“So, boss, could you point me in the right direction for tracking down Xu Jun’s concealed assets?”

Qian Heng took a sip of water. “What do you currently know about Tuantuan Online, the company Xu Jun’s planning to take public?”

Cheng Yao pulled out the corporate records she’d found. “I’ve looked through them. Since Xu Jun officially registered his marriage domestically, there haven’t been any unusual changes at Tuantuan Online — no capital increases, no changes in equity.”

Qian Heng raised an eyebrow. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste time investigating Tuantuan Online’s own operations at all. Does Xu Jun really seem stupid to you? You think he doesn’t know Bai Xingmeng would be watching Tuantuan Online closely?”

“Then…”

“Over three years, Tuantuan Online has received four consecutive rounds of investment from Temasek, IDG, Sequoia Capital, and SoftBank, raising roughly 210 million US dollars altogether. It’s currently preparing to list on NASDAQ.”

Cheng Yao nodded. “Right, I saw that too.”

Qian Heng stared at her. “So you saw it and that was it? Didn’t it occur to you what information might be buried in there?”

Cheng Yao thought — what information could there possibly be? Xu Jun and Bai Xingmeng had a prenup; these rounds of financing had either happened before the marriage or after the divorce…

“Have you never looked into whether, when Chinese internet companies list overseas, they typically use a VIE structure?”

“VIE?”

Cheng Yao stared blankly. Qian Heng’s mouth twitched — clearly, if he weren’t so conscious of appearances, he’d have rolled his eyes right then. “VIE stands for Variable Interest Entities. Translated directly, it means ‘variable interest entity’ — domestically we call it ‘contractual control.’ It means the entity listed overseas is legally separate from the operating business entity inside China. The overseas listed entity controls the domestic operating entity through a series of contracts. That operating entity is the VIE of the listed company.”

This was Cheng Yao’s first time encountering the term; she scrambled to take notes, trying to process the new concept.

“But why would we need to study a VIE structure? Isn’t that something for corporate and M&A lawyers, not family law?”

Qian Heng paused and looked at her. “What do you think a family lawyer actually is?”

“Hm?”

“You think a family lawyer’s job is just mediating marriage disputes, investigating affairs? So all you need is the Marriage Law, maybe the Inheritance Law on top of that, and that’s it? No need to master any other area of law?” He gave a short laugh. “That’s true enough for an ordinary family lawyer. But I’m not ordinary. A truly top-tier, specialized family lawyer has to also be an excellent commercial lawyer. Master family law, yes — but also corporate law, securities law, tax law. Only then can you offer clients a service no one else can replicate, only then can you expand your market, only then can you be like me — with a rotten personality, and people still line up to pay for my time.”

Cheng Yao grumbled internally — first time she’d ever heard someone describe their own bad temper with such shameless confidence…

“You don’t understand corporate structure, you know nothing about how internet companies go public — how could you possibly help a client uncover the other side’s hidden assets?”

“I’ve already mapped out all of Xu Jun’s holding structures, plus the relationships between the affiliated companies and subsidiaries. Fifteen of them were established during the marriage. I might not understand the IPO details, but I know we can just target those fifteen companies as marital property subject to division.”

Qian Heng snorted. “Sure, you could mindlessly toss all fifteen companies onto the redivision list without thinking. But there are only two months left before the statute of limitations expires. In two months, do you have the time or manpower to untangle the finances and equity of all fifteen companies and find out which ones involve some form of asset concealment? Xu Jun’s no fool either — he’s hired his own accounting and tax team. Do you think we can find enough holes in financial statements showing losses?”

Cheng Yao bit her lip and said nothing.

“So what we need to do is identify the one or two companies out of those fifteen that are actually critical to Tuantuan Online’s IPO, and focus our investigation and evidence-gathering there — while making the most of the timing around the listing.”

“All right, you really don’t understand any of this.” Qian Heng frowned. “Let me walk you through it from the start. First — do you know why Xu Jun chose to list in the US instead of China?”

“I know this one! Because to list on China’s domestic stock market, you need to meet certain thresholds for revenue and profitability, but internet companies are often unprofitable in their early years. Plus, the review process for domestic listings is long and complicated, so a lot of companies go public overseas instead.”

Once she’d finished, Qian Heng’s expression finally eased a bit. “Looks like there’s still hope for you after all.”

“…”

“There are generally two paths for Chinese companies to list overseas. One is a direct listing of the domestic entity abroad — but that requires net assets of over 400 million yuan, after-tax profit over the past year of at least 60 million yuan, and fundraising of at least 50 million US dollars. As you’d expect, internet companies rarely meet those thresholds. So they’re left with the other option — indirect listing — transferring assets into a holding company registered in a tax haven like the Cayman Islands or the British Virgin Islands, then listing via a VIE structure.”

Listening intently, Cheng Yao pressed on instinctively. “So then what? How exactly does a VIE structure use these offshore holding companies to list indirectly? What impact would this have on Xu Jun and Tuantuan Online? Why would studying the VIE structure be the key to finding concealed assets?”

“I already cooked your dinner for you — do you need me to feed it to you too?”

“…”

Qian Heng snorted. “I’ve pointed you in the right direction. Figure out the rest yourself. If you want to become a good lawyer, independent thinking and research skills are essential. Stop expecting handouts.”

Cheng Yao nodded, a little ashamed.

Even though Qian Heng had lectured her, this time she was genuinely convinced.

Qian Heng might have a terrible temper and a chronic case of boss syndrome, but his professional ability really was that strong. Cheng Yao saw just how enormous the gap between them still was — in front of a Qian Heng deep in work mode, discussing something he was genuinely expert in, she really was nothing but a trembling little chick. Being lectured by someone with real skill — Cheng Yao could accept that.

“Wait.”

Just as she was about to head back to her room, Qian Heng stopped her.

“I like to eat a little fruit an hour after dinner.”

“There’s apples, kiwis, and bananas I bought in the kitchen — help yourself.”

Qian Heng, however, didn’t budge. “Oh — after talking to you for so long, I’m thirsty.”

Cheng Yao’s eyes went wide. She hesitated, then ventured, “That’s not what I think you’re implying, is it?”

“It’s exactly what you think.” Qian Heng looked back at her without a shred of shame. “I’m exhausted. I can’t move.”

Buddy, it’s barely a dozen steps from the kitchen to where you’re sitting! With your height and those long legs it’d take you all of a few strides! I already bought the fruit for you! And now you want me to peel it and feed it to you too?! Weren’t you just telling me not to expect handouts?! Is this double standard even allowed?!

Just as Cheng Yao was seething internally, Qian Heng’s devilish voice rang out again.

“Do you still want my help next time or not?”

Fine, fine, absolutely, whatever you say!

Cheng Yao stopped arguing instantly and headed briskly to the kitchen to peel fruit for him. No rush, she told herself — as the saying goes, Qian Heng was right, sustainable practices were all the rage these days, and she should adopt a sustainable strategy of her own here too.

She decided: from now on, she’d be a little nicer to her boss. Consider it an investment — sooner or later, that goodwill would pay off in some bigger return from Qian Heng.

With Qian Heng’s guidance, Cheng Yao suddenly felt her thinking open up considerably. The next day at work, she buried herself in researching VIE-related legal knowledge.

She was so absorbed that she didn’t even notice when another partner, Wu Jun, came back to the office.

“Partner Wu just walked right past you — even stopped by your desk for a second, and you didn’t notice at all?” Tan Ying leaned in close to Cheng Yao. “He’s wearing Hermès Terre today — he really pulls that scent off effortlessly…”

Unlike usual, Wu Jun hadn’t lingered in the main office area today. Since he didn’t run a team, he never assigned work or scolded anyone, and with his rather rakish, charming eyes, though not possessing Qian Heng’s stunning looks, he was witty and easygoing in conversation, tall and good-looking, and well-liked throughout the firm.

He walked straight into Qian Heng’s office.

“Knock first.”

Qian Heng greeted him with two flat, toneless words.

“Do we really still need to knock between us? We’ve slept together, after all. Though you — you won’t even reply to my texts. But even though you don’t love me anymore, I still love you deeply. Look, I brought you back chocolate from Belgium, specially.”

Qian Heng watched him set down the chocolate, expression as cold as ever.

Wu Jun was long used to Qian Heng’s manner by now. Unbothered, he pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. “Cheng Yao — I saw her.”

Qian Heng finally looked up, giving a short snort. “So that’s why you texted me ‘I miss you.’ Missed me? Ha.”

“Cheng Xi’s younger sister. I was curious, so I took a look just now. Different vibe from Cheng Xi’s intellectual elegance, but genuinely pretty,” Wu Jun said with a smile. “Has a bit of that femme fatale quality to her — good thing she hasn’t caught on yet and doesn’t play it up. If she dressed the part a little more, this place would probably start seeing some rivalry over her.”

“Didn’t notice. She’s fine-looking, I guess.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you rate anyone as ‘fine.'” Wu Jun’s smile deepened. “So is that why you pulled her onto your team?”

Qian Heng set down the document he was holding. “Anyone who comes in through your connections, of course I’m going to keep a close eye on in my own team.”

Wu Jun spread his hands. “Cheng Xi asked me to. Her sister’s résumé wasn’t exactly outstanding, but nothing disqualifying either, so I just did her a favor — she is my junior’s little sister, after all.”

Qian Heng snorted. “Just doing her a favor, huh? I’ll pretend I don’t see your ulterior motives there. But why doesn’t Cheng Yao know she got in through connections?”

“Cheng Xi didn’t want to dent her confidence — she wanted her to believe she got into Junheng purely on her own merit, so she asked me to keep it quiet too.”

Qian Heng pressed his lips together. “You know how much I hate hires who got in through connections.”

Wu Jun toyed idly with an ornament on Qian Heng’s desk, changing the subject. “I heard you’ve got Cheng Yao digging up leads on hidden assets in the Xu Jun–Bai Xingmeng divorce case? That kind of thing, you could spot the problem yourself in one glance — but for a brand-new hire, that’s brutal. She’s barely even started.”

“Precisely because she just started, that’s why I assigned it to her.”

“Hm?”

“If I let her go during her probation period, the severance payout is smaller.”

“…” Wu Jun looked at him, exasperated. “Such a pretty girl, she’d brighten up the office — why are you gunning for her like this?”

“I don’t keep decorative flowers around,” Qian Heng said coldly. “If she can’t grasp what VIE means and find a direction for the case by the end of today, I’ll fire her for being unable to perform the job.”

“Not even a single hint or pointer?”

Qian Heng paused for a moment, thinking of the “extra lesson” he’d given Cheng Yao the night before. But his expression stayed as cold as ever as he lied through his teeth.

“None.”

“Qian Heng, keep being this heartless and you’ll end up single till your sperm goes stale.”

Qian Heng pressed his lips together. “I’m a committed bachelor. I don’t even like children.”

“That’s just the excuse you use for not being able to find anyone!”

“Wu Jun, you—”

But before Qian Heng could finish, a sudden knock at the door interrupted him.

Before Qian Heng could even react, Cheng Yao appeared in the doorway, her face lit with an excitement she couldn’t quite suppress, her dark eyes practically glowing. Qian Heng took one look at her face and reflexively turned his head away.

In that instant, the only thing that flashed through his mind was the phrase “femme fatale.”