With Qian Heng taking this stance, Cheng Yao’s heart finally settled. She went home, and to show her gratitude, made an entire table of seafood in the most shameless, ingratiating way possible.

This time Cheng Yao really went all out—the freshest, plumpest mantis shrimp, giant sea crabs, clams… buy, buy, buy, no hesitation, no restraint!

“This one should have some lemon juice drizzled on it—cuts the fishy smell better.”

“Yes, yes, yes, whatever the boss says! I’ll improve next time!”

Cheng Yao pulled out a notebook with great solemnity and jotted it down at once. When it came to the boss, one’s attitude had to be nothing but sincere devotion!

“I actually prefer cuttlefish grilled.”

“Sure, sure, sure, I’ll go buy an oven right now! Already ordered!”

Talk was cheap—the important thing was to let the boss see action!

“I don’t like onions.”

Cheng Yao immediately grabbed her chopsticks and picked out every last piece of onion. “Whatever the boss doesn’t like, I’ll eat!”

Always be ready to share the boss’s burdens—even if it’s just a slice of onion!

“Ah.” Qian Heng glanced at his finger and frowned. “These crab claws are sharper than expected.”

Cheng Yao wasted no time, grabbing the sea crab at once. “Boss, you just rest! Let me shell it for you—how could you possibly crack crab shells with your own hands? That would be an outrage against heaven!”

Time to give the boss the full 360-degree, no-blind-spot attentive service!

Up until now, Qian Heng still hadn’t discussed any punishment for this mess with Cheng Yao, and she was deeply moved by this, deciding to lay the flattery on thick. “Adversity reveals true feeling. Boss, thank you for being the umbrella that shields your employee from the storm in her most helpless moment. To encourage me, you didn’t even scold me—you patiently taught me instead, helping me grow, like a monument on the road of my life, guiding my every step forward…”

“Copied that from a Party membership application, didn’t you?”

Cheng Yao immediately shook her head in denial. “No, how could that be? This is all straight from the bottom of my heart!”

“Fine then, write your heartfelt thoughts up in a Word document and send it to me.”

“No problem! I can write ten thousand words!”

Qian Heng looked at Cheng Yao, thoroughly amused. “Then go ahead and write your ten thousand words.”

Bless the internet, Cheng Yao thought. Tonight I’ll cook something up! Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V!

Just as Cheng Yao was about to nod along further, Qian Heng thought for a moment and added, “I’ll run it through plagiarism detection. Anything over 10% similarity gets rewritten.”

!!!

“But boss… your alma mater’s law school even relaxed the plagiarism threshold to 15% for thesis defenses…”

“Weren’t you saying this was all heartfelt sentiment? All original, right? What’s there to worry about with plagiarism detection?”

“…”

By this point, Qian Heng had finished eating. He wiped his mouth elegantly and glanced at Cheng Yao. “Cheng Yao, don’t think that just because I ate your seafood, I’ll let you off the hook. The consequences for your mistake at work will not be reduced one bit.”

“…”

He smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, once I finish dealing with Bai Xingmeng, I’ll deal with you.”

That night, with Qian Heng around, Cheng Yao felt more at ease than she had in a long while. She believed in Qian Heng—as long as he said it was fine, it really would be fine.

But her optimism didn’t last long. Just as she came back from walking Megatron, a new notification popped up on Weibo.

“Xu Jun’s relatives spoke to the media, confirming that before his death, Xu Jun never had the chance to speak with Bai Xingmeng face to face—all communication was blocked by an attorney surnamed Cheng.”

Cheng Yao jolted and quickly opened the interview video.

“I’m Xu Jun’s older brother. My brother’s sudden death has left our whole family unable to accept it. If he’d been able to talk things through with Bai Xingmeng, if he’d known reconciliation was still possible, he never would have been so desperate. Maybe my brother’s tragedy would never have happened at all… I just want to ask this Attorney Cheng—doesn’t your conscience hurt? What personal interest were you serving, blocking my brother from communicating with his ex-wife?”

Cheng Yao could barely make out the rest of what he said. Her hands and feet went cold, her scalp prickling.

Things had spiraled completely beyond her control, and she had no evidence at all to clear her own name.

The interview and accusations from Xu Jun’s relatives pushed the already sky-high buzz around his suicide to an even more explosive climax.

The fire was spreading too fast. It didn’t take long before someone, using the information about “an attorney surnamed Cheng at Junheng,” doxxed Cheng Yao’s full name online, and then went on to post her phone number.

Just fifteen minutes later, Cheng Yao’s phone started vibrating like it had gone mad.

Every kind of harassing message and call came flooding in.

Cheng Yao only had to glance at the screen lighting up with new messages to lose all sense of calm.

The abuse was too vile to bear. Curses were the least of it—far more vulgar insults than that came pouring in too.

Faced with all of this, Cheng Yao had thought she’d cry, but when it actually came down to it, apart from a numbing wave of shame and humiliation, she found she couldn’t cry at all.

She had no memory at all of when Qian Heng had knocked and come into her room—that stretch of memory was like something she wanted to cast away entirely; she only felt dazed and disoriented.

“Cheng Yao, don’t look at your phone.”

Just then, her phone rang again—one harassing call after another, seemingly without end.

Qian Heng simply reached out and took the phone from her, declined the call, and turned it off, all in one smooth motion.

Seeing him, Megatron got excited, tongue lolling, and lunged toward him.

Qian Heng’s body visibly stiffened.

Only then did Cheng Yao remember—he was afraid of dogs.

And yet, even afraid of dogs, he’d still come into her room and taken her phone from her.

“Megatron,” Cheng Yao called out softly, pulling the dog closer to herself.

Qian Heng’s body finally relaxed.

He stood there, looking down at Cheng Yao in her state of complete despondence, and said nothing to comfort her.

Instead, his voice came, utterly unruffled: “Want to go get a drink?”

Cheng Yao never quite understood how she’d ended up nodding at Qian Heng—by the time she came to her senses, she was already with him at “Comet.”

Comet was an exclusive, members-only upscale lounge, not noisy, elegantly appointed, its decor understated and tasteful, with soft piano music drifting through the air.

“One Long Island iced tea! Bottoms up tonight!”

Tonight, Cheng Yao just wanted to numb herself with alcohol, to forget her current mess and humiliation.

“Give her a virgin cocktail.”

Cheng Yao was about to protest when a single sharp look from Qian Heng stopped her cold.

“Cheng Yao, your tolerance is bad, and your drinking manners are worse than your tolerance.”

Cheng Yao lowered her head, feeling too miserable. She just wanted to drink herself into oblivion. “But tonight is a special occasion.”

“Alcohol won’t help you escape anything—it’ll just cause more trouble.” Qian Heng gave a cold snort. “Think about what happened last time you had too much to drink. Do I need to remind you of that compensation list I drew up again?”

“Then why bring me to a bar at all—might as well have just stayed home.”

“There’s a dog at home. There isn’t one here.”

“…”

Miserable as her situation was, Cheng Yao almost laughed in that moment—Qian Heng really was still Qian Heng. She’d almost thought, for once, he was uncharacteristically trying to bring her somewhere to change the mood, change the scenery.

Though he’d forbidden Cheng Yao from drinking, Qian Heng ordered himself a mojito.

Just as Cheng Yao was staring blankly at his drink, Qian Heng spoke again.

“Cheng Yao, I didn’t bring you to a bar tonight to drown your sorrows. What I’m about to say, I need you to listen with a clear head.”

Cheng Yao looked up and found herself caught, unprepared, in Qian Heng’s gaze. The bar’s lighting was warm and dim, and in this moment, his profile seemed stretched out into something endless. It was only then that Cheng Yao noticed several people nearby, of the opposite sex, all sneaking glances at Qian Heng. Wherever he went, his looks made him the center of attention.

Qian Heng’s handsomeness had a sharp edge to it—many people were good-looking in a gentle, easy way, but Qian Heng’s features carried an aggressiveness even in their beauty. Combined with his commanding presence, it was as if he could conquer anyone, anywhere—in a world where looks were currency, he was unstoppable.

The lights of the traffic outside the bar reflected in his eyes, as if they held a miniature of the whole glittering city.

Qian Heng really did have a captivating pair of eyes.

Especially when he looked at you intently—in those captivating eyes there was only your own reflection, giving the illusion, almost, of deep affection.

“Attorney Qian. Cheng Yao.”

Just as Cheng Yao’s mind wandered, her heart fluttering faintly, a man’s voice cut through her reverie.

Cheng Yao looked up to find that the figure walking toward her through the light was none other than Gu Beiqing.

Cheng Yao instinctively turned to look at Qian Heng. “What a coincidence?”

Qian Heng huffed. “Haven’t you heard—every coincidence in this world is a scheme long in the making?”

“So…”

“I arranged to meet Gu Beiqing.”

Didn’t Qian Heng find Gu Beiqing thoroughly irritating? How had he ended up actively inviting him out for drinks tonight? Cheng Yao felt momentarily thrown into confusion.

Naturally, Gu Beiqing wasn’t fond of Qian Heng either. The two men sat down together at the bar, and the atmosphere was, unsurprisingly, cool and merely courteous.

“The reason I came tonight is mainly because Attorney Qian said he wanted to talk to me about Cheng Yao’s situation.”

To Gu Beiqing’s opening remark, Qian Heng didn’t seem bothered at all. He just smiled faintly. “You think if it weren’t for Cheng Yao, I’d want to see you?”

“…”

For a moment, the scene struck Cheng Yao as somehow bizarre—it looked, oddly, like two star-crossed rivals bound by mutual loathing, secretly in love and mortal enemies both…

Just as her imagination started to sprout wings, Qian Heng’s cold voice cut it right down. “Cheng Yao, judging by your current expression, I’d say your thoughts have wandered somewhere a bit dangerous.”

“…”

“As the attorneys for both sides in Bai Xingmeng’s asset re-division case, the reason I asked you out tonight is that I’d like you to tell Cheng Yao what you know, from your position as Xu Jun’s representing attorney, about this marriage.” Qian Heng turned his gaze back to Gu Beiqing. “I won’t put you in a difficult spot—anything covered by case confidentiality, I don’t want to hear either. I just want your personal perspective, as Xu Jun’s attorney, on the marriage.”

Gu Beiqing clearly hadn’t expected Qian Heng to ask this, but under Qian Heng’s presence, he found himself momentarily forgetting to refuse. Speaking of Xu Jun, he seemed genuinely moved. “I never imagined he wouldn’t be able to hold on in the end.”

Gu Beiqing took a sip of his martini. “Actually, Xu Jun had a serious case of depression for a long time. He’d been managing it with medication and keeping it fairly stable, but once the settlement talks reached the final stage, I noticed his emotional state had already started to destabilize. I just never expected…”

Cheng Yao was quite surprised. “But Xu Jun seemed genuinely outgoing and talkative—nothing like someone with depression at all.”

“I only learned, after meeting him, that depression doesn’t always mean someone quiet and withdrawn. Apparently there’s a kind called ‘smiling depression’—outwardly very extroverted, lively, talkative, but when alone, the depressive tendencies become much more obvious. Because of his depression, Xu Jun couldn’t sleep properly at all, which left him even more sleep-deprived, even more mentally worn down—a vicious cycle.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Cheng Yao said, deeply upset. “I didn’t know he had depression.”

Gu Beiqing sighed. “Cheng Yao, I know that facing Xu Jun’s death, whether it’s your own conscience or the pressure of public opinion, you’ve been feeling like it might have been your fault, like you pushed him toward death. But that’s not how it is. The responsibility for this lies with Bai Xingmeng.”

“Because Bai Xingmeng knew, the entire time, that Xu Jun suffered from severe depression.”