppress a local snake? What result could you get from being stubborn with him?”
Su Zan was speechless.
How could he have known even a hotel assistant manager would be so greedy?
Seeing his unconvinced expression, Shen Qianzhan knew what he was thinking. She rubbed her throbbing temples: “Some people just have limited vision and short-sightedness. That’s why I teach you to read people, distinguish character, and learn to deal with different types of people.”
Su Zan opened a water bottle and gulped angrily: “But you’re here – you teach slowly, I learn slowly.”
Shen Qianzhan paused, opening her mouth but not knowing what to say.
After a long while, her voice sounded flat and utterly exhausted: “Many things can’t be solved just by reasoning.”
“Su Zan, from now on you’ll have to figure things out yourself.”
Su Zan had been slouching on the sofa but unconsciously straightened his back, staring intently at her: “What do you mean by that?”
During this period, he’d constantly felt that Shen Qianzhan was preparing to leave him, to leave Qiandeng.
He’d tried probing multiple times without results, only able to comfort himself that this was just pointless worry, mere illusion.
He’d even found excuses for Shen Qianzhan. Maybe she wanted to get married – if she left Qiandeng to marry Ji Qinghe, that would be quite happy news. He wouldn’t try to retain her, but would offer blessings instead.
But Su Zan knew deep down that the collapsed corner of his heart remained in fearful anxiety.
He wasn’t stupid – both Su Lanyi’s reactions and Shen Qianzhan’s abnormalities made him smell the approaching parting of ways.
Shen Qianzhan’s words undoubtedly intensified his fear, hidden worries taking root and sprouting like tentacles emerging from covering soil.
His throat felt bitter, as if doused with cold water, leaving him sitting there unable to hide his dejection.
“Just the literal meaning.” Shen Qianzhan had originally planned to give him advance warning before leaving Wuxi. Unexpectedly, incidents kept occurring one after another. The next few days probably wouldn’t be peaceful either, let alone provide suitable timing.
She carefully chose her words, speaking cautiously: “I’m not young anymore. These past years, to pay off debts, I’ve been constantly working. Looking back now, it feels quite meaningless. Just having some disagreements with your sister, I want to take this opportunity to pursue dreams and become an independent producer.”
Shen Qianzhan glanced at Su Zan, seeing his expression seemed acceptable, she sighed in relief and joked: “Mr. Ji has spoiled my heart wild – I want to go out and make a big splash.”
“Besides, as an independent producer, I’ll take projects based entirely on my own mood and preferences. No constraints, no target tasks – I can arrange my time freely, vacation when I want…”
She had prepared a whole basket of beautiful visions, like: Your Mr. Ji is busy with work. If I’m equally busy, we can’t have a proper relationship. Someone has to sacrifice to accommodate the other’s schedule – I can conveniently let him support me.
Or: The first half of my life was too hectic – only a few days each year belonged to me. I’m too tired and want to rest, preferably spending time with Old Shen and his wife.
But after listing just one reason, she couldn’t continue.
She wasn’t someone who craved pleasure. If she wanted a sugar daddy, she could have abandoned Qiandeng’s burdens years ago for an easy life – this reason was obviously too fake.
She also wasn’t someone who would stop just because she was tired. Her ambition, her abilities – no one understood these better than Su Zan.
So she simply fell quiet, silently watching Su Zan.
Su Zan stared back.
Those pitch-black eyes seemed covered with dust for the first time, gray and lifeless: “You’ve already decided?”
Shen Qianzhan answered: “Yes, decided.”
Su Zan: “So you really were seizing the last opportunity to teach me how to be a producer. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand your meaning, didn’t treasure it, and remain useless even now.”
Shen Qianzhan didn’t respond.
Su Zan was different from her – pampered since childhood, spoiled and flattered everywhere, never tasting the flavor of having nothing. Things he wanted, like resources and connections, came running with a wave of his hand.
He wasn’t incapable of learning – he just didn’t want to work hard.
After she left, Su Lanyi would find someone else to teach him. He’d eventually be able to handle things independently.
Su Zan asked again: “Is ‘Time’ your last project at Qiandeng? You’ll leave after finishing it, right?” After asking, he felt the question was unnecessary.
All signs indicated Shen Qianzhan’s imminent departure. When she left wasn’t particularly important – she was leaving Qiandeng anyway.
But Su Zan still couldn’t accept this reality. He’d never imagined Shen Qianzhan would leave. He’d grown accustomed to doing odd jobs under her protection, being an ordinary rich second generation who only knew how to squander family wealth.
His lips moved several times, stammering repeatedly before finally asking: “If it’s not an irreconcilable conflict, tell me – I’ll help you talk to my sister. You two have such a good relationship, maybe she just had a momentary lapse. She often gets stuck on one track – I’ll help scold her awake, or you tell me what it would take for you to stay at Qiandeng. I’ll do it, I’ll do everything.”
Shen Qianzhan rubbed her temples with some frustration.
She closed her eyes, only opening them after a long while.
“Su Zan, my father is missing – whereabouts unknown.” Shen Qianzhan said: “Old Chen died accidentally. The production supervisor just notified his family – at the latest tomorrow, I’ll have to receive his relatives and contact the insurance company for claims.”
She glanced at the time, her voice calm and tone cold: “Next, I need to notify President Su, hold meetings with department heads tonight to align our stories. There are many, many aftermath matters requiring arrangement one by one.”
There was another sentence she didn’t say.
First there was the internal fighting within Xiao Sheng’s “Spring River” crew, now “Time’s” crew member’s accidental death. Though both incidents were coincidental, too many coincidences made them easy targets for those with ulterior motives to exploit and fabricate stories.
The crew was in turbulent times – Qiandeng was more easily targeted now.
Any carelessness might ruin her reputation in her later years.
She chose this timing to tell Su Zan for two reasons: first, to prevent him from being used unprepared; second, to guard against Su Lanyi’s backstabbing – using her resignation news to alienate Su Zan and sabotage her.
How laughable – former comrades-in-arms now required such preventive measures against each other.
The room fell into eerie silence.
No one spoke.
Shen Qianzhan cleared away the meal containers and called Ji Qinghe.
About half an hour ago, Ji Qinghe had sent her a very brief WeChat message: “Met with rescue team at the harbor, preparing to go to sea.”
The phone rang for a while with no answer.
Shen Qianzhan suspected boat engines or wave sounds were too loud for him to hear, so she gave up.
Just then, knocking came from outside.
Shen Qianzhan turned back, reminding: “Door’s not closed – push in.”
She’d assigned several people tasks and kept the door ajar for easy access.
The line producer entered: “Sister Zhan, I contacted Old Chen’s family.” Seeing Su Zan was also there, he greeted him and continued: “Using the contact information the production supervisor provided, I reached Old Chen’s wife and booked her a seven o’clock flight tomorrow – she should arrive around ten.”
Shen Qianzhan frowned – this wasn’t good news: “Who’s in Old Chen’s family?”
“Besides Mrs. Chen, Old Chen has two daughters – one just started high school this year, the other still in elementary school. According to Little Chen, his fellow villager, Old Chen’s parents are still alive, plus he has two older brothers and one younger sister.”
Shen Qianzhan was silent for several seconds, asking: “What was Mrs. Chen’s reaction when she heard about Old Chen…?”
The line producer recalled: “The production supervisor notified Mrs. Chen. When I asked for her ID information to book the flight, she seemed quite calm.”
“Didn’t ask anything?”
“She did ask.” The line producer paused: “Just asked how long the journey would take and what time she’d arrive in Wuxi.”
Shen Qianzhan pondered briefly, nodding: “I understand. Tomorrow you and the production supervisor will work hard to pick her up at the airport. Be humble and considerate of her emotions.”
The line producer acknowledged, seeing she had no other instructions, nodded slightly to Su Zan, and left first.
One PM.
Shen Qianzhan called Su Lanyi to inform her of the crew member’s accidental death.
Su Lanyi asked about handling plans. Seeing Shen Qianzhan had arranged everything properly, she didn’t probe further, only instructing: “If family members cause trouble, minimize negative impact. Represent the company in consoling the family – focus on calming the situation. If they’re unsatisfied with compensation, I can add another hundred thousand.”
She seemed to be smoking, pausing briefly to exhale before asking: “Anything else?”
Shen Qianzhan thought, then replied business-like: “No, I’ll have Qiao Xin write a follow-up report for your email.”
Su Lanyi didn’t respond. She laughed, holding the phone without speaking or hanging up.
After a long while, finishing her cigarette, she slowly said: “How did overnight make us strangers?”
Shen Qianzhan had no intention of reminiscing about the past or renewing old feelings to argue with her.
Her heart had already been soaked in ice water at three AM that day, shattered to powder.
She remained silent. Su Lanyi naturally understood her attitude, laughed self-deprecatingly, and quickly hung up.
At seven PM, Shen Qianzhan called Ji Qinghe again.
Tonight arrived exceptionally slowly – just the darkening process took an extremely long time, as if someone above the sky held black curtains, reluctant to lower them.
She leaned against the window, listening to busy signals, persistently redialing. When her heart grew panicked and short of breath, the line connected with a “click.” Ji Qinghe’s voice carried the dampness of seawater, clear yet cool: “I’m here.”
Shen Qianzhan froze, not immediately realizing the call had connected.
Ji Qinghe stood on the ship deck, leaning against the rail gazing out.
After dark, visibility at sea gradually decreased. In the distance, a hazy line of deep blue marked the horizon where sky met sea.
But as the ship’s searchlights activated, what little remaining light at the horizon was completely swallowed, leaving only the ship’s illumination bobbing like a glowing orb on the vast ocean.
Seeing she didn’t speak, Ji Qinghe switched the phone to his other hand, asking: “Were you waiting anxiously?”
A little, but she wouldn’t admit it: “Just worried about you.”
“Been at sea for a while,” Ji Qinghe said. “Uncle’s phone still can’t be reached, so we can only search slowly along the route Auntie provided. At night with poor visibility, progress will be slower.”
Without waiting for Shen Qianzhan to ask, he explained everything he could think of: “Latest by eleven, we’ll reach the island where Uncle was last seen.”
“Besides the rescue boat, radio has notified nearby fishing vessels to help watch.” His voice lowered, mixed with sea wind as he assured her: “Before you sleep tonight, regardless of progress, I’ll call to update you.”
Shen Qianzhan asked: “What if… there’s no signal?”
She’d wanted to say not to trouble himself, but her heart ached with worry about Old Shen’s whereabouts, hoping to be contradicted.
She’d been busy all day but couldn’t specify exactly what kept her so occupied.
Her time was packed full with trivial, complicated matters, not a moment’s rest.
Only in very brief seconds would she involuntarily think of Old Shen, remembering Shen’s mother’s trembling voice from the morning call.
That suppressed, controlled, carefully managed trembling tore at her heart bit by bit.
She’d always felt sufficiently calm – even calm enough to sometimes wonder if she was too emotionally detached.
But subconsciously, she didn’t believe Old Shen would meet with misfortune. She instinctively felt he’d just encountered trouble and temporarily lost contact. Especially after Ji Qinghe left, her heart felt steady as if anchored by a stabilizing force, with a voice repeatedly telling her: “Everything will be fine. Ji Qinghe will definitely bring Old Shen back.”
True to form, he told her: “If there’s no signal, I’ll borrow a star to tell you.”
In this moment, Shen Qianzhan couldn’t describe what she felt.
Her heart alternated between sour and bitter, then melted into complete softness, making her almost want to cry.