Just after settling on Qian Heng’s gift, on her way to the pantry, Cheng Yao received a call from Li Mengting.
“Yao Yao, I thought about it all night.” Li Mengting’s voice on the phone had lost its earlier panic and pain, and had grown calm. “I don’t want to keep settling for being trapped in this marriage anymore. I’ve made up my mind. I’m getting a divorce. Right away.”
Cheng Yao let out a breath of relief—Li Mengting had finally come to her senses. Wasting time on the wrong person wasn’t worth it; cutting your losses in time was the most correct, and the bravest, decision.
Li Mengting paused, then said firmly, “I want to protect my own rights and interests. I want to fight for as much of our shared property as I possibly can. Yao Yao, I want to hire you as my lawyer.”
“But my experience really isn’t enough yet. I’m worried I won’t be able to—”
Li Mengting was adamant. “I don’t trust anyone else. I only trust you. I won’t hire any lawyer but you.”
After hanging up on Li Mengting, Cheng Yao felt both moved and hesitant. She was genuinely happy for Li Mengting’s courage and resolve, and grateful for her trust—but at the same time, she wasn’t at all sure she could handle this case well.
Even though she’d been picking up knowledge and experience all along under Qian Heng’s mentorship, when it came down to it, the cases she’d fully handled herself amounted to only the two—Bai Xingmeng’s and Dong Shan’s. Cheng Yao knew her own limitations; she was nowhere near ready to handle a case entirely on her own.
Li Mengting trusted her, and she couldn’t afford to let that trust down.
The trouble was, Bao Rui was currently swamped with three cross-border marriage cases, since much of the property evidence-gathering needed to happen overseas—he was busier than a man with three heads and six arms, absolutely in no position to take on another case; and Tan Ying, like herself, still had relatively little work experience and still needed guidance and mentorship from other lawyers. As for the rest of her colleagues, most already had their own case assignments, and besides, since they weren’t part of her team, it would be neither appropriate nor proper to have someone else mentor her through Li Mengting’s case.
After weighing it over and over, Cheng Yao steeled herself—there was really no way around it but to ask Qian Heng for help.
Cheng Yao psyched herself up, then knocked and entered Qian Heng’s office.
“Boss, I want to take on a case.”
Qian Heng had been reviewing a case file at his desk. Hearing Cheng Yao’s voice, he glanced up at her and, without asking about the details, said flatly, “What’s the amount in controversy?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t finished sorting out the property inventory with the client.”
“Is it fifty million?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then we can’t take it.”
Probably because the expression on Cheng Yao’s face so plainly read “I really want this case,” Qian Heng cleared his throat and abruptly cut his standard in half. “Twenty-five million.”
He glanced at Cheng Yao, pressing his lips together as he added, “Truly, I can’t go any lower than that.”
Though Li Mengting’s and Zhang Hao’s families were reasonably well-off, neither came from great wealth—the amount in dispute would probably be, at most, a few million.
“It’s Li Mengting’s case! My friend! Boss, I really want to represent her. Could you—could you at least give me some guidance and oversight on the overall strategy? I’ll handle all the actual operations myself.” Cheng Yao promised, “I absolutely won’t let this case take up much of your time!”
Qian Heng said nothing. He set down the case file he was holding and gently swiveled his office chair.
Bearing that handsome face, he said, expressionless, “Cheng Yao, what do you think a successful lawyer needs to be able to do?”
Cheng Yao tried steering the conversation. “Generate power through love? For the great love of humanity, for public good, for building socialism, for perfecting the nation’s legal system…”
“Cheng Yao, what’s my surname?”
What kind of leap in topic was that? Cheng Yao, bewildered, answered instinctively, “Qian—money!”
Qian Heng smiled slightly. “So I generate power through money, not through love.”
“…”
“My minimum threshold for accepting a case is fifty million and up. Below that, sorry, I don’t do charity, and I’m not into public welfare either.” Qian Heng tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “Cheng Yao, do you know why the lawyers who generate power through money are the ones who tend to succeed?”
“Why?”
Qian Heng smiled, as if it were self-evident. “Because the lawyers who generate power through love have already starved to death.”
“…”
“Of course, fifty million is my standard—if you insist on taking it yourself, I won’t stop you.” Qian Heng glanced at Cheng Yao. “From a professional standpoint, you’re also a licensed lawyer, capable of handling cases independently. You don’t need my approval. Only, all the consequences would fall on you alone.”
Before walking into Qian Heng’s office, Cheng Yao honestly hadn’t anticipated this outcome—she’d somehow instinctively assumed Qian Heng would help her out.
Now, faced with his refusal, she finally calmed down.
Qian Heng wasn’t wrong. He was a partner at Junheng, responsible for sustaining the whole firm’s revenue—associate bonuses, base salaries, administrative and financial overhead, and so on. It was only natural that he’d have his own considerations when it came to accepting cases.
It was just that Cheng Yao felt she needed a moment to clear her head about her own subconscious assumptions. To think she’d actually believed that, based on however much personal contact she’d had with Qian Heng, she might be able to sway his decisions. What arrogance.
Qian Heng was her boss. She was just an employee.
Though this realization felt a little harsh, and left Cheng Yao feeling a bit sour and disheartened, perhaps that was simply the truth.
“Fine, I’ll take this case on myself. Thank you, boss.”
Having said this, Cheng Yao turned to leave the room, but Qian Heng called her back once more.
“What I said just now was my position as your boss.” Qian Heng turned his head to look out the window. “Speaking from a personal standpoint, I wouldn’t advise you to take on Li Mengting’s case.”
Cheng Yao blinked. “Why?”
Qian Heng turned back and, pressing his lips together, looked at Cheng Yao.
Though Qian Heng hadn’t said anything more, Cheng Yao, watching his expression, had already formed a rough guess. She ventured, “Do you think I can’t handle Li Mengting’s matter professionally enough? That I’ll let my emotions be swayed because she’s my friend?”
“Cheng Yao, if you can’t maintain complete emotional neutrality, you’re extremely likely to get pulled too deep into a case and lose the ability to calmly untangle every detail. Have you thought about whether, if you lose the case—or the outcome isn’t what you hoped—because of you, your friendship with her could survive that?” Qian Heng’s voice was calm and steady, but also quite gentle.
For some reason, Qian Heng advising her from a personal standpoint seemed to strike Cheng Yao as somehow even more attractive than Qian Heng advising her as her boss. It had been a difference of mere seconds, yet Cheng Yao felt as if the Qian Heng in front of her had somehow become more appealing than he’d been just moments before.
She took a deep breath. “I know. As a legal professional, faced with someone going through a marital dispute like this, the first priority should be to help the other party calm down. If she chooses to stay in the marriage, she needs to stay alert, start protecting her assets in a planned way, and watch for any movement of assets from the other side. If she chooses divorce, she needs to sort out the property situation carefully to prevent assets from being transferred away, and fight for the maximum protection of her own rights. I will do that.”
“Cheng Yao, I’ve already guided you through two cases.” Qian Heng’s voice was cold but clear. “I told you a long time ago—keep some distance from clients, don’t let your emotions get involved in a case. You know this perfectly well in your heart, so why has it all slipped your mind now? Last night, when you were comforting her…”
“That’s not it. I remember every single word you ever told me.”
Qian Heng blinked.
Cheng Yao lifted her head, her gaze bright and steady. “I remember.”
Somehow, Qian Heng suddenly found it hard to meet that look of hers head-on, and averted his eyes. “Then last night, your first move should have been to calm her down, not go along with whatever she said.”
“Boss, I’m a female lawyer. As a woman, I tend to be more emotionally attuned—sometimes that’s a weakness, but I’ve also been thinking about whether that weakness could instead be turned into a strength.” Cheng Yao spoke without either arrogance or timidity. “Everyone has their own style of handling cases. I can’t fully replicate yours—I’m also searching for my own path.”
“A lot of the time, in domestic dispute cases, especially with female clients, emotions run very high. Overly calm persuasion can actually fail to lower their defenses—whereas gentle, empathetic guidance can help them recognize their situation faster and build trust.” Cheng Yao smiled, her eyes bright and confident. “When I was talking to Li Mengting, my head was completely clear, and I knew exactly what I was doing. It’s just that my approach isn’t quite the same as yours.”
“I can win this case.”
As Cheng Yao said this, her chin lifted slightly, her dark, beautiful eyes opened wide, fixed intently on Qian Heng, her face flushed with the emotion inside her, making her already fair face look even more striking. The powerful sense of certainty about her own future and the sharp, unstoppable confidence on her face left Qian Heng feeling, for a moment, almost dazzled.
Qian Heng realized, more clearly than ever before, that Cheng Yao was no longer the trembling rookie who used to be terrified of making mistakes in front of him. She would no longer cry with wide, wet puppy-dog eyes waiting for him to clean up her messes, nor would she panic and go looking for him every time she made an error.
Little by little, without either of them quite noticing, she had been working hard, learning, growing. She was slowly but surely becoming independent and strong.
Given enough time, she would fully break out of the cocoon that had once bound her. She would spread her wings and fly, no longer needing him at all.
That realization left Qian Heng feeling a little strange. Cheng Yao was someone he himself had personally trained; her success was, without question, a validation of himself. But for a moment, he also felt a tangled, indescribable emotion he couldn’t quite name.
The Cheng Yao who used to need his help for everything, staring up at him with puppy-dog eyes, had been irresistible in her own way—but the Cheng Yao now, confidently meeting his gaze head-on, was even harder to look away from.
Qian Heng suddenly felt he didn’t want anyone else to see Cheng Yao like this.
It was a little too dazzling.
“Handle this case well.” As Cheng Yao was finally about to leave, Qian Heng, as if compelled by some force, spoke up once more. “If there’s anything you don’t know, you can ask me.”
Cheng Yao blinked, then broke into a grin, showing a mouth of straight, white teeth, her eyes seeming to sparkle with light, dazzling enough to make Qian Heng feel a little dizzy.
“I’m afraid you’ll mess it up and ruin my reputation.”
Cheng Yao nodded firmly. “Thank you, boss!”
Qian Heng kept his expression stiff. “Don’t go thanking me for the wrong reasons. It’s not that I’m trying to help you—I’m just worried you’ll drag my name down with you. Don’t overthink it.”
Yet Cheng Yao still smiled. She gave Qian Heng a look that said “I’ve already seen right through you” for a few seconds, until his composure nearly cracked, then finally said her thanks once more and bounded off like a little rabbit again.
With Qian Heng’s approval secured, Cheng Yao moved with impressive efficiency and almost immediately signed a representation agreement with Li Mengting.
Li Mengting didn’t want to see Zhang Hao again, so she left all further negotiations to Cheng Yao.
Going through litigation for a divorce would be time-consuming and drain both energy and money. Since Zhang Hao wanted a divorce so he could remarry, and Li Mengting had no intention of settling for less, reaching an agreement between the two parties, if possible, would be by far the best outcome.
Unfortunately, despite Cheng Yao’s repeated attempts to communicate, Zhang Hao remained noncommittal each time. Clearly he already had his new lover, and one would think he’d be the one in a hurry—yet he was, oddly, quite unbothered, as if he weren’t actually eager to marry that coworker of his. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking.
Cheng Yao called several times; at first, Zhang Hao would still pick up and give a perfunctory response, but after a while, he apparently simply blocked her number outright—every call after that met with nothing but an endless busy signal.
“What am I supposed to do?” Li Mengting’s eyes had turned red with anger at Zhang Hao’s attitude. “This scumbag—he’s the one who cheated, and now that I’m letting him and his mistress off the hook by agreeing to divorce, he’s acting all high and mighty about it? He should be the one in a rush! Because under the law, a husband can’t file for divorce while his wife is pregnant or breastfeeding—if I deliberately drag this out and refuse to divorce, that pair of scum won’t be able to be together in the open for at least a year and a half!”
Cheng Yao rubbed Li Mengting’s back to soothe her. “Don’t worry, we’ll go through litigation, then.”
Li Mengting bit her lip and nodded. “Right, I sorted out our shared property yesterday. Also, take a look at this.”
With that, Li Mengting handed over a piece of paper to Cheng Yao. “After we got our marriage certificate, I figured I’d become a full-time housewife eventually, and honestly I felt a bit uneasy about it, so half-jokingly, I coaxed Zhang Hao into signing this ‘marital fidelity agreement.’ He hesitated at first, but after I brought it up again a couple days later, he finally agreed to sign it.”
Cheng Yao scanned it quickly and immediately lit up with excitement. “So this is what a law school graduate looks like—your studies weren’t wasted after all! There’s real truth in that saying, knowledge changes destiny!”
Li Mengting lowered her eyes. “At the time, I did have a bit of an ulterior motive, honestly, but it was mostly written up as a joke. I never thought this ‘fidelity agreement’ would actually turn out to be useful someday, let alone this soon.”
In front of Cheng Yao and Li Mengting lay a simple “marital fidelity agreement.” In it, Li Mengting and Zhang Hao had agreed that if either party were to be unfaithful during the marriage, the unfaithful party would give up their entire share of the property in the division of shared assets during divorce, forfeiting their portion entirely to the other party.
Below the agreement were both Li Mengting’s and Zhang Hao’s signatures, along with the date.
Simple as it looked, this fidelity agreement shouldn’t be underestimated.
Li Mengting, after all, had graduated from law school, and this agreement had every legal requirement in order, its content fully compliant with the law. Although marital fidelity agreements were sometimes contested in judicial practice and could be ruled invalid in some cases, one that specifically addressed property division upon divorce was, generally speaking, fully recognized in law—and would serve as a key reference in the court’s ruling on the division of assets in divorce!
“In other words, we just need to lock down evidence of Zhang Hao’s infidelity, and when it comes to property division in the divorce, the court will factor in the terms of the marital fidelity agreement and award you that marital home! This would essentially mean Zhang Hao walks away with nothing!”
Li Mengting nodded. “It’s just a shame that, having lost my temper before, I hired someone to secretly track and photograph that pair of scum—but that evidence was obtained illegally, so it can’t be used, and now I’ve actually tipped them off, which will make gathering evidence even harder going forward. Especially after I sent those photos to the whole company’s email list last time—Zhang Hao’s probably worried it’ll hurt his reputation at work and damage his future prospects, so from what I’ve heard, they’ve been going around clarifying it was all a misunderstanding, and the two of them have been keeping a much lower profile lately.”
Cheng Yao smiled. “Don’t worry about that, leave it to me.” She glanced at Li Mengting. “You have more important things to think about right now.”
Li Mengting instinctively looked down at her own belly, her expression turning hesitant and conflicted. Her marriage to Zhang Hao was as good as over—but what about these twins? Should she keep them?
At this stage of the pregnancy, abortion was still technically an option, but the window was closing—not to mention that a later-term termination would cause far more harm to a woman’s body than an early abortion, and once the pregnancy progressed further, unless the fetus had a severe abnormality, most hospitals would refuse to perform the procedure at all.
From the child’s perspective, if born, these children would never have the chance at a complete father’s love, and would only have Li Mengting to rely on for support; but from Li Mengting’s own perspective, she was still young—without children, if she ever wanted to start a new relationship or marriage down the road, her options would be much broader. Once she had children, being less desirable on the remarriage market was actually the smaller concern—the more pressing question was how she’d support a pair of twins along with herself. Li Mengting had almost no work experience worth mentioning; after giving birth and a brief recovery period, she’d be out of the workforce for another year, after which she’d have to find a job immediately, one that paid decently but could also accommodate raising children…
It was only at this moment that Li Mengting truly, deeply began to regret her past choices.
She had gone wrong from the very start—craving the comfort of the moment, never imagining that life would not be a smooth, effortless road. Now, faced with thorns at every turn, she found herself empty-handed, passive, and struggling.
If only she had, like Cheng Yao, gritted her teeth and stuck with the difficult path of a legal career—would she really have ended up in this situation today?
Cheng Yao had already left. Li Mengting sat there with her hand on her belly, brow furrowed, lost in a fierce inner struggle.