HYAT - 37

Shen Qianzhan gave him a reproachful look.

Her eyes, with their slightly heavy and sparkling corners, looked like a warning, but more like a “you really dare to say that,” didn’t they?

Su Zan initially didn’t think much of it. The people he usually dealt with—those who made lewd jokes, told dirty stories, or even openly fondled girls in front of him—what kind hadn’t he seen?

He had even witnessed the famous scene where Shen Qianzhan, like the Yellow River reversing its flow, retorted, leaving those opportunistic investors speechless, wishing they could just hand over their men to her.

But this particular gaze gave him a sense of awkward prying, making him blush from his neck all the roots of his ears, utterly pure.

He timidly shrank into the corner, trying to press himself against the wall, to reduce his presence.

Through a closed door, the sizzling sound of oil and the aroma of fish wafted gently from the kitchen.

Her father pushed open the sliding door, poking his head out to remind them, “Go wash your hands; dinner’s ready.”

Su Zan felt as if he had been granted a great pardon, rushing to the kitchen in three steps: “Uncle, I’ll help you.”

Shen Qianzhan poured out the tea dregs, propped herself up from the cushion, and motioned for Ji Qinghe to go first. She stayed behind, scalding all the cups in boiling water and neatly arranging them one by one.

The kitchen sliding door opened, and hot steam billowed out. Her father brought out a dish, and seeing her lingering, urged, “Hurry up and wash your hands to help.”

Shen Qianzhan assented, released the teacup, and went to set the table.

Her father wasn’t particular about cooking; it all depended on the ingredients.

From a bag of flour, besides a tray of dumplings, he also made sweet rice balls in fermented glutinous rice.

Her mother was even more skillful, busy with a table full of savory dishes while still finding time to make papaya stew with snow toad.

Shen Qianzhan sniffed the healthy dessert, finally feeling a touch of realism, as if heavenly palaces couldn’t compare to the warmth of human life.

She poured a small bowl for Ji Qinghe and placed it beside his hand: “Although this is a dessert, you’re allowed to have a taste first.”

Ji Qinghe looked at her, not refusing.

His features were cool and detached. When he spoke little, he appeared somewhat aloof and distant, not easily approachable.

Su Zan was intimidated by him from the start. In Ji Qinghe’s presence, he was even well-behaved when trying to lighten the mood, keeping his head bowed and eyes downcast. From the moment they sat at the table, Ji Qinghe didn’t move, and neither did he. Not even the clinking of bowls and chopsticks made a sound.

Even someone as naturally sociable as Su Zan was restrained and reserved, which showed how stiff the dinner atmosphere was.

Ji Qinghe apparently also realized the atmosphere was somewhat rigid. He didn’t disappoint Shen Qianzhan’s attempt to ease the tension. After tasting a spoon of snow toad, he naturally took over the conversation: “Auntie, have you specially learned Cantonese cuisine? The sweetness and aroma are very well maintained, even slightly better than what Guangzhou Restaurant makes.”

“No, I didn’t specially learn it,” her mother said with a smile: “I just watched Qianzhan’s aunt make it a few times and learned. Qianzhan is a picky eater; this is the only dessert she’ll eat no matter how much I make.”

Ji Qinghe glanced briefly and said, “It is indeed very good. If I weren’t afraid of being presumptuous, I’d ask my family’s chef to learn from Auntie.”

Her mother was flattered, smiling from ear to ear: “There’s nothing presumptuous about it; it’s good as long as you like it.”

Shen Qianzhan had never cared about the story behind snow toad before. She was purely worried that this scoundrel Ji Qinghe, being so shameless, would really have his chef make repeated visits. She quickly changed the subject: “My aunt? Which aunt?”

“Don’t you remember Auntie Liangliang?” Her mother didn’t notice anything amiss, following her words: “She grew up with your mother. When you were born, she was even there for the delivery. Later, she married and went to Guangzhou with her husband’s family, only returning a few years ago. We originally wanted you to recognize her as your godmother, but your grandma said before she passed that you shouldn’t casually recognize godmothers, so we dropped the idea. When you were little, you looked forward to her coming back every New Year, but now that you’ve grown up, you don’t remember anything.”

Shen Qianzhan, who had stepped into a minefield in an attempt to change the subject, silently took a sip of the papaya stew with snow toad and said nothing.

But her mother persisted: “I still thought that if you came home this year, I’d take you to visit Auntie’s house. Her daughter just had a baby at the beginning of the year, and you two are like bosom friends, so you should definitely go see her.”

Shen Qianzhan, being scolded, angrily kicked Ji Qinghe.

She was originally lashing out in anger, but he interpreted her action as a request for support. After a brief reaction, he interjected: “Auntie must have come to Beijing for Qianzhan’s maternal grandfather, right? How long do you plan to stay?”

Her mother’s tone softened slightly, and she spoke warmly to Ji Qinghe: “Until after the Lantern Festival, I suppose. Qianzhan is the only girl in our family, and since I’m here this time, I want to spend more time with her. I heard from Little Su that you two have a project collaboration?”

Ji Qinghe nodded slightly: “My profession aligns perfectly with Qianzhan’s new project.”

Her mother, keenly picking up on the address “Qianzhan,” perked up slightly, her expression becoming even more amiable: “Looking so young, yet already so successful.”

Shen Qianzhan’s internal alarm bells immediately rang. To prevent her mother from asking questions like “How old are you?” “Are you married?” “Do you have a girlfriend?” or “How is our Qianzhan?”, she quickly started serving dumplings to everyone’s bowls: “Eat while you chat, they’ll get cold and won’t taste good.”

Her mother wasn’t someone who would chat indiscriminately without regard for the occasion. If Shen Qianzhan hadn’t interrupted earlier, she wouldn’t have presumed to ask such impolite questions relying on her elder status. Now, seeing her guilt, she immediately took measure.

She gave the calm and reserved Ji Qinghe a deep look and smilingly urged the young people to eat more.

________________________________________

After three rounds of drinks and five courses, Su Zan, having regained his uninhibited spirit, was no longer holding back. He grabbed a wine bottle and drank against her father: “When I was little, I didn’t like fish. I’d only eat it after our nanny picked out all the bones for me. As I grew up and became more sensible, I didn’t want others to serve me like that, so I stopped eating fish.”

He burped, saying, “There were only two times in my life when I thought fish was truly delicious. Once was in Miyun. Sister Zhan and I had just finished working on a project with the crew. On the wrap day, Sister Zhan took the entire crew to eat fish. There was a fish stewed in a large iron pot, even bigger than today’s fish. The fish was so tender it melted in your mouth with just a touch, and I even cried eating it.”

Her father was getting a bit tipsy and, forgetting that Ji Qinghe didn’t drink, turned to ask him if he wanted some.

Shen Qianzhan intervened, intently scooping her small papaya, while blocking the drink for Ji Qinghe: “I told you he can’t drink. Go brag to Su Zan.”

Her father complied readily, adding another half-ounce to Su Zan’s glass: “The fish you’re eating isn’t just fish; it’s sweat, blood, and dreams.”

Su Zan whimpered, “It really is! I never knew the money I spent was so hard-earned. I went home and cried with my mom all night, promising not to waste money anymore. If I waste it again, I’ll be single for life.”

Shen Qianzhan interjected, explaining: “Su Zan’s promises are usually not very credible. Don’t let the women flocking around him fool you; he hasn’t had a single reliable relationship.”

She had eaten a bit too much tonight. After stuffing in the last bite of snow toad, she patted her stomach and let out a deep sigh—damn it, what happened to only eating until you’re 70% full?

Ji Qinghe’s focus, however, was not on this: “Is working with the crew very hard?”

Shen Qianzhan narrowed her eyes and replied, “Not bad? I’m used to it. For film projects, half of the main workload is in pre-production, and half is in post-production. Doing a project is like carving a work of art; who isn’t suffering?”

“Screenwriters constantly revise scripts, it’s tough; actors memorize lines and film under the scorching sun, take after take, it’s tough; grips set up scenes and tracks, also tough. But these are all part of the job.” Shen Qianzhan clinked her teacup with his casually: “But rest assured, Mr. Ji, the contract is clearly written. I’ll do my best to make sure you feel at home even on set.”

Ji Qinghe chuckled lightly: “I asked about you.”

Shen Qianzhan paused, and after understanding, she said, “Oh,” perfunctorily: “My hardest work is probably serving you, the sugar daddies?”

Ji Qinghe didn’t know if he understood or not, he echoed ambiguously: “Serving me is quite hard.”

Su Zan, who was discussing where the best part of the second fish was, accidentally overheard and interjected: “Mr. Ji, you are definitely easy to talk to. My Sister Zhan once encountered an investor who forced our main creative team to listen to his stories, and insisted that we change the male lead to match him. You don’t know, that weirdo even forced the screenwriter to pull out his laptop and revise it on the spot that night. If it really was changed, could it still be filmed?”

He spoke animatedly, not missing a beat while drinking with her father: “Sister Zhan went up, closed the screenwriter’s laptop, and told me to take the person away first. I put the screenwriter in the car, and when I came back, Sister Zhan had already settled things.”

Shen Qianzhan smiled, not explaining, but added an ending: “Later, the investment fell through, and I received calls cursing me every day for a month.” This industry has all kinds of people, and nothing incredible is considered a big deal.

She then pressed down her father’s wine bottle, frowning: “Dad, Su Zan’s had too much to drink. Don’t drink with him anymore, or if he crashes here, you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”

Her father tried to regain control of the wine bottle: “He’s not drunk yet.”

Shen Qianzhan wouldn’t let him.

Just as they were in a standoff, Su Zan burped again and asked her father, “Old Shen, you say you can drink so much. Your future son-in-law won’t be able to handle it.” His eyes were hazy with drink, and he looked towards Ji Qinghe: “Like my Mr. Ji, he doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol.”

Her father chuckled, smiling broadly: “Little Ji isn’t going to be my son-in-law, so not drinking isn’t a problem.”

Su Zan cackled twice, cupping his chin in his hands, and mumbled with a thick tongue: “You have to ask my Mr. Ji about that; what you say doesn’t count.”

Shen Qianzhan’s heart pounded faster and faster. Fearing that Su Zan, when truly drunk, would blurt everything out, she forcibly rushed him out without discussion: “It’s getting late. I’ll take Su Zan back first.”

“No,” Su Zan resisted: “I promised Uncle we’d stay up all night to see the New Year in.”

Shen Qianzhan gave two cold, sarcastic laughs: “You say no and it’s no? Get up, let’s go home.”

Seeing that acting tough wasn’t working, Su Zan immediately switched to playing the fool: “I’m stuck to the chair.”

Shen Qianzhan: “...”

Her mother heard the commotion and came out of the kitchen: “I’ll go tidy up the guest room. Should Little Su stay tonight?”

Before Shen Qianzhan could object, Ji Qinghe narrowed his eyes and said, “Qianzhan is a light sleeper, and Su Zan doesn’t handle his alcohol well. If he acts up in the middle of the night, she probably won’t sleep well. I’ll take him.”

Her mother agreed, saying she had made hangover soup and told Shen Qianzhan to put it in a thermos for Su Zan.

When they saw him off at the door, Su Zan looked at her weakly, pitifully saying, “Auntie, I’m no longer your beloved Little Su Su.”

Her mother couldn’t help but laugh: “Why is this child like this when he’s drunk?”

Shen Qianzhan put on her coat and picked up her car keys. Seeing Ji Qinghe steadily supporting Su Zan, she went to press the elevator first: “Mom, you go in. I’ll be back after dropping off Su Zan.”

Her mother assented, warning the three to be careful on the road. After watching them enter the elevator, she closed the door. Turning around, her father stood under the foyer light, a thoughtful expression on his face: “How did Little Ji know that Dengdeng is a light sleeper?”

________________________________________

After tossing Su Zan into the back seat, Shen Qianzhan was about to go around to the driver’s seat when Ji Qinghe opened the passenger door, motioning for her to get in first: “Give me the keys; I’ll drive.”

Shen Qianzhan, with a clear conscience, tossed him the car keys and went to the passenger seat.

On Chinese New Year’s Eve, the number of cars on Beijing’s streets was suddenly sparse, quite unlike any other time.

She propped her arm on the window, watching the night view for a while, and then suddenly remembered an unignorable question: “Are you really taking Su Zan to your place?”

Ji Qinghe focused on driving, not even sparing a glance: “Otherwise, what? Leave him at your place?”

Shen Qianzhan was speechless.

She turned to look at Su Zan, who was dozing with his eyes closed, starting to snore: “I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle him.”

Ji Qinghe didn’t immediately respond. He turned his head, glanced at her casually: “Didn’t I handle you and me just fine?”

Shen Qianzhan was full of questions: “When did I ever need your care?” After speaking, she realized he was referring to that night in Xi’an. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow: “Princess carry, shared bath? You have quite exotic tastes.”

“There was Meng Wangzhou,” Ji Qinghe slightly loosened his grip on the steering wheel, adjusting the air conditioning vent: “Do you usually drive with the vent blowing directly at you?”

Shen Qianzhan: “Is there a problem?”

Ji Qinghe didn’t mind her rather aggressive tone, saying, “That night, the air conditioning was blowing on your back, and you whimpered daintily for a long time.”

Shen Qianzhan was silenced.

She turned to look at the buildings flashing by outside the window. In the distance, an office building’s exterior lights formed a giant screen, wishing Beijing citizens a Happy New Year on behalf of a certain group.

The city lights remained undiminished, still brilliant.

“I don’t know what year it is anymore,” she mused. “From having a stable job to utter defeat, then from having nothing to where I am now. I’ve forgotten how long it took to clear my debts. The first year my debts were cleared, I bought a car. For a single parking space, I moved twice. In the year Beijing’s housing prices soared, I bought an apartment. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve properly celebrated Chinese New Year.”

Ji Qinghe had never been one to comfort people. Hearing her tone, it seemed she was speaking from the heart, moved by the scene, so he didn’t respond.

“When I first came to Beijing, I didn’t face the dilemma of having to rent a basement or eating only one meal a day. Even when I could live alone in a studio apartment, I never imagined I’d later be destitute and desperate, but when I thought I couldn’t get through it, things took a turn for the better, and I’m here now. Last year, I couldn’t foresee meeting you, and I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year.” Shen Qianzhan pulled her sleeve to wipe the car window. She vaguely saw something flash by, but before she could steady herself, it was gone without a trace.

Outside the car window, the night was deep and dark, and Ji Qinghe slowed the car down.

The white specks that had been fleeting outside the window finally became clear. Under the light of the streetlights, large snowflakes fell, thick and continuous.

Ji Qinghe stopped at a red light.

The street was empty, with only one car parked far away in the left-turn lane.

The car lights flickered. Against the backdrop of the heavy snow falling outside the window, he turned to look at her, his eyes as deep as the night itself: “You can make a wish to me. It will be valid every year on this day.”