I Live in Your Time

Chapter Seventy-One

Shen Qianzhan hadn’t visited the Forbidden City to tread on snow for many years.

Although Wuxi also saw snowfall in winter, the snowy landscapes of the north and south were two entirely different scenes.

In her first two years in Beijing, whenever the museum opened on snowy days, she would always take a stroll through the Forbidden City, seeking the vibrant delight of ancient people walking through snow in search of plum blossoms. Later, as her work became unstable and she had debts to repay, she worked tirelessly almost every single day of the year.

The changing seasons, in her eyes, were merely about adding clothes when it was cold and seeking shade when it was hot.

Gradually, with frequent film crew assignments and business trips, she spent less and less time in Beijing. On the rare occasion of a day or two off, she only wanted to sleep soundly at home, unwilling to step outside even once.

The youthful enthusiasm for entering the palace on snowy days to admire plum blossoms and snow had long been worn away by life.

In the photo, Shen Qianzhan’s hair barely reached her collarbone, fluttering gently in the wind.

She sat on a bench along the palace path, likely lost in thought, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, revealing only most of her profile.

The background of the photo was a crimson palace wall, with pristine, snow-defying plum blossoms confined by iron railings in the corner, blooming so abundantly that they covered the entire wall.

Her appearance back then still carried a hint of youthfulness, but her delicate features shone through. Even without makeup, her beauty remained breathtaking.

Shen Qianzhan examined the photo inch by inch, not missing even the smallest details.

After a long while, she finally looked up at Ji Qinghe. “This is a very old photo. Was it taken during your two years in Beijing?”

She remembered that during her last visit to the courtyard house, Old Mr. Ji had mentioned to her that Ji Qinghe had worked as a restorer at the Clock Museum in Beijing for two years in his early years.

Based on the timeline, his two years in Beijing coincided perfectly with the period when she enjoyed visiting the Forbidden City to admire the snow.

Ji Qinghe’s gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds.

Although the light in the storage room was dim, her emotions were now laid bare.

From initial disbelief to gradual acceptance, Shen Qianzhan’s psychological adaptability was much faster than he had imagined. He had expected her to be either shocked or overjoyed, but neither was the case.

Contrary to all his predictions, for Shen Qianzhan, accepting the fact that “there was a photo of herself from nearly seven or eight years ago in the camera he treasured” didn’t seem too difficult.

She even controlled her surprise and delight perfectly, letting them show only briefly before they vanished.

“Aren’t you surprised?” Ji Qinghe asked.

“I am.” But beyond surprise, after accepting this fact, Shen Qianzhan felt a sense of psychological reassurance.

As a seasoned adult who had weathered many storms, Shen Qianzhan viewed love with a realistic and detached perspective. She didn’t believe in affection without origin or favoritism without reason.

Before this, Shen Qianzhan had been constantly speculating about Ji Qinghe’s true intentions.

What did he like about her?

Her beauty? That seemed a bit far-fetched.

Compatibility? They had only slept together once, so it didn’t make much sense for him to be so fixated.

Her abilities? His net worth far exceeded hers, and he was surrounded by many capable people. There was no need for him to covet her modest skills.

It wasn’t that she lacked confidence in herself. Her experience, appearance, and abilities were all her assets. In the dating market of her social stratum, she was undoubtedly the leading dark horse among the herd—outstanding and dazzling.

But Ji Qinghe didn’t belong to her world. It felt as though they were separated by two entirely different realms. His sudden appearance was both abrupt and overwhelming.But with the premise of the photograph, this matter could no longer be viewed through Shen Qianzhan's original perspective.

She wasn't narcissistic enough to believe that Ji Qinghe had fallen in love with her at first sight seven or eight years ago and had been unable to forget her since—that didn't seem like something a mentally sound adult man would do. This encounter, in which she had been involved yet remained completely unaware, felt more like an opportunity for the two of them to meet and get to know each other.

It was a connection that existed only between them.

"During those two years I lived in Beijing, I stayed in a courtyard house," he said, taking a dry cloth and carefully wiping the camera clean. "During the day, I went to the Clock Museum to restore clocks, and in the evenings, I returned to Time Hall to repair watches—a regular nine-to-five routine."

Ji Qinghe's upbringing and life trajectory were somewhat out of sync with the predetermined path of this world. Unlike the children of prominent families who went abroad to study or pursued advanced degrees at prestigious universities, and unlike the children of ordinary families who followed the conventional journey of studying, taking the college entrance exam, graduating, and working, his life was different.

His life's resume was filled with extraordinary experiences that ordinary people could never possess.

It was the honor and craftsmanship passed down through centuries of Chinese tradition—though never entering the public eye, it remained hidden within the flow of time.

What he loved was the restoration of clocks and watches, a craft that kept company with time itself.

The gears of the movement, the base cover, dials, hands, crowns, clasps—all the components, large and small, of clocks and watches were tedious and intricate. Yet he immersed himself in them day and night, finding endless joy in the work.

"During the early stages of preparing Time, when you were struggling to find an advisor, I put in a lot of effort behind the scenes," Ji Qinghe said as he removed the camera battery, placed it in a protective case, and returned it to the display shelf.

Turning around, he saw Shen Qianzhan raise an eyebrow slightly, waiting calmly for him to confess. He leaned against the desk, took a sip of the red date tea from her hand to moisten his throat, and began to explain.

"The museum has a Cultural Relics Protection Technology Department, and the selection of clock and watch restorers is particularly rigorous. In addition to the necessary academic qualifications, the hiring process follows a 'master-apprentice system.'"

"Most of the clocks in the Forbidden City's collection are tributes presented by various countries to the Qing Dynasty royal family over the years, clocks produced by the Qing Palace workshops, or clocks purchased overseas by ambassadors. Each piece has survived wars, passed down for centuries, and is a unique cultural treasure."

He paused briefly before continuing, "When a clock and watch restorer enters the museum, they work on these national treasures. The craftsmanship of ancient artisans was intricate and delicate, and without sufficient patience, it's impossible to restore ancient clocks. That's why the selection criteria for clock and watch restorers are so strict. Without genuine passion, it's difficult to spend day after day, year after year, working with clocks and watches in the museum."

"The old master restored the Wooden Fan Clock, earning fame far and wide. As his apprentice, I was an exception, brought in through unconventional means."

As if recalling something from the past, he smiled faintly. Holding her hand, he gently took the cup from her and placed it on the side of the desk.

Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around Shen Qianzhan, pulling her into his embrace. "Don't be fooled by how crowded the museum is now. During my two years in Beijing, I truly experienced the feeling of 'once you enter the palace gates, you're in deep waters.' Among my peers, there were two recent graduates from the Industrial University's automation program who were recruited and apprenticed under masters. One left on his own after three months, and the other stayed until now."

During the preparation phase of Time, Shen Qianzhan had reached out through various connections. She had even considered ancient clock and watch restorers, and Qiao Xin had made contact with them several times, but the responses were either met with silence or polite refusals.

The clock and watch restorers currently in their positions were all seasoned scholars, unshakable and unfazed even if the sky were to fall.After a couple of attempts, Shen Qianzhan also worried about truly disrupting their work and simply gave up, seeking another path.

But across the entire world, aside from the cultural relics preservation institutions of the Palace Museum, all other watchmakers followed commercial routes, trained by major enterprises to make and repair watches—completely different schools from the restoration of palace clocks.

Thinking of this, Shen Qianzhan suddenly had an epiphany.

She turned her head to look at him, staring for a full half minute before gritting her teeth and asking, "When Qiao Xin tried contacting the museum earlier and kept hitting walls everywhere, was it because you had already given them a heads-up?"

Ji Qinghe neither denied nor admitted it: "Just good connections. My former colleagues are more willing to help others achieve their goals, that's all."

For a moment, Shen Qianzhan felt a complex mix of emotions.

There wasn’t any anger or resentment, just a jumble of feelings inside.

"Time" had been remarkably smooth from preparation, investment, casting, to the start of filming. Even when encountering obstacles, they hadn’t cost her too much effort. As for securing Ji Qinghe, although there had been twists and turns, she knew deep down that winning him over was just a matter of time.

Unexpectedly, she had stepped into Ji Qinghe’s trap from the very beginning. The instances she knew of were already too many to count, let alone those she didn’t. If he hadn’t taken the initiative to confess tonight, Shen Qianzhan would never have known that her life had been filled with so many artificially created obstacles and setbacks.

She and Ji Qinghe locked eyes for a long time.

She wanted to say something harsh but held back, mindful that this was his territory. Being too reckless would only put her at a disadvantage, so she simply lowered her head in silent protest.

Ji Qinghe studied her expression, guessing she wasn’t truly angry, but he still tried to placate her: "My mistake, alright?"

"Although the process might have caused you some trouble, your original intention was still to have the old master serve as the consultant for 'Time.' Benefiting me didn’t really cost you anything. My former colleagues aren’t as interesting or patient as I am. They’re dull and boring—you wouldn’t have liked them."

His line, "Benefiting me didn’t really cost you anything," was somewhat pleasing to hear. Shen Qianzhan didn’t have strong feelings about the matter to begin with, so putting on a show of displeasure was enough to let it pass.

"What about the photo?"

"I had a colleague named Zong Liao who joined the museum a year after I did. He was young and couldn’t sit still for long, often using the excuse of going to the bathroom to take breaks and get some fresh air. Coincidentally, that day, he was scolded by our master and assigned to help me clean the antique clocks. With him taking over my tasks, I had a rare moment of leisure. I took my camera to take photos of the scenery and had just stepped outside when I saw you."

That memory was vivid, and even now, as Ji Qinghe recalled it, it felt as clear as if it were happening before his eyes.

Her face was slightly rounder back then, with delicate eyebrows, a graceful forehead, bright eyes, and gleaming teeth. Against the backdrop of the plum tree behind her, her skin appeared as white as snow. Standing in the wind, she looked like a fairy from a painting, holding a lantern that illuminated the scene, instantly filling his monotonous world with a radiant glow.

Shen Qianzhan asked again, "Did you fall for me?"

Ji Qinghe chuckled lightly, flicking her forehead with his finger: "We were just passing strangers. How could I fall for someone so easily?"

He spoke half the truth and concealed the other half—the latter part being: Although they were just passing strangers, she was like a splash of vibrant color, stunning his otherwise dull and uneventful years.

Ji Qinghe spent two years in Beijing. At the beginning of his third spring, Ms. Meng didn’t want him to spend all his time restoring antique clocks. She sent him to a watchmaking school in Switzerland to study, starting from the most basic tool usage. After two long years, he graduated and joined the Endless Year watch division, repairing and making watches.Clockmaking differs from antique clock restoration. The former involves learning everything from lathe work to create internal components to crafting entire balance wheel and hairspring systems. The tedious process also includes cleaning, oiling the balance staff and gears, and in addition to studying clockmaking and repair, it encompasses various professional theoretical exams.

The latter focuses on cultural relics. Even though Ji Qinghe studied under Old Mr. Ji and received exception after exception, he could not handle artifacts within six months. When he first entered the field, like all students, he started with using tweezers, disassembling and assembling clocks, practicing foundational skills like filing tips and repairing wheels. Half a year later, he was exceptionally allowed to restore antique clocks. Every step required photographic documentation, developing a restoration plan, and disassembling the clock to diagnose issues—each stage painstakingly difficult.

Both involve clock restoration, sharing the same roots and lineage, yet they are not entirely the same.

Antique clock restoration often involves polishing a single component for half a day, demanding immense patience and profound tranquility. Ji Qinghe’s work grew increasingly busy, and for a long time afterward, he rarely had the opportunity to immerse himself in the antique clock restoration he loved.

During those two years in Beijing, the photographs and handwritten repair records of antique clocks restored at the Clock Museum were all archived. The only thing that could capture the purest moments of that time was this photograph.

Passion struggles against the long passage of time.

In the years that followed, Shen Qianzhan’s face gradually faded and blurred in his memory, as if life were urging him to bid farewell to the past. Traces of her existence grew fainter and fainter. Until last year, when he unexpectedly encountered her again at the Xi’an Clock Museum.

She stood before a glass display case, glancing left and right, not appearing like an expert nor showing much passion, merely skimming through the exhibits casually.

Seven years had passed. The youthful innocence in her brows and eyes had long faded, her features now more refined. Those eyes, bright and lively, still held the same charm—delicate brows, a graceful forehead, sparkling eyes, and radiant teeth, captivating in every glance.

From the moment she stepped into the museum, Ji Qinghe’s gaze never left her.

——

Shen Qianzhan did not press further.

Ji Qinghe had just said two days ago that if she wanted to know his cards, she had to show sincerity. She knew that even if she asked now, he wouldn’t tell her. So why bother inviting disappointment?

Yet in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel thoroughly outmaneuvered by his step-by-step calculations. Knowing full well he had used every means, overt and covert, she didn’t find him sinister or cunning. Instead, a wave of tenderness and emotion welled up from within, feeling that his deep affection should not be betrayed.

It was truly maddening.

How could a man have every charming trait perfectly aligned with what touched her heart?

If she, Shen Qianzhan, weren’t exactly King Zhou of Shang, then he, Ji Qinghe, would undoubtedly be the nation-toppling Su Daji.

Suddenly, her mouth felt dry.

Her fingertip tapped lightly below his collarbone, sliding over the fabric of his shirt to his chest. “Let me test you.”

He obediently lowered his head, his nose brushing against the back of her ear as he kissed her neck. “Go ahead.”

“If I had completely captivated you back then, to the point where you couldn’t breathe or survive without seeing me for even a moment, would you have come to ask for my contact information?”

The Ji Qinghe Shen Qianzhan knew was calm and restrained, only losing control when desire took over, burning with passion. Asking a girl for her contact information was something he would never do.Including their reunion in Xi'an, she had always thought it was a chance romantic encounter, with her taking the initiative to seduce. Little did she know that Ji Qinghe was full of mischief, showing none of the joy or excitement of meeting an old acquaintance, instead appearing calm and pitiful like a naive man who had been tricked into a one-night stand...

"Hard to breathe, can't survive?" Ji Qinghe kissed her intermittently, lingering from her neck to behind her ear. As his gaze drifted downward, he caught sight of the large patch of hickeys peeking from her slightly open collar. His eyes darkened, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse: "Even then, I wouldn't dare."

He wrapped his arm around Shen Qianzhan's waist and lifted her onto the table.

The height of the table was just right. He loosened her collar inch by inch, almost imperceptibly, cradled the back of her neck, and kissed her collarbone.

Shen Qianzhan, not hearing an answer, reached out to undo his belt: "If you don't tell me, I'll tie you up here tonight."

Hearing this, he chuckled softly: "If you stay here with me, I don't mind being tied up."

He covered her lips with his, kissing her mouth that was about to chatter on, tangling and lingering until she was aroused. Then, lifting her hips, he took her completely.

Shen Qianzhan let out a muffled moan, lost in ecstasy. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw his Adam's apple bob and mischievously leaned in to suck on it.

He suddenly gripped her wrist, pausing for a moment.

Shen Qianzhan watched as his jaw gradually tightened. Based on her experience from their intimate days together, she knew that if she kept fooling around, she would be the one suffering tonight.

She moved closer to him, one thigh held in his palm, making it difficult to move freely. After struggling to get even closer, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, tilting her head slightly to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Ji Qinghe stared at her for several seconds, his eyes dark, bright, and profound, like a bottomless ancient well.

Shen Qianzhan was most afraid when he looked at her like this during lovemaking. The calmer he was, the longer the night would stretch. Before he could speak, she had already softened, pleading coyly: "Don't, don't look at me like that."

His back was already damp, and with her holding him, he found it even harder to restrain himself: "Aren't you going to ask why I didn't dare ask for your contact information?"

After the earlier bold advances and tender caresses, Shen Qianzhan had already melted and forgotten the question. Hearing him bring it up, she followed along: "Why?"

His voice was low and husky as he whispered in her ear: "Back then, I was too young to nurture a little peony like you."

As he spoke of nurturing, he was doing exactly that. Shen Qianzhan felt a nerve twitch, and she punched his shoulder hard: "You're not allowed to talk anymore."

Ji Qinghe chuckled softly, biting her ear: "If I can't talk, I'll just have to do more."

As soon as he finished speaking, Shen Qianzhan heard the sound of a door closing.

Startled, she looked warily toward the door.

Ji Qinghe also paused slightly. Slowing his movements, he listened intently to the footsteps outside. Confirming that someone had arrived, he frowned in displeasure, lifted Shen Qianzhan off the table, and closed the hidden door to the storage room that was still open.

Just as the door clicked shut, a clear, pleasant child's voice accompanied the sound of the study door opening: "Uncle?"

"Are you in the storage room? I'm coming in."