Freshly washed and dressed, Zhong Xiran sat back down at the dining table, a faint blush still warming her cheeks. She glanced uneasily at the glass of milk and a plate of six small sandwiches. So, it had been Qi Sinian in the kitchen. The housekeeper was on leave; she had mentioned it yesterday before leaving, but Qi Sinian's sudden return had made her forget completely. Qi Sinian was a cold man of few words. In their interactions, Zhong Xiran had always been the one to take the initiative. True to form, she offered a compliment. “I never knew you could cook.” “Of course you didn’t,” Qi Sinian’s tone was flat. “What do you know about me?” “…” And just like that, the conversation was dead. Qi Sinian had a habit of making sharp, cutting remarks since they’d married, likely lingering resentment from when she had tried to run away. Fortunately, it was never severe, and she had grown used to it. Zhong Xiran decided to just eat in silence. Qi Sinian pushed the plate of six small sandwiches toward her. “Finish them.” Zhong Xiran blinked. How was she supposed to eat all that? She figured it was his first time cooking for her, and he couldn't bear to see his culinary efforts go to waste. That had to be why he was making such a demand. She looked at him cautiously. “I can’t eat this much. Could we put the rest in the fridge for this afternoon or tomorrow?” “No.” Qi Sinian’s eyelids lifted, his gaze sweeping over her. “I’m not an easy man to reason with.” “…” Was he… joking? Had hell frozen over? Was he actually in a good mood? The rest of the meal passed without another word. Afterward, Zhong Xiran took the initiative to wash the dishes. When she came out of the kitchen, Qi Sinian had changed his clothes and was sitting on the sofa. He was wearing a celadon green shirt, a color most people couldn’t pull off. But against his cool, pale complexion, the green gave him an air of exquisite, cold detachment. The rasp of a lighter's flint wheel broke the silence. Qi Sinian flicked the lighter open, but he didn’t reach for a cigarette. He just kept repeating the action, as if out of boredom. Hearing her approach, he looked up. Zhong Xiran remembered her father’s words from yesterday. “Are you free anytime soon? My dad wants us to come over for dinner.” “I’m busy. A few days later,” Qi Sinian said. Zhong Xiran nodded. “Okay.” Qi Sinian set the silver lighter down. “How much investment does the film need?” He was offering to help. A wave of shame washed over Zhong Xiran. “You don’t have to,” she said in a low voice. “It’s nothing to me.” “I know.” Her nails dug into her palms. In his presence, she didn’t dare refuse him outright. “I want to try and secure the funding on my own first.” Qi Sinian gave a faint nod, tossed the lighter onto the coffee table, and stood up to leave, leaving only one sentence behind. “There’s a pill on the table.” A pill? Zhong Xiran picked it up and looked at it. The heat rushed back to her face. She hadn’t even known such a thing existed. · After Qi Sinian left, Zhong Xiran breathed a sigh of relief. She sank onto the sofa and started calling the investors in her contacts, one by one. The film she wanted to direct was a lighthearted urban romantic comedy called *Crush in Progress*. The script was by an unknown newcomer. While the characters had their flaws, she was instantly captivated by the bittersweet feeling of a one-sided crush at the story's core and had rewritten the script herself. “The company’s cut its budget this year. We can’t invest.” “Eighty to ninety percent of these urban romance films have lost money over the past couple of years. We don’t touch them.” “We don’t work with inexperienced directors.” … By the time the light in the room dimmed, Zhong Xiran belatedly checked the time. It was already eight in the evening. Not a single investor was willing to give her a chance, or even discuss the project. It had been two years since she graduated and became a director, an especially difficult path for a woman. She’d faced her share of obstacles, but never a string of rejections this relentless. A sense of dejection settled over her. She drew her knees to her chest, buried her face, and ran her hands through her hair. Her phone rang. She thought it might be an investor calling back, but it was Qi Sinian’s assistant, Jiang Zheng. “Mrs. Qi, things are piling up at year-end. Mr. Qi will be busy with work and won’t be coming home for the next few days.” Qi Sinian had a bed in his office. It was common for him to stay at work when he got busy. Zhong Xiran just said, “Okay.” After hanging up, Jiang Zheng gently pushed open the conference room door. Qi Sinian was in a meeting with seven or eight senior executives. One of them was presenting the pros and cons of an acquisition. Two large bags of takeout boxes sat on the table, but as long as the boss didn't say the word, no one dared to touch them. Jiang Zheng approached Qi Sinian and spoke in a low voice. “I’ve spoken with Mrs. Qi.” Qi Sinian nodded and gestured to halt the meeting. “Let’s eat first.” He stood and left the room first. The others immediately grabbed the takeout boxes—life as a corporate drone was tough, and they were starving. Back in his office, Qi Sinian leaned back in his chair, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “Did she say anything?” Jiang Zheng held his breath. “She didn’t say anything in particular.” Qi Sinian’s gaze was distant. Jiang Zheng placed a meal box, sent over from the family chef, in front of him. “Will you eat now, sir?” Qi Sinian’s voice was clipped. “Get the head of Jiahe Pictures on the phone for me.” Although Jiahe was one of the top film companies in the industry, its profits were a rounding error compared to the Qi Corporation’s. Moreover, the Qi Corporation owned nearly a third of the nation’s movie theaters. Jiahe’s CEO, Chen Sheng, dreamed of getting in Qi Sinian’s good graces. A single word from him could mean an extra percentage point in screen scheduling, which translated to a fortune. But Qi Sinian was powerful and aloof, a man impossible to connect with. When he heard Qi Sinian was calling him, Chen Sheng immediately excused himself from a private room full of actors and directors, finding a quiet corner to take the call. “Mr. Qi, what can I do for you?” “No need to be so formal, Mr. Chen. There’s a promising film project I’d like to invest in through you. I’ll offer a twenty percent finder’s fee.” This was practically free money. Besides, how could a project handpicked by Qi Sinian possibly be bad? Chen Sheng laughed heartily. “Forget the fee, Mr. Qi. Just tell me the project. I’d like to invest a little myself and ride your coattails.” Qi Sinian’s voice was even. “It’s a small project. Thanks. I’ll treat you to dinner when I’m less busy.” Chen Sheng quickly replied that he wouldn’t dare impose. He assumed Qi Sinian’s “small project” was just a modest turn of phrase, but when he received the project title from Qi Sinian’s assistant, he froze. *Crush in Progress*? Which major director was behind this? He’d never even heard of it. · After a quick dinner, Zhong Xiran returned to her bedroom and stared blankly at her phone's contact list. She had exhausted every contact she had. They either gave a firm no or a vague “we’ll see.” She would have to find someone to introduce her to new investors. If all else failed, she would have to take a detour and shoot a streaming movie first to test the waters. Suddenly, her phone rang. Zhong Xiran answered it immediately. “Director Zhong? This is Yin Tai from Huacheng Pictures. A few investors and I have reviewed the proposal for your project, *Crush*, and we love it. We’ve decided to invest. When are you free to meet and discuss the details?” Yin Tai was the CEO of Huacheng. Zhong Xiran was stunned that the head of a company like his would notice such a small project. “Thank you, Mr. Yin! I’m free tomorrow.” “Then let’s meet at ten tomorrow morning.” “Okay.” After hanging up, Huo Xin raised his glass and clinked it against Yin Tai’s. “My thanks, Mr. Yin.” Yin Tai smiled. “Don’t mention it. I also felt it was a pity for both you and Ms. Zhong.” Huo Xin gazed at the translucent red wine in his glass. “I will win her back,” he said softly. · After texting the good news to Xu You, Zhong Xiran couldn’t resist a happy twirl on the sofa. Finally, there was hope. She immediately went to take a shower and put on a face mask, determined to be in her best state to meet the investors tomorrow. The next morning at nine, just as Zhong Xiran was ready to leave, she got a call from her best friend, Xie Yu. She didn’t beat around the bush. “Xixi, Huo Xin is back in the country. Did you meet with him?” Zhong Xiran was taken aback. “How did you know?” A second later, a voice call from Xie Yu came through on WeChat, her tone frantic. “Know? Xixi, the *entire world* knows! You were snapped by the paparazzi. It's trending everywhere!” Zhong Xiran’s blood ran cold.