Aside from that little mishap over sharing an apartment with Qian Heng, Cheng Yao’s work had recently been going quite smoothly. Bao Rui had tracked down Chen Qingmei’s registration records from her prenatal checkup hospital, and sure enough, Dong Shan had filled in his information there and signed it.

With a signature, things became much easier — a handwriting analysis could be requested. On top of that, Bao Rui had pulled surveillance footage showing Dong Shan and Chen Qingmei inseparable in public, along with all sorts of other corroborating details. Combined with the DNA paternity test, that would complete the chain of evidence.

Whether by some stroke of luck or not, Chen Qingmei’s cord-blood DNA test caused no risk to the fetus, and the paternity test went through rather smoothly.

“The report is in. Chen Qingmei’s unborn child and Old Master Dong share the same paternal lineage.”

Though this was excellent news for the case, Cheng Yao felt an odd complexity in her chest.

People always say heaven sees all, that it spares no one. But time and again, Cheng Yao found these were just words people used to comfort themselves — more often than not, the people who thrived and prospered weren’t good people at all.

Take Chen Qingmei — an absolute, refined egoist. Selfish, shrewd, well versed in the rules of a patriarchal society, she’d shaped herself into the very image that patriarchal aesthetics favored: delicate, tender, as though she couldn’t survive without a man, gentle and pliant and obedient. And yet, underneath, she understood everything better than anyone. Lowering herself like this wasn’t because she lacked her own thoughts or was willing to be some man’s appendage, submitting to whatever he wanted — quite the opposite. She knew exactly what she wanted, and exactly how to get it.

She likely didn’t love Dong Shan at all — and probably didn’t even love the blood child in her own belly.

She was never a sacrifice or a dependent within a patriarchal society, but rather someone who profited from a system built entirely around her own self-interest.

What left an even deeper impression on Cheng Yao was that after completing the paternity test, Chen Qingmei hadn’t gone home alone.

It had been raining that day. While Cheng Yao waited for a taxi, she saw a man around Chen Qingmei’s age approach, holding an umbrella.

“How could you be so careless — stand further under cover next time, you’re getting rained on. You’re still carrying the baby — what if you catch a cold?”

The man had an ordinary, unremarkable face, but the intense focus in his eyes as he looked at Chen Qingmei made his whole being seem to glow.

A person always shines a little brighter when there’s love in their eyes.

He had only the one umbrella, yet carefully shielded Chen Qingmei with one arm, tilting the entire umbrella almost completely over her head, leaving the left half of his own body exposed to the rain without any cover at all.

Chen Qingmei looked up at him weakly and leaned into his embrace. “Xie Ming, if only I’d met you sooner.”

The man called Xie Ming blushed, somewhat bashful. “It’s not too late even now. You went through such a hard time before — that’s why you mistook Dong Shan’s small kindness for love. You never expected he’d lie about being single, that he hadn’t even divorced his wife yet, which is how you ended up in this situation… I’ll take good care of you from now on.”

Chen Qingmei’s eyes glistened faintly. “But… but everyone’s calling me names now — a mistress, a fox spirit who seduced Dong Shan, a shameless woman.”

“They don’t know the truth of things. I don’t care what anyone else says about you.” Xie Ming smiled gently. “Don’t pay attention to those unkind words either. The public paints everyone with the same brush, and public opinion is so easily misled. It’s enough that I believe you. Someone as timid as you — how could you have possibly done something like that?”

…

The two of them talked a while longer before walking off hand in hand. As they moved away, huddled under the single umbrella, still talking about something, Cheng Yao could no longer make out their words.

Dong Shan had barely been dead any time at all, and already she’d found her next fresh “host.”

This man might not look particularly wealthy, but with the child in her belly as leverage, Chen Qingmei stood to gain more wealth than she could spend in a lifetime. She wouldn’t need to worry about money anymore — she could go find some honest man who truly suited her, someone who genuinely cared for her, protected her, accepted her, believed in her. Like any young woman her age, she could have a normal, mutually loving relationship.

So pragmatic, and yet somehow flawless in its execution.

Perhaps in this world, the thick-skinned and the shameless simply fared better in life. Fortune favors the ruthless, misfortune finds the righteous.

As if to confirm exactly what Cheng Yao had been thinking, the first-instance hearing of the Dong Shan inheritance dispute proceeded without any surprises. Under Qian Heng’s representation, faced with the weight of the evidence, Jiang Wenxiu and Dong Min had nothing left to say. The first-instance ruling awarded 210 million yuan of Dong Shan’s estate to the child in Chen Qingmei’s belly.

For matters involving inheritance, gift acceptance, and other interests protecting an unborn child, a fetus is treated as having civil capacity. Accordingly, this portion of the inheritance share would be held in reserve — once the child was born alive, the formal inheritance procedures would proceed; if the child was stillborn, the reserved share would be reclaimed and redistributed according to statutory inheritance.

When the hearing ended, Jiang Wenxiu, though pale, remained composed and dignified as ever. Dong Min, however, broke down, sobbing as she confronted her grandfather.

The facts were plain to see — it was precisely because Old Master Dong had agreed to the paternity test that Chen Qingmei had been able to turn the tables and win.

Before this, Jiang Wenxiu and Dong Min had surely trusted him completely, never imagining he would become Chen Qingmei’s opening.

They’d never guarded against Old Master Dong, believing him to be on their side in this — and never expected to be shot in the back by the very “comrade” standing in their own trench.

That feeling of complete betrayal by someone you’d trusted with everything — probably no one but the person living through it could ever really understand.

“Grandpa, how have Mom and I treated you all these years? Do you even have a heart?” Dong Min felt her feelings had been thoroughly deceived by her own grandfather, her eyes full of nothing but tears, disappointment, and disbelief. “You kept saying Mom was the only daughter-in-law you approved of, and yet behind our backs you were already siding with the mistress!”

“When you had your stroke and couldn’t walk properly, you had such a temper at first you wouldn’t let the caretakers near you. Who do you think bathed you, changed you, brought you your meals every single day? Mom gave up several good business acquisition opportunities just to stay by your side, tending to you hand and foot, putting up with your bad moods. Did she ever once complain?”

“You kept saying I was your only granddaughter — but in reality? Grandpa, this is the last time I’ll call you that. From now on, there’s no more Dong Min.” Though Dong Min was spoiled by nature, in this moment of crisis she showed something of her mother’s fortitude, her tone fierce and unyielding. “I’m going to change my surname to my mother’s. From today on, there’s no Dong Min — only Jiang Min.” She laughed at herself bitterly. “Not that it matters to you whether the Dong family has me as a daughter, since you already have an heir now.”

“And the rest of you — you lawyers speaking for this kind of mistress — don’t you have any conscience?” Dong Min turned to Qian Heng, Bao Rui, and Cheng Yao. “I curse all of you — may you all be cheated on and never find happiness for the rest of your lives! You people have no morals at all, just money! Law? Law is a joke! There’s no such thing as fairness or justice — the law is just a fig leaf for scum like you! The Marriage Law doesn’t protect marriages at all — it protects mistresses’ children!”

“Minmin, that’s enough.”

Dong Min’s emotions ran high, but Jiang Wenxiu, though her complexion was poor, remained composed. She gave Qian Heng a slight nod of apology before pulling Dong Min away.

She understood perfectly well that being a lawyer was simply a profession, and representing a particular client didn’t reflect the lawyer’s own personal position. She kept that distinction clear until the very end, never directing any resentment toward Qian Heng or Cheng Yao.

“It was my carelessness, my misjudgment of human nature, my misjudgment of family bonds. Had I been more alert, had I stopped you from ever getting near my father-in-law, or played the emotional card with him myself, the outcome might have been different.”

“But no matter what, everyone should bear the consequences of their own actions. This was my oversight, and I accept the loss.” Having said this, Jiang Wenxiu lowered her gaze. “Minmin, this too is a lesson for your life. Mom can’t protect you forever — you need to grow up too.”

Even in this moment, she remained composed and gracious, which only deepened Cheng Yao’s admiration for her, along with sympathy and an indescribable shame.

With the first-instance ruling formally establishing the paternity, as long as Chen Qingmei’s child lived through birth, he would receive a substantial inheritance no matter what. Even if Jiang Wenxiu and Dong Min appealed, at best they could only quibble over the exact proportions of the remaining shares.

Though only a first-instance ruling, the outcome of this case was essentially settled.

And yet, representing someone like Chen Qingmei — even winning brought no real happiness, no sense of accomplishment at all.

Was this really what being a lawyer meant? Where exactly was the meaning in this line of work? Where did a lawyer’s value actually lie?

On the way back to the firm, Cheng Yao felt rather down. Qian Heng seemed to have long grown used to scenes like this, taking it all in stride, only glancing at her once or twice thoughtfully. Bao Rui, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement.

“This case of ours — using paternity testing and a full chain of evidence to establish parentage even when the biological father’s body has been completely destroyed — I feel like this could make it into the annual highlight cases for family law… And the legal fees this time were pretty generous too. I’m thinking of trading in my car. What do you two think is a good choice? I was thinking Audi, but apparently Audi owners are the most likely to cheat — bad omen. Maybe Volvo instead?”

…

Cheng Yao’s lingering sense of emptiness carried through until the end of the workday.

These past couple of days, Qin Qin had come back from her trip and reclaimed Optimus Prime, so now, coming home, there wasn’t even a dog to pet anymore — and just thinking about that made Cheng Yao feel even more defeated…

As for Qian Heng, he coolly declined the celebratory dinner Chen Qingmei offered as thanks. Then, with a single internal call, he summoned Cheng Yao into his office.

Cheng Yao went in nervously, worried she’d done something wrong again and was about to get an earful.

But the moment she sat down, Qian Heng pulled open a drawer and tossed over a large chocolate bar, looking away, his tone somewhat awkward. “Eat it, quick.”

Cheng Yao: ???

What was going on with him? Why was he suddenly giving her chocolate?

“It’s about to expire. No point wasting it.”

“…”

But Cheng Yao quickly discovered the problem — she flipped over the wrapper. “There’s nothing wrong with it — this doesn’t expire for another year.”

Qian Heng’s expression flashed with irritation. “Don’t question your boss so casually. Hasn’t anyone ever told you? Whatever the boss says goes.”

“Um…” Cheng Yao said carefully, “because boss, you once said that as a lawyer, you can’t just believe whatever someone tells you — language isn’t evidence, you should only believe what you’ve personally verified…”

“I give you chocolate and you’re going to lecture me about it?”

“…”

Qian Heng cleared his throat. “I saw you come back from court looking utterly defeated. Eat some chocolate, cheer up. Negative energy like that is contagious — next thing you know, the whole office will be moping around, and Junheng won’t even be able to function.”

Cheng Yao clutched the chocolate, feeling genuinely moved inside. Qian Heng might be sharp-tongued, but the fact that he’d noticed her mood shift so subtly was really quite unexpected. Though it was just a small piece of chocolate in her hand, Cheng Yao felt the weight of that gesture as though it carried real significance.

“Hold onto this.”

Just as Cheng Yao was basking in her moment of emotion, Qian Heng handed over a small slip of paper.

Cheng Yao was baffled. “What’s this?”

“The receipt for the chocolate.”

Cheng Yao: ???

“I’ll be deducting it directly from your salary.”

Cheng Yao: WTF???

Qian Heng said, entirely self-righteous, “I lowered myself to personally buy you chocolate — I’d recommend you keep that receipt as a memento.”

Qian Heng, are you a devil?!! I’m already this down, and you’re going to make me pay for the chocolate myself?!!

Though Cheng Yao’s insides were screaming, she still put on a docile face and said with hidden sarcasm, “Thank you, boss! I’ll head out then!”

“Eat it here.” Qian Heng insisted, crossing his hands in front of him, staring at her. “I still have more to say.”

Cheng Yao: ???

“You have quite a lot of opinions about me over this case, don’t you.”

“No… no I don’t…”

“Really, none at all?”

Cheng Yao shook her head repeatedly. “Really, none.”

“Then let me inform you — since Bao Rui was the one who argued in court, your contribution was relatively small, so you won’t be getting a cut of this case.”

Cheng Yao exploded. “If I’d known there’d be no cut, I never would’ve wanted to work on this case at all! Representing a mistress does nothing to promote fairness and justice under the law! If it were up to me, unless I was literally about to starve without a case, I wouldn’t take one like this! People need principles when they’re alive! There have to be bottom lines!”

Qian Heng raised an eyebrow. “See, you clearly do have opinions.”

“…”

“You’ll get your cut.” Qian Heng pressed his lips together. “Now let’s talk about your opinions of me.”

“…”

Qian Heng had clearly dug this trap on purpose and had just been waiting for Cheng Yao to walk right into it. Now he watched her, at leisure, evidently ready to bury her alive…

Since things had already reached this point, there was no use hiding it anymore. Cheng Yao decided to just let it all out. “Representing Chen Qingmei — is that fighting for justice? Championing the vulnerable? Promoting truth, goodness, and beauty? Living up to core socialist values?”

“Cheng Yao, that right there is your biggest mistake.”

“Being a lawyer is a job — you shouldn’t idealize it as some crusade for justice, right? Once you take on a client’s representation, you should fight for that client, not get sentimental about whether it’s just or not.” Cheng Yao lowered her head. “I know a lawyer isn’t supposed to have a preset stance when representing someone, that the profession isn’t as idealized or glamorous as people imagine, and that once you take on a case, you should see it through responsibly. But you had the option to choose your clients — it’s not like losing her as a client would leave you starving. So why take on Chen Qingmei? There’s no whitewashing what she did as a mistress — and she doesn’t even love Dong Shan, the whole affair was purely about squeezing money out of him…”

Cheng Yao had so many doubts in her heart, unable to understand why Qian Heng would take on such a client. “And besides, taking on a case like Chen Qingmei’s does real damage to your own reputation — why do this to yourself? Being called the industry’s malignant tumor by so many people, when you’re clearly not one!”

Qian Heng went still for a moment. This was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to him.

Cheng Yao’s eyes were too bright; Qian Heng instinctively looked away. “You’re fighting for justice.”

Cheng Yao thought she’d misheard. “What?”

Qian Heng’s voice, low and magnetic, repeated it once more, word by word. “Every case you handle, as long as you gather evidence within legal bounds to defend your client, is a fight for justice.”

“Your understanding of justice is too narrow — you’re only looking at justice in individual cases. But for the progress of law and the legal system as a whole, procedural justice matters more than substantive justice. Because substantive justice — you often have no way of truly knowing what’s real and what’s fabricated, what’s right and what’s wrong. A lawyer isn’t a judge. A lawyer isn’t present at the scene of every dispute. A lawyer isn’t responsible for determining right from wrong. And given how imperfect the law still is, even the most discerning judge can never achieve absolute justice.”

Cheng Yao pressed her lips together, watching him.

Qian Heng only gave her a light glance. “Take this Dong Shan inheritance case, for instance. Today’s ruling clearly wasn’t justice for Jiang Wenxiu or Dong Min. But for the child in Chen Qingmei’s belly, it was justice. Even though his mother is a mistress, a byword for immorality, he didn’t get to choose how he was born. Even though a mistress has no right to inherit, as a child born out of wedlock, he still holds a legitimate right to inheritance. He’s innocent — as a human being, he shouldn’t have his lawful rights stripped away simply because of the stain of his birth.”

Cheng Yao fell silent. She had always hated evil with such fervor, but calming down now, she realized Qian Heng wasn’t wrong. This world was full of complicated disputes, each one entangled with its own shifting facts — there was never any absolute justice to begin with.

“Procedural justice is what’s visible, compared to substantive justice — it’s the fairness of the adjudicative process, the justice of legal procedure itself.”

Cheng Yao did have doubts about the emphasis on procedural justice. “But over-emphasizing procedural justice is exactly why America ended up with a case like the O.J. Simpson trial — because of procedural justice, so many guilty people escaped punishment.”

“While over-emphasizing procedural justice can sometimes let the guilty escape punishment, far more often it protects countless innocent people from being wrongly convicted. It’s because of procedural justice that we don’t get more cases like Nie Shubin’s.” Qian Heng’s eyes were deep, his tone calm. “And every case you handle is upholding procedural justice — upholding justice in the legal sense too — helping make this country’s rule of law a little better. Every law-abiding lawyer can only do a small part, but woven together, that becomes the force that keeps this society and its legal system functioning normally.”

Was her work really that meaningful?

Cheng Yao said nothing, but Qian Heng seemed to see straight through what was on her mind. “Being a lawyer is for making a living, for money, for a better life. Frankly, it’s not as noble as all that.”

“But if you can do this job with a clear conscience, upholding the dignity of the law, holding fast to your faith in procedural justice — then in the future, one fewer innocent person will suffer wrongful legal persecution, will be mistaken by the public as a ‘bad person.’ There will be one fewer helpless ‘Nie Shubin’ who loses his life unable to defend himself. Cheng Yao, protecting others is also protecting yourself, because every one of us lives within this same legal system.”

Cheng Yao lowered her head; the passionate emotion she’d felt moments ago gradually settled.

Qian Heng took a sip of tea. “You’re still too young.”

Cheng Yao found she had no way to argue against that. Her heart was filled with a massive wave of complex emotion — perhaps every job was small and ordinary, but it was precisely because so many ordinary people held fast to their ordinary posts that society could function and progress at all.

“I know why people call me a malignant tumor — because I don’t lack money, and I could easily choose wealthy ‘good people’ as clients, and yet I still take on cases for ‘bad people.'” Qian Heng paused. “But isn’t that exactly what it means to be a lawyer?”

“Even for someone who’s become a ‘bad person,’ you have to investigate whether there were understandable, sympathetic factors behind their wrongdoing — like a wife who, after years of domestic abuse, finally snaps and kills her husband under that pressure, or self-defense, or even turning oneself in, degree of intent. Even the worst of the worst, murderers with no excuse and nothing to garner sympathy, still have the right to face legal punishment with dignity. The law will punish these thoroughly wicked people, but the process of judgment must never involve forced confessions, and the punishment itself must never be cruel or abusive. When punishment is meted out, the person must clearly understand why they’re being punished, so there’s at least a chance for them to learn from it and reform.”

Qian Heng looked deeply at Cheng Yao. “What the law protects has always been every person’s basic rights and dignity — even a bad person’s.”

As Qian Heng spoke these words, his eyes were remarkably clear, and for once, that usually cold gaze carried warmth — deep in his pupils seemed to flicker a small, wavering flame. Combined with that devastatingly handsome face of his, Cheng Yao found herself, for a moment, almost unable to look directly at him.

A handsome man, when he’s being sincere, really is captivating.

“Cheng Yao, a lawyer protects the good, and protects the bad, because the greatest meaning of the law is fairness.”

Something unfamiliar surged in Cheng Yao’s chest — hot, molten, eager — like cradling a newly hatched bird testing and preparing for its first flight.

It felt as though someone had reached in with steady hands and parted the thick fog that had lingered around her heart, forcefully sweeping away her confusion and hesitation, letting her finally glimpse the sunlight again.

Yes — this was the meaning of being a lawyer. A client’s interests and procedural justice — this was the foundation of social justice, and its meaning far surpassed the narrow scope of individual case justice.

“If good moral values alone were enough to keep society running properly, laws wouldn’t exist at all. But morality is far too subjective a thing — what’s moral to you might be immoral to someone else. Then social governance would never have a unified standard; everyone would be shouting that their own morality is the only correct one, and where would that leave us?”

Qian Heng blinked. “The result would be a society that grows worse and worse because of this very morality, descending into chaos — people wouldn’t know what’s actually permissible, what actually counts as ‘moral,’ and those who declare themselves standing on the moral high ground would use their own morality as the yardstick to suppress and punish anyone who disagreed.”

“Say I killed someone today, but the victim was a despicable child predator — by moral standards, I was entirely in the right, so my act of murder should be considered legal. But have you considered — if everyone did this, imposing criminal punishment on others purely by moral judgment, then the people condemned as ‘bad’ would never have a legal process to verify whether they’re actually bad. If we simply sentence someone to death by moral judgment alone, does that mean they should die? Should they lose all their rights? But are they truly bad?”

He looked at Cheng Yao. “Do you want to live in a society like that?”

“You’re a lawyer. What you uphold isn’t some narrow, individual sense of fairness and justice — it’s the dignity of the law, the justice of due process.”

“Since representing ‘bad people’ and ‘immoral people’ presents no problem whatsoever under professional ethics, why should we turn away high-value cases? Representing these people doesn’t make us morally flawed ourselves.” Qian Heng looked at Cheng Yao. “Which means our work both upholds the dignity of the law and lets us use our professional skills to earn ourselves a better life. If the money can be earned legally, why not earn it? Do you have too much money already?”

Cheng Yao lifted her eyes slightly to look at him. He still had that same forbidding, icy demeanor as always, and what he’d just said felt almost like a one-sided lecture — and yet Cheng Yao found herself thinking—

It really was wonderful to be a lawyer.

It really was wonderful to be Qian Heng’s associate.

“Boss, someday, when I become a famous lawyer, I’ll pay you for today’s consultation by the hour!”

Qian Heng looked up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Eat the chocolate first.”

Only then did Cheng Yao realize she’d completely forgotten to eat it — the piece she’d been clutching had gone soft from the heat of her palm. Rather touched, she unwrapped it and took a bite.

Ptooey!

The moment that flavor hit her tongue, she nearly spat it back out.

Her voice changed entirely. “Cilantro flavor?? Cilantro-flavored chocolate??”

What kind of demonic flavor combination was this????

“Imported from Japan — Morinaga’s ‘BAKE’ cilantro-flavor chocolate. Limited edition, apparently,” Qian Heng said, finally showing some expression, a hint of concern on his face. “I’ve been curious about this flavor for a while, but didn’t want to be the first to try it myself, so it worked out perfectly to let you test it. So, how is it? Is the flavor as dark as they say? How bizarre is it? Would eating it kill someone?”

“…”

Right about now, Cheng Yao genuinely wanted to find a meme with a face that said “this tastes like poison” and slap it right onto Qian Heng’s face.

Go to hell! Feeding me something this toxic on purpose?!

Qian Heng, apparently oblivious to Cheng Yao’s murderous intent, thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Actually, there’s another snack I’m curious about too — that Lao Gan Ma chili sauce ice cream. I’ll buy that for you to try next time.”

“…”

Cheng Yao thought furiously to herself: the day I become a famous lawyer, I’m sending you straight to prison for reeducation through labor! This stuff is genuinely toxic!

Qian Heng, would it kill you to just let me feel touched for once without ruining it?!