The location Li Shican had chosen for the meeting was entirely professional — the Hang Shi branch office of Huarui Entertainment, the agency he was signed to.

As the receptionist led Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu toward the meeting room, they could faintly make out a male voice coming from inside: “How long has it been since you went off on your own and spilled your personal relationship drama to a reporter? You’ve already stirred up negative press — can you keep a low profile for once? You can walk away from this industry and inherit the family business, but this company actually needs to make money!”

The words had barely died down when the meeting room door swung open and a chubby man in glasses stormed out, stopping short with a slight start when he saw the two of them.

Xu Huaisong gave him a brief nod.

The two parties passed each other without a word.

Inside the meeting room, Li Shican rose from the sofa and gestured for them to sit.

Since the room only had single-seater armchairs, Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu each took one on opposite sides. Li Shican had his assistant pour two cups of tea from the teapot and hand them to the guests.

Ruan Yu’s came with an extra splash of milk.

Xu Huaisong glanced at that glaringly white cup of milk, then followed Ruan Yu in thanking the assistant.

Li Shican flipped open his laptop, pulled up Weibo, and turned the screen toward Xu Huaisong. “Your studio adopted your PR wording. Public opinion has mostly swung in my favor. The original post’s tactics — beyond the deliberately ambiguous language — were mainly to blur the timeline across the photos and exploit a visual trick created by the angle of the shots.”

The first two photos had been taken in the brightly lit hotel lobby, making it appear that the parties had entered the hotel during the daytime. The final two, however, were set in the dim underground parking garage, and the low lighting suggested it was already quite late.

The two sets of photos together created the illusion that the parties had been inside the hotel for an extended period, muddying the public’s perception of events.

And a third photo, due to a coincidental moment in the candid shot, made it look very much as though Li Shican had reached out to wrap his arm around Xu Huaishi’s waist.

“Both of those points can be cleared up once the surveillance footage is released.” Li Shican then opened the four photos in a magnified view. “Also, even after we had someone enhance the photos as much as possible, the faces still aren’t distinguishable. That part shouldn’t be a major issue for now.”

Xu Huaisong gave a quiet acknowledgment and glanced down at his watch.

Li Shican caught his meaning and pressed his assistant: “When will the surveillance footage be ready?”

The assistant stepped out to check and came back five minutes later. “Shican, we have it.”

Ruan Yu and Xu Huaisong followed Li Shican into the conference room. Through the gaps of the blinds, a tangle of silhouettes moved about. The door opened to a room full of overlapping phone calls and voices.

No one had time to spare so much as a glance at them.

Li Shican stepped forward and tapped a technician on the shoulder.

The young man, who had been typing furiously, turned around and heard Li Shican say: “Pull up the surveillance footage so the family of the person involved can take a look.”

“Sure, no problem.” The technician clicked into the video and turned to explain to Xu Huaisong, “The surveillance footage will be published after the faces are pixelated. Please don’t worry.”

Xu Huaisong acknowledged this and narrowed his eyes to watch.

Several brief clips, each with clear timestamps, appeared on the screen: Li Shican and Xu Huaishi entering the hotel elevator; after going upstairs, Li Shican waiting alone at a distance by the elevator doors; then Xu Huaishi coming out of the room with her luggage, following Li Shican to the underground parking garage to wait for Liu Mao to pick them up.

At that point in the playback, Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu spoke simultaneously.

“No.”

“Wait.”

Li Shican glanced at Xu Huaisong, but asked Ruan Yu first: “What is it?”

She pointed at the screen — specifically at the backpack on Xu Huaishi’s back. “This bag cannot appear. It would reveal the subject’s identity.”

The distinctive blue backpack from Su Shi No. 1 High School had caught the edge of the frame. The school emblem wasn’t legible, and the general public might not catch it — but it couldn’t be ruled out that one of Xu Huaishi’s classmates might piece things together from the detail.

Public figures had a far greater tolerance for social scrutiny than ordinary people. For a regular student like Xu Huaishi, though, even school gossip alone could be enough to break her.

Li Shican immediately instructed the technician: “Anywhere the backpack appears — heavy pixelation.” He then looked at Xu Huaisong. “Was that also what you were about to raise, Xu Huaisong?”

He gave a quiet nod. “There’s also this: after the footage is released, you’ll need to monitor public sentiment — track all keywords relating to my sister’s personal information across online platforms. If your team isn’t able to handle that, I can arrange—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Li Shican said, shaking his head to cut him off. “I’ll see this through to the end.”

Xu Huaisong gave him a brief nod. Once he had confirmed that the edited footage was correct, he was the first to leave the busy conference room.

Ruan Yu said a quick word to Li Shican, then followed.

Xu Huaisong was already on a call up ahead. “Teacher He, it’s Huaisong. There’s something I’d like to trouble you with…”

He laid out the full situation clearly and concisely, then continued: “Yes, I’m telling you as a precaution. This isn’t just a personal matter for my sister — it also touches on the school’s reputation. It seems to me that the most appropriate course of action would be for you to personally step in and manage any rumors that surface within the school.”

Ruan Yu followed him all the way back to the meeting room.

The room was empty. After finishing his call, Xu Huaisong sank onto the sofa and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

Ruan Yu came to stand in front of him, leaned forward, and said: “You must be really—”

Before she could finish the word “exhausted,” Xu Huaisong had caught her by the wrist and pulled her, slightly off-balance, into his arms, settling her down onto his lap.

She let out a startled sound and lowered her voice. “What are you doing?” She began edging backward.

Xu Huaisong pressed his hand against the small of her back, not letting her pull away, and cast a glance at the untouched cup of milk sitting on the table. “How does he know you like milk tea?”

Ruan Yu blinked and explained: “We had some interactions back in university.”

“I came across that photo,” he said, expression flat. “He was competing in his first year, playing piano on stage. You were in the audience?”

“Well, yes…” Ruan Yu pulled a face. “But nothing happened between us because he resembled you a little at the time. Otherwise how would it have ever been your turn right now to—”

Xu Huaisong’s pupils contracted.

Ruan Yu clamped her mouth shut immediately, offering a placating smile.

At that exact moment, the door handle behind her was pressed down.

She instinctively shot to her feet. At the same time, Xu Huaisong released his hold on her.

Li Shican, walking in, froze in his tracks.

Ruan Yu blinked twice, expression neutral, and quietly returned to her own seat.

Xu Huaisong, at a leisurely pace, tipped the cup of milk on the table into his tea, stirred it evenly with a metal spoon, and took a sip.

Li Shican let out a small laugh and offered an explanation: “I thought you’d both left.” Which was why he hadn’t knocked.

Xu Huaisong set down his cup and looked at him. “Mr. Li, if it’s convenient, I’d like to speak with you privately.” He rose as he said it, straightening his slightly creased hem.

Where had this sudden formality come from? Ruan Yu was caught off guard and hadn’t yet managed to ask anything before she saw Li Shican nod.

The two men left one after the other. Xu Huaisong caught her eye as he went, signaling for her to stay and wait.

Ruan Yu had no choice but to sit. She waited until her mouth went dry and still there was no sign of anyone returning. She eyed the cup of milk tea Xu Huaisong had mixed together, felt a pull of temptation, held out for a moment, then gave in, stood up, and reached for it.

She waited until the very last drop was gone before Xu Huaisong finally returned and said: “Let’s go.”

Li Shican was nowhere to be seen. Ruan Yu followed him into the elevator and asked under her breath: “What were you two doing? You didn’t hit him, did you?”

Xu Huaisong gave her a sideways look, his expression somewhere between amusement and something else. “Is that your type?”

“Come on, don’t change the subject — what did you actually go and talk about?” If it had been about Xu Huaishi, there would have been no reason to exclude her.

Xu Huaisong didn’t answer. Instead he leaned in without warning and countered: “Was it good? The milk tea I already drank from.”

A lawyer’s powers of observation were truly not to be underestimated. Ruan Yu’s face went red. “I didn’t drink it because you’d already touched it — I’m not some kind of weirdo…”

Xu Huaisong glanced at the elevator’s security camera and said nothing. He waited until they had walked all the way to the parking garage and gotten into the car before leaning across toward the passenger seat and lightly cupping her chin, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips — which tasted faintly of milk tea.

Then he said: “But I am.”

Ruan Yu forgot entirely about pressing him for the details of what had transpired between him and Li Shican.

Xu Huaisong drove them back to the apartment. They had something to eat, then he went to bed to catch up on sleep. Before drifting off he checked in on Li Shican’s PR situation.

The surveillance footage, paired with the studio’s firm statement about “entrusting related matters to legal counsel,” sent the internet into an uproar — a torrent of outrage directed squarely at the unscrupulous paparazzo.

Li Shican stayed silent for a long while, letting the wave of public sympathy for him crest to its peak before finally reposting the statement with a single message: I hope that this microphone I hold is one I use to sing for all of you — not one I have to use to speak up and fight for my family and friends.

The studio played the stern, no-nonsense role while he handled the emotional appeal. The surveillance footage worked to dispel the visual tricks and timeline distortions, while those two words — “family and friends” — effectively blurred the specific nature of the relationship between the parties involved.

A flawless piece of crisis management.

From the look of public sentiment, anyone with a shred of decency would no longer dig into Xu Huaishi’s identity. Anyone who tried would likely get their entire family tree excavated by Li Shican’s fanbase.

As long as nothing went sideways at the high school, this matter could be considered closed.

With that, Xu Huaisong put down his phone and went to sleep.

Ruan Yu didn’t disturb him. She curled up on the living room sofa with a tablet, reading through the script that the Huan Vision screenwriting team had sent over, all the way until the sky had gone dark. She finally stretched, pulled herself up, set the tablet back on the table, and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

That was when she noticed that Xu Huaisong’s laptop, left on the table, had never been closed.

She moved the mouse to wake the screen, intending to shut it down for him — then thought he might have unsaved documents open, so she entered the password to check.

And found herself looking at a screen full of psychology research papers.

Ruan Yu stood there, reading a few lines of the listed symptoms carefully, and slowly began to understand.

Xu Huaisong chose that exact moment to get out of bed and open the bedroom door.

Their eyes met across the room. Ruan Yu’s first instinct was a flash of panic — she was worried he would think she had been going through his computer — but the moment she caught the resigned look on his face, she knew that wasn’t what was on his mind at all.

He was simply chagrined that he had forgotten to close the document and she had stumbled across it.

Something softened in her chest. She shuffled over in her slippers, came to stand in front of him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest for a quiet moment before she said: “Xu Huaisong, you really are wonderful.”

Xu Huaisong held her and let out a quiet laugh. “I’m hungry.”

She let go. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Don’t bother — let’s eat out. I’ll drop you home afterward, then head to the firm to work through the Zhou Jun case. I might be late finishing, so I’ll probably just stay at the hotel nearby tonight. You’ll be sleeping on your own — if you can’t sleep, we can keep a voice call going.”

Ruan Yu nodded and said, “Okay.”

Xu Huaisong looked down at her, considered her expression for a moment, and said: “You want to come with me?”

“Not really,” she said, tilting her head back to smile up at him. “I was just going to ask — are you by any chance short on someone to bring tea and fetch things? You know the type: on call whenever needed, not a fuss, reasonably easy on the eyes — someone who might just spark a flash of insight in someone simply by being there, and end up cracking the whole case single-handedly.”

Xu Huaisong gave a quiet hiss of breath. “Solving cases is the police’s job. Not a lawyer’s.”

“…”

Ruan Yu turned and walked off. “Forget I said anything.”

Xu Huaisong caught her arm. “Though the right kind of stimulation does have the potential to unlock new depths of the human mind. That, a lawyer could certainly use.”

She turned back. “What kind of stimulation?”

Xu Huaisong smiled. “Our firm… has quite a number of eligible single gentlemen.”

Author’s note: Tremble, you unattached souls of the legal world — when our Ruan Yu sets her sights on someone, even Huaisong himself gets nervous.