Chapter Seven
On the way to Time Hall, Shen Qianzhan repeatedly regretted how her mind had gone completely blank earlier, unable to muster even a single retort, allowing that bastard to verbally take advantage of her!
With her hit-or-miss improvisation skills, could she still be considered the walking encyclopedia of the production world?
Shen Qianzhan bit her lip, glanced at the navigation system chattering away with instructions to turn right ahead, and felt a wave of defeated helplessness wash over her.
Twenty minutes earlier.
After Ji Qinghe finished his low chuckle with the remark, "That panting sounds familiar," he quickly followed up with a question: "Are you looking for a watch restorer?"
Shen Qianzhan suspected he was trying to smooth things over and cover up his earlier act of sexual harassment toward a mature, attractive woman. But strangely, she didn’t feel offended. Instead, her ears grew warm, and a flush spread from the nape of her neck to the roots of her ears.
Half of her mind was emotionally recalling the weightless, out-of-body sensation from that night when he had breathed against her earlobe, while the other half rationally pondered what comeback could utterly crush his male pride.
Before she could figure it out, Ji Qinghe, like a prophet, struck first: "Only children hold grudges and act on emotions. Adults think rationally about what benefits them most."
The "child" Shen Qianzhan felt her intelligence had been insulted, anger rising to the point of feeling her soul leave her body: "You’re the child." As soon as she said it, she realized… damn it, she’d fallen into his trap again.
Ji Qinghe wasn’t surprised by her reaction. He switched the phone to his other hand, his tone still lazy and casual, though a faint hint of amusement could be detected in his slightly uplifted tone: "So, can we continue our conversation that ended unpleasantly last time?"
Shen Qianzhan hesitated.
Last night, when she had decisively attacked without discrimination, she hadn’t expected to ever see Ji Qinghe again. Now, she was in a difficult position—whether to take this ready-made opportunity to step down or not was equally awkward.
She touched her delicate face in the rearview mirror, her inner conflict bubbling like boiling water, little bubbles popping one after another.
If they continued talking, it would be the same old issue—she didn’t want to mix personal feelings with work.
One-night stands were commonplace in the entertainment industry, not something to judge someone’s character over. But she knew deep down that the physical relationship, whether they had slept together or not, was ultimately different.
Where there was demand, there had to be something given in return.
Rationally, Shen Qianzhan didn’t believe Ji Qinghe would use this as leverage to threaten her personally. But at the moment, his identity was questionable, and she knew nothing about this man.
Emotionally, she was used to thinking ten steps ahead, considering all unstable factors before even taking a step.
What if Ji Qinghe used their ambiguous relationship to demand resources, assets, or any other unethical requests? Or what if he had approached her with ulterior motives, coveting her beauty and wanting to rekindle their fling…
The more Shen Qianzhan thought about it, the more likely the latter possibility seemed.
After all, she had seen Ji Qinghe’s gaze clearly that night—like a wildfire sweeping across the plains, three parts clear-headed, seven parts lost in it. It howled with the wind and burned with the fire.
For a moment, she even felt that he would have willingly and gladly died in that instant.
Sigh.
Being too good-looking was such a trouble.
Her contemplation lasted too long. Ji Qinghe glanced at the call duration and played his final trump card: "I happen to be restoring a watch right now. Want to come take a look?"
Shen Qianzhan immediately replied: "Give me the address."
—The entire journey, Producer Shen struggled with self-reproach and resentment over her momentary lapse of judgment, repeatedly rebuilding her psychological defenses. She arrived at Time Hall in the final minute before what felt like an impending mental breakdown.
Time Hall was located within the ancient architecture preservation zone of Beijing's Second Ring Road, nestled in a small alley adjacent to the rear wall of the Forbidden City.
The storefront was narrow, its presence barely noticeable among the rows of tightly shut residential buildings.
Had Shen Qianzhan not followed the navigation, she would never have discovered this clock shop.
After parking her car, she stepped inside with ease.
Facing her was a four-panel brocade screen with a black-and-white base, painted with a landscape ink wash depicting cranes returning and magpies chirping. The ceiling was low, adorned with a Chinese-style pendant lamp whose soft light gently enveloped the set of four-cornered tables and chairs in the room.
On the long table sat a tea tray with celadon tea sets. At the center, a transparent fish tank held three goldfish leisurely swaying their tails.
Beside the tea set was an artistically crafted reverse-flow incense ornament, likely lit not long ago. The faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air, with wisps of white smoke cascading down the mountain rocks, shrouding the elk on the cliff in a haze that blurred the line between dawn and dusk.
Everything was so elegantly arranged that it resembled a private tea room for meeting friends.
If not for the pot of lucky bamboo, small pine bonsai, and the ubiquitous Maneki-neko ornament from a certain online marketplace in the corner... one would hardly have guessed this was a place open for business.
Just as Shen Qianzhan was contemplating whether to make a phone call to announce her presence, a gentle chime of wind bells sounded from the door. A man in his thirties hurriedly pushed the door open and, upon seeing Shen Qianzhan standing prominently in the center, paused briefly before greeting, "Hello, you must be Miss Shen Qianzhan, right?"
He glanced back, somewhat flustered, and extended his hand. "I'm Meng Wangzhou, the person you contacted on the professional platform. I'm the founder of Time Hall."
Shen Qianzhan nodded with a touch of haughtiness, lightly grasping the tips of Meng Wangzhou's fingers for a brief handshake. "Where's Ji Qinghe?"
Meng Wangzhou had evidently gained a partial understanding in the past hour that Shen Qianzhan and Ji Qinghe were old acquaintances. He turned to guide her. "Follow me."
He pushed open the hidden door he had just come through and stepped aside to let Shen Qianzhan enter first. "This area by the entrance is the reception hall, usually reserved for guests who aren't familiar."
With great enthusiasm, he led her through the corridor and into the courtyard. "This is the base of the Beijing Clock Collectors Association."
Following his pointing finger, Shen Qianzhan saw several wooden four-legged stools beneath the corridor pillars. Behind them hung a vertical plaque with black characters on a white background, elegantly inscribed with "Beijing Clock Collectors Association."
She asked, "Is it a studio or a non-profit organization?"
Meng Wangzhou glanced at her and muttered, "You're quite sharp with your questions right off the bat. This is a secondary organization with proper certification. We host plenty of exchange activities like field trips and training sessions throughout the year—organized, disciplined, and driven by passion."
Stepping over the stone threshold, he pointed to the adjacent open room. "Qinghe is in there. You can go in first. I'll brew some tea for you. Do you prefer Tieguanyin or Pu'er?"
"Pu'er, please. Thank you."
Meng Wangzhou waved and turned to leave.
Shen Qianzhan watched him go, mustered her courage, and stepped into the room.
Ji Qinghe sat at a workbench by the window, his head slightly lowered, offering only a view of his back.
The lighting in the room was not particularly good, with alternating patches of light and shadow. Where he sat seemed like a natural stage, illuminated by the light streaming in from the window, absorbing all the available brightness.Hearing footsteps, he slightly turned his head, glancing only from the corner of his eye.
Producer Shen, who had just boldly speculated that Ji Qinghe was lusting after her body and beauty and wanted to rekindle their past fling: "..."
She rubbed 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 intricate mechanical dial inside.
He was using tweezers to extract the stem, his slender fingers deftly handling the surprisingly delicate watch repair tools with unexpected ease and agility.
Shen Qianzhan was a complete novice.
Among the watch repair tools on his desk, aside from the screwdriver, she couldn’t identify a single one, let alone understand their functions. Watching Ji Qinghe intently disassembling the watch components, quickly cleaning each of the complex parts inside the movement, she wisely refrained from disturbing him at this moment.
Meng Wangzhou came by midway to deliver some Pu’er tea. Seeing Shen Qianzhan standing, he complained about Ji Qinghe’s lack of chivalry and basic hospitality while grinning and telling Shen Qianzhan not to mind it: "Once Qinghe starts repairing clocks or watches, it’s like he transcends the mortal world and sheds all worldly concerns. He’s been like this since he was a kid."
Shen Qianzhan raised an eyebrow, immediately catching the key point: "Since he was a kid?"
"He didn’t tell you?" Meng Wangzhou said, "Qinghe and I are cousins."
Shen Qianzhan: "..." They probably weren’t close enough for that yet.
Ji Qinghe scoffed lightly at the right moment, interrupting, "I can hear you."
He let go of the screwdriver and instead grabbed Shen Qianzhan’s chair, pulling it—and her—toward his workbench.
"This is a strap support stand, very common." He handed the stand used to secure the watch strap to her. "It’s for fixing the strap and adjusting its length. Every watch counter has one; nothing special."
"This is a case back opener, used for prying open the cover." Ji Qinghe tapped the back cover resting on the leather pad, seemingly unaware of how violent and bloody the description sounded and how it might not pass censorship standards. "Anti-magnetic tweezers and a sharpening stone. For picking up parts to avoid magnetization. They come in different sizes; usually, you need three to five on hand."
"Hand remover, hand press, movement oil, automatic oil pen." He paused, pointing to the magnifying glass clipped to his glasses. "And the loupe. Depending on the need, you can attach magnifying lenses from three to twelve times magnification. Lower magnification for disassembling and assembling parts, higher magnification for adjusting the hairspring and checking the balance staff pivot." After finishing, Ji Qinghe’s gaze shifted from the workbench to her face, lingering for a few seconds before adding, "For example, it can magnify every flaw on your face."
Shen Qianzhan had been fully focused on his explanation, but upon hearing this, her temple twitched. She curled her lips into a cold, mocking smile. "I don’t accept any imposed flaws. If you don’t know how to have a conversation, just don’t speak."
"That’s fine too." Ji Qinghe chuckled lightly, hinting at something. "The mouth can do things other than talk."
Shen Qianzhan briefly recalled certain memories triggered by his words, shamefully letting her thoughts wander due to his serious tone.
Now, old grudges and new grievances were piling up, ready to be settled. "Mr. Ji, sexual harassment isn’t limited to physical contact. Suggestive verbal harassment counts too."
Ji Qinghe’s expression was typically sparse. Upon hearing this, he merely curled his lips perfunctorily and retorted, "Then what does Producer Shen’s personal insult toward me last night count as?"No, wait a minute?
How did it become a personal insult?
The two were already close, his hand resting on the armrest of the chair. As he leaned in to speak, he looked down at her with a half-embracing, ambiguous posture, meeting her gaze: "Given how much Producer Shen detests me, if I were under eighteen, we’d probably be meeting in court, wouldn’t we?"
Shen Qianzhan: "..."
Damn it, just shut up already.
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