The moment she entered case-analysis mode, Cheng Yao simply couldn’t stop. She soaked up everything Qian Heng had to offer like a sponge, and it wasn’t until she’d sorted through every last thread that she realized she and Qian Heng had, without noticing, been at it for two whole hours.

Two full hours!

Even Qian Heng’s clients with cases worth hundreds of millions probably didn’t get this kind of treatment!

For a moment, Cheng Yao was so moved her eyes nearly welled up.

Because they’d been so absorbed in the case, neither of them had paid the desserts any mind, and now, looking over, they discovered Xue Ming had somehow polished off every single one.

Qian Heng took a sip of water, then glanced at the now-empty dessert tray on the table. “I didn’t get a single one.”

Cheng Yao laughed, and though it was just the two of them now, she still lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I secretly saved you some!”

She bounced up like a rabbit, darted off to the kitchen, and came back moments later, producing a small plate of baked treats as if by magic.

“I was worried you wouldn’t have time to eat while we discussed the case, so I set some aside for you.” Cheng Yao presented the desserts to Qian Heng like offering up a treasure, her tone thoroughly self-congratulatory. “This is brownie, my specialty. This cheesecake takes a lot of time—you have to chill it in the fridge overnight—but the flavor’s really rich. This fruit tart I only made a few of, since they’re small, so I didn’t bring them out for Xue Ming earlier.” At this point, Cheng Yao looked up and gave Qian Heng a bright smile. “Saved specially for you, boss.”

Cheng Yao’s smile was utterly guileless, but with those sparkling eyes fixed on him, and hearing her say she’d saved this specially for him, that erratic heartbeat feeling struck Qian Heng again.

Palpitations, panic, helplessness. In that moment, his emotions seemed to slip beyond his own control, swaying instead to every flicker of Cheng Yao’s expression.

“Last time you said the brownies were too sweet, so this time I used dark chocolate and cut the sugar in the recipe by half.” Cheng Yao, none the wiser, kept smiling at him. “Boss, try it—you should like this batch. I made it specially to your taste.”

Damn it.

Qian Heng nearly clutched his chest in an unguarded moment—the palpitations that had just barely settled were starting up again.

And at this point, even he could no longer deceive himself. It had never been a heart problem. He’d simply been bewitched.

Qian Heng glared at Cheng Yao almost venomously, his mind in complete disarray.

It had to be Cheng Yao’s fault—bouncing around in front of him constantly, harboring inappropriate feelings toward him, even daring to send him that kind of gift, and now staring at him with such a blatant look in her eyes.

Him ending up like this was, without question, entirely her fault.

But since Cheng Yao was so hopelessly infatuated with him, Qian Heng supposed it was rather pitiable, and if she was sincere about it, giving it a try wasn’t entirely out of the question.

He ate a brownie to calm himself, cleared his throat, and decided to give Cheng Yao a hint. “I’ve come to think that office romances don’t necessarily hurt work efficiency.”

Cheng Yao looked up, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. “Hm?”

Qian Heng glanced at her quickly, then just as quickly looked away. “I’ve given it real thought, and I think relationships are a matter of personal freedom—you can’t ban them outright just because people work at the same firm. As long as people exercise restraint and propriety, it’s not entirely out of the question.”

Though Cheng Yao found the comment baffling, she figured that if Qian Heng was loosening his stance, then Wang Lu and Li Minglei could finally be openly together, which was a good thing.

She went along with it. “That’s true. As long as it doesn’t affect work, it’s fine. Everyone here knows how to keep things in proportion.”

“Mm.”

Qian Heng nodded and said nothing more, just kept looking at Cheng Yao.

Cheng Yao found his stare rather baffling, but she had nothing more to say on the subject of office romances, so, unsure what he was getting at, she wisely chose to stay quiet.

Silence settled between them.

Cheng Yao had run out of things to say, but Qian Heng seemed to be waiting for her to say something, still staring at her the whole time. His expression shifted from initial nonchalance to a hint of confusion, then grew restless and fidgety, and finally settled into an outright glare.

“Cheng Yao, is there really nothing you want to say?”

Cheng Yao: ???

She glanced at him, testing the waters. “Was I supposed to say something?”

Qian Heng’s face darkened. He spoke as if holding back his breath, one word at a time. “After you gave me that birthday gift, is there really nothing else you meant to say?”

Cheng Yao was baffled. “No.”

“…”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Cheng Yao felt like Qian Heng’s expression darkened even further after she said that.

She thought it over. Was she supposed to follow up on how he’d received the gift? So that next year she could pick something that suited him even better?

“Boss, did you like the gift?”

“I didn’t much like it when I first got it.” Qian Heng pressed his lips together, keeping his composure. “Now I think, well, it’s the thought that counts. It was a bit much, but I could feel your sentiment. I’ll think it over.”

Cheng Yao felt a flicker of nerves. The gift hadn’t been to his liking? What was there to think over? Was he deciding whether or not to give her a raise?

She hurried to ask, “So, boss, what kind of gifts do you like?”

Qian Heng coughed, his gaze drifting off into the distance. “Something more understated. Subtle.”

“Got it, got it.”

Cheng Yao thought, well, his birthday’s still a year away—plenty of time to figure out what “subtle and understated” even meant.

Once the case discussion wrapped up, Cheng Yao naturally didn’t dare keep Qian Heng—whose time was worth 166.666 recurring yuan a minute—waiting any longer. She thoughtfully packed up the few remaining desserts for him and said considerately, “Boss, I’ve already wasted a whole evening of your time. You’re so busy—there’s probably still work waiting for you back home. Go ahead if you need to. Oh, and take these desserts with you, in case you’re up late working.”

Qian Heng gave her a complicated look, then turned his head away. “I don’t have any overtime tonight.”

“Oh, really? That’s rare!” Cheng Yao said, embarrassed. “You must be dying to get home and shower and get some rest. My fault for keeping you here discussing things for so long.”

Qian Heng coughed, and in the ambiguous lighting, a faint flush seemed to color the side of his face. “It wasn’t that long. If you still want to keep discussing, that’s fine too.”

“No need!” Cheng Yao said gratefully. “It’s all sorted out now. Once I see you off, I’m going to go find Li Mengting to talk through the new strategy and double-check some details about the property.”

“…”

Qian Heng paused, then said with forced casualness, “Want me to drive you? Might be on the way.”

“It’s not on the way at all—your villa and where Li Mengting’s staying are in exactly opposite directions.”

Qian Heng paused again, then looked away, composed. “Oh, I’m not going back to my villa tonight. I’m heading to my parents’ place, which happens to be the opposite direction from my villa, so it should be on the way to Li Mengting’s place.”

Cheng Yao was only too glad. She quickly gave him the hotel address.

The roads were empty that night, and they arrived at the hotel quickly.

Qian Heng, who should have been saying his goodbyes, didn’t drive off. He parked the car and got out along with Cheng Yao.

“Boss?”

Qian Heng said naturally, “Oh, my parents just texted—they’re still out at a dinner tonight. I don’t have my house key, so I’d just be waiting outside anyway. Might as well come along with you—it’ll let me check whether you’re being diligent and appropriate with your client, for reference toward your year-end review.”

Cheng Yao nodded. With the case at hand, she didn’t think much of it, and led Qian Heng straight upstairs. Before entering, she had him wait outside while she went in first to let Li Mengting know Qian Heng was also there, and only after getting her consent did she invite him in.

Li Mengting was her classmate and friend, but right now, she was also a client—a pregnant client whose emotions could turn sensitive at any moment. Under these circumstances, even for Qian Heng, Cheng Yao shouldn’t bring him along to a meeting without asking first.

Once inside, Cheng Yao wasted no time laying out everything she and Qian Heng had discussed that evening, including the situation Li Mengting might be facing.

Hard as it was to accept, plenty of things in life didn’t change just because you wished they would.

Li Mengting, predictably, couldn’t accept it. “Why is it like this? We may not have registered our marriage, but we lived together and had a child—why doesn’t the law protect that?” Her tone was full of disappointment and anger. “How ironic. I graduated from law school myself, and now that I’m facing this obviously unfair treatment, I can’t even protect my own rights.”

“It’s not just cohabitation cases like mine. Even for spouses cheating within a marriage, infidelity isn’t automatically grounds for the cheating party to get a smaller share in a divorce—it’s entirely up to the judge’s discretion.” Li Mengting’s face turned ashen. “Yaoyao, this kind of law is so incomplete. It doesn’t actually protect the vulnerable party in a relationship between men and women. Look at this—faced with a situation like this, I, a law student, can’t do anything about it, and you, a practicing lawyer, can’t do anything about it either. So what’s even the point of studying law? We can’t even protect ourselves.”

Cheng Yao choked up for a moment, at a loss for how to respond.

“Your four years of legal education really were wasted.”

Just as Cheng Yao was struggling with what to say, Qian Heng’s cold voice cut in.

Li Mengting startled, looking over at this legendary “industry menace.”

Qian Heng remained as detached as ever, sweeping a glance over Li Mengting. “The law only helps those who stay vigilant, not those who are lazy. Haven’t you heard that legal maxim?”

“A lot of people, because they don’t understand the law—or understand a little but don’t grasp its importance—fail to plan their actions from a legal mindset when handling disputes in life and work. In the end, when litigation arrives, they discover they never took the legally advantageous actions available to them, or failed to preserve evidence, didn’t know to hire a lawyer, or couldn’t afford one, and ultimately end up losing the case, or even facing legal sanctions.”

Qian Heng’s voice was calm, without much warmth, but every word struck straight at Li Mengting’s core. “Some people, due to the limits of their background, never had the opportunity to receive a legal education. They don’t understand the law and aren’t even aware of it. Fundamentally that’s not their own fault, but that doesn’t mean they can escape the binding force of the law. Written law inherently lags behind reality—it can never keep perfectly up to date—but written law exists in black and white regardless, and whether or not it’s perfect, it carries force. This set of rules exists objectively, whether you agree with it or not. You’re someone who received a university education, and if all you do is attack or refuse to acknowledge the law, what does that accomplish for your actual life besides venting some frustration? Your disapproval doesn’t make the law cease to exist. It doesn’t stop applying to you. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can change it on the spot.”

“I genuinely find it hard to believe you received not just a university education, but four years of legal training specifically. The greatest value of studying law shouldn’t be some vague awareness that laws exist—it should be learning it, mastering it, and putting it to work for yourself, taking preventive measures before a dispute even arises, and calmly managing future risk. Isn’t that the whole point?”

Li Mengting froze.

Qian Heng rubbed his temple, looking genuinely pained. “The biggest advantage law students should have over everyone else is using the law to preempt risk before it happens—not waiting until disaster strikes to scramble for a fix, and then, when there’s no fix to be found, complaining about how unfair the law is.”

What Qian Heng said was harsh, but not wrong.

Shame and embarrassment washed over Li Mengting’s face. “I… I wasn’t that great at law, honestly. I still haven’t passed the bar exam…”

Having admitted as much, most people would have let the matter rest there. But Qian Heng was clearly no ordinary person…

“It’s not that your grasp of the law was poor. It’s that you never made the shift from an ordinary person’s mindset to a legal mindset. You went through life on instinct, muddling along, content with the status quo, letting things slide, drifting with the current, financially dependent, never alert to future risk, too lazy to even think about how to use the law to protect yourself.”

Li Mengting, a pregnant woman, was nearly in tears from all this, and Qian Heng still delivered one more blow, unhurried. “So now, it’s not Cheng Yao, and it’s not me. It’s you, facing this predicament.”

Li Mengting finally burst into tears—yet, oddly, she showed no resentment at all toward Qian Heng for everything he’d just said. Through her sobs, she managed, “Lawyer Qian, thank you for the guidance. You’re supposed to be this undefeated legend in the industry—could I ask, with your input, is there any chance I could still get the apartment?”

Not just Li Mengting—even Cheng Yao looked at Qian Heng with real anticipation. He’d just spent ten minutes tearing Li Mengting down with such lofty disdain; surely there was some winning strategy waiting to be unveiled, some classic setup-then-payoff?

Instead, Qian Heng raised an eyebrow as if this were obvious. “I’m not a miracle worker. Given how badly you’ve played this game so far, there’s really no room left for me to salvage it.”

“…”

“It all depends on whether your opponent loses his footing and makes some major blunder later on.”

Because of this blow from Qian Heng, Cheng Yao had to spend another ten minutes comforting Li Mengting before they could finally leave.

Qian Heng had been a bit strange tonight.

Normally, even with clients whose cases were worth hundreds of millions or more, he only spoke when necessary and stayed silent otherwise—practically charging by the word. Yet today, faced with a case as small as Li Mengting’s, one he’d normally consider beneath his notice, he’d said all that.

And what he’d said, given the current state of the case, wasn’t even going to change the outcome.

“Boss, next time you see Li Mengting, please don’t tear into her like that again—she’s pregnant, after all…”

Qian Heng let out a cold snort, unmoved. “Precisely because she’s pregnant, she needs to face reality head-on. As a single mother of twins, with no impressive work experience or résumé to speak of, do you think her life is going to get any easier than it is now? As a mother, she has to be tougher than she is now. She can’t handle a little tough love? Then why have the child at all? Why be a single mother?”

Cheng Yao scratched her head. “You could’ve said it a different way, though.”

Qian Heng focused on driving and said nothing.

Not until the Bentley rounded a corner did Cheng Yao hear his voice again.

“It’s because she’s your friend that I said anything at all.”

Cheng Yao’s heart skipped.

“Otherwise, you think I’d waste my time on this?”

Qian Heng’s tone was cold, but Cheng Yao thought she caught a trace of warmth in it, and she covered her mouth, smiling.

“Don’t read too much into it. Just consider it a thank-you for tonight’s dinner.” Qian Heng, sounding suddenly self-conscious, pressed his lips together again after saying it.

…

It wasn’t long before Cheng Yao heard his voice again—

“By my usual rate, I spent at least fifteen minutes just now, plus half an hour sitting in on your client meeting, plus half an hour driving you here—even cutting the travel time in half, that should normally run you ten thousand.”

Qian Heng’s tone was studiedly nonchalant, his eyes flicking sideways toward Cheng Yao in the passenger seat, loaded with meaning. “Tit for tat—unlike some people, I’m not going to pretend that scrubbing a bathroom counts as compensation. Hiring a professional cleaner for a full-day whole-house cleaning only costs about a thousand yuan. Hmph. Tonight’s seafood spread, plus your labor, comes to more than that.”

“…”

If Cheng Yao had been slow to catch on before, at this point she finally understood completely.

Qian Heng was probably worried she’d get so swept up in romance she’d lose focus on work, so he’d been going out of his way to highlight Xue Ming’s flaws, hoping she’d pull back from the brink.

As for his concern, Cheng Yao felt she needed to put it to rest immediately.

“Boss! Don’t worry! I’ve figured it out now! For the next two years! I absolutely will not date anyone!”

…

Yet after hearing her vow, Qian Heng’s expression didn’t brighten at all—if anything, it grew complicated and subtly troubled. He fell silent for a moment before saying, “That two-year timeline isn’t set in stone.”

Qian Heng cleared his throat. “If you really, truly like someone—the kind of liking you can’t control—then dating within the next two years wouldn’t necessarily be out of the question.”

Cheng Yao recalled how firmly Qian Heng had once forbidden her from dating for two years, and comparing that to how understanding he was being now, her heart was deeply moved.

Her boss—venomous as he could be—turned out to be so considerate toward his employees once you got to know him!

How else could she possibly repay him? Obviously, by not dating and devoting herself entirely to work, building socialism with all her heart!

Cheng Yao declared immediately, “No, boss, I’ve thought it over these past couple of days, and I’ve realized love is fleeting, here and gone in an instant—only work and money are eternal. I’ve decided to pour my limited life into infinite work! I won’t even date until I make partner!”

“…”

After this declaration, Qian Heng seemed so moved that, for once, his usually razor-sharp tongue failed him entirely.

He simply kept his face set, driving on in silence, lips pressed tightly together, as if afraid that the slightest slip would betray just how touched he was inside. Perhaps to keep Cheng Yao guessing, he forced his expression to stay stern, suppressing any hint of emotion, keeping his face dark the whole way. It only made him seem all the more unfathomable, this deep and inscrutable partner of hers.

Not until Qian Heng dropped her off at home did Cheng Yao stop marveling to herself—she really did have a long way to go before making partner. Qian Heng, seemingly annoyed but actually pleased, able to mask his true feelings so thoroughly and remain utterly unreadable—by comparison, she still had so much to learn.