——
After reaching preliminary cooperation intentions, Shen Qianzhan rushed back to the company without stopping, having Qiao Xin contact the other party’s assistant to finalize the contract as soon as possible, preventing Ji Qinghe from having second thoughts.
Procedures had to be followed, and promises had to be kept.
Shen Qianzhan had extensive connections and resources, maintaining good cooperative relationships with countless marketing accounts under her command. She quickly found out who the anonymous netizen was who had leaked the story about Xiang Qianqian’s “nighttime meeting with a financial backer.” But to learn the anonymous netizen’s true identity would require filing lawsuits step by step.
Shen Qianzhan couldn’t wait. She temporarily abandoned this approach and put pressure on Su Zan.
Since handing Xiang Qianqian over to Su Zan, she had never directly interfered with Xiang Qianqian’s management affairs. Only when Su Zan was unable to handle things would she appropriately intervene, reserving considerable initiative for herself.
Su Zan had been frantically busy investigating this matter for the past two days.
When Xiang Qianqian’s scandal broke, although Qiandeng immediately removed the trending topics and suppressed the news, they couldn’t prevent their rivals from stirring things up. A wave of dirt followed like flies drawn to light, exploding online all at once, afraid of not trampling her to death.
Fortunately, the photos in the original netizen’s leak were extremely blurry, and Ji Qinghe usually kept a low profile, so it didn’t cause a major uproar. The subsequent financial backer dirt was mostly media speculation and had nothing to do with Ji Qinghe.
The leads were about to break off, yet making any breakthrough was extremely difficult.
So much so that whenever Su Zan saw Shen Qianzhan calling over the past two days, he had to grab and ruffle his hair first.
He sprawled listlessly half-collapsed on the sofa in Shen Qianzhan’s office, pitiful, weak, and helpless: “I really can’t figure it out. This time there were press releases across the entire network. I can’t tell whose hands are dirtier.”
Shen Qianzhan was reviewing the third version of the contract returned by Ji Qinghe’s assistant.
Given Ji Qinghe’s special status, Shen Qianzhan had personally made adjustments when Qiao Xin produced the first version of the contract. Unexpectedly, Ji Qinghe’s assistant was as difficult to deal with as he was, with demands for Party B’s obligations that were stringent to an outrageous degree.
Shen Qianzhan frowned, making annotations and revision comments while perfunctorily responding to Su Zan: “Didn’t you tell me before that Qianqian privately found herself a backing? Didn’t you pursue that lead?”
Su Zan glanced at her resentfully and complained: “She won’t say. When I pressed too hard, she brought out the contract, saying she had no obligation to disclose private matters.”
Shen Qianzhan’s typing hands paused. She glanced at him incredulously: “You just let her brush you off like that?”
Su Zan sighed deeply and spoke frankly: “I’m indeed only suited to be a useless rich second generation who only knows how to spend money.”
Shen Qianzhan finished adjusting the final version, scrolling up and down to review it, then sneakily added a clause to Party A’s obligations—During cooperation, Party A may not use any interest-related matters as leverage, violating the original intention of both parties’ cooperation, forcing Party B to violate professional ethics and rules by involving private emotions.
Then she saved and sent it.
After finishing these tasks, Shen Qianzhan finally had time to relax. She sipped the Gesha coffee that Su Zan had been offering as tribute daily, and with a rare pang of conscience, comforted him: “You’re not completely useless. The skill of being born into the right family is something ordinary people really can’t learn.”
Su Zan was on the verge of tears, continuing to play dead: “Director Lei’s audition results were originally quite good. After so much effort and hard work, in the end, once the dirt exploded, all we got was ‘we’ll collaborate when there’s an opportunity.'”
Shen Qianzhan said disdainfully: “Didn’t I teach you to maintain appropriate distance with artists, and that giving them some private space is premised on them trusting you enough and being obedient enough?”
Qiandeng never believed in controlling artists completely, always maintaining freedom, democracy, and peaceful profit-making.
But Xiang Qianqian, after leaving her care, was like an unrestrained wild horse that couldn’t be reined in.
Had Qiandeng wronged her? No.
Had Su Zan wronged her? Also no.
Su Zan only managed Xiang Qianqian as his sole artist, and being an agent was the rich young master’s first proper job. He treated Xiang Qianqian like a precious jewel, spending half his monthly salary on pulling resources for her.
Combined with Su Zan’s status as Qiandeng’s crown prince, Qiandeng’s resource allocation was completely tilted in her favor. Who knew what she was still dissatisfied with, constantly causing trouble.
Shen Qianzhan’s gaze fell on Su Zan’s face, which had hit walls until he was lifeless, and she helplessly gave him a reminder: “Why don’t you investigate Xiang Qianqian’s recent collaboration directions? If she found backing, she couldn’t possibly just keep giving. There must be demands and gifts involved—no one runs a charity.”
Su Zan’s eyes lit up, like seeing light through parting seaweed. He suddenly bounced up and hurried out of her office in a flurry.
At the same time.
Shen Qianzhan’s WeChat chimed softly.
She unlocked her phone to check.
Ji Qinghe’s WeChat account, which had been dormant since entering her friends list, had come back to life.
He asked: “‘During cooperation, Party A may not use any interest-related matters as leverage, violating the original intention of both parties’ cooperation, forcing Party B to violate professional ethics and rules by involving private emotions’—what specific aspects does ‘private emotions’ refer to?”