Chapter Eighty-Nine
Both of their professions were rather unique—one was a producer, the other a watch restoration consultant. Neither had much free time on their hands.
On top of that, they were stuck in Wuxi, unable to leave their posts during work hours, so all their dates took place in the hotel. Every day, it was either her going to his room or him coming to hers—there were no other options.
The hotel rooms were compact and cramped. When the two of them were together, aside from shamelessly nurturing their feelings, there wasn’t much else they could do.
As days passed, every intimate gesture felt as natural as if they had done it a hundred times before.
Shen Qianzhan sat comfortably on his lap, plucking a grape and feeding it into his mouth. “Qiao Xin bought these downstairs. They’re quite fresh.”
Ji Qinghe took the grape into his mouth and dragged the video’s progress bar back to the beginning, starting it over from the start.
This behind-the-scenes video was set to be posted on the official Weibo account of Time tonight.
From editing to post-production, it had gone through multiple rounds of review. By the time it reached her hands, it was essentially a flawless finished product.
Tonight, her mind was elsewhere. She had watched it several times but couldn’t remember what the behind-the-scenes footage even showed.
Only after Ji Qinghe arrived did her restless heart settle. She ate grapes while accompanying him as he rewatched it.
When the video’s progress bar reached a close-up shot of her, Ji Qinghe tapped the screen lightly and commented flatly, “Delete this part.”
Shen Qianzhan glanced sideways at him, her expression skeptical. “Not good-looking?”
Ji Qinghe pondered for a few seconds before saying, “I haven’t seen enough of it myself. Why should others get to see it?”
He was deliberately trying to cheer her up, and it worked quite well.
Shen Qianzhan burst into laughter, feeding him another grape as she asked, “If I weren’t a producer but someone like Song Yan, working in the spotlight, would we have had no chance from the very beginning?”
It was strange, really.
Before falling in love, Shen Qianzhan wasn’t one to entertain hypotheticals.
She felt that words like “suppose” and “if” were too conceptual, and the scenes and situations imagined under such premises were utterly meaningless.
But people, well, they spend their entire lives walking the path of self-contradiction, either contradicting others or themselves.
Just from what she could remember, she had asked plenty of foolish questions she once defined as “utterly meaningless.”
“We might have met earlier,” he adjusted the angle of the computer screen and said. “Many things happen because of specific people. If you weren’t a producer, then we would have a different story. There’s no such thing as ‘no chance from the very beginning.’”
In fact, Ji Qinghe had also thought about this question.
If Shen Qianzhan weren’t the producer of Time, if Ji Qingzhen weren’t a titan in the field of watch restoration, if she hadn’t brought that proposal to Xi’an to find Old Mr. Ji—would they have missed each other in this lifetime, leaving behind regrets?
Logically speaking, their meeting and reunion would have occurred later along this timeline, or perhaps their paths might have truly crossed at different times, never intersecting, leaving them with a lifetime of regret.
But emotionally, Ji Qinghe refused to accept this hypothesis.
Even if she weren’t a producer—if she were a planner at some company, a barista at a coffee shop, or a veterinarian at a pet hospital—no matter which, he would still have met her.
It would just be a different way of meeting, the beginning of another story.
A thought suddenly occurred to him: “The story that unfolds after meeting you is what’s called love.” After saying it, he laughed at himself, mocking, “No wonder so many people’s creative inspiration comes from being in love.”Shen Qianzhan was still lost in thought when he lowered his head, gently nuzzling her ear. "I rarely dwell on things that haven’t happened. Meeting you was simply meant to be. I even feel it was natural, as if this was always meant to happen at this time. I don’t fully understand how girls think, but if we’re really going to analyze it, should I have taken that step to ask for your contact information the first time I saw you and was captivated?"
Yet the cruel truth was that captivation was not love.
He wasn’t sure if, at that age, he had the impulse to take on the responsibility of another person’s life. Later, he moved abroad for studies, nearly losing contact altogether. In two years, anything could happen.
In his view, the best arrangement was now—she appeared neither too early nor too late, and he arrived neither in haste nor delay.
—
At the same time, what Shen Qianzhan recalled was a letter from the male lead to the female lead in the script of Time:
"If you had come a second earlier or later, the story might not have unfolded this way. I would still have fallen in love with you, but the love I could offer at twenty and at thirty might taste entirely different."
"At twenty, I’d give you passion and grand gestures. At thirty, I’d be calm as water, yet able to give you a family and a lifetime. Which would you prefer?"
This letter was sealed in an envelope but, due to sudden life changes, was never sent.
Though their lives were not the same, their emotional journeys resonated deeply.
—
The video continued playing.
The final clip showed the torrential rain in Wuxi that night.
The celebration was halted, and the crew by the riverbank urgently evacuated to take shelter, leaving the scene in chaos.
The editing deliberately overlapped the earlier dreamlike scene of fireworks with the wretched sight of everyone drenched like drowned rats, creating a stark contrast.
The final subtitle playfully asked—"Director Shao, when you made your wish, did you summon Yao Huan to celebrate your birthday?"
Yao Huan was the only historical fantasy romantic comedy Shen Qianzhan had produced, and it was widely beloved. Even years after its broadcast, online buzz about it still surfaced frequently.
Using it here added the perfect finishing touch.
Shen Qianzhan was quite pleased. After sending Qiao Xin a reply with her feedback, she closed her laptop and tossed it casually onto the sofa.
She turned, sitting facing him on his lap, and reached to unbutton his shirt. "Is the door locked?"
Ji Qinghe’s eyes held a smile as he replied leisurely, "Not sure. Want to check?"
Shen Qianzhan was well aware of his mischievous intentions.
Her entryway closet had a built-in full-length mirror. One night, in the middle of things, someone knocked on the door. She realized she had only closed the door but hadn’t locked it, and the scare killed the mood. She pushed him to go lock the door first.
If someone had actually walked in, how could she ever face them again?
Ji Qinghe was already fully engaged at that moment and unwilling to compromise. Bitten by her insistence, he had no choice but to carry her to the entryway to lock the door.
After locking it, Shen Qianzhan, for extra security, slid the bolt into place.
When she turned back, she caught Ji Qinghe’s gaze fixed on the full-length mirror peeking through the slightly open closet door, his eyes gleaming.
The intensity of that night was easy to imagine…
The next day, even Su Zan couldn’t resist teasing her. "Isn’t your bedtime exercise a bit too disruptive? You two shook two meters of dust off the hotel ceiling."
Shen Qianzhan rolled her eyes.Nonsense.
She had been biting his shoulder the whole time, how could there have been any loud noises?
At this thought, she suddenly remembered the tingling sensation from that night that left her trembling and her mind blank. Her gaze shifted, and she glanced at him quietly before saying, "Let's go take a look."
He chuckled softly, his laughter hoarse and raspy, carrying the magnetic and deep tone unique to a mature man.
Before she could even remove her clothes, his hand slipped under her skirt, caressing the small of her back. "Not angry anymore?"
If he hadn’t mentioned it, Shen Qianzhan would have almost forgotten what she was angry about.
Kneeling halfway on his thigh, she tilted her head slightly, offering herself to him. Her voice was soft, almost tender. "Of course I’m angry. How could I not be? Those awful men all saw me using the key card to open your door."
Ji Qinghe continued to knead her waist, gradually growing unsatisfied. His hands slid down along the curve of her waist, gripping her hips through the thin fabric.
Shen Qianzhan didn’t seem like someone who exercised much, with her slender figure. But only by touching and seeing would one know—her skin was firm, not overly thin, every inch perfectly proportioned.
The curves of her body balanced softness and firmness, like a work of art sculpted by God, with not a single inch wasted.
"It’s not an improper relationship," he murmured, biting her lip and kissing her deeply. "So what if they know? Time is almost finished filming anyway."
Shen Qianzhan felt her bones go weak under his kisses. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him weakly, and muttered softly, "It’s not like we can call them out one by one after class, hold hands, and tell them we’re in a proper relationship, right?"
How silly would that be?
At this thought, she couldn’t help but give him a light punch. "Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you had someone in your room?" Otherwise, none of this would have happened.
"I forgot," Ji Qinghe said with a laugh, picking her up.
He didn’t take her to the bed or the entranceway.
He turned off the lights and carried her to the windowsill.
Outside, thunder roared and lightning flashed, the rain pouring down in torrents. The storm showed no signs of letting up even after two hours.
Ji Qinghe pressed Shen Qianzhan against the cool windowpane, his fingers hooking the straps of her dress and pulling them down. His lips descended to kiss her shoulder, inch by inch, each kiss growing deeper. When he reached her collarbone, he lifted her nightgown, his fingers tracing along the inside of her thigh, slipping inside.
She tensed instantly, opening her eyes to look at him.
Just then, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky outside. The sudden burst of light swept past his eyes, as if sparks had fallen onto her body, igniting a wildfire within her.
The windowsill was too narrow—she was only half-seated, most of her body suspended in the air. Though he held her, preventing her from falling, every movement Ji Qinghe made heightened her sensitivity.
She tilted her head back slightly, taking a deep breath, no longer able to focus on anything else.
Thunder rumbled, mingling with the flashes of lightning.
Shen Qianzhan felt like a fish out of water, desperate for air.
After what felt like an eternity, when her legs grew weak and her toes were nearly cramping from tension, he finally withdrew his hand. With damp fingertips, he traced her lips and whispered teasingly, "Wanting it this much?"
Shen Qianzhan’s eyelashes fluttered lightly, unable to meet his gaze for a moment.
He chuckled softly, kissing her again—from her brow to the tip of her nose—ensuring that whether her eyes were open or closed, he was all she could see.
He entered her slowly, inch by inch, as if claiming new territory, with infinite patience.
The slippers on Shen Qianzhan’s feet could no longer stay on, falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Just then, thunder pierced through the clouds.
She shuddered in fright, and he laughed, pulling her into his embrace, her body almost entirely suspended in the air.It was still early, with people lingering in the hallway, laughing, chatting, and passing by the door.
Shen Qianzhan bit her lip, not daring to make a sound, yet her body swayed and trembled with his movements like raindrops falling from the sky—rising and falling, pausing and resuming, unceasing.
After what felt like an eternity, the rain began to ease.
Ji Qinghe’s fervor also gradually subsided. Holding Shen Qianzhan, he steadied himself for a moment before speaking, his voice hoarse: "Shall I carry you to wash up?"
Shen Qianzhan wrapped her arms around him in return, silent.
The room felt somewhat stuffy, and her body was damp with sweat, sticky and uncomfortable. But at that moment, she only wanted to nestle in his embrace, motionless.
Sensing her weariness, Ji Qinghe patted her back gently, as if soothing her.
After a long while, she murmured, "Before we leave Wuxi this time, come home with me."
She paused briefly before adding, "I want you to meet my parents again."
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