My name is Zhang Chenze. I’ve lied.

I’m thirty-three years old this year, and I’ve been working hard in Chengdu for ten years.

If I were willing to share my experiences and publish them on any public platform, I could potentially become a celebrated representative of independent women. After all, a girl from a small mountain village who became one of Chengdu’s most renowned lawyers through her own efforts—no matter how you look at it, she’s someone worth learning from.

But I’m unwilling to do so.

I want to cast aside everything from my past and start anew in a place where no one knows me. If possible, I never want to have anything to do with that small mountain village again.

I have my ambitions and my ideals.

I want to become an excellent person.

For this goal, I’m willing to do anything.

During those early days when the law firm was just being established, I had no money to rent a place, so I slept on the office sofa for three years.

Every day I got up at five to tidy the office, then washed up and applied makeup in the public restroom. At night, I’d make excuses about working late so I could leave later and go to the five-yuan public bathhouse to bathe.

For three years, not a single subordinate knew I lived there.

I endured all this hardship because I had dreams in my heart.

If I couldn’t become an excellent person, I would forever be trapped by that mountain village—not just me, but my descendants as well.

But I often think that I probably won’t have descendants at all.

If I can live brilliantly and gloriously through my own life, that would already be the best thing possible.

My childhood was so tragic that, from a fairness perspective, my future ought to be somewhat happier. I don’t dare hope for how good a life I’ll have—as long as I can get by and feel comfortable, that’s enough.

“Lawyer Zhang! Lawyer Zhang!!” Little Sun from the office patted me, startling me.

This young man had been here for three years and had helped me settle quite a few tricky lawsuits. Among all the young people, he was the one I had the highest hopes for.

“What is it?”

“Why are you spacing out?” Little Sun laughed. “Look! The bride is coming!”

I looked in the direction he was pointing. Today’s bride, Mengmeng, was wearing a pure white wedding dress covered in sequins. Under the spotlight’s illumination, holding her father’s arm, she walked step by step toward the stage.

Besides Little Sun, Mengmeng was my most capable assistant. She had worked hard alongside me for six years.

Now, seeing her walk toward the marriage hall, I was truly happy for her.

That handsome and gentle groom, holding a bouquet, strode toward Mengmeng and her father. The surrounding guests applauded and cheered simultaneously, sending them their most sincere blessings.

But honestly, I didn’t like what came next.

At the host’s request, Mengmeng’s father had to personally place Mengmeng’s hand into the groom’s.

Then, in front of Mengmeng, the groom, and several hundred guests, he solemnly said to the groom: “I entrust Mengmeng to you from now on.”

At this moment, quite a few guests gently dabbed at the corners of their eyes, as if they had shed tears.

The host also said in an emotional voice: “From this day forward, this man will replace her father and care for you forever, whether he is poor or wealthy, he will never leave you…”

Standing on stage, Mengmeng looked at her excited father and groom, then glanced at the nearby guests crying in droves, and gave me a wry smile with a shrug.

I understood Mengmeng. I also knew what she meant.

If it weren’t for custom, for tradition, for all her relatives at home doing the same thing, she would never allow such a segment to appear at her wedding.

Those few short sentences nearly negated all of Mengmeng’s efforts in this life. As if without her father’s and groom’s care, she had become a helpless child crying to be fed.

As if she might starve to death at home at any moment.

Why must the reason for marriage be to find someone to rely on? Why can’t it be because of love?

Working with me these years, Mengmeng made at least sixty thousand yuan a month. Even without anyone to care for her, she could still live very well.

After all, Mengmeng had put in no less effort than me. She was an excellent lawyer. Everything she had now was what she deserved. This was fair.

Mengmeng didn’t ask for a single yuan of bride price, nor did she trouble either set of parents.

She simply used the money she and the groom had saved together to buy a small apartment of a few dozen square meters, then together purchased furniture. Through their joint efforts, they formally began the second stage of their lives.

In the days ahead, they would continue to work hard together until they bought better furniture, until they lived in a bigger house.

This was what I believed to be the best form of love—like a stable scale that would never collapse.

When will people finally discover that the purpose of marriage is to give love a result, not to find someone for one party to depend on?

“Lawyer Zhang! Lawyer Zhang!!”

Little Sun’s bright voice rang in my ears again.

I looked at him and came back to my senses with a smile. “What is it?”

“Your phone is ringing!” Little Sun told me. “It’s been ringing forever!”

I lowered my head to look at the number. After a moment, the joy on my face was swept away entirely, and I felt as cold as if I had fallen into an ice cellar.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

I picked up the phone and walked out of the banquet hall. After looking around, I found the emergency stairwell. Seeing no one around, I walked in and answered the call with immense heaviness.

“Hello.”

“Zhang Laidi!!” Her harsh voice came through the phone, making me furrow my brow tightly.

“Mom, I’m called Zhang Chenze now.”

“You still know your damn surname is Zhang?!” She screamed into the phone. “Why didn’t you answer my call?! Why didn’t you answer my call yesterday?!”

“I was busy.” I said.

“Busy? Busy your ancestors! You’re not stupid—even shit knows how to make money.” She cursed viciously. “Everyone envies the Zhang family for having both a son and daughter, but they don’t know what a dead child you are—won’t even give two hundred thousand yuan.”

Heh, both son and daughter.

In the village where I lived, people who had sons expected to raise sons for old age. Only people who had daughters hoped for both sons and daughters.

How ironic.

“Mom, I don’t understand.” I said coldly. “I can give Chengcai a big red envelope for his wedding, but why should I pay two hundred thousand yuan?”

“You have money!” She shouted. “You earn more than Chengcai. You’re his older sister. Your own little brother is getting married—what’s wrong with you paying for him to buy an apartment?”

“I don’t understand why you can take this for granted.” I laughed coldly. “The money I earn is mine. What does it have to do with him? You gave him the best food, clothing, shelter, and transportation from childhood, and you also gave him more education than me. He ought to be able to earn money himself now.”

“Chengcai hasn’t found a suitable job yet! You idiot…” Her tone became even more shrill. “What are you rushing for? Still calculating accounts with your own little brother?”

“Mom, I’ll be honest—I’m expanding the law firm right now. I’ve invested all my savings. I can’t take out a single yuan at the moment.”