Cheng Yao, Cheng Xi, and Wu Jun spent an entire afternoon organizing materials, managing to get the documents exposing Deng Ming out to all the major media contacts and marketing accounts Wu Jun knew, just in time before Lawyers Debate aired.
Everything was primed and ready.
And Cheng Yao finally picked up the VIP ticket Qian Heng had given her.
The venue had more people than she’d imagined, with clear factions forming—Deng Ming’s fans had their own homemade fan club uniforms, and Qian Heng’s fans had their own support banners, though probably because public opinion currently wasn’t very favorable toward Qian Heng, those visibly displaying Qian Heng fan symbols were noticeably fewer than Deng Ming’s supporters.
The venue was noisy and packed. When recording time arrived, the lights across the whole venue dimmed, all the spotlights turned toward the stage, and Qian Heng and Deng Ming slowly walked out.
Deng Ming was clearly startled, and a little rattled, that Qian Heng hadn’t withdrawn after all—though he covered it well on the surface, that slightly evasive look in his eyes had already given it away. Still, in front of the audience, he had to maintain his composed, refined persona, so he feigned calm and confidence.
Qian Heng, by contrast, was much more relaxed. His face still carried that air of aloof coldness, his thin, handsome lips pressed slightly together, expression appearing indifferent and cold, yet his presence completely dominated the room, holding the whole venue in his grip.
Unlike Deng Ming, who smiled and greeted the audience the moment he stepped out, Qian Heng paid the audience no attention at all—not even sparing a glance for the fans holding up their support banners. This attitude was thoroughly arrogant, and yet on him, it didn’t feel out of place at all, as if this man had been born this way, as if this was simply how he was meant to be. Even the adoration of ordinary people, held out right in front of him, he wouldn’t so much as glance at.
But the host noticed that this proud, cool, elegant partner seemed a bit different tonight—while he remained indifferent to the crowd’s admiration or criticism as always, his eyes kept drifting toward one corner of the VIP seating area.
If even the host could sense where his gaze kept landing, there was no way Cheng Yao wouldn’t notice. Her face flushed slightly. With the case’s clients about to come on stage, and Qian Heng still staring at her like that, she finally grew a bit exasperated. Across that long distance, all she could do was glare at him, finally mouthing two words silently—”Good luck.”
Onstage, Qian Heng finally pulled his gaze away, then glanced once more toward Cheng Yao’s direction, and smiled broadly.
That smile alone practically sent the entire audience into an uproar.
Behind Cheng Yao, the young female audience members nearly swooned.
“Oh my god, Qian Heng’s usually so cold, but when he smiles the effect is nuclear-level!”
“So charming! When he smiled just now I felt like his eyes were just brimming with tenderness, completely different from his usual cold, aloof self!”
“A cold man’s smile really is irresistible…”
Listening to the young girls chattering away, Cheng Yao found herself unable to disagree, despite herself. It was always true that the more dangerous something was, the more beautiful; the more toxic something was, the more alluring. A man like Qian Heng, with that icy air that made him seem unapproachable—when he smiled, he was devastatingly charming.
And soon, he’d let everyone know: when he wasn’t smiling, he was even more captivating.
This episode’s case involved a family business estate planning dispute. The couple had founded the company together, later divorced and each remarried, but because of the company’s continued entanglement, they remained business partners in the same company. They’d had two children together during the marriage, and each had another child with their new spouse after remarrying. With multiple heirs now in the picture, they sought legal guidance to create the most ideal estate plan to avoid disrupting the company’s future.
Qian Heng was operating at nearly full capacity this time—the audience was astonished to realize that, compared to today, in the previous episode he’d only shown perhaps sixty percent of his real capability.
He quickly, with clear and rigorous logic, laid out an estate plan for the cash and real estate assets, item by item, point by point—what to do, what agreements to sign, how to arrange for witnessing of the will—barely giving Deng Ming any time to react before he’d already handed the client a completely clear-cut plan.
When Qian Heng truly went all out, his philosophy was, in essence: pave your own road so thoroughly there’s no road left for anyone else. This time, it seemed he wasn’t just planning to leave Deng Ming with no way forward—he seemed intent on sending him straight off a cliff.
“On the division of cash and real estate, I agree with Mr. Q—”
Deng Ming, finally trying to find some way to assert his presence, was cut off mercilessly by Qian Heng. “I’m not finished. Don’t you know it’s a virtue not to interrupt others while they’re speaking?”
“…”
“Beyond dividing up cash and real estate, the most important asset is actually the indivisible company shares. If forcibly liquidated and sold off, it would cause unnecessary losses to the company and lead to a decline in its valuation. We could introduce a cross-purchase agreement among partners, where all company partners insure each other and become beneficiaries of one another’s policies. Should any partner pass away, the remaining partners can use the life insurance payout to buy out the deceased partner’s shares from their heirs, thereby preserving the company’s equity from falling into the hands of heirs who don’t understand how to run the business, and maintaining the operating partners’ control over company management…”
“Beyond this kind of insurance on the family business shares, there are other approaches as well…”
Generally, when facing a brand-new problem and being asked to offer a solution on the spot, it’s nearly impossible for anyone to give a completely flawless, comprehensive answer without gaps—and often, because of the short time to think, hasty responses tend to have plenty of oversights and errors that the next speaker could expand on or correct. But Qian Heng clearly wasn’t an ordinary person. He had an air of “once my flowers bloom, all other flowers wither”—addressing the client’s question, he covered everything from start to finish without a single gap, laying out various options one by one, specific operations spelled out clause by clause, leaving Deng Ming absolutely nothing to say, nothing to argue.
This was the first time, in this entire professional debate-style show, that one guest had been left utterly speechless.
The atmosphere on set grew awkward, yet the very cause of it remained completely oblivious. “I’m done.” He glanced at Deng Ming. “I imagine you don’t have much to add either.”
“…”
For a moment, Deng Ming’s face flushed through every shade of embarrassment imaginable, humiliated but utterly powerless to fight back. After this round, his claim to superior professional competence had, without a doubt, become untenable. Compared to Qian Heng, he looked like a fresh-out-of-school intern; the other man showed not a shred of refinement or warmth, going completely against everything people traditionally expected of a lawyer—sharp, cutting, harsh, and overbearing—and yet that overwhelming sense of command and control over every situation was dazzling, impossible to imitate, let alone surpass.
In front of the audience, Deng Ming had, in effect, been slapped repeatedly in the face; Qian Heng’s professionalism and rigor drew thunderous applause from the live audience over and over, while he himself faded into the background like wallpaper, utterly invisible.
Deng Ming’s face burned hot and cold in turns, though inwardly he still consoled himself—at least he could still work the public opinion angle. Between him and Qian Heng, his likability with the general public was surely still higher; once this wave of the show’s buzz died down, he could buy some trending topics and hire some bots to stir things up again, take on a few pro-bono cases for good publicity—people’s memories were short after all, and his image would recover before long.
At this point, Deng Ming had no idea that even as he was recording the show, an entire wave of exposés against him was already brewing online. Right on cue, Cheng Xi stepped forward publicly, releasing through the media a large body of evidence of Deng Ming’s infidelity during their marriage—how he’d exploited her, whitewashed his own mistakes, including how he’d manipulated public opinion to win cases, threatened opposing clients, attempted to bribe judges, flirted inappropriately with female clients, cheated with a model…
Cheng Xi’s evidence was clearly organized, carefully worded, and neutral in tone, free of any bitter or vengeful undertone from a wronged ex-wife—instead delivered with a calm, rational recounting of the facts, and this unemotional, level-headed presentation won her the public’s trust all the more.
“Solid evidence, ex-wife gaining favor +1”
“Compared to what his ex-wife just laid out, all of Deng Ming’s earlier ‘evidence’ looks like flimsy, uncorroborated claims”
“Major scumbag exposure happening live”
“Astonishing. What kind of trash and scum does it take to do something like this? And one more thing—that model wife of his really does look like she’s made of plastic.”
“So disgusting, genuinely nauseated, putting my name on this comment”
…
While Deng Ming was busy recording the show, public opinion online had already exploded, with Cheng Xi’s statement acting like a small snowball that, as more and more evidence emerged, kept growing larger, threatening to trigger an avalanche. As Cheng Xi bravely stepped forward, more and more people began finding the courage to speak up too.
“I’m the son of one of Deng Ming’s former legal aid clients—my dad lied to my mom about a fake divorce to buy a house, and once they got the divorce certificate, my dad married his mistress. Deng Ming said he could help my mom get justice and secure child support for me, even went on TV promoting it for a while, but once the buzz died down and my mom wanted him to actually file the lawsuit, Deng Ming became unreachable, nowhere to be found, and in the end the child support never happened—we had to pay for a different lawyer ourselves.”
“No idea why the internet’s been hyping Deng Ming as the ‘conscience of the industry’—to put it plainly he’s just an opportunistic middle-aged sleazeball. I interned at Dewei Law Firm, my supervising attorney was him, and honestly his skills weren’t that great, plus he was constantly making inappropriate comments both openly and behind people’s backs—it was gross enough that I ended up giving up on becoming a lawyer altogether because of it.”
“Finally someone’s exposing him, I’ve been holding this in for so long—’conscience of the industry’ my foot, he’s the real black sheep of this industry. I went up against him in a case once, and the complaint he drafted was a mess, unreadable—but before the case even started, the media was already flooding with coverage, and of course, all the ‘facts’ in the media were carefully filtered to favor him…”
In just a short time, Cheng Xi’s revelations had already sparked a firestorm of discussion, and meanwhile, on Lawyers Debate, Qian Heng’s merciless demolition of Deng Ming further confirmed just how lacking his professional competence really was.
Cheng Yao idly scrolled through Weibo and other platforms, finally confident that no matter how skillfully Deng Ming tried to spin things this time, there was no coming back from this. Besides the public opinion exposés, she and Cheng Xi had already prepared the litigation materials, ready to file with the court the next day, suing Deng Ming for defamation.
Cheng Yao had only been looking down at her phone for a moment when she suddenly felt a gaze burning into her back. She looked up and met Qian Heng’s eyes.
He stood on stage, and across that distant space, he was looking at her; his expression remained composed and calm, yet Cheng Yao instantly sensed the meaning hidden in that gaze—You should be watching me, not your phone.
“…”
Cheng Yao felt like a student caught red-handed slacking off in class. Under Qian Heng’s withering stare, she could only obediently put her phone away, smooth her hair, straighten her back, and look at him.
He glanced at her, then smiled faintly before turning back toward the host.
Because Qian Heng had turned what was meant to be a two-person debate into a one-sided massacre, laying out every solution without a moment’s hesitation for thought, only two-thirds of the recording time had passed. Normally, each episode reserved the final ten minutes for audience Q&A with the guests, but now, the remaining third of the time had to be entirely devoted to the Q&A segment.
Throughout the entire episode, Deng Ming had barely had a chance to speak. The host had been hoping to give him a chance to save some face, but unfortunately, one raised hand after another kept directing their questions almost exclusively at Qian Heng.
“Online they call you the ‘industry menace’—what do you think of that nickname?”
“Attorney Qian, could you tell us about the most memorable case you’ve handled?”
“What do you think is the relationship between law and morality?”
“Would lawyers take on unjust cases just for the money?”
…
Question after question, Qian Heng answered with clear logic and careful reasoning, patiently explaining his understanding of the law.
“Attorney Qian, I’m a law student. You said most ordinary people don’t have legal reasoning skills and can’t approach issues from a legal standpoint—I understand that, since topics like morality versus law, justice versus injustice could fill a doctoral thesis. I understand that.”
The one asking this time was a young male student. He paused. “But often, when I share a legal opinion on something, I get attacked by other people for it—there are too many people in society who simply can’t be reasoned with, legal illiterates. At first I patiently explained things to every one of them, but over time, I found it useless—they won’t listen to explanations, they’ll just attack you, curse you. You’ve always been my idol, because even though so many people online criticize you as the industry menace, you never bother explaining yourself, and I thought that was cool. But now, for some reason, you’re not immune to it either, and you’ve started explaining yourself. I don’t think that’s necessary. Those who understand you will understand regardless.”
This was a rather controversial question, and once the young man sat back down, there was indeed some stirring in the audience.
But Qian Heng showed no sign of unease at all; his expression remained calm and composed.
“I used to think exactly like you. I never cared about vain reputation, other people’s insults didn’t affect my caseload or my work, I didn’t care about explaining things to people with no legal reasoning at all. My hourly rate is 166.66 recurring, and I didn’t think it was worth wasting time and money educating people like that.”
“But later, someone changed my mind. She told me that a lawyer shouldn’t just be responsible to their clients and do good professional work—they should also spread faith in the law.” Qian Heng lowered his gaze, his tone solemn. “I thought about it for a long time, and now I have to admit she was right. Whether as law students or legal professionals, we should never carry a sense of superiority, thinking we’re above ordinary people who don’t understand the law, nor should we blame them for misunderstanding or resisting the legal profession—our image is something we ourselves create, and faith in the law should be spread through our own words and actions. My original reason for going on this show was simply that I wanted her to be happy, but now, I want to do more than that too. I want to explain myself, I don’t care if it makes me less ‘cool,’ I just want to stand up for the law and for my profession. I respect my profession, I respect the law, I believe in the law, and I want to change how people misunderstand the law and the legal profession—so I have to take action.”
The moment Qian Heng’s words fell, the venue erupted in applause. As the very person who had changed Qian Heng’s mind, Cheng Yao’s heart was a tangle of emotions—she felt moved, embarrassed, and could feel nothing but her heart pounding, carrying with it both a flutter and a swell of pride.
In this moment, she could no longer deny her feelings for Qian Heng. Even trying hard to hold back, love was like the most resilient seed—even in the harshest, most inhospitable circumstances, it would still find a way to break through the soil.
And never before had Cheng Yao felt more proud than in this moment—this was what a legal professional should look like, a true legal professional, and also the man she couldn’t help but still love, unable to forget him.
As if that still wasn’t enough, in the pause after the applause, Qian Heng glanced once more toward Cheng Yao’s direction and spoke again.
“Of course, beyond this lofty explanation, I also have selfish reasons.” He paused. “I don’t care how other people judge me, but I don’t want the person I love to be affected because of me. I want everyone to know exactly who she loves. I want everyone to know her judgment wasn’t wrong.”
Though this question had nothing to do with law at all, this time the applause was even louder than before. Cheng Yao’s face burned red beneath the unending applause.
At this point, the questions kept coming.
“Attorney Qian, I went through all the cases you’ve handled last night. I really want to ask—for family lawyers like you, who deal with conflict, human ugliness, and selfishness every day, doesn’t it make you feel like marriage is meaningless?”
After the applause died down, even more people raised their hands with questions.
“In marriage today, women, because of their biological nature, are still often in a disadvantaged position. There are so many cases online now of marriages gone wrong ruining someone’s whole life—domestic abuse, infidelity, being saddled with debt, even murder for insurance money—leading many people now to believe staying single and childless is the safer choice. What’s your take on this?”
Qian Heng’s expression remained calm and composed, his tone still even. “Staying single, being child-free, and wanting to marry and have children are two different but equally valid choices deserving of respect. But I’ve never agreed with the idea that being single and childless guarantees safety. Someone who lacks legal awareness, who won’t take proactive steps to protect themselves, who just drifts through life—being unmarried and childless won’t guarantee them safety either.”
“Because there’s nothing wrong with marriage, and nothing wrong with having children. The only real problem is finding the wrong person. Whether your life is happy or not doesn’t depend on whether you’re married or have children—it only depends on who you choose to be, and who you choose to love.”
Another woman stood up. “Attorney Qian, I heard you were once firmly against marriage and children, but now you claim to have someone you want to marry—what changed your mind?”
“I’m very lucky—the person who changed my approach to work also changed my views on marriage and family, and taught me how to love as an equal.” Qian Heng pressed his lips together, his handsome face carrying a hint of nervousness and solemnity. “I want to marry her because on this long road of life, I want us to light and warm each other. I want to share my past, my present, my future with her. I want to share everything I have, worldly and otherwise, with her. I want every day of my future to be a life that includes her.”
Qian Heng’s voice remained as cold as ever, and it barely even sounded like a confession of love, yet each word landed like a heavy bomb, striking Cheng Yao again and again without pause.
Having said this much, Qian Heng paused, then spoke again.
“What I’m about to say next has nothing to do with this episode of the show, and I haven’t discussed it with the production beforehand. If this causes any losses to the show, I’m willing to bear full responsibility for compensation.”
…
“I thought I would spend my whole life staying single and childless, but Cheng Yao, I love you. You are all my rights and all my obligations.”
As if crossing space, crossing distance, crossing everything in between, Qian Heng looked toward Cheng Yao. “You are the one irresistible force in my entire life. Against you, I stand no chance.”
“I stand here in the most humble position, asking you to become the partner of the rest of my life’s fate.” Qian Heng pressed his lips together, his handsome face even carrying a hint of severity, though at the tail end of his composed voice there lingered a fleeting, elusive undertone.
He was nervous.
This man, formidable to the point of arrogance—he was nervous.
He paused, then continued. “I will never propose in public and demand an answer on the spot. I won’t put any pressure on you, and I don’t want you to say yes just because of everyone’s excitement in this moment. I want your calmest, truest answer. If you’re willing, please tell me after the show ends—I’ll be waiting.” Qian Heng’s voice was steady and low. “One last thing you should know: you are an excellent lawyer. I’ve never opposed you building your career—the legal market needs you, your clients need you—but I need you too.”
After such a thrilling legal showdown, to then witness such an explosive proposal on top of it—the entire audience erupted, nearly boiling over. Applause, whistles, cheers, shouting—all Cheng Yao could hear was what felt like an enormous wave of sound swallowing her whole.
Qian Heng, ever meticulously professional to near perfection, never once revealed where Cheng Yao was, even amid such a high-profile proposal, nor did he play along with the crowd’s calls for the client to come up on stage for a public proposal. He’d laid himself bare in front of the public without reservation, and yet he still carefully protected every part of Cheng Yao.
This man was excellent to the point of cunning—he’d nearly closed off every possible excuse for her to refuse, executing everything so flawlessly there wasn’t a single flaw to find.
But in this moment, Cheng Yao found, in despair, that even knowing all this, she still couldn’t resist him at all.
For the last ten minutes of the recording, Cheng Yao could no longer follow what was being said at all. Someone finally asked a question directed at the nearly-forgotten Deng Ming, but unfortunately, it wasn’t a question that would help him salvage the situation—instead, the audience began questioning the cases he’d handled in the past, each question sharper and more pointed than the last, until finally the host had to step in to keep the show on track…
Under normal circumstances, this would have been exactly the outcome Cheng Yao most wanted to see, but right now, her heart was completely consumed by the melody of Qian Heng. By the time the recording ended, her palms were still faintly damp with sweat.
She was nervous too. Very, very nervous. The happy kind.
The moment the recording wrapped, Qian Heng walked out from backstage. For the first time in his life, he searched so urgently for one person.
He wanted to see Cheng Yao, wanted to hold her, wanted to claim all of her attention.
Yet, to his surprise, Cheng Yao wasn’t backstage. Qian Heng, lips pressed tight, walked a full circuit, but she was nowhere in the entire recording building; instead, he ran into a great many of his so-called fans. He was surrounded in the lobby—people offering flowers, gifts, asking for autographs, taking photos.
But none of that mattered to Qian Heng, because he’d finally spotted Cheng Yao. She was standing on the street outside the lobby, with Gu Beiqing beside her, leaning in to say something to her.
In that instant, Qian Heng felt his adrenaline surge beyond measure.
He no longer cared about the crowd surrounding him and walked straight out of the lobby, heading toward Cheng Yao.
By the time he reached her, Gu Beiqing had already left her side, though Qian Heng found he couldn’t feel happy about it at all.
He looked at Cheng Yao silently.
Cheng Yao said nothing either, her expression composed and calm, looking back up at him.
Qian Heng took a deep breath, but looked away, appearing somewhat uneasy. “Cheng Yao, is there something you want to say to me?”
Cheng Yao tilted her head, blinking. “Should I have something to say to you?”
At such an obvious display of playing dumb, Qian Heng froze, and then came a crushing wave of disappointment and defeat—yet even so, he didn’t give up.
“Cheng Yao, I apologize for my past sense of superiority and self-satisfaction. From now on, you decide, and I’ll follow. Whenever you’re ready to marry, we’ll go register at the civil affairs bureau together. If you feel you’re not ready yet, then this time, I’ll wait for you.”
Qian Heng tried hard to keep his tone calm and composed, but the anguish beneath it was unmistakable. Love really was troublesome—it made you not quite yourself, left you bitter, sleepless, tossing and turning—and yet even so, Qian Heng found he still wanted to experience this whole complicated mix of feelings, like some kind of torment that was also somehow a reward.
Perhaps the value of love and marriage lay precisely in this—only within the intimacy of love and marriage could a person truly have the chance to grow and reflect.
This journey with Cheng Yao had been sweet, uncertain, tense, joyful, painful—yet through all the bitter and sweet, Qian Heng found he’d welcomed every bit of it.
At first he’d thought he was the one guiding Cheng Yao’s growth in this relationship, only to realize later that Cheng Yao had taught him to grow too.
He stared at Cheng Yao, waiting for her final verdict, his heart filled with unease and apprehension—what if she no longer loved him? What if she and Gu Beiqing…
Qian Heng didn’t dare think further.
“Don’t wait for me.”
Cheng Yao looked into Qian Heng’s eyes, her tone calm and composed, as though delivering a death sentence. “Qian Heng, don’t wait for me.”
Qian Heng pressed his lips together, struggling to keep his emotions under control. “So you and Gu Beiqing…”
“Get down on your knees now.”
Qian Heng frowned, momentarily failing to process this. “Kneel?”
Kneel for what? Was she demanding he kneel in apology for his past arrogance?
Qian Heng’s expression turned cold—apologizing, sure, but kneeling was out of the question. He, Qian Heng, would never kneel—this was about dignity, about…
“How else are you going to propose if you don’t kneel?”
For a moment, Qian Heng’s mind went completely blank. It took a full minute before he felt his thoughts start working again. Only then did he finally understand what Cheng Yao meant—
Don’t wait, because there was no need to.
Cheng Yao watched as the man before her went from utterly blank to overjoyed. It turned out that face of his, usually held so proud and aloof, could actually run through such a rich spectrum of expressions in such a short span of time.
She finally couldn’t maintain her own feigned coldness any longer, feeling the urge to laugh.
Then she heard the man say, somewhat nervously, “Kneeling’s no problem, but I haven’t bought a diamond ring yet.”
Before Cheng Yao could respond, she watched Qian Heng’s face suddenly regain its composure, as if struck by sudden inspiration. He slowly knelt down on one knee in front of Cheng Yao, and, to her utter astonishment, pulled out his wallet and drew out a bank card…
Qian Heng pressed his lips together, his voice steady. “This is my salary card. The password is my birth year plus your birthday.”
Having said that, he pulled out another card. “This is my investment account card, the password is…”
“This is my overseas account, the American one…”
“This one’s the Swiss one…”
…
One card after another, Qian Heng calmly pulled out every single bank card he had, telling her each password in turn, then handed them all over to her.
Cheng Yao was utterly stunned, staring blankly at Qian Heng, not sure whether she should take this whole stack of bank cards or not.
Qian Heng looked at Cheng Yao, seeing only her, and though he tried hard to remain composed, his voice still carried an unmistakable, uncontrollable nervousness. “I know a proposal should at least come with roses and a diamond ring, but I can’t wait—I just want to confirm your identity as fast as possible, I want you to become my legal heir. From now on, in the spouse information field, it’ll be me.”
“Cheng Yao, marry me.”
Deep down, somehow, Qian Heng believed Cheng Yao loved him—the way she couldn’t help but look at him, the anxiety when she found out he’d been scratched by the cat, how hard she tried to stop him from eating spicy food, the concern in her eyes when he had a fever—these details didn’t lie. She loved him, just as he loved her.
Yet now that the actual moment of proposing had arrived, Qian Heng was still nervous and uneasy, like a child waiting for exam results after a test, thinking he’d done well in his review, but the moment the results were about to be announced, doubting himself all the same—did I really do well?
“Get up first.” Cheng Yao didn’t say yes or no—she merely narrowed her eyes, her gaze mischievous. “Get up, and I’ll tell you.”
Qian Heng’s mind went into complete disarray. Was this Cheng Yao’s way of saying no? He felt momentarily lost, a crushing sense of loss welling up inside him, and yet he still stood up. He’d always despised those news stories of men proposing in public and vowing to stay on their knees until the woman said yes—wasn’t that just applying pressure, forcing the other person to comply? That wasn’t the outcome he wanted. He would never force Cheng Yao into anything.
Cheng Yao watched as an unmistakable look of disappointment and crushing defeat flashed across Qian Heng’s face—she felt both a pang of sympathy and a bit of amusement.
She couldn’t hold back any longer. Before Qian Heng could react, Cheng Yao jumped up, cupped his face in her hands, and gave him a brief, decisive kiss—a completely unabashed surprise attack.
And having kissed him, Cheng Yao, blushing furiously, dashed across the street.
Qian Heng was left completely thrown off by Cheng Yao’s unpredictable move; he pressed his lips together tightly and glared after her.
What happened next, Qian Heng knew he would never forget for the rest of his life.
Cheng Yao, out of breath, ran all the way to the other side of the street, then waved at Qian Heng, and pulled something out of her bag. It looked like some kind of banner. Cheng Yao held it in her hands, looked around, her face flushed, as though nervous, or perhaps shy.
She glanced at Qian Heng again, eyes bright, then, seeming to finally throw caution to the wind, unfolded the thing in her hands.
Only then did Qian Heng see clearly—it wasn’t a banner at all, but a foldable fan support sign. Cheng Yao pressed some kind of switch, and the sign’s lights lit up brilliantly, drawing the attention of passersby who kept turning to look.
Cheng Yao bit her lip, her face completely flushed red, and yet she still bravely held up the sign; when passersby kept staring, she just glared fiercely back at them.
In that instant, Qian Heng felt his heart pounding so violently it nearly leapt out of his chest.
“Idiot.”
Qian Heng’s voice was still cold, his expression still composed and steady, and yet his eyes were filled entirely with brilliant, radiant joy.
He couldn’t wait another second—he ran across the street and pulled the girl into a tight embrace.
Cheng Yao’s sign bore only a single line—
“Husband, I want to have your babies!”
Watching Qian Heng draw closer, Cheng Yao suddenly turned shy and timid again. Her face flushed red, and she quickly put the sign away, trying to explain, embarrassed: “One of the female fans in my section left it behind, I just happened to see it and…”
This time, Cheng Yao didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence—the rest of her words disappeared into Qian Heng’s kiss. He leaned down, cupped her face, and kissed her.
Still blushing, Cheng Yao tried to explain: “I wasn’t trying to grab it on purpose, I really just started out wanting to be environmentally conscious, not leave trash at the recording venue, I didn’t want people thinking your fans have bad manners, and just now… just now that was completely a moment of madness…”
“Fine.”
Cheng Yao looked confused. “What?”
“To the offer you just made, I say yes.” Qian Heng looked at her steadily, then leaned in close to her ear and kissed her earlobe gently. “Having your babies. Only yours.”
Red spread from Cheng Yao’s earlobe all the way down her neck, but Qian Heng barely gave her time to react before pulling her in and kissing her again.
At times like this, there was no need for words—a kiss said it all.
This was a fierce kiss, thick with emotion and desire. Cheng Yao’s face flushed, her heart racing, nearly weak in the knees from Qian Heng’s kiss. But she didn’t pull away—like him, she didn’t care who was watching either. The two of them simply kissed, oblivious to the world around them, responding to each other with equal fervor.
Winter was bleak and desolate, and yet warming a person might take nothing more than a single passionate kiss. And if that wasn’t enough, then two would do.
Qian Heng used to believe that seeing through the ugliness of human nature was a form of maturity and clarity. But in this moment, kissing the person in his arms, he finally, deeply understood that line from Romain Rolland: true heroism is seeing the truth of life clearly, and still loving it anyway.
Even after experiencing every ugliness this world had to offer—scheming, machinations, the fickleness of the world, dark plots and conspiracies—as long as Cheng Yao was there, he could still keep the softest, gentlest part of himself intact.
He wanted to live his life together with Cheng Yao, wanted to share with her endless dusks, stretching clear skies, the first light of dawn, the wind across wheat fields, blooming roses, oceans, sun and moon and stars, spring, summer, autumn, winter—for the rest of their lives, he wanted to share all of it with her. Walking the streets together, watching every view together, tasting every joy and sorrow of life together—he held onto her, and then it was a lifetime.
“Amid all this chaos of the world, for the rest of my life, all I want is you.”