Qian Heng wrapped Cheng Yao in his coat the whole way, carrying her back to the hotel; she still had no idea what she’d just done, mumbling incoherently as she nuzzled into his chest, leaving Qian Heng both exasperated and amused.

At the hotel, Qian Heng couldn’t find her room key on her, and not wanting to leave her alone, he had no choice but to bring her into his own room. Once he’d settled her, he called down to the front desk—Cheng Yao needed some hangover tea.

Cheng Yao felt as though her head were splitting open. Her mind was hazy—one moment she’d been drinking with Bao Rui and Tan Ying at the bar, the next she saw Qian Heng, and the moment after that, the bar had vanished and she found herself somehow inside a hotel room.

In the honeymoon phase of a relationship, a day apart could feel like three years. Only now did Cheng Yao realize how true that saying was. During this Japan retreat, even though the two of them had been secretly seeing each other on the sly, this kind of stolen, fleeting closeness had only made her miss Qian Heng even more.

Once drunk, a person’s self-control weakens, and their most primal emotions get amplified. Dazed, Cheng Yao lay on the bed, and upon opening her eyes to see Qian Heng’s figure, instinctively threw her arms around him. At that moment she had no other thoughts in her mind—she just wanted to cling to him like taffy, wanting to spend every single second with him.

But Qian Heng, it seemed, didn’t feel the same way. At first he let Cheng Yao cling to him, but before long, his body tensed up. When she leaned in again for a hug and a kiss, he pushed her away, somewhat resistant.

Drunk, Cheng Yao had no rationality left; she only felt wronged and unhappy, with no sense that after being pushed away, she ought to just leave him be. The more Qian Heng pushed her away, the more stubbornly she threw herself back into his arms.

By the end, in her daze, she’d become almost obstinately relentless, refusing to give up until she got what she wanted.

“Cheng—Yao!”

But her ardor seemed to genuinely anger Qian Heng. He called out her name almost through gritted teeth, and this time, pushed her away with something close to roughness.

Already weak and limp from the alcohol, Cheng Yao was knocked down to the floor by that push. Luckily the hotel carpet was thick and soft, but being treated this way left her bewildered—she sat there dazedly on the floor, her glistening eyes looking up at Qian Heng in confusion, biting her lip slightly, her lips like a rose crumpled by her own motion, her whole demeanor utterly unguarded, carrying a striking, soul-stirring beauty. Drunk, Cheng Yao had become clingy, coquettish, her expression coy, casting a bewitching haze over her features that made one want to look, and not want to look, all at once.

The instant he’d pushed her down, Qian Heng already regretted it. He strode over quickly, meaning to help her up.

Sitting on the floor, Cheng Yao watched blankly as Qian Heng approached and reached out his hand; instinctively, she grabbed hold of it, trying to stand, but still drunk, she lost her footing, stumbling and starting to fall back toward the floor. Caught off guard, Qian Heng only managed to throw out one arm to shield her, and ended up pulled down to the floor along with her.

By the time Cheng Yao rubbed her eyes and sat back up, she found Qian Heng, his expression unreadable, already trying to get up and move away from her again.

“Don’t you like me anymore?” Cheng Yao looked deeply wronged; without even thinking, she grabbed hold of him and, with sheer force, shoved him back down onto the floor, stubbornly refusing to let him get up. To make sure Qian Heng couldn’t resist, Cheng Yao went all in and straddled him, pinning down his movements.

“Cheng—Yao!”

This time, Qian Heng’s voice could no longer be described as merely gritted—he looked utterly furious, even his usually clear eyes had turned bloodshot. He seemed to be restraining himself through sheer, immense force of will, staring at Cheng Yao with those reddened eyes.

“You’d better get off me right now.” His voice was controlled, but carried the danger of a coiled snake flicking its tongue. Qian Heng glanced at her again. “Immediately.”

“No!” Cheng Yao, fully drunk, had thrown all restraint to the wind. “Not unless you kiss me.” She looked genuinely aggrieved. “You haven’t even kissed me—isn’t it true that when you like someone, seeing them makes you want to kiss them because they’re so cute?” she protested. “You don’t like—”

Before Cheng Yao could finish her last word, “me,” her attention was suddenly seized by something else. Still straddling him, she felt something hard pressing against her from below, digging uncomfortably into her. She shifted her position slightly, trying to escape the strange sensation, but it followed her no matter which way she moved, growing firmer and more insistent with every motion of hers, until the overly sharp sensation left her feeling restless and irritable.

Just then, Qian Heng, who had been silently suppressing something, finally spoke—

“Cheng Yao.” For some reason, his voice carried a hoarseness he was clearly forcing himself to control. “When we men see a woman we like, we don’t think she’s cute and want to kiss her.”

Still dazed, Cheng Yao hadn’t yet processed this before Qian Heng, who had been pinned beneath her, suddenly surged upward and flipped their positions. In an instant, the situation reversed—now it was she lying on the carpet, with Qian Heng pressing down over her.

In his eyes was nothing but the very last thread of his restraint. Cheng Yao had never seen Qian Heng like this before; right now, he looked like a bloodthirsty wolf, ready to tear open its prey’s throat at any moment. Instinctively, she wanted to flee.

But Qian Heng gave her no such chance. He pinned her movements down, leaning close to her ear, staring into her eyes, and said, word by deliberate word, “What we think is, we want you.”

Cheng Yao was still too dazed to react before Qian Heng’s kiss came down on her.

He said, nearly savage, “Cheng Yao, you brought this on yourself.”

This kiss from Qian Heng carried a fervor and ferocity Cheng Yao had never experienced before. In that moment, the beast behind Qian Heng’s eyes had broken free of its gates, its desire utterly unconcealed.

The alcohol alone had already left Cheng Yao’s body burning, and Qian Heng’s kiss made her even hotter still, a heat that seemed to rise unbearably from somewhere deep within her body.

Unfamiliar. Unbearable. Dangerous.

Cheng Yao’s voice, muffled by kisses, carried a sob. “It’s too much, I’m so hot.” Her voice was full of grievance. “And there was something strange poking at me earlier…”

“If you’re hot, then just take off your clothes.” Qian Heng’s voice was coaxing, yet dangerous. Even as he spoke, his hands were already slowly, deliberately undoing Cheng Yao’s coat, then her blouse… piece by piece, this handsome boss thoughtfully and kindly helped cool down his own employee personally, until his little employee’s clothes had all been shed.

Cheng Yao let out a low, tearful whimper.

“As for the discomfort, it won’t last much longer.” Qian Heng leaned down, kissing her. “And as for that strange thing…” He took Cheng Yao’s hand and pressed it against himself. “This isn’t strange at all. It’s your man.”

What Cheng Yao’s hand found was something even harder and more alarming than before… she finally realized what it was, and yanked her hand away instantly, her face flushing to the point of nearly bleeding, glaring furiously at Qian Heng. “You… you pervert!”

“There’s more perverted still to come.”

Qian Heng only chuckled softly. He pulled back Cheng Yao, who had tried to crawl away, wrapping his arms around her smooth, pale back, leaning over her, gently biting her ear. “I’ll be your first man.”

—

Cheng Yao no longer wished to recall how the rest of that night had gone. She only remembered it as long and searingly hot; the next morning she woke in Qian Heng’s arms, her voice already carrying a faint hoarseness, without so much as the strength to lift a finger.

From the carpet, to the sofa, to the bed, and finally, somehow, into the bathroom…

Just thinking about it now made it hard for Cheng Yao to breathe—she only knew that last night’s Qian Heng had been like an insatiable wolf, taking whatever he wanted, however much he wanted.

In just one night, the condoms in that mandarin duck gift box had somehow all been used up entirely…

At breakfast, the instigator himself, however, could still eat without so much as a blush. Qian Heng glanced at Cheng Yao, his voice perfectly steady. “You’re the one who made the first move on me.”

Cheng Yao flushed. “You weren’t exactly innocent either, otherwise why would you happen to have that kind of thing on hand…”

Qian Heng, however, still denied it with utter self-righteousness. “It just happened to get packed into my luggage by accident. Besides, wasn’t that a gift from you in the first place?” He paused, then added, somewhat awkwardly, “The first time might have taken some getting used to, but it’ll be fine going forward.”

Going forward?! He was already thinking about “going forward”?!

The instigator, however, had no idea of the inner screaming going on inside Cheng Yao’s head. He gave her a cursory glance, then remarked with utter seriousness, “By the way, it’s about time you got a gym membership.”

“Huh?”

“Your stamina’s a bit lacking.”

Cheng Yao simply wanted to grab Qian Heng by the collar and shout—could he please not bring up this topic so seriously?! What did he mean her stamina was lacking, it was his stamina that was demonic!

“I’ll take care of getting you excused from HR for today. Skip today’s itinerary, rest up, I’ll keep you company at the hotel.” Qian Heng took a bite of his fried egg. “We’ll ‘work overtime’ together.”

“…”

And so it went—Cheng Yao and Qian Heng split off from the group and spent the whole day at the hotel. What started off as genuine work quickly took a different turn; Qian Heng, having tasted the forbidden fruit, could no longer be satisfied with just a few chaste kisses.

As Cheng Yao bent her head over the case materials, his hot gaze would linger over her, forcing her to keep looking up to glare at him. But the glares carried no real force, and each time she ended up giving in to Qian Heng anyway. What was supposed to be a restful day for Cheng Yao instead left her feeling even more exhausted than if she’d joined the rest of the group on their outing…

He was clearly still the same Qian Heng, but somehow, after everything that had happened the night before, Cheng Yao found she couldn’t quite look him in the eye anymore. Just the thought of sharing the same air as this man left her flooded with an unsettling, ambiguous tension, nervous, restless. The two of them sat there facing each other with perfect composure, yet the atmosphere between them felt charged and faintly overheated…

Truly…

Sharing the same room, Qian Heng was clearly having just as hard a time. By the afternoon, he’d already taken two cold showers.

For the rest of the Japan trip, none of the sightseeing spots left much of an impression on Cheng Yao—the only thing she couldn’t forget was Qian Heng stealing kisses at every opportunity. On the streets of Osaka, at the register at Takashimaya, around the corner of the underground food street, and beneath the Ferris wheel at Universal Studios Japan…

Thanks to Bao Rui and Tan Ying, who’d become devoted “accomplices” out of sheer intimidation, providing cover, the latter half of the Japan trip was, for Qian Heng, positively indulgent—officially a firm retreat, but privately, it was practically a heart-pounding romantic getaway.

Even after returning home and settling back into normal work for two or three days, Qian Heng still found himself lingering on those memories, needing Cheng Yao to remind him before he could tear his eyes away from her. Fortunately, both of them were professionals, and the moment work was involved, they both calmed down and focused.

As for Li Mengting’s case, after the first-instance ruling, Zhang Hao, unwilling to accept it, appealed as expected. But the second-instance ruling turned out just as Cheng Yao had predicted—it upheld the original judgment, with ownership of the house going to Li Mengting.

While this was a happy outcome for Li Mengting, it was anything but for Zhang Hao. He had clearly been confident that the house was already his, never expecting the deal to fall through at the last moment. His current wife, Liang Qiongqiong, had a public argument with him right in court after the second-instance verdict was announced, all because of the house.

“Didn’t you tell me this was going to be our marital home? Now the house is gone, and property prices are so high—the baby’s due in a few months, are you telling me I have to give birth in a rental? Without a house, we can’t even register the baby’s residency! Just like us, an outsider with no local hukou—how are they even supposed to go to school later?” Liang Qiongqiong, unable to hold back her grievance, cried. “You swore up and down we’d have a house—and now? How am I supposed to explain this to my parents?”

Zhang Hao apologized and tried to smooth things over, clearly not having anticipated such a strong reaction from Liang Qiongqiong over losing the house. He also had no idea just how much of a landmine this lost house would plant beneath his future marriage.

Poverty brought hardship even to married couples—no amount of true love could outweigh the burden of a house. And how many marriages could really withstand the endless wear of life’s petty grievances?

But by then, none of it had anything to do with Li Mengting anymore. She was now fully immersed in preparing for the bar exam, no longer concerned with how Zhang Hao’s life turned out. She had her own brand-new life and brand-new dreams ahead of her, more resilient and unyielding than before—something like a phoenix rising from the ashes, reborn.

Not long after Li Mengting’s case wrapped up, the second-instance ruling for Lin Fengjuan’s case also came through. With the introduction of new evidence—a paternity test report—Lin Fengjuan won her case without any surprise, proving the parent-child relationship. As the non-custodial parent, Lu Jian was legally required to pay 20 to 30 percent of his total monthly income as child support. Thanks to Cheng Yao’s persistent arguments and evidence gathering, Lu Jian’s attempt to falsify his monthly income in order to pay less child support also fell apart. In the end, Hanhan received a fair ruling, receiving the child support he was owed. With the help of caring members of the public, Lin Fengjuan also found a hospital for Hanhan’s surgery; barring any mishaps, once the surgery was done, Hanhan would be able to fully recover.

With two cases back to back ending in such good results, Cheng Yao felt happy, proud, and confident. She looked forward to the future, believing she could only get better from here.

—

Meanwhile, after Tan Ying and Bao Rui had thoroughly interrogated her for every gossip-worthy detail of her relationship with Qian Heng, the two had finally settled back down after much sighing.

That afternoon, though, Tan Ying hopped over, poking Cheng Yao and lowering her voice. “Aren’t you at all worried?”

Cheng Yao didn’t understand. “Hm?”

Tan Ying gave her a “you-know-what-I-mean” look. “Liang Yiran, obviously. I just heard the latest gossip from HR—Qian Par must have told you already, right? In a few days, Liang Yiran’s officially joining Junheng as a new partner. But she used to have a thing for Qian Par, and I heard she pursued him for a really long time, but he rejected her. She’s apparently still carrying a torch for him even now—even after making partner herself, whenever she looks at Qian Par, it’s still all doe-eyed, clearly hasn’t let go.” Tan Ying pursed her lips. “Her joining Junheng this time, however you look at it, seems like she’s got ulterior motives—not really after making partner at Junheng, but after becoming the wife of a Junheng partner!”

Cheng Yao frowned slightly.

Tan Ying, however, mistook this for worry. “Don’t worry, Qian Par’s never given her the time of day. Besides, if he liked her, he would have liked her ages ago. Liang Yiran probably doesn’t even know he’s seeing someone…”

Cheng Yao was only half listening to Tan Ying’s words—she wasn’t worried about Liang Yiran; what struck her as odd was that Qian Heng hadn’t told her anything about the other woman joining the firm.

A law firm bringing in a new partner, or an old partner retiring, was entirely normal—just the usual personnel changes among partners. A law firm’s growth relied on the business-generating capacity of its partners; a single partner could often support an entire team, and a partner’s reputation was also the firm’s best calling card. Junheng gaining a new partner was naturally good news for the firm’s development. Liang Yiran was a female partner at Jinzhuan Law Firm, a senior lawyer, and quite well known within the industry as a “beautiful lawyer” and “young partner.”

For her to join Junheng also required a vote of approval from all of Junheng’s partners—it wasn’t Qian Heng’s decision alone. As a boss, what Qian Heng had done was entirely reasonable; as one of Junheng’s partners, bringing in another qualified partner didn’t require him to report to his associate, Cheng Yao. But the trouble was, Qian Heng wasn’t just Cheng Yao’s boss—he was also her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend had said nothing about becoming colleagues with a woman who used to pursue him and apparently still wanted to, without giving her any advance notice—no matter how she looked at it, Cheng Yao couldn’t help feeling a subtle sense of disappointment and something hard to put into words.

Though she kept telling herself Qian Heng hadn’t done anything wrong, she still couldn’t shake her unhappiness.

Qin Qin had been right—dating your boss meant that beyond managing your colleague relationships, the hardest part was actually balancing the relationship between the two of you. Because of the natural hierarchy between them, at work Cheng Yao and Qian Heng weren’t on equal footing, yet as boyfriend and girlfriend, their relationship was supposed to be one of equals.

As her boss, Qian Heng didn’t need to, and shouldn’t have to, report every detail of work matters to Cheng Yao; but as her boyfriend, she felt she had every right to know about his comings and goings…

At the start of the relationship, Cheng Yao hadn’t been aware of this contradiction, but as time went on, the minefield of dating a superior gradually began to reveal itself before her… No matter how often she reminded herself, she still found it hard to truly keep the personal and professional separate, because there was no way to split Qian Heng in two—half boss, half boyfriend. Boss and boyfriend were, after all, one and the same person.

She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, and yet she still felt unsettled, still felt wronged, still felt upset, still felt a lingering bitterness. This was an emotion Cheng Yao couldn’t share with anyone—not even Qian Heng himself. She didn’t want her own feelings to affect his professional judgment, nor did she want to come across as overly sentimental or petty.

—

Cheng Yao braced herself psychologically and was more or less ready by the time Liang Yiran arrived.

Liang Yiran was every bit as strikingly beautiful as rumored, carrying a kind of ripe, fragrant allure—both professional and alluring, her makeup flawless, every inch of her radiating maturity and confidence. Unlike Qian Heng, she didn’t carry that same sense of distance; as a woman, she made excellent use of her feminine qualities—professional, yet appearing far softer and more approachable.

“Wang Lu, your hairclip is so pretty. I love your lipstick shade too.”

“Li Meng, I just saw a KS Bakery cake on your desk—turns out you like that brand too. By the way, I have a bunch of discount vouchers, I’ll send them to you on WeChat.”

“Attorney Bao, one of my former colleagues went up against you once, and came back completely convinced—kept praising you nonstop afterward.”

…

In just half a day, she had already earnestly and thoroughly memorized the name and preferences of every single colleague, warm and easygoing in conversation, showing just the right amount of consideration for everyone, gentle in manner, socially adept.

Before long, the entire firm was already singing her praises unanimously, finding this new female partner not only beautiful and gracious but also remarkably easy to get along with. Even Tan Ying had completely switched allegiances.

“I had no idea Liang Par was such a great person.” She cupped her face in her hands. “I hope I can become a strong, successful woman just like her someday!”

Tan Ying and Bao Rui knew about Cheng Yao and Qian Heng’s relationship, but the rest of the firm didn’t. With Qian Heng off attending a court hearing with Bao Rui at the time, once Liang Yiran had returned to the office, everyone couldn’t resist gossiping quietly in the main workspace—

“It just occurred to me, Liang Par and Qian Par would actually make a great match. Power couple sweeping the courtroom, that kind of thing.”

“Right? Qian Par actually turned down Liang Par—makes you wonder if he’ll come to regret it…”

“You’re both unmarried, who knows, maybe working together for a while will spark something. But don’t worry about them—worry about how you’re going to find someone yourselves.”

…

While their colleagues chattered on animatedly, Cheng Yao was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite put into words.

In that fleeting moment when Liang Yiran greeted everyone with such confident grace, Cheng Yao could see clearly the gap between herself and the other woman. Even though she was the one Qian Heng actually loved, faced with Liang Yiran, Cheng Yao found herself feeling inferior—an inferiority that had nothing to do with their relationship, purely about their careers. She couldn’t help but imagine—if she ever went up against Liang Yiran in court, would she be caught completely off guard, left with an embarrassing loss?

Junheng had previously had only one female partner, and she was a full generation older than Cheng Yao. Liang Yiran was the first female partner close in age to Qian Heng and Wu Jun, and it was only now that Cheng Yao so clearly saw the distance between herself and Qian Heng—and between herself and Liang Yiran.

It felt a little bitter to admit, but even Cheng Yao herself, in that moment, couldn’t help but think that no matter how you looked at it, Liang Yiran and Qian Heng seemed the better match.

—

Unaware of the tangled thoughts churning inside Cheng Yao, Liang Yiran happened to run into her in the print room, the two of them waiting for documents on two different printers at once. Liang Yiran naturally smiled and greeted Cheng Yao.

“You’re the one working under Qian Heng, right?” Her features were fine and elegant. “Must be tough working for him.”

Cheng Yao answered vaguely. “Not really—it’s good training.”

But Liang Yiran seemed quite interested in the topic of Qian Heng, and Cheng Yao’s cool response didn’t deter her in the slightest. Her tone was light and familiar. “That’s just how Qian Heng is—he was like that back in university too, cold and distant, sharp-tongued, but not a bad person at heart. His work ability is excellent, dedicated to the point of putting the rest of us to shame.” She smiled, an unconscious note of helpless indulgence creeping into her voice. “A man like him—capable, but with such a strong personality, doesn’t really know how to navigate people or social nuance. Too rigid altogether.” At this, she glanced at Cheng Yao. “You young girls probably find it hard to get along with him. If he says something sharp sometimes, don’t take it to heart—I’ve known him for years, he’s always been like that. Look at today, his first day with me joining—he only gave me a five-minute greeting this morning, cold as ever, just a curt ‘welcome’…”

Though it sounded like words of comfort, Cheng Yao found herself unable to feel any better hearing them. Tan Ying’s gossip radar hadn’t been wrong—this female partner was clearly here for Qian Heng, and she wasn’t shy about making her intentions known either, openly displaying her familiarity and closeness with him in conversations with several colleagues already. These seemingly considerate words sounded exactly like the kind of thing a devoted, understanding wife might say to smooth over misunderstandings caused by her blunt, socially awkward husband.

Listening to the general mood around the firm, in just half a day, everyone had already shifted from simple gossip to something resembling a shared mission of helping Liang Par assist Qian Par out of singlehood.

Not good.

Faced with this situation, Cheng Yao had no way to respond. She couldn’t very well jump up and shout that she was the one who was actually Qian Heng’s girlfriend—of course, she could immediately call Qian Heng and make him say “I love you” ten times over, but that wouldn’t help at all. In that moment, Cheng Yao found herself utterly without a sense of security.

Just as she’d witnessed in every marriage case she’d handled, the decision to marry, at the moment when love ran at its highest concentration, was a matter of a single instant—but sustaining a marriage was the hardest part of all. The same was true of marriage as of love. Deciding to be with Qian Heng had only taken a single moment of courage, but staying together required a strong heart and a great deal of wisdom.

Liang Yiran was curious about everything concerning Qian Heng—what he was like at work day to day, whether he often worked overtime, how often he went to the gym, where he lived, what kinds of cases he’d taken on recently—her manner made it seem as though she wished Cheng Yao would simply hand her a whole list.

Cheng Yao answered her endless string of questions half-heartedly, and thankfully, her case documents finally finished printing.

“Liang Par, I’ll head out first, then.”

Perhaps too distracted, Cheng Yao stumbled slightly as she carried the waist-high stack of documents out of the print room, and though she managed to steady herself in the end, a large portion of the files in her hands scattered across the floor. She had no choice but to bend down and gather them, and Liang Yiran, being friendly, bent down to help her pick them up too.

Cheng Yao, already a bit distracted, was too absorbed in gathering the papers to notice Liang Yiran’s gaze, which was now fixed intently on the necklace peeking out from her collar.

It wasn’t until they’d finished collecting the documents that Cheng Yao found herself surprised by Liang Yiran’s sudden silence. Something seemed to have shifted—it was now Liang Yiran who seemed distracted. She looked at Cheng Yao again, deeply, then smoothed her hair back, laughing somewhat awkwardly, flustered. “I just suddenly got distracted thinking about a case.”

She quickly composed herself, regaining her mature, poised demeanor. “My documents are done printing too. We’ll catch up another time when we’re both free.”