Shen Qianzhan had been played by someone, and with her fury attacking her heart, she didn’t sleep well all night.
Early the next morning, she picked out a set of unused cosmetics from her still-unpacked suitcase and spent a full hour doing her makeup in front of the mirror.
Concealer, brightening, highlighting—she didn’t skip a single step, creating a perfectly flawless no-makeup makeup look.
When she arrived at the company, it wasn’t even mealtime yet. Shen Qianzhan bought a cup of americano from the coffee shop downstairs and swiped her card to enter the building.
Qiandeng Pictures was a very humane company, and employees on business trips mostly received vacation compensation. However, this benefit was like empty talk for Shen Qianzhan—everyone except her got it.
The moment Shen Qianzhan stepped out of the elevator, her assistant Qiao Xin was already waiting at the door with a schedule in hand.
Besides having a meeting today, she also had an appointment with a screenwriter at three in the afternoon for a trial script.
After hearing the work arrangements for the past two days, Shen Qianzhan nodded slightly and turned to scan the office area: “Where’s Su Zan?”
Qiao Xin froze, remembering Su Zan’s panicked escape scene after hearing the front desk’s warning. With eyes on nose and nose on heart, she chose to betray him: “He heard you were coming and hid upstairs.”
Shen Qianzhan followed her assistant’s secretly pointing gesture and glanced at the ceiling, saying expressionlessly: “If he doesn’t want me to tear down the ceiling, he better get his ass down here.”
Qiao Xin responded with a yes, watched Shen Qianzhan enter her office, then took out her phone to send Su Zan a WeChat message: “Little Boss Su, how did you offend Sister Zhan again?”
Su Zan’s reply came quickly: “She’s going through menopause, easily irritable and angry. What’s that got to do with me?”
Qiao Xin held her phone and bit her finger, sighing helplessly: When immortals fight, mortals suffer. After thinking it over, she tactfully conveyed the order: “Sister Zhan is eager to see you. Why don’t you bring Zhou Yan and hurry over?”
Su Zan: “…”
He felt that Zhou Yan alone might… not be enough.
Joking aside, Su Zan didn’t dare disobey Shen Qianzhan’s orders.
After dawdling for half an hour, he clutched a stack of freshly printed Baidu encyclopedia pages and entered Shen Qianzhan’s office with the heavy-hearted mood of someone attending a funeral.
The latter was eating a salad, reluctantly and with obvious disgust.
The little heart in Su Zan’s chest sank a few more points.
He shuffled forward and pulled out a chair to sit down.
Seeing him present the documents like a sacrificial offering, Shen Qianzhan raised an eyebrow and teased: “What’s wrong, is my office so hot that you can’t stand staying for even a moment?”
Su Zan didn’t know whether to smile or not, finally forcing out a smile more awkward than crying: “I searched all night when I got back yesterday. Never mind finding someone who knows President Ji, no one around me even knows that Bu Zhong Sui has a China Regional Executive Director.” He looked pitiful: “Sister Zhan, we didn’t encounter some paranormal event, did we?”
Shen Qianzhan glanced at the thick stack of documents beside her: “Since you couldn’t find this person, how did you manage to compile such a thick book?”
“I printed you a copy of Bu Zhong Sui’s brand history, related products, and background stories.” Su Zan presented it like a treasure, flipping to the fifty-seventh page where he had folded a corner: “Look at this, this is an exclusive interview with Old Master Ji.”
Shen Qianzhan put down her fork, pulled out a tissue to elegantly dab the corners of her lips, and looked down.
Old Master Ji’s exclusive interviews were few and far between. The one Su Zan had compiled was published in a fashion magazine on the day the Suimu series watches were released.
Calling it an exclusive interview, this text occupied only a pitiful small section among the full-page watch photos and descriptions. It covered the design inspiration and philosophy of the Suimu series watches, as well as the reporter’s question about Old Master Ji’s view on the world’s regret that his watchmaking and restoration skills had no successor.
Ji Qingzhen’s answer was vague. He neither mentioned Ji Qinghe nor answered directly, only expressing hope that all traditional craftsman skills could continue to be passed down, and that the Suimu series under Bu Zhong Sui would maintain his personal style while continuously promoting the refinement and wisdom of traditional craftsmanship.
Shen Qianzhan scanned it back and forth several times and looked up: “That’s it?”
Su Zan made an “ah” sound: “That’s it.”
Shen Qianzhan’s voice instantly rose several degrees: “Nothing else?”
Su Zan: “…Nothing else.”
Shen Qianzhan rubbed her temples with a headache: “I asked you to find information related to Ji Qinghe, not to show me the fine virtues of the Chinese nation.”
She spread her hands and settled for the next best thing: “Contact information? You at least found that, right?”
Su Zan squirmed and hesitated for a long time before letting out a fart: “Does Bu Zhong Sui’s official work contact email count…”
Shen Qianzhan pointed toward the door: “Get out.”
Since Su Zan was unreliable, Shen Qianzhan had to roll up her sleeves and do it herself.
Ji Qinghe’s personal information was very well protected. Whether on Bu Zhong Sui’s official website or Baidu encyclopedia, there was indeed no trace of this person.
The only search result related to Ji Qinghe was a romance novel.
Shen Qianzhan glanced at it and closed her computer expressionlessly.
Getting Ji Qinghe’s contact information was actually simple—find Jiang Yecheng.
But it would inevitably lead to interrogation.
Ai Yi was right. Jiang Yecheng’s desire to collaborate with Ji Qinghe was urgent and fervent. He wouldn’t be understanding about whatever reasons Shen Qianzhan had for not wanting to cooperate with Bu Zhong Sui; he would only keep applying pressure to achieve his goal.
Since she hadn’t reached a dead end yet, she felt… she could still struggle a bit more.
After the meeting and syncing up on Qiandeng’s recent project progress, Shen Qianzhan immediately met with the screenwriter for the trial script.
The screenwriter Lin Qiao, twenty-six years old, Beijing native. She owned a courtyard house in the first ring, lived without worries about food and drink, and led a comfortable life.
A few years ago, when Shen Qianzhan had just switched to Qiandeng Pictures, the first project she worked on was based on Lin Qiao’s original script. Later, as Qiandeng developed, Lin Qiao, who had an established collaborative foundation, almost became Qiandeng’s exclusive screenwriter. In eight or nine out of ten projects that Shen Qianzhan produced, you could see Lin Qiao’s name in the credits.
The tribute drama was too big and difficult a cake to bite into. Shen Qianzhan originally hadn’t considered Lin Qiao, wanting to invite an experienced veteran screenwriter to form a writing team. But Lin Qiao self-recommended and fought for the opportunity, so Shen Qianzhan figured the writing team couldn’t be entirely made up of screenwriters she’d never worked with before, and gave her a chance to try.
The young woman was clear-headed about not being able to be the head screenwriter. Before leaving, she said this to Shen Qianzhan: “Sister Zhan, I’m free during this period. If you’re holding script planning meetings, you can call me. I might be able to give you some fresh opinions, and I’d like to learn from the senior screenwriters too. If you’re worried, I’ll sign a confidentiality agreement and promise to keep my mouth sealed tight.”
Shen Qianzhan was reading her script outline and, without looking up, said: “Weren’t you planning to go to Japan soon according to your social media?”