HYAT - 34

Ji Qinghe gave a faint smirk, his expression seven parts noble and three parts aloof. He showed neither sympathy for her plight nor pity for her poor judgment of character.

Only when she paused did he raise his eyes to look at her.

His gaze was clear, untouched by any hint of intoxication, and the corners of his lips were slightly upturned, as if carrying a hint of a smile: “You are not that kind of person.”

His summarization was so broad it was almost irresponsible.

Shen Qianzhan pressed him: “What kind of ‘that kind of person’?”

“You’re not someone who stops moving forward just because you’re desperate,” he said, rising and tossing his suit jacket onto the sofa. “Nor are you a woman who wouldn’t accept someone else after one heartbreak.”

He lowered his head slightly, turning his face to look at her, and undid his cufflink with one hand: “As for changing men like changing clothes, we can discuss that topic in depth.”

From the moment he started unbuttoning without warning, Shen Qianzhan had felt a flutter in her heart and a shortness of breath. Now, hearing such a shameless invitation, she was utterly dumbfounded.

You dog of a man! Shameless!

She was furious.

But she was in the wrong, as the words had come from her own mouth. Now, she couldn’t righteously utter a single reproach. She could only watch helplessly as he slightly tilted his chin, loosened his tie, and walked a few steps closer.

Ji Qinghe leaned in, his nose so close it almost touched hers: “Shen Qianzhan.”

“You’ve fallen so many times with me, why haven’t you learned your lesson?” He put an arm around her lower back, trapping her in his embrace. With one hand, he gently pushed her against the dangerously insecure floor-to-ceiling window.

Shen Qianzhan’s heart plummeted, and she suddenly held her breath: “Ji Qinghe!”

“Here,” he said, his voice low. He turned his face slightly, his cool lower lip brushing her earlobe. His voice, like a phantom, softly asked her: “Is it that hard to say you don’t like it or don’t want to be together?”

He lightly nipped, like an ant gnawing: “Or are you throwing out a painful past to test my reaction?”

Shen Qianzhan’s ears were the most sensitive part of her. The moment his breath approached, her heart softened, tingling and trembling. “Do you think I made it up?”

“Not necessarily,” he said, releasing her earlobe, his gaze meeting hers: “I won’t comment on your past, which I wasn’t a part of.”

From Shen Qianzhan’s understanding of Ji Qinghe, his words were probably a display of restraint. But in his heart, he was probably mocking her for her poor judgment of character, calling her foolish and laughable.

She pursed her lips, stubbornly defending herself: “When you treat other people’s pasts as a joke like this, who would dare to give you their heart?”

“You weren’t planning to, either.” Ji Qinghe’s hand around her lower back tightened, and he whispered, “If you don’t want to go to bed, here is fine too. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” After he spoke, he chuckled, his voice low and deep, like the lazy tone of someone just waking up, extremely relaxed.

Shen Qianzhan hadn’t yet recovered from that wave of weakness.

Her hands rested against his chest; her palms had initially been slightly cool. With his teasing and flirting, despite no actual physical actions, her blood was already surging, her body warm.

Someone like Shen Qianzhan, who carried a certain label and was exceptionally mindful of her image, always prioritized style over comfort. In places without heating, her hands and feet were constantly icy, as if she had just been pulled from an icy river.

Year after year, season after season, she could never get warm.

Only last June in Xi’an, as he entered her, he had asked with a half-smile, “Why are you so hot, mm?”

Hot where?

Everywhere.

These memories, too embarrassing to voice, suddenly softened Shen Qianzhan’s heart in a particular moment.

Perhaps some public accounts weren’t entirely wrong; men and women who establish an intimate relationship, in a sense, break down defensive barriers, connecting body and mind, entrusting a resonance.

She sighed, finally no longer playing dumb: “Mr. Ji, what exactly do you want?”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t make up a story. In her early years, when she fell into a slump, she was like being in a human furnace, seeing all the coldness and warmth of human nature. She truly was devastated, shedding a thick layer of skin.

Since then, she had remained clear-headed, always measuring emotions with her mind, never her heart.

Ji Qinghe couldn’t use actions to prove how sincere he was, and she didn’t want to mistakenly invest her feelings again. Moreover, with such obvious disparities and conflicts, why would she seek this discomfort?

She was thirty; every new wrinkle meant she’d have to spend more money on medical aesthetics and facelifts when she was fifty. What an uneconomical deal.

Ji Qinghe asked: “You just don’t believe I’m sincere?”

Shen Qianzhan smiled: “My family background is average. I have no father to rely on, and after I started working, I’ve always relied on myself. Unlike Mr. Ji, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. At work, I’d encounter bosses passing the buck and colleagues making things difficult. It’s not that I haven’t been treated kindly before, but the one time I truly fell in love, I was stripped bare. That’s when I realized that in life, being a good person doesn’t guarantee peace and success. Even if I’m kind, I’ll still encounter unprovoked malice and a bunch of stinky men who want to act like my daddy.”

She raised her hand to unbutton his shirt. Her slender, fair hands appeared glazed in the dim light. She unhurriedly, calmly, undid three buttons, then paused her fingertips, reaching around his waist from both sides, gently hugging him, and kissing his collarbone with her lips: “What are we like this?”

“An insincere relationship is unnecessary.” Shen Qianzhan reached out and pulled his shirt out from his trousers. When she looked up at him, her eyes were clear, showing no hint of being lost: “Can you understand, Mr. Ji?”

She didn’t have so many rigid notions. In this circle, one-night stands, on-set couples, and transactional relationships were always common.

Shen Qianzhan prided herself on being virtuous and didn’t want to get involved, but to maintain balance, she always pretended to be infatuated with men. If others labeled her as frivolous, she didn’t care.

People who were too pure weren’t suited to walking on the edge of the rules.

But to truly maintain such a relationship, she was unwilling.

“Mr. Ji’s proposal from two days ago, I was actually very tempted,” Shen Qianzhan said, her long hair slightly disheveled and scattered behind her. She looked at him with languid eyes, like a spoiled child: “I’m good at making sure you have a good time, but not good at handling emotional issues. So accepting a relationship with no foundation is a bit difficult for me.”

Her fingertips traced circles on his chest, her voice soft, as if infused with water: “You want to wrong me by making me a trophy wife; I’m even more unwilling. I don’t want everything I’ve built up by my own ability after climbing out of a low point to be ruined again because of a man. I, Shen Qianzhan, am not the type of person who is willing to look up to men. If it’s not good for me, I won’t do it.”

Moreover, Qiandeng and Buzhongshui were currently in a cooperative relationship.

She wouldn’t be lenient towards anyone who tried to break that balance, even if it was herself.

From the moment she re-encountered Ji Qinghe, they had always revolved around this topic.

Many things, said once or twice, still held patience; a third or fourth time, it simply became tiresome.

She withdrew her hand and lightly embraced the back of Ji Qinghe’s neck. Her eyes blinked slightly, filled with affection: “Mr. Ji, if you’re truly sincere, why not be more respectful? Put me on an equal footing with you. I’m kind-hearted, willing to give and take. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be chasing my husband to the crematorium?”

Her smile wasn’t entirely genuine, but that hint of smugness and pride was incredibly alluring.

Ji Qinghe’s eyes deepened slightly, and he asked her, “Do you mean what you said tonight?”

Shen Qianzhan nodded: “I mean it.”

Ji Qinghe curled his lips, a soft laugh escaping him: “Do you still remember how long it took to repair the wooden梵鐘 (Fànzhōng, a type of large Buddhist bell)?”

Shen Qianzhan didn’t understand his meaning, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

Ji Qinghe cupped her chin and tilted it slightly, saying, “People who deal with time never lack patience.”

________________________________________

Safely out of the room, Shen Qianzhan first found a stairwell to calm her rapidly pounding heart.

Facing Ji Qinghe while fully conscious was too much of a test for her willpower and humanity. Did this “dog man” even know how alluring he was? If he had let her go a moment later, she probably wouldn’t have been able to resist doing this and that to him.

Then all those high-sounding words she had said earlier would be so ridiculous...

She was unwilling to get involved with Ji Qinghe for a few reasons. Firstly, she felt that in this relationship, Ji Qinghe was not at all sincere, and his proposal to date seemed more like an attempt to legitimize a casual sexual relationship. Did she really have to covet his body?

Secondly, due to the contractual relationship between Qiandeng and Buzhongshui, the film project involved huge investments, and the loss of human and material resources was immeasurable. She and Ji Qinghe merely coexisting peacefully was already a blessing; what kind of mess would it be if they actually got involved? If anything went wrong, it might well destroy the project’s reputation.

Thirdly... craving was craving, liking was liking, but they were two different things.

Was the forest not green or not fragrant that she had to hang herself on Ji Qinghe’s tree?

She shivered, reaching for a cigarette, but her hand brushed her pocket and she remembered where she was. Forget cigarettes, she hadn’t even grabbed her bag when she slipped out. She also wondered how much lipstick had rubbed off when she kissed Ji Qinghe’s collarbone just now...

Ugh.

She couldn’t help but close her eyes.

Shen Qianzhan, you are not allowed to think about it anymore!

________________________________________

When Shen Qianzhan returned to the annual gala, the proceedings were nearing their end.

Su Lanyi was delivering her closing remarks, bringing Qiandeng’s annual gala to a perfect close.

She returned to her seat and asked Su Zan, “Did anyone look for me?”

Su Zan had bad luck tonight, not even winning a consolation prize. He looked dejected and lacked his usual cleverness: “My sister looked for you halfway through. She was going to have Qiao Xin check the restroom, but she saw that Mr. Ji’s seat was also empty, so she called Qiao Xin back.”

Shen Qianzhan: “...Oh.” She thought for a moment and tried to remedy the situation: “It wasn’t just Mr. Ji who wasn’t there.”

Su Zan glanced at her, mercilessly exposing her: “Sister Zhan, your ear... it’s quite obvious.”

Shen Qianzhan: “???”

This comment directly caused Shen Qianzhan to be restless and distracted for the latter half of the event. As soon as the gala ended, she fled in a panic, feeling guilty about something.

________________________________________

The end of the annual gala felt like the conclusion of a year-end ritual. Shen Qianzhan was immersed in the joy of counting her year-end bonus, while Qiao Xin counted down the days to the Chinese New Year holiday.

The contract entrusting Jiang Juanshan with script creation was finally signed and filed a week before the Chinese New Year holiday.

According to the agreement with Ji Qinghe, script creation required his presence for joint meetings and discussions. Due to the annual gala incident, Shen Qianzhan felt inexplicably guilty, thinking that he must be too busy to be seen recently, and indeed it was not suitable for a meeting. So she temporarily put aside her ambition and comfortably enjoyed a few days of leisure.

Regarding Xiang Qianqian’s contract termination, the predicted emotional manipulation that was expected to explode recently never appeared. The calm was so unsettling that Qiandeng’s PR department was constantly on edge, burning incense and bathing daily, praying that the opposing team would “be human” and not force them to return to the company for overtime during the New Year holiday.

Su Zan was the idlest person in Shen Qianzhan’s department, loafing around all day, teasing cats and dogs.

One day, feeling utterly bored, he brought a projector he had “robbed” from Su Lanyi and a bag of melon seeds to Shen Qianzhan’s office for a visit. They huddled together, spent half an hour just picking a movie, and only started watching an hour later.

The office was unusually free of work, the atmosphere harmonious with only the sporadic sound of cracking melon seeds.

As Su Zan cracked away, he asked, “Sister Zhan, are you going back to your hometown for Chinese New Year this year?”

“I guess so,” Shen Qianzhan glanced at him, “What, you want to come home with me?”

Shen Qianzhan wasn’t particularly sentimental about home; every holiday she was either working overtime or on a film set. Hearing her mention her parents was so rare that one would wonder where the sun rose from that morning.

Su Zan used to think Shen Qianzhan’s family situation was complicated, either her parents had a bad relationship or her family was broken. So he was always considerate, never asking or caring, giving her full respect.

Later, when he gathered the courage to ask after drinking, Shen Qianzhan casually said, “Go back and be a target for forced marriage, perhaps?” which immediately made him feel it was a pity he didn’t become a screenwriter...

This year, there were no projects during the New Year holiday, which was rare. He just thought of it suddenly and asked casually.

“Why would I go back with you?” Su Zan grabbed another handful of melon seeds, smiling slyly: “Not afraid of being urged to marry this year?”

Shen Qianzhan elegantly peeled the shells, neatly arranging the melon seeds: “If I don’t go back, those two matriarchs at home will come to Beijing to see which male ‘fox spirit’ has enchanted me.”