"I've arrived at the lobby of your hotel."
VIP lounge area.
Su Qiu rubbed the boarding pass in her hand, then looked up at the man beside her, catching a glimpse of his handsome profile.
"Zhou Jingqian, now that you've come to see me off this once, I might think about today every time I enter a film set from now on."
Su Qiu's hands were small, completely enveloped in his palm.
From a moment ago until now, he hadn't let go of her hand since he first took it.
The two sat on the same sofa, shoulders brushing against each other. At her words, Zhou Jingqian turned his head to look at her: "No need to just recall it—every time you enter a set from now on, I'll come to see you off."
Su Qiu met his gaze.
She lowered her head, the top of her hair brushing against his jaw as she slowly leaned into his shoulder.
At an angle he couldn't see, she curved her lips into a smile.
Zhou Jingqian simultaneously shifted his body, lowering his shoulder line to accommodate her.
But she'd only leaned for half a minute before the boarding announcement sounded.
Su Qiu usually booked business class for herself when flying, but Zhou Jingqian had upgraded her to first class this time.
He walked her to the boarding gate. Su Qiu turned back—the man stood there in his impeccably tailored suit, giving her a slight nod.
Once seated in her seat, Su Qiu looked down at her palm, as if the residual warmth from their earlier hand-holding still lingered there.
The flight wasn't too long, but after landing, she still needed to transfer to a car to get to the film set.
The production team's private car was already waiting at the exit, taking Su Qiu to the star-rated hotel where the main creative team was staying.
Su Qiu's room was on the eighth floor, with another screenwriter next door. The director and the lead actor and actress stayed on the ninth floor.
The room was a one-bedroom layout—the total floor area wasn't even as large as the master bedroom at her and Zhou Jingqian's home, but it was clean and tidy, more than enough for her two-month stay.
Su Qiu opened her suitcase and saw that Zhou Jingqian had neatly arranged her belongings for her.
Everything was organized into clear sections—pleasing to the eye just to look at.
Su Qiu took things out one by one, and influenced by him, she arranged them neatly as well.
Just then, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Su Qiu assumed it was someone from the production team coming to coordinate the schedule, but when she opened the door, she saw a hotel room service attendant in uniform.
Su Qiu hadn't ordered anything yet. The attendant smiled and said, "The reservation was made by Mr. Zhou, asking us to deliver it at this time."
Su Qiu was momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected Zhou Jingqian to have arranged even this.
She'd thought his asking which hotel she was staying at was just a casual question.
Two dishes and a soup, plus two boxes of after-dinner fruit. The soup was chicken soup—Su Qiu's favorite.
Su Qiu sat at the dining table and took a photo to send to Zhou Jingqian.
Five minutes later, Zhou Jingqian replied with a photo of his own—his office.
She'd never been to his office before. She couldn't help but zoom in on the photo—it was in a minimalist gray-and-white style.
The photo only showed one angle.
Su Qiu was a bit curious about what his entire office looked like. If she ever had the chance, she wanted to go visit and see.
Su Qiu sent back a sticker of someone enthusiastically devouring a meal, then set her phone face-down on the table.
There still wasn't much to talk about between the two of them, but Su Qiu felt this was good enough.
There was a back-and-forth, a give-and-take.
She sent him a photo, and he took one of his office to send back to her—it showed that both of them were actively investing in this marriage.
When they'd lived together, they hadn't reported details of their daily lives to each other. Now that they were apart, they'd developed a habit of sending each other updates.
It also let Su Qiu understand Zhou Jingqian a little better.
For example, there was also a round, plump cactus sitting on his office desk.
In the evening, Zhou Jingqian pushed open the front door.
At this hour, Su Qiu would usually be sitting on the carpet writing notes, or on the terrace enjoying the sunset.
Hearing the sound of him coming in, she'd look up and say, "You're back."
The snack rack in the corner was half empty, and the coffee table had been cleaned spotless.
Before, there would always be snacks and a few tangerine candies on the table.
Even though he knew Su Qiu had already flown to the film set today, Zhou Jingqian still came home at six in the evening.
He grabbed his pajamas and went into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at his tie knot, then slowly pulled it loose after a moment.
Late at night, Zhou Jingqian lay alone in the big bed. In the past, Su Qiu would always snuggle up against him in her sleep, keeping him awake with restlessness.
Now the space beside him was empty, quiet with no one to disturb him—and still, he couldn't find any sleep.
Click—the light in the second bedroom was turned on.
The two little rabbits hadn't gone to sleep either, hopping around and playing.
Little Gray came over first, rubbing its small nose against Zhou Jingqian's pant leg. Little White ambled over more slowly, ears drooping—both timid and obedient.
Zhou Jingqian scooped both rabbits into his arms, stroking their backs with his fingertips, applying a very gentle pressure.
Once she entered the film set, Su Qiu's schedule became regular again—she was already dressed and ready by eight in the morning.
She ate breakfast while opening her phone to check the rabbit hutch surveillance feed, and she also received videos sent by Zhou Jingqian.
Children really were the bridge between parents—they now had a natural topic to talk about.
Su Qiu asked about the little ones' eating habits, and Zhou Jingqian said they were eating very well, then attached a photo of the bunnies munching happily at their hay rack.
The little ones hadn't lost any appetite at all from not seeing her. Su Qiu looked at the two round little fluff balls in the photo, first feeling gratified, then a subtle thought crossed her mind.
Did she raise rabbits, or two little miniature pigs?
The script reading phase was usually the busiest time for Su Qiu after joining a production. On the first day, all the key creatives were present, and Feng Yan happened to be sitting right next to her.
Su Qiu walked over carrying her script, and he suddenly stood up to pull out her chair for her.
Su Qiu paused mid-step. "…Thank you, Director Feng."
Feng Yan smiled. "It's only proper to look after a lady."
When something out of the ordinary happens, there must be a reason behind it. Su Qiu kept her composure, and fortunately, the reading officially began, and everyone settled into work mode.
The drama was called A Mountain and River as Betrothal Gifts, and the head director's surname was Zhang.
Su Qiu had worked with Director Zhang on a previous production, and communication between them was smooth.
Su Qiu had an innocent look and usually spoke little, but when it came to her professional field, she showed no sign of timidity.
Her tone was gentle and pleasant to listen to, never aggressive—even when the lead actors had doubts about their lines, she explained patiently and calmly.
However, when it came to core story settings, she held her ground and wouldn't easily give in.
"Professional matters should be left to the professionals. I support Teacher Su on this."
Feng Yan suddenly chimed in, clearly trying to curry favor in public, as if the two of them had a close relationship.
Su Qiu pressed the cap of her pen lightly, feeling something was off, and kept her eyes down without responding.
"What exactly is Feng Yan trying to do? Anyone would think you two are really close."
Back at the hotel, Su Qiu was washing her face while on the phone with Jian Yin.
"I have no idea…"
Feng Yan's attitude toward her was off. If it weren't for his track record, Su Qiu might have actually believed he was a polite gentleman.
As for how Feng Yan had managed to make a comeback, Jian Yin had gathered intel for Su Qiu from various gossip groups.
It turned out he was high school classmates with Liu Qi, the deputy general manager of Jingce Media, which was how he got a leg up.
Many times, a script had to go through the director, investors, producers, and actors, and it was no easy feat to preserve even sixty percent of the original work.
Fortunately, Teacher Qiao's studio had also invested in part of the production, and the editorial approval rights were held by Su Qiu and another screenwriter from the studio, so this shoot should go smoothly.
Except for the unpredictable factor that was Feng Yan.
The good news was that the B-unit scenes he was in charge of were written by the other screenwriter, so Su Qiu didn't need to deal with him—she just had to focus on her own work.
Three days into the production, Su Qiu's life was quite fulfilling. That evening, she swiped her room card and found her room completely transformed.
The carpet had been replaced with a new one, the original single bed had been swapped for a larger one with a softer mattress, the small fridge had been upgraded to a double-door model, and the water dispenser at the mini-bar had also been replaced with a new one.
Su Qiu blinked, wondering if a house fairy had snuck into her room.
Thinking of something, she pulled out her phone from her bag and indeed saw a message from Zhou Jingqian:
[I had some appliances swapped out in your room.]
So the house fairy's surname was Zhou.
That morning, Zhou Jingqian had told her on WeChat that he would arrange for someone to come tidy her room every couple of days, more thoroughly than the hotel staff.
But she hadn't expected Zhou Jingqian to replace the appliances inside as well.
Without changing the room type, he had quietly improved her quality of life in the room.
He was very thoughtful.
On the fourth day of production, the crew held the opening ceremony—red cloth, incense table, and everyone followed Director Zhang in raising incense to pay respects to the heavens.
When Su Qiu came to the set, she usually sat behind the monitor watching the actors rehearse their scenes in front of the camera.
If an actor's emotional delivery was off, she would communicate with Director Zhang, who would then guide the actor. Other than that, Su Qiu's work was relatively easy.
She didn't need to stay on set from morning to night either—when the actors were in a stable state, she could wrap up early.
Seeing the veteran actress who played the Empress Dowager take a break after her scene, Su Qiu walked over to greet her and asked for two signed photos.
Photos from the opening ceremony were posted on the official Weibo account. Zhou Jingqian sat in his office, registered an account, and first followed Su Qiu's account, then the official account.
Su Qiu's account name was simply "Screenwriter Su Qiu," with a profile picture of her two little rabbits at home. Her Weibo had very little original content—mostly work-related reposts.
It was clear she loved her job as a screenwriter. Zhou Jingqian scrolled through from top to bottom and liked all the few original posts she had.
Per the old lady's request, Zhou Jingqian saved all the photos of Su Qiu from the crew's official Weibo and sent them over.
The old lady replied instantly with a string of voice messages, her laughter bright and cheerful: [I saw them, I saw them! My granddaughter-in-law is so photogenic, and she can write scripts too—truly impressive!]
Zhou Jingqian: [Yes, your granddaughter-in-law is wonderful in every way.]
Within two minutes, Grandmother sent another photo: [Look, Xiao Qiu specially got me signed photos!]
Zhou Jingqian smiled.
Ever since Grandmother had been in a wheelchair after her surgery, her mood had been somewhat low. It wasn't until he and Su Qiu got married that the old lady's spirits returned.
At noon, Zhou Jingqian declined a business lunch and went back to the Xiang residence to have a casual meal with his father-in-law and Grandmother Xiang.
That evening, after wrapping up work and showering, Su Qiu received a video call invitation from Zhou Jingqian.
They had been apart for five days, and this was his first video call invitation. Su Qiu accepted without much thought.
She was wearing a nightgown, her freshly blow-dried hair falling loosely around her shoulders, revealing the fair skin of her collarbone.
Zhou Jingqian looked at the screen, recalling the night he blew-dried her hair, and the kiss in the depths of that night.
Zhou Jingqian held his phone, his Adam's apple bobbing. He lifted the little gray rabbit in his arms up to the camera.
Su Qiu's eyes lit up, and she leaned in close to the screen, calling the rabbit's name.
She looked at Little Gray; he looked at her through the screen.
Zhou Jingqian asked, "What time do you wrap today?"
"Ten at night. It's busy for the first couple days after we start shooting, but it'll be earlier after that." Su Qiu paused. "I heard from Grandmother that you went home to have dinner with her."
Zhou Jingqian: "Since you're not there, I'll go over often."
Su Qiu said sincerely, "Thank you."
Zhou Jingqian looked at her. "In that case, I should also thank you for getting Grandmother that autographed photo."
Su Qiu smiled. "Then let's both stop saying thank you."
Zhou Jingqian raised an eyebrow, his voice slightly low and husky. "Hope Little Su can live up to her word."
Su Qiu was momentarily taken aback. This was the first time he'd called her that, and she had no idea where he'd picked it up.
For a moment, they both just looked at each other through the screen without speaking. After a while, Su Qiu moved her lips. "Zhou Jingqian."
Zhou Jingqian looked at her, his fingers around the phone tightening slightly, waiting for her to continue.
"Go to sleep early. Good night."
"Mm. Good night."
Remembering something, just before the video call ended, Su Qiu pressed the screenshot button on her screen—only to realize she hadn't muted the sound. A crisp shutter click rang out, and both of them froze at the same time.
Zhou Jingqian was silent for two seconds. "Do you need me to take a photo for you?"
Su Qiu blinked earnestly. "Yes."
Five minutes after the call ended, Su Qiu received the photo. Zhou Jingqian sat on the sofa in his pajamas, head tilted slightly, thin lips curved in a smile, with both little rabbits in his arms looking at the camera at the same time.
Su Qiu lay in bed looking at it for a long while, and finally set it as the chat background for her conversation with Zhou Jingqian.
Later, when their relationship deepened further, she would set it as her phone's home screen.
During the first week after the crew started shooting, Su Qiu was fairly busy. Zhou Jingqian didn't rush over to visit, and she didn't urge him to come either.
One day, Su Qiu came back early from the set. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she looked up and saw a large bouquet of roses placed in front of her room door.
With a bewildered expression, Su Qiu walked over, glanced down both sides of the corridor, then picked up the bouquet. There was no card to be found.
Remembering how Zhou Jingqian had replaced her furniture and appliances, she instinctively assumed the flowers were another one of his surprises.
Su Qiu carried the bouquet into her room, set it on the table, and took out her phone to send Zhou Jingqian a WeChat message:
[Did you send me flowers?]
The moment the message went out, a call from an unknown number came in.
"Hello?"
"Little Su, you got the flowers, right?"
Su Qiu held the phone in silence for two seconds. She looked at the bouquet again, all trace of delight gone from her eyes. "Director Feng, what exactly are you trying to do?"
Two chuckles came from the other end. "I'd like to discuss a mutually beneficial collaboration with Little Su."
"I'm not interested." Su Qiu refused.
"Come down and talk anyway. By the window in the hotel restaurant. I'll be waiting."
Before Su Qiu could say another word, the call had already ended.
Su Qiu stared at the roses, her brows knitting slightly.
She carried the bouquet out of the room, walked to the elevator lobby, lifted the trash bin lid, and tossed it in.
Stepping into the elevator, Su Qiu pressed the down button. In the elevator's mirrored surface, her expression was perfectly calm.
The hotel restaurant was on the third floor. Seeing Su Qiu approach, Feng Yan leaned back in his chair, revealing a smile of confident certainty.
He raised a hand to gesture at the chair across from him. "Have a seat. Want something to eat?"
Su Qiu sat down. "Director Feng, just say what you need to say."
Feng Yan crossed his arms and studied Su Qiu.
He genuinely admired this girl. She looked young and naive, yet her composure was steadier than anyone's.
Feng Yan crossed his legs and tapped his fingertips lightly on the table. "Fine, I'll keep it brief. I need a marriage to clean up my public image. You're a talented screenwriter with a spotless reputation. You go along with a fake marriage for one year, and I'll pay you three million."
Su Qiu: "…"
No wonder Feng Yan had been especially warm toward her in front of others these past few days, even driving over from the B unit every day, claiming it was on his way to take her back to the hotel. So this was his angle.
He'd probably grown impatient seeing that she was impervious to his advances, and decided to lay his cards on the table.
In all her life, this was the first time someone had tried to buy her with money.
The red envelopes she'd received this Spring Festival alone totaled more than three million, let alone the transfer Zhou Jingqian had sent her the day she arrived on set, right after she got off the plane—which had pushed the string of digits in her bank account up by another place.
In Grandmother's and her father's eyes, she'd spent years running between film sets and had long since learned the ropes.
Zhou Jingqian likewise acknowledged her independence, while also saying, "When you're out there on your own, having extra money on hand can solve a lot of problems."
Still, Feng Yan's move was indeed clever.
In the industry, marketing the image of a prodigal son who turns over a new leaf and dotes on his wife was the fastest way to win fans and scrub one's reputation clean.
Feng Yan's biggest controversy was his messy personal life. If he suddenly settled down and marketed a narrative of bowing his head for love, public opinion would naturally shift quickly.
With a brain like that, he could have done anything else.
Feng Yan leaned forward. "Besides the three million, Jingce Media's future drama projects will prioritize you as screenwriter. We'll share resources."
Su Qiu lifted her eyes to sweep over him. "So Director Feng already has the authority to make decisions for Jingce Media."
"…Something like that."
Feng Yan pressed on: "So? Think about it."
Su Qiu: "No need to think. I'm not interested."
"Five million."
Feng Yan raised the stakes with confidence, the corner of his eye lifting even higher. "You're a screenwriter—how many scripts do you have to write to earn that much? Five million is enough to buy a decent place in Ning City!"
Su Qiu let out a sigh: "Just hearing you say these things makes my ears dirty."
She stood up, calmly giving her phone a little shake.
"What do you mean?" Feng Yan caught on, his expression shifting slightly. "You're recording?!"
"Not just that." Su Qiu tapped the screen with her fingertip. "I also still have the video of you crossing the line last time. I don't mind posting it online and letting netizens see how you've built your 'reformed playboy' image."
Feng Yan's face darkened instantly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. "Su Qiu, don't be ungrateful. All I have to do is say one word to Liu Qi, and you won't last another day on this production team!"
Su Qiu remained unmoved: "If I can't stay, this recording goes online right away."
Feng Yan stared hard at Su Qiu, then suddenly broke into a smile, shifting his attitude as his tone softened. "Teacher Su, if you don't want to cooperate, fine. Just treat it like I failed to propose—there's no need for us to burn bridges, right?"
Su Qiu: "That's not called a proposal. You're insulting the word."
Feng Yan: "…"
Su Qiu: "You and I aren't in the same net. As for whether your fishing net tears apart—that's entirely up to my mood now."
Feng Yan watched Su Qiu's retreating figure, his teeth grinding in frustration.
He couldn't understand it—what woman didn't love money?
A nobody screenwriter with no connections, turning her nose up at five million—did she really think she was some kind of princess?
Back in her room, a layer of coldness still lingered on Su Qiu's face. When something like this happened, the first person she thought to call was Jian Yin.
Previously, Feng Yan had harassed an actress, and the scandal had caused quite a stir. In the end, the actress took a payout and left the industry, though word had it she still kept a video of Feng Yan.
Jian Yin listened, then cursed outright over the phone: "Oh my god, that's hilarious. He wants to do a fake marriage with you? He's like a toad puffing itself up to look like a frog—ugly as hell and full of tricks!"
"And him acting like he can call the shots at Jingce Media? I think he's got less power than the security guard at the front door!"
Jian Yin said, "I have some connection with that actress. I'll go talk to her for you and buy the video off her."
"Okay."
Su Qiu couldn't predict what Feng Yan's next move would be, but the more leverage she held over him, the easier things would get.
With a plan in place, the suffocating weight in Su Qiu's chest eased a little.
Suddenly remembering something, she quickly opened WeChat—and then fell into a long silence.
She should have withdrawn the message she sent Zhou Jingqian the moment she sent it.
But even now, Zhou Jingqian still hadn't replied.
Su Qiu wanted to send a message to explain something, her fingertip hovering over the input box, yet she couldn't bring herself to type.
After her shower, the first thing Su Qiu did was reach for her phone. Zhou Jingqian still hadn't replied.
Maybe he was on a business trip today…
Su Qiu had been keeping a healthy routine lately, and before bed, she was in the habit of making herself a glass of milk.
Watching the steam rise from the milk in front of her, she remembered the morning she left home—Zhou Jingqian had sat with her for breakfast and poured her milk.
At this very moment, she suddenly longed to hear Zhou Jingqian's voice. Even more, she missed his embrace.
Su Qiu finished her milk, picked up her phone, and dialed his number—but the ringtone played out in full, and no one picked up.
Staring at the darkened screen, Su Qiu's lashes drooped slightly.
At eleven at night, Su Qiu turned off the lights and lay down to sleep as usual.
Outside the window, the night deepened. Suddenly, her phone rang.
Half-asleep, Su Qiu fumbled for it, her voice still husky from being woken up: "Hello…"
"Are you asleep?"
Hearing that familiar voice, Su Qiu's breath caught. Her eyes flew open, and she first glanced at the time on the screen—it was almost midnight.
Assuming Zhou Jingqian had called about the flowers he'd sent, she sat up, phone in hand, and pressed her lips together, about to explain.
Zhou Jingqian's voice came through, deep and clear: "I'm at the lobby of your hotel."