HYAT - 7

On the way to the Time Hall, Shen Qianzhan more than once regretted how her mind had gone blank at that moment, unable to utter a single word of rebuttal, letting that scoundrel take advantage of her verbally!

With her improvisational skills, could she still be the “Chinese Little Cultural Library” of the production world?

Shen Qianzhan bit her lip, glanced at the navigation system incessantly prompting “turn right ahead,” and a wave of frustrated powerlessness washed over her.

Twenty minutes earlier.

After Ji Qinghe chuckled and said, “Your breathing sounds a bit familiar,” he quickly followed up with: “Are you looking for a clock restorer?”

Shen Qianzhan suspected he was trying to gloss over things, attempting to cover up his sexual harassment of a mature, beautiful woman. But strangely, she didn’t feel offended; instead, her ears burned, and a flush spread from the back of her neck to her earlobes.

Half of her brain was sensually recalling the weightless feeling of her soul ascending when he breathed on her earlobe that night, while the other half was rationally thinking of what she could say to completely humiliate his male dignity.

Before she could think of anything substantial, Ji Qinghe, like a prophet, preempted her: “Only children are vengeful and emotional. Adults only rationally consider what’s most beneficial to themselves.”

“Child” Shen Qianzhan immediately felt her intelligence insulted, so angry that her three souls ascended and six spirits departed: “You’re the child.” After saying it, she realized... Damn it, fell into a trap again.

Ji Qinghe was not surprised by her reaction. He switched hands holding the phone, his tone still lazy, but if one listened carefully, a slight upward inflection of pleasure could be detected: “How about it, can we continue our last unpleasant conversation now?”

Shen Qianzhan hesitated somewhat.

Last night, when she was fiercely launching indiscriminate attacks, she never thought she’d see Ji Qinghe again. Now she was caught in a dilemma; stepping down from this ready-made ladder felt equally awkward.

She touched her delicate face in the rearview mirror, her inner conflict bubbling like boiling water, releasing small bubbles.

To continue the conversation, the old problem remained—she didn’t want to mix personal feelings with work.

One-night stands were commonplace in the entertainment industry, not rising to the level of personal ethics. But she knew full well that a physical relationship, whether they had slept together or not, was ultimately different.

Needs must come with payment.

Rationally, Shen Qianzhan didn’t believe Ji Qinghe would use this as leverage to threaten her personally, but currently, Ji Qinghe’s identity was questionable, and she knew nothing about him.

Emotionally, she was accustomed to looking ten steps ahead for every step she took, considering all unstable factors before even setting foot.

What if Ji Qinghe, using their ambiguous relationship, demanded resources, property, or any unethical behavior? Or what if Ji Qinghe approached her with ulterior motives, coveting her beauty, wanting to rekindle their “one-night stand” connection...

The more Shen Qianzhan thought about it, the more she felt the latter possibility was greater.

After all, she had seen Ji Qinghe’s eyes that night very clearly, like a raging wildfire, three parts sobriety, seven parts indulgence. With wind, it would roar; with fire, it would burn.

For a moment, she even felt that even if it meant his death at that moment, he would be willing and content.

Sigh.

Being good-looking could be such a hassle.

Her thinking took too long. Ji Qinghe glanced at the call duration and threw out his final trump card: “I happen to be repairing a watch here. Care to come see?”

Shen Qianzhan immediately: “Give me the address.”

________________________________________

All the way to the Time Hall, Producer Shen struggled with self-reproach, resentment from being misled, and continuous psychological self-building, finally arriving at the Time Hall in the last minute before a complete mental breakdown.

The Time Hall’s coordinates were in Beijing’s Second Ring Road ancient building protection area, adjacent to a small alley behind the Forbidden City’s wall.

The storefront was very narrow, with a low presence among rows of closed residential houses.

If Shen Qianzhan hadn’t followed the navigation, she wouldn’t have discovered a watch shop here at all.

She parked her car and strolled inside.

She was met by a four-panel brocade screen, with a black and white base, depicting a landscape ink painting of cranes returning and magpies chirping. The ceiling was low, with a Chinese-style chandelier hanging, its soft light perfectly illuminating the four-cornered table and chairs set below.

On the long table, there was a tea set, celadon tea ware, with a transparent fish tank in the very center where three goldfish leisurely swayed their tails and floated.

Beside the tea set was an artistic backflow incense burner, which seemed to have been lit recently. The sandalwood scent was very faint, and wisps of white smoke flowed down from the rockery, enveloping a deer on the cliff in a light mist, making it unclear if it was morning or dusk.

Everything was so elegant, like a private tea room for friends.

If it weren’t for a pot of lucky bamboo, a small pine, and a lucky cat figurine, all of which could be found everywhere on Taobao, placed in the corner... one would never guess this was a place open for business.

Shen Qianzhan was just wondering whether to make a phone call to announce her presence when a light chime of wind bells came from behind the door. A young man in his thirties rushed in, pushed the door open, and upon seeing Shen Qianzhan standing in the center, he paused before greeting her: “Hello, Ms. Shen Qianzhan, I presume?”

He looked back, then somewhat awkwardly extended his hand: “I’m Meng Wangzhou, the one you contacted on Hangjia, the founder of Time Hall.”

Shen Qianzhan nodded haughtily, lightly grasping Meng Wangzhou’s fingertips: “Where’s Ji Qinghe?”

Meng Wangzhou had evidently learned in the past hour that Shen Qianzhan and Ji Qinghe were old acquaintances. He turned to lead her: “Please follow me.”

He pushed open the hidden door they had come through earlier, stepped aside, and motioned for Shen Qianzhan to go in first: “The entrance is the reception hall; usually, unfamiliar guests are received here.”

He enthusiastically led her through the corridor and into the courtyard: “This room is the base of the Beijing Clock Collection Association.”

Shen Qianzhan looked in the direction he pointed. Under the corridor pillars, there were several wooden four-legged stools. Behind the stools hung a vertical plaque with a white background and black characters, elegantly inscribed with “Beijing Clock Collection Association.”

She asked: “A studio? Or a non-profit organization?”

Meng Wangzhou glanced at her and grumbled: “You’re asking quite sharply right off the bat. This is a secondary institution, certified. Throughout the year, we have many exchange activities for field trips and training. We’re organized, disciplined, and have faith.”

He stepped over the stone threshold, pointing to the open room next door: “Qinghe is in there. You go ahead, I’ll go make you a pot of tea. Do you prefer Tie Guan Yin or Pu’er?”

“Pu’er, thank you.”

Meng Wangzhou waved his hand and turned to leave.

Shen Qianzhan watched him go, then gathered her courage and stepped into the room.

Ji Qinghe sat at a workbench by the window, his head slightly lowered, showing only his back.

The light in the room wasn’t particularly good, with alternating bright and dark areas. The spot where he sat was like a natural stage, with light filtering in from the window sill, absorbing all the light sources.

Hearing footsteps, he slightly turned his head, casting only a sidelong glance.

Just now, Producer Shen had been shamelessly speculating that Ji Qinghe coveted her body and beauty, wanting to reignite their past fling. Now: “...”

She touched her nose and approached with lighter steps.

Ji Qinghe was repairing a wristwatch.

The watch strap and back cover had just been removed, revealing the complex, interwoven mechanical plates of the movement.

He was using tweezers to pick up a winding stem, his slender fingers deftly controlling the rather miniature watchmaking tools with surprising lightness and flexibility.

Shen Qianzhan was an amateur.

She didn’t recognize any of the watch repair tools on his table except for the screwdriver, nor did she know their functions. Seeing Ji Qinghe meticulously disassembling the watch parts, with the intricate components inside the movement being quickly cleaned one by one, she wisely chose not to disturb him at this moment.

Meng Wangzhou came by in the middle to deliver Pu’er tea. Seeing Shen Qianzhan standing, he grumbled about Ji Qinghe not knowing how to cherish a beautiful woman, lacking even basic hospitality, while grinning and telling Shen Qianzhan not to mind: “Qinghe gets completely absorbed when he’s repairing clocks, like he’s transcended the mundane world. He’s been like that since he was a child.”

Shen Qianzhan raised an eyebrow, immediately catching the key point: “Since he was a child?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Meng Wangzhou said: “Ji Qinghe and I are cousins.”

Shen Qianzhan: “...” Then they probably weren’t familiar enough to talk about that.

Ji Qinghe chose that moment to let out a soft snort, interrupting: “I can hear you.”

He let go of the screwdriver, then gripped Shen Qianzhan’s chair and pulled it towards him, bringing both her and the chair to the workbench.

“This is a case support, very common.” He handed the case support, which held the watch strap, to her: “It’s used to secure the strap and to disassemble and adjust the strap length. Every watch counter has one; it’s nothing special.”

“This is a case back opener, used for ‘scalping’ [opening the case back].” Ji Qinghe pointed to the back cover placed on the leather mat, seemingly unfazed by how bloody or violent the description was or how it might not meet censorship standards: “Anti-magnetic tweezers and a sharpening stone. Used to pick up parts to avoid magnetization. Various models are available; usually, you need three to five of them.”

“Hand remover, hand press, movement oil, automatic oil pen.” He paused, then pointed to the magnifying glass clipped to his glasses: “And an eyeglass loupe, which can be attached with three to twelve times magnification as needed. Lower magnification for disassembling and assembling parts, higher magnification for adjusting the hairspring and checking the balance staff pivot.” After speaking, Ji Qinghe’s gaze shifted from the workbench to her face, lingering for a few seconds, and he added: “To give you an example, it can magnify every flaw on your face.”

Shen Qianzhan had been concentrating on his explanation when she suddenly heard this, her forehead twitched, and she coldly curled her lips into a sarcastic smile: “I don’t accept any imposed flaws. If you can’t talk properly, then don’t talk at all.”

“That’s not impossible either.” Ji Qinghe chuckled very softly, implying: “A mouth can do other things besides talking.”

Shen Qianzhan briefly recalled something based on his words, and disgracefully misinterpreted his serious tone.

Now, new grudges combined with old ones, all to be settled later: “Mr. Ji, sexual harassment isn’t limited to physical touch. Suggestive verbal harassment also counts as a form of it.”

Ji Qinghe’s expression was always sparse. Hearing this, he merely curved his lips perfunctorily and retorted: “Then what do you call Producer Shen’s personal insult towards me last night?”

No, wait a minute?

How was that a personal insult?

The two were already close, his hand resting on the chair’s armrest. When he leaned in to speak, he looked down at her from above, in a half-embrace, ambiguous posture, meeting her gaze: “Given Producer Shen’s level of dislike for me, if you were under eighteen, we should be seeing each other in court, right?”

Shen Qianzhan: “...”

Damn it, please shut up.