Though Cheng Yao’s stomach pain had eased considerably, Qian Heng still insisted on walking her upstairs. He supervised her taking her medicine and, rather than leaving, took out his laptop and settled in to work.

“Huh?”

“I’m staying here tonight.” Qian Heng arranged this without room for objection. “Your stomach doesn’t hurt now, but what if it acts up again in the middle of the night?” He lowered his gaze, lashes fluttering. “Besides, I need to pull an all-nighter for work anyway—might as well work here as anywhere else with my laptop.” Having said that, Qian Heng finally looked up at Cheng Yao. “Besides, I’m technically a paying tenant here—it’s perfectly reasonable for me to stay.”

So Qian Heng answered emails in the living room while Cheng Yao went to shower. When she came out, though, she found that Qian Heng, who’d been drafting documents in the living room moments ago, was no longer there.

Padding over in her slippers, Cheng Yao discovered that Qian Heng’s laptop screen hadn’t gone dark—but what was displayed wasn’t legal documents or an email page, but something entirely unrelated—

“How to Make Delicious Congee”

“Secrets to the Perfect Plain Congee”

…

Cheng Yao instinctively looked toward the kitchen, and sure enough, through the glass sliding door, there was Qian Heng. He stood tall and imposing before the stove, his brow—which stayed only faintly furrowed even facing the trickiest of cases—now twisted into a near-knot, an obvious frustration and helplessness written across his face.

He stood guard over a pot of congee on the stove as if facing a formidable enemy, that focused, intent expression making it look as though he were researching an atomic bomb, as if the slightest mistake might cause a catastrophe.

Qian Heng was so absorbed he didn’t notice Cheng Yao at the door at all. He stared intently at the pot, occasionally bending to adjust the flame, occasionally checking the time. This partner, normally so efficient and decisive in everything he did, was now fumbling about, cooking congee with a look of utter despair on his face…

Cheng Yao couldn’t help but laugh, torn between amusement and disbelief. She pushed the sliding door open and stepped in. “Let me do it—you can’t cook congee with this little water. Keep going like this and it’ll turn into rice.”

She glanced at Qian Heng. “If you’re hungry, just tell me. I’ll make you something—what do you want?”

“I’m not hungry.” Qian Heng’s voice was somewhat muffled, and for some reason, Cheng Yao caught a hint of grievance in it. His dark, bright eyes turned to her. “I wanted to make congee for you.”

“For me? But I don’t want congee.”

Qian Heng looked at the pot, his tone earnest. “Raymond said you threw up several times. Even if your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, it should be empty—it’s better to have some light congee before bed.”

So it turned out that setting aside work to devote himself, with utmost diligence, to studying congee-making, was purely to feed her.

Cheng Yao’s heart felt warm all over. “You don’t need to go to such lengths, it really was just a minor issue…”

“That’s exactly what I thought too, back then. Every time, I figured, if it doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s fine.” Qian Heng lowered his gaze. “Then later I became well acquainted with Raymond, the stomach specialist. Cheng Yao, small problems can turn into big problems. My stomach isn’t good—I know how unbearable that is, I’ve been through it, so I don’t want you to go through it either.”

Moved, and feeling a pang of tenderness, Cheng Yao thought that if only she’d met Qian Heng sooner—been by his side sooner, made sure he drank his congee on time sooner, forced him to take better care of himself between work sooner.

“I’ll get you a bowl. Once you’ve finished it, I’ll go back to work.”

But having just thrown up several times, Cheng Yao’s mouth tasted of nothing at all, and she had no appetite for equally flavorless plain congee—she only wanted something sweet. If she recalled correctly, there was a box of candy in her room; she could eat some of that instead. Looking at Qian Heng, Cheng Yao told a rare lie.

“I don’t have much energy, I want to go back to sleep. Too tired to eat congee.” Cheng Yao rubbed her eyes. “Let’s save the congee for tomorrow morning.”

Having said that, terrified Qian Heng would insist on making her drink it, she fled back to her room like the wind.

Just as she’d settled back against the headboard, Qian Heng knocked and walked in—carrying a bowl of congee, no less.

“Drink some before you sleep.”

Cheng Yao knew perfectly well that a bit of warm congee would do her good, but often, knowing what’s good for you and actually doing it are two different things. Take Cheng Yao—she just didn’t like plain congee.

So she casually made an excuse to dodge it. “I don’t want to. Not unless you feed it to me.”

According to Qian Heng’s logic, feeding someone by hand was, unless they were too sick to hold a spoon themselves, cringeworthy and disgusting. Cheng Yao gleefully waited for Qian Heng to give up, and just as she expected, he picked up the bowl and headed for the door.

But moments later, he returned, expression stern—this time, along with the bowl of congee, he also carried a spoon.

Under Cheng Yao’s stunned gaze, Qian Heng calmly walked over to her bedside, scooped up a spoonful of congee, and, with somewhat clumsy movements, brought it to her lips. “I’ll feed you. Eat.”

“…”

Qian Heng’s feeding technique was clumsy at first, but somehow, the two of them together made even the most mundane thing feel like time well spent.

In the end, under Qian Heng’s watchful supervision and feeding, Cheng Yao ended up drinking half a bowl of congee. Even though she didn’t like plain congee, this time she found it, surprisingly, quite good.

After finishing the congee, Qian Heng went to clean up the dishes, leaving Cheng Yao lying alone on the bed. She couldn’t resist pulling out the couple’s necklace hidden under her pillow. It wasn’t a particularly expensive brand, but the design was distinctive—Cheng Yao had fallen for it at first sight. The only problem was, Qian Heng didn’t like couple’s necklaces, let alone a cheap brand like this one.

“Cheng Yao, you…”

Just as she was thinking this, Qian Heng pushed the door open and walked back in, and naturally caught sight of the necklace she was toying with in her hands. “What’s that?”

Cheng Yao hurriedly stuffed the necklace back under her pillow. “Nothing.”

But unfortunately, Qian Heng’s eyesight was simply too sharp. “Did you buy a necklace?”

Afraid he’d mock her, Cheng Yao quickly denied it. “No, you must have seen wrong.”

Unfortunately, she was no match for him. Qian Heng wrapped one arm around her, pinning her in place despite her struggles, while his other hand reached gently under the pillow. “What’s this?” He toyed with the two necklaces in his hand. “A couple’s necklace, too? You bought this?”

“…” Cheng Yao, remembering Qian Heng’s earlier mockery of couple necklaces, felt genuinely indignant. “Give it back!”

But instead of returning it, Qian Heng studied it more closely. “Pretty tasteful, actually.”

To Cheng Yao’s surprise, Qian Heng pressed his lips together and said nothing more—he simply put the men’s necklace around his own neck.

“Huh??? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t wear couple necklaces?”

Qian Heng glanced at her. “You already bought it—how could I not wear it?” He lowered his eyes, looking almost shy, like someone who’d just received a gift. “Though, your taste in necklaces is as good as your taste in boyfriends. This one’s quite nice. Thanks.”

Once his own necklace was on, he picked up the women’s piece and gently fastened it around Cheng Yao’s neck. As he did, his fingers brushed her nape, sending a tickling sensation that made her shrink her neck instinctively—and what unsettled her even more was the fluttering in her chest. Still leaning forward from that position, she found herself falling gently into his arms.

And what left Cheng Yao even less able to stay calm was that, in this position, Qian Heng bent down and pressed a slow, careful kiss to her neck.

It was a series of light kisses, each as careful as if handling something precious, yet the sensitive skin of her neck heightened every sensation from that trail of kisses. Cheng Yao felt as though her skin, everywhere Qian Heng’s lips wandered, was burning like it had caught a spark.

At this close a distance, each other’s breathing seemed amplified too—Cheng Yao’s ears filled with the faint sound of Qian Heng’s breath. He abandoned his assault on her neck, cupping the back of her head instead, and kissed her lips.

It was an almost sweetly intoxicating kiss, and just as Cheng Yao, lost in it, wrapped her arms around his neck to lean in further, Qian Heng abruptly pulled away, breaking off the kiss.

The look in his eyes as he gazed at Cheng Yao held a murky, restrained intensity, his chest still rising with the traces of his breathing, his voice lower and huskier than usual.

“Cheng Yao, don’t keep testing my limits.”

Caught off guard, Cheng Yao blinked. “Huh?”

Qian Heng stood up, turning his head away as if trying to steady his emotions, though his voice still carried the remnants of lingering agitation. “I need to go work.”

“Huh?”

Qian Heng looked at her, somewhat flustered. “So I need to stay calm.”

“And keep a clear head.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t look at me with that expression again.” Qian Heng seemed unable to even look directly at her anymore, and without any regard for manners, put as much distance as possible between them.

“What’s wrong with my expression?”

“If you don’t want me taking a cold shower on a night this cold, I’d suggest you stop looking at me.”

“…”

Only then did Cheng Yao understand. She glanced at him, blushing—he still appeared perfectly composed on the surface, but his posture had grown slightly stiff, his voice a bit rushed, and his actions were even more hurried than his words.

Almost as if fleeing from something, Qian Heng tossed out a hasty “goodnight” and walked out of Cheng Yao’s room in what could only be described as a full retreat.

Watching the door Qian Heng had closed behind him, Cheng Yao suddenly pulled the blanket entirely over her head, burrowing into her bed. Her face burned like fire, and her heart pounded as though it might leap right out of her chest.

Cheng Yao thought, almost resentfully, that this man Qian Heng really was toxic.

—

Maybe it was Qian Heng’s presence—listening to the sound of him typing away in the living room—but Cheng Yao slept soundly through the night without even realizing it.

Qian Heng, however, wasn’t so lucky. Having been interrupted by Cheng Yao the night before, he’d had to work late into the night, and in the morning, faint shadows lingered under his eyes.

The two of them had eaten breakfast together in the same space before, but this time, watching the man across from her elegantly cutting into a fried egg, Cheng Yao felt unusually shy and uneasy.

Nothing had even happened last night, and yet she felt so nervous.

Qian Heng, for his part, clearly wasn’t as composed as he appeared either. He, whose table manners were normally flawless, actually let his knife and fork slip twice while cutting his egg.

Finally, he cleared his throat, turned his head away once more, and said, somewhat awkwardly, “Cheng Yao, you’re staring at me too intently.”

“…”

—

Cheng Yao had never imagined a simple breakfast could feel this charged.

Fortunately, once breakfast was over, they both headed to Junheng together to start work, and only then did things finally settle down.

But that calm didn’t last long, because the following weekend, Junheng’s second team-building trip to Japan was about to begin.

Bao Rui had already wrapped up and arranged his work ahead of time, and was now sighing over the shopping list his wife had given him, while Tan Ying, equally set on Japan, was busy planning out Japanese drugstore purchases.

The only one who still seemed to be in work mode was probably Cheng Yao. She’d just been called into Qian Heng’s office and handed the weighty responsibility of a family trust dispute worth 2.3 billion yuan.

“You’ll take the lead on this case, and I’ll oversee it. After the firm’s cut, you get sixty percent of the remaining fees, I get forty.” Qian Heng’s tone was matter-of-fact, carrying his usual cool detachment. In the office, there was no trace of the tenderness from the night before—he acted every bit the boss he was meant to be, save for the sliver of the couple’s necklace occasionally visible at his collar as he moved, a quiet reminder to Cheng Yao that this was, indeed, that same man.

Cheng Yao was thrilled to be entrusted with such a major case—once completed, with the split ratio Qian Heng had given her, she might well become a wealthy woman! That realization completely overwhelmed every other emotion inside her, and she thanked him almost reflexively, full of excitement. “Thank you, boss!”

“Don’t thank me.” Qian Heng didn’t even look up. “Don’t think this is favoritism because of who you are to me. You proved your ability with the Lin Fengjuan case—this is what you’ve earned. If it were Bao Rui, or Tan Ying, in the same situation, I’d give them the same source of business and the same split.”

“Mm!”

Even after leaving Qian Heng’s office, Cheng Yao’s heart still hadn’t settled. She flipped through the materials for the family trust case, her hands still trembling with excitement.

Being recognized and affirmed by Qian Heng for her work and ability felt, somehow, no less thrilling and joyful than being loved by him.

—

As if to prove Qian Heng’s words true, the very next afternoon, Cheng Yao received the paternity test report from the testing agency.

Han Han and Lu Jian—paternity confirmed!

Looking at the paternity test report, Lin Fengjuan was nearly moved to tears of joy. “Thank you, Attorney Cheng! Thank you so much! Thank you for winning justice for Han Han and me!”

“Now, with the paternal relationship confirmed for the second trial, we can move into the child support dispute portion. I’ll do my best to secure the most support possible for Han Han—leave it to me.”

This time, the expression on Lin Fengjuan’s face carried complete trust.

Beyond this good news, Cheng Yao had brought something else for Lin Fengjuan as well. “And this—it’s the donation our firm raised for Han Han. Please take it. I heard there’s still a gap in funding for Han Han’s heart surgery—with this, plus what you’ve already raised through the online crowdfunding, it should be enough to cover the surgery costs.”

Lin Fengjuan couldn’t hold back, tears falling instantly. “Attorney Cheng, I really don’t know what to say. Thank you so much—you’re the best, most responsible, most compassionate lawyer I’ve ever met. You’re still so young—someday, you’re going to become one of the country’s most renowned lawyers.”

“Also, regarding those marketing accounts and netizens online who smeared you and exposed your home address—I’ve already gathered the evidence. By suing the Weibo platform, I’ll first obtain the personal information of those accounts and users, and then I’ll pursue lawsuits against each of them.” Cheng Yao’s approach was clear and methodical. “Lawsuits like this for rights infringement don’t always come with much financial compensation even when won, but at least it delivers some justice. As for the people who broke into your home and assaulted you, I noticed there’s a 24-hour convenience store at the intersection you pass on the way home, with a security camera out front—I’ll try to pull that footage and see if we can identify the suspects.”

“And as for the hospital that issued Lu Jian’s falsified infertility diagnosis, I looked into it too—this private hospital received investment from Lu Jian’s father when it first opened, and he still holds shares in it to this day. I’ve submitted all this evidence to the court as well; going forward, the court will pursue accountability against Lu Jian and the hospital for perjury.”

Point by point, Cheng Yao had it all laid out clearly. Lin Fengjuan nodded repeatedly, eyes rimmed red.

—

Leaving Lin Fengjuan’s, Cheng Yao still felt that surge of satisfaction and professional pride that came from handling something entirely on her own.

Being a lawyer—this, probably, was its proudest, most exhilarating moment.

Now that she had the paternity test report in hand and the second-trial reversal all but assured, Cheng Yao finally called Cheng Xi.

“Sis, I won.”

Over the phone, Cheng Yao recounted the entire hearing in detail, describing Deng Ming’s spectacular downfall so vividly that even Cheng Xi couldn’t help laughing. “Yao Yao, I’m so proud of you. You’ve really grown up.” Cheng Xi’s tone was gentle, tinged with emotion. “You’re stronger than me, better than me, more persistent than I ever was.”

Cheng Yao had no intention of comparing herself to Cheng Xi—she’d simply always craved the kind of recognition from their parents that Cheng Xi had always received, being considered the more accomplished one.

These simple words from Cheng Xi were already enough to satisfy that longing.

“Sis, it’s just a shame—I learned from the judge that that scumbag Deng Ming completely washed his hands of the falsified evidence, claiming he too had been deliberately deceived by his client Lu Jian. So for the second trial, Deng Ming isn’t representing Lu Jian anymore—told him to find other counsel. He’s also been busy on social media building himself up as a victim, righteously declaring that if he’d known Lu Jian would be so despicable about avoiding the paternity issue and child support, he’d never have taken the case.”

Recounting this, Cheng Yao couldn’t hold back her frustration, curling her lip. “Chasing fame while acting all sanctimonious—I’ve never seen anyone more two-faced or disgusting. Too bad I couldn’t tear his mask off completely this time. I really wanted to keep fighting head-on, but he saw the writing on the wall and bailed immediately. So that’s how his so-called ‘undefeated legend’ came to be—he only ever picks cases he’s guaranteed to win, only picks fights where the opposing counsel is a pushover.” Cheng Yao said mockingly. “See, sis, in the end he couldn’t even beat me. No wonder whatever case Qian Heng takes, he avoids. Facing off against Qian Heng, he probably wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

Cheng Xi sighed too. “He’s all talk, very good at packaging himself, willing to do whatever it takes for success, even suppressing his true self to keep up the act. I was just blind back then, didn’t see through any of it—I only thought he seemed gentle and refined, so considerate toward me. I told myself, don’t judge a young man just because he’s poor now, he was good to me, that was enough.” Recalling it, Cheng Xi’s tone was self-mocking and helpless. “But who would’ve thought—money is something that’s genuinely hard to make disappear overnight, but something as subjective as ‘being good to you’? That can vanish in an instant, the moment someone decides to take it back.”

“So, Yao Yao, if you ever get married, keep your eyes wide open—don’t fall into a pit like I did.”

Cheng Yao gave a guilty “mm” in response.

“By the way, Dad mentioned you have a boyfriend now? Also a lawyer?”

“Yeah…”

“Next time I’m back to unwind, remember to introduce me to him.” Cheng Xi laughed. “Who knows, maybe I’ll have a surprise for you too, by then.”

The sisters chatted a bit more about other things, and finally, since Cheng Yao had some work waiting, they reluctantly said their goodbyes.

But just before hanging up, Cheng Xi remembered something and specifically warned Cheng Yao. “Be careful with Deng Ming.”

“Hm?”

“He’s an extremely vindictive person. You’ve made him stumble badly this time—he won’t just let it go. You’re both in the same professional circle; I’m worried he’ll try to trip you up behind your back.”

But Cheng Yao showed no fear at all over Cheng Xi’s concern. “Then let him bring it on.” She had the fearless bravado of youth. “I’m not afraid of him!”

“If he came at you openly and fairly, he wouldn’t be so scary. What worries me more is I heard he’s recently taken on another legal debate variety show, something called ‘Lawyers Debate.’ Every time he does these events, he goes all out promoting himself, using the media and public opinion to suppress his rivals.” Cheng Xi reminded her. “It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on that.”

Cheng Yao responded with a few words of acknowledgment before finally hanging up the phone.