Though she hated to admit it, after being called into the office for that little lecture from Qian Heng, Cheng Yao actually found herself feeling refreshed over the following days — even that cilantro-flavored chocolate seemed, strangely, to leave behind a lingering aftertaste worth savoring.

Was this what they called being a masochist by nature? Knowingly walking straight toward a known poison? Could you actually get addicted to poison? Surely not? Cheng Yao decided she must just be overthinking things…

“Oh my god, did you guys see this news?” Just as Cheng Yao’s thoughts were spiraling, Tan Ying held up her phone, her tone shocked. “Ever since India’s prohibition forced mass removal of alcohol from shelves, apparently a lot of people have started drinking cobra venom as a substitute — one dose gets you high for a whole month, and you can even mix it into your rice! Turns out you can get addicted to drinking poison too!”

“…”

In any case, regarding the Dong Shan inheritance dispute, Chen Qingmei was very satisfied with the first-instance outcome, and to Cheng Yao’s surprise, neither Jiang Wenxiu nor Dong Min chose to appeal. They accepted the ruling as it stood. The first-instance judgment thus took effect.

Cheng Yao had expected to deal with another round of wrangling in a second hearing, but the case wrapped up so easily that, besides relief, she also felt a touch of wistfulness.

And yet, from Jiang Wenxiu and Dong Min’s perspective, this might well be a kind of release. The blood relationship was already an undeniable fact — continuing to fight over the exact size of the inheritance would only exhaust everyone further, mentally and emotionally.

Rather than waste more time on this, better to let go of the past and step forward into a new Ni Ye You Jin Tian – Chapter of life.

Dong Shan was dead, the love and the marriage were both gone, but her daughter remained, closer to her now than ever before. Dong Min’s once-spoiled temperament had gradually settled after all this, and she was beginning to mature, beginning to grow up.

There was loss, but also gain.

Some people and things had been seen clearly now, and there was more courage and resolve for what came next.

Cheng Yao kept thinking back to how Jiang Wenxiu had looked at the end of the hearing — what stayed with her most was that straight, unbowed back.

If it were her, Cheng Yao thought, no matter what kind of life came her way, she’d find a way to live it well.

Whether a person is happy or not isn’t decided by money, and it isn’t something you rely on someone else to give you — it’s something you fight for yourself.

“A person has to answer for their own decisions.”

For some reason, that line Jiang Wenxiu had said kept replaying in Cheng Yao’s mind.

What had she meant by it?

Was it about answering for the choice to marry Dong Shan and then be betrayed, without complaint? Or answering for having trusted Dong Shan’s father, only to let Chen Qingmei slip through that opening, and now accepting the ruling as a result?

Cheng Yao didn’t know. But she felt that it wasn’t just Jiang Wenxiu who would have to answer for her own decisions — Chen Qingmei would answer for everything she’d done too, someday. Every action a person takes carries its own consequences.

Of course, beyond all this reflection, Cheng Yao kept up her good habit as always — after wrapping up every case, she wrote her own summary and analysis, along with a self-review of her own performance.

This case had begun as simply a matter of Dong Shan seeking a divorce at any cost. At first, Cheng Yao had even felt a bit discouraged and disappointed by how simple it seemed, somewhat restless about it — but even a simple case could ultimately turn complicated. Family law cases were full of tangled, ever-shifting details; no case should ever be taken lightly, no matter the circumstances.

At the same time, communication was the most important skill in family cases — a lawyer needed not only to hone their legal expertise, but also strong interpersonal skills, the ability to communicate well with one’s own client as well as the opposing party.

Regardless, thanks to Qian Heng’s words, Cheng Yao was no longer lost. She felt reinvigorated, full of drive again.

Being a lawyer wasn’t as noble as people imagined, but it wasn’t as shabby as they imagined either.

Law and morality, fairness and justice, procedure and substance — how to balance these within one’s own career was, perhaps, exactly the meaning of being a lawyer.

Being a lawyer was a way to make a living — but doing it to the fullest was also, in its own way, an art and a game of strategy.

She had only gotten halfway through writing her case summary when Bao Rui suddenly spoke up.

“Chen Qingmei gave birth.”

Cheng Yao was startled. “Her due date’s still over a month away — how has she already given birth?”

“She was out walking the other day, right after it rained, and the road was slick. She wasn’t paying attention and took a fall. Lucky for her, that stretch of road doesn’t usually have much foot traffic, but that day there happened to be a kind-hearted truck driver passing by who rushed her to the hospital.”

Bao Rui’s expression turned mysterious. “But that’s not even the part I wanted to tell you. The most unbelievable thing — you won’t believe this — Chen Qingmei’s son, there’s something wrong with him.”

“What?”

“She must’ve been in such a good mood after winning the case that she stopped watching what she ate — remember how she’d already filled out compared to before? Apparently she gained another ten-odd pounds recently, and the baby ended up bigger than expected. But she insisted on a vaginal delivery to avoid a scar on her stomach, and while the earlier prenatal checks suggested it should be fine, when it came time to actually deliver, something went wrong halfway through — it turned into a difficult labor, and by then it was too late to switch to a C-section. They ended up dragging it out for a long time, and the baby ended up deprived of oxygen, and choked on amniotic fluid too.”

“Was the baby alive when he was born?”

Whether the baby was alive at the moment of birth mattered enormously for the inheritance.

If the baby had been stillborn, then this heir would essentially never have existed, and the reserved portion of the inheritance would revert back into the rest of Dong Shan’s estate, divided equally among the other three statutory heirs: Jiang Wenxiu as spouse, Dong Min as child, and Dong Shan’s father as parent.

If the baby was alive at birth and continued to survive, then that share of the inheritance would naturally belong to him, managed by his guardian, Chen Qingmei — though aside from what was needed to protect the child’s interests, she wouldn’t be allowed to dispose of that property as she pleased.

And if the baby was alive at the moment of birth, cried a few times, but then failed to survive due to complications, Dong Shan’s estate would still pass to him first, only to immediately trigger a second inheritance upon his death — the estate would then automatically pass to his statutory heir, meaning his birth mother, Chen Qingmei.

“He’s alive,” Bao Rui added. “Still alive right now. Alive and doing fine.”

Cheng Yao let out a breath of relief, though she also felt a strange twinge of melancholy.

But her sense of melancholy wasn’t done yet — Bao Rui kept going.

“But this baby — he’s not quite right. He’s diagnosed with cerebral palsy as of today.” Bao Rui said it plainly, as a statement of fact. “Probably from the prolonged oxygen deprivation during the difficult labor.”

Cheng Yao’s mouth fell open; for a moment she genuinely didn’t know what to say.

“But the biggest twist isn’t even that. The real climax is that when Old Master Dong heard he had a grandson with cerebral palsy, he nearly passed out from the shock.” Bao Rui shook his head. “I heard the old man sent people to cause a scene at the maternity hospital, saying he wouldn’t acknowledge this grandson…”

Before Bao Rui could finish sharing the gossip, Cheng Yao received a call from Old Master Dong himself.

“Is this Attorney Cheng?” the old man’s voice trembled. “I need to see you…”

Because of the old man’s health, Cheng Yao arranged to meet him at a café near his care facility. A caretaker wheeled him over in a wheelchair, his complexion ashen, none of the wild joy from before, when he’d first learned he’d have a grandson.

“Attorney Cheng, I’ve changed my mind. This whole case — let’s call it off.” The old man’s voice was anxious. “Help me withdraw that paternity test I had done. I don’t want it anymore. I won’t acknowledge this grandson. Minmin is enough for me. All our family assets — give them all to Minmin.”

“Old Mr. Dong, but this ruling has already taken effect,” Cheng Yao explained, trying to keep her language simple and clear. “And even if the ruling hadn’t taken effect yet, you already agreed to the paternity test at the time — you cooperated with the blood sample collection, which already confirmed that the child in Chen Qingmei’s belly shares a blood relationship with you, that he is your son Dong Shan’s biological child. That much is already an undeniable fact.”

“I… I didn’t know, I didn’t know the child would come out with problems. If I’d known, I never would have agreed to that test in the first place!” The old man was nearly losing control of his emotions. “Now Minmin won’t come see me either, Wenxiu won’t come see me either — they just wire money every month, and when I call them, they don’t answer. Lately I’ve heard Wenxiu wants to take Minmin abroad for further study — then… then what am I supposed to do? It’s so far away, will I never see Minmin again?”

The old man rambled on, looking utterly lost and defeated. “But what good is having money if it comes to this? I don’t want money — I just wanted my family together, happy. I’d thought about bringing this child in to raise myself, without that woman ever setting foot in the house — I’d manage this inheritance myself, and she wouldn’t get a cent of it. The household wouldn’t lack for money anyway, one more mouth to feed is nothing. I thought Wenxiu and Minmin would eventually come around to it…”

Cheng Yao felt torn between laughter and exasperation. “Sir, the child’s birth mother is still alive — she’s his lawful guardian. Your plan to take the child in and manage the inheritance yourself was never going to be possible from the start…”

…

By the time Cheng Yao left, the old man still couldn’t accept or understand why his decades-long bond with his granddaughter and daughter-in-law could simply vanish like that. He’d only made one small mistake — was that really so unforgivable? Even if his actions had reduced their share of the inheritance, could family bonds really be measured in money like that?

But Old Master Dong would likely never understand that the moment he tilted the scales toward Chen Qingmei because of the fetus’s gender, he himself had severed that bond of family and trust with his own hands — he himself had pushed away his granddaughter and daughter-in-law. It was never simply about the money that left Jiang Wenxiu and Dong Min so disillusioned and heartbroken.

Perhaps, in the end, it had all been fated somehow.

A few more days passed, and Cheng Yao heard from Bao Rui the latest development — Old Master Dong had sent people to cause trouble at Chen Qingmei’s place several more times. Chen Qingmei, already struggling with a poor postpartum recovery, ended up running a high fever from the stress.

Meanwhile, some distant relatives of Old Master Dong’s had been giving him ideas. With Dong Min already having decided to change to her mother’s surname, this baby — cerebral palsy or not — was still the last remaining Dong bloodline carrying the family name. Worried that Chen Qingmei might secretly do away with the child for the inheritance money, egged on by these distant relatives, the old man had sent a whole crew of them to keep close watch on Chen Qingmei. And naturally, having been paid, these distant relatives were diligent about it.

And so Chen Qingmei found herself not only dealing with a newborn with cerebral palsy every day, but also having to fend off a whole group of distant, ill-intentioned relatives constantly hovering around her.

“These relatives obviously aren’t going to let Chen Qingmei get any chance for the baby to have a ‘little accident.’ After all, if the child were gone, where would they find an excuse to keep squeezing money out of Old Master Dong? Right now they’re legitimately claiming to look after his grandson on his behalf, pulling in big money for it.”

A group of people, each harboring their own selfish agenda, had somehow ended up keeping each other in check and reaching a kind of equilibrium.

As for Chen Qingmei, she’d successfully secured the inheritance for her child — she’d achieved her goal. But whether such a life counted as fortune or misfortune was hard to say. Even with money, raising a child with cerebral palsy would never be easy; as his guardian, she might well end up spending her entire life paying for this windfall.

As for Xie Ming — whether he’d be able to shoulder the future of a child with cerebral palsy alongside her was itself a question mark. If it had been a healthy baby, he might have stuck it out… but a child with cerebral palsy — even biological fathers sometimes chose to walk away from that. There were so many things in life that could cool even love itself…

Everyone has to answer for their own actions.

Jiang Wenxiu had been completely right.

Life isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon — those who start out smug and far ahead won’t necessarily have smooth sailing the whole way.

However much melancholy it left behind, the Dong Shan inheritance case was now thoroughly closed, and Cheng Yao received a substantial cut of the fees.

That night, in her room, Cheng Yao couldn’t resist calling her parents to share the good news.

But the old Cheng couple wasn’t interested in her work at all — they only cared about her love life.

“Your mom tells me you’ve got a boyfriend now?”

“Um…”

“Little Qian, is it?” Her father’s tone was full of headache. “I heard this little Qian doesn’t come from a well-off family, and isn’t exactly ambitious either… besides having a decent face…”

Cheng Yao was about to jump on the chance to say they’d already broken up, but her father had already moved on to a different topic entirely. “By the way, your mom and I are coming to City A in a couple weeks, for a high school reunion. We’ll swing by to see you too — anything you want us to bring?”

“Yes yes yes!” Cheng Yao immediately forgot all about Qian Heng. “I want Mom’s beef chili sauce, and braised pork trotters! Marinated duck! Spicy rabbit legs! …And charcoal-grilled lamb chops!”

Her father laughed and scolded her a bit, saying he’d do his best — but just as they were about to hang up, thinking of Qian Heng again seemed to sour his mood once more. “You know, why is there such a difference between people. You know I had a classmate back in the day surnamed Qian, right?”

Oh no, here it comes again…

The moment she heard “surnamed Qian,” Cheng Yao knew this was going to be bad.

Growing up, Cheng Yao had heard her father curse “that Qian guy” more times than she could count. Apparently he despised the man so much that, to express his contempt, this classmate was never granted the dignity of an actual name in her father’s mouth — always just “that Qian guy.”

Sure enough, her father launched in furiously. “This Qian guy used to be my deskmate — a boy — and he was always drawing lines down the middle of our desk! Made me sign a contract too — if I crossed the line even a little, I’d owe him money. And even though he did well in school, the guy had no manners at all — once, before finals, I buttered him up for an entire month, practically begged him on my knees to let me peek at his answers during the exam, and you know what he did? Ungrateful little wretch, wiped his mouth and denied everything — wouldn’t even let me glance at a single multiple choice question! Made me fail! Missed passing by just 3 points! I went home and your grandfather beat me so hard I nearly qualified for a disabled parking permit.”

…

Her father grumbled on a while longer before finally arriving at his summation. “And you know what? This freak ended up living an incredibly comfortable life — apparently he’s even got a private jet now! Thank god he’s not coming to this reunion! I really didn’t want to see him!” He sighed heavily. “Anyway, this society, it’s just unfair. I’ll admit, I used to be superstitious about it — thought it was because his surname was Qian, money, that the surname itself doomed him to never lack for cash. But I don’t believe that anymore.”

Her father sighed again. “Look at this — same surname Qian, and my deskmate ends up this rich, while your little Qian is this poor. Does that seem fair to you?”

“…”

Dad, actually, people surnamed Qian really do tend to be pretty well-off…

Cheng Yao let her father ramble on a while longer about the state of the world today, railing against society’s ills, and by the time he finally hung up, reluctantly, he’d completely forgotten to bring up Qian Heng again.

As it happened, not long after she hung up, Qian Heng, who’d stayed behind at the firm to work late, came home.

Cheng Yao didn’t waste a second — she hurried out of her room, plastering on a fawning smile, and practically snatched Qian Heng’s bag from him. “Oh, boss, let me carry that, let me carry that!”

The moment Qian Heng shrugged off his coat, Cheng Yao grabbed that too. “Let me hang it up, let me hang it up.” Cradling his coat, she gushed, “A boss really is a boss — no one else can compare to this presence, look at this, wearing this coat, this air about you, this taste — it’s just so distinctive!”

Qian Heng glanced at her. “Distinctive? Cheng Yao, are you blind?” He gave a cold snort, his tone laced with undisguised displeasure. “Half the men on the street are wearing Burberry knockoffs these days — nine out of ten. I just rode up in the elevator and ran into someone wearing the exact same coat — and a bald guy too, bad omen. Don’t bother hanging that up. Just throw it out.”

“…”

That bit of flattery had landed rather awkwardly, straight into a sore spot…

But would that stop Cheng Yao?

Not a chance!

She thought fast. “Boss, that’s exactly why you shouldn’t throw it out!”

Sure enough, Qian Heng frowned, looking at her with some difficulty. “Why?”

“Sure, this coat gets matched a lot, but that’s exactly what shows how distinctive you are! It proves what it means to be endlessly imitated, never surpassed!”

“…”

Under Qian Heng’s amused gaze, Cheng Yao pressed on. “I’ll get this pressed for you in a bit. Have some hot water first, warm yourself up — it’s cold out there…” As she spoke, she poured him a cup of hot tea.

Qian Heng didn’t take it. He looked at her, his voice even. “Just say it. What do you want from me.”

Cheng Yao immediately waved her hands in denial. “Nothing, nothing at all! I was just thinking — the Dong Shan case is over now, and boss, you’re going to be moving out soon, right? So these opportunities to bathe in the boss’s advanced thinking, to get guidance from a professional elite, are getting rarer and rarer for me — I just wanted to show my appreciation while I still can!”

Qian Heng looked at her, at ease. “So?”

Cheng Yao pushed on, bracing herself. “I was just wondering when you’re planning to move — I could help you pack. You’ve been living here a while now, you must have quite a lot of stuff. I can help with the sorting and cleaning and everything.”

Qian Heng gave a cold laugh. “Cheng Yao, sounds to me like you’re trying to kick me out.”

“No, no, not at all! I’d never dare!” Cheng Yao rubbed her hands together, explaining, “It’s just — my parents are coming in a couple weeks, and to avoid any unnecessary trouble, I was thinking of telling them we’ve already broken up by then. To make that believable, I figured — since things are a bit slower right now — I could help you move out?”

As if to reinforce her point, Cheng Yao added, “Honestly, I’ll really miss living together like this. If you really do move out, I’ll… I’ll miss you! We’ve only shared this place for about a month, but to me, boss, you already feel like family. I don’t want to say goodbye either, but I can’t be so selfish as to keep you from your gorgeous villa just to stay in a place with no class like this with me!”

Qian Heng sat on the sofa, hands folded over his lap, watching her, giving nothing away.

Cheng Yao swallowed and pushed on. “But there’s a saying — always come back to visit. Once you move out, boss, you’re always welcome to come by. Just think of this as your second home!”

Qian Heng gave a faint smile. “So, in other words, deep down, you’d actually love for me to keep living here?”

“Of course!” Cheng Yao said instinctively, in full flattery mode. “It’s an honor to share a home with you, boss!”

“Then I suppose I’ll reluctantly keep living here.”

Cheng Yao: ???

Wait, this wasn’t how the script was supposed to go?? A boss with money to burn, choosing not to live in his own mansion, and instead putting up with this mid-tier (in his eyes, low-end) neighborhood? What was wrong with Qian Heng? Was he sick or something?!

Having fully savored the parade of expressions crossing Cheng Yao’s face, Qian Heng finally, unhurriedly, held up his phone in front of her. “Why don’t you explain this listing to me.”

Cheng Yao’s scalp prickled — this was bad…

Seemingly out of consideration for Cheng Yao’s convenience, Qian Heng had “thoughtfully” enlarged the font—

There, glaring on his phone screen, was a line of large text.

“Room for rent! One condition only: must know how to fix your own plumbing! Not a nightmare tenant!”

“…”

Qian Heng pressed his lips together in a faint smile. “Do I need to scroll down and show you the room photos in this post to prove it’s yours?”

Cheng Yao tried to bluff her way out. “This kind of layout and furniture style is probably common in prefab apartments, boss — this really isn’t me!”

Cheng Yao wasn’t exaggerating — when she’d posted the listing on City A’s local forum, she’d made a point of being careful. Every photo she’d taken had carefully avoided anything identifiable. The post had been up for three days now, and plenty of people had responded wanting to view the room. Cheng Yao had been eagerly waiting for whenever Qian Heng finally moved out — once a new tenant moved in, they’d split the rent, and split the chores too. Couldn’t be more perfect.

Faced with her denial, Qian Heng didn’t argue. He simply held up the phone, found one of the listing photos, and zoomed in on a particular corner.

Cheng Yao squinted at it for a long moment before finally spotting the problem.

The corner Qian Heng had zoomed in on was the leg of the dining table — and there, carved into the wood in barely legible tiny letters—

“Dora, I love you.”

Cheng Yao glanced, without meaning to, over at the actual table leg across the room — and sure enough, saw the exact same words carved in the exact same spot…

In that moment, Cheng Yao had only one thought in her head: damn that Dora!

Where was their decency! Who just carves random words into a table leg like that! Carve your love all you want — may it die a swift death!

But in this bloodless battlefield, this ironclad evidence laid bare, Cheng Yao had only one thought left — I’ve lost.

Crestfallen, Cheng Yao gave up. “Boss, let me explain. I’m just a poor, struggling little lawyer — once you move out, I really can’t afford this rent on my own. That’s why I was trying to find someone to sublet early…”

Qian Heng was in a good mood today. He didn’t even bother pressing further on that oddly specific rental requirement of hers. He said, unruffled, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep paying the rent. And you don’t need to pack everything up either.”

“Huh?”

“Just leave my room as it is.” Qian Heng smiled. “This place really is quite close to Junheng. If I end up working too late at the office some night and need to get up early the next day, staying here would be pretty convenient. Besides — didn’t you say I should always come back to visit?”

“…”

That was just a polite thing to say!!! And somehow, a boss who might drop by unannounced from time to time sounded even more terrifying than one who lived here full-time — kind of like how a homeroom teacher who shows up for surprise inspections at random is scarier than one who checks in at the same fixed time every day!!!