Knowing that Liang Yiran would also be at the alumni gathering, Cheng Yao put everything she had into dressing herself up. Just as she expected, she became nearly the center of attention for the whole room.
But that level of attention drew Qian Heng’s displeasure. “You’re too beautiful tonight.”
Cheng Yao just smiled. “Isn’t beautiful a good thing? Don’t you like it when I’m beautiful?”
Qian Heng’s ears went faintly red. He turned his face aside and said, very seriously, “Whether I like you or not—wasn’t last night enough proof?”
Cheng Yao’s face flushed red in an instant, and she covered her ears. “Stop talking!”
Qian Heng had landed in the early hours of the morning and, barely pausing for breath, had gone straight from the airport to Cheng Yao’s place. Still half-asleep, she’d been caught off guard by him, and by morning she’d hardly managed to sleep at all.
“Next time I go to a gathering, you’d better not come,” Qian Heng said, still perfectly composed and self-righteous. “Just let me look at you. No one else gets to.”
Cheng Yao was in the middle of whispering something else to him when a call from a client interrupted them. She switched almost instantly into work mode, said a quick goodbye to Qian Heng, and stepped outside to find somewhere quiet to take the call.
By the time she came back, she found Qian Heng already surrounded by several alumni. A group of successful-looking people leaned against the bar, chatting in relaxed poses, while Liang Yiran stood off to the side holding a wine glass, her gaze fixed on Qian Heng with an expression hard to read.
They had originally been talking about another old classmate’s recent marriage, but somehow the topic drifted to Qian Heng. “Qian Heng, when are you and your girlfriend planning to get married?”
At that question, Liang Yiran’s expression visibly dimmed.
The private club had a well thought-out design—each room had its own bar, separated from the corridor outside by wooden sliding doors that shielded the space completely from view. Standing behind those doors now, Cheng Yao had a feeling Liang Yiran was about to cause trouble, and she paused, some instinct keeping her from walking in.
“Marriage?” Through the door, Qian Heng’s voice came out flat, utterly uninterested in the topic. “I don’t believe in marriage. I’m also childfree by choice. I won’t be getting married.”
Inside, Liang Yiran’s eyes lit up. The gloom from before vanished as she looked toward Qian Heng.
Outside, Cheng Yao gripped the doorframe, her face going dark.
She hadn’t expected the one causing trouble tonight to be Qian Heng himself.
Her face burned with humiliation. Just yesterday she’d spun some story to Liang Yiran about Qian Heng begging her to marry him—and tonight he’d gone and publicly debunked it himself.
What the hell…
Another voice chimed in. “Does your little girlfriend know about this? Dating without any intention of marrying is basically just messing around, Qian Heng. Just dating someone with no plans to marry or have kids—can she really accept that?”
“She knows. I’ve always made that clear.” Qian Heng’s voice drifted into Cheng Yao’s ears, light yet heavy at once, and she felt she could already picture the satisfied look on Liang Yiran’s face. “I’ve never hidden it. If she knew and still agreed to date me, then of course she accepted my terms.” His tone was as coolly arrogant as ever. “How could I possibly deceive someone into a relationship? Do you have some kind of misunderstanding about my character?”
…
After that, Cheng Yao couldn’t take in another word of what they said. She felt both disappointed and mortified.
In her fluster, Liang Yiran happened to step out of the room right then and walked straight into Cheng Yao at the door.
Liang Yiran’s face was radiant now, and one glance at Cheng Yao’s expression told her everything. She smiled at Cheng Yao, her tone light but every word cutting. “Being young is nice, isn’t it. Always dreaming.”
For the rest of the gathering, Cheng Yao was distracted, her mind churning with anxiety, embarrassment, disappointment, helplessness, and a kind of numb bewilderment.
It wasn’t that Cheng Yao hadn’t known Qian Heng claimed to be against marriage and children—she just hadn’t taken it seriously. Before they’d gotten together, he’d had a whole list of fussy, unreasonable standards for a partner, and she’d barely matched any of them, yet he’d chosen her anyway. She hadn’t expected he would still hold so firmly to being unmarried and childfree.
But regardless of his principles, and regardless of whether he’d realized it, tonight he’d slapped her in the face so hard it was unbearable to think about.
On the way back, once it was just the two of them, Cheng Yao finally couldn’t hold it in any longer.
She brought up the topic as casually as she could manage. “You know how a lot of couples, once their relationship reaches a certain stage, naturally want to be together forever, to spend the rest of their lives together—that’s why they get married, right?”
“That’s because their heads aren’t clear.” Qian Heng scoffed without a second thought. “There’s nothing good about marriage. All downside, no upside.”
Cheng Yao feigned indifference. “I’ve always felt a relationship starts with love, matures over time, and ends in marriage. Look at every fairy tale—don’t they all end with the prince and princess falling in love, getting married, and living happily in the castle?”
Qian Heng snorted. “You said it yourself—fairy tales. Haven’t you heard fairy tales are all lies? A relationship only starts with love. It dies in marriage.”
Cheng Yao held back her feelings and said, half in a huff, “You’re saying this now, but who knows—maybe one day you’ll be begging me to marry you.”
“No,” Qian Heng said, pressing his lips together, his tone decisive. “That’s one principle I won’t change.” He glanced at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to marry me, and I definitely won’t make you have kids.”
Don’t worry? Don’t worry about what?! Cheng Yao wanted to scream. You don’t want to get married or have kids, and I’m the one who’s supposed to not worry?! Babies are so adorable, why wouldn’t you want one?! You don’t want to get married, and here I am fantasizing about someone getting down on one knee for a grand wedding proposal!
Swallowing her anger, Cheng Yao forced herself to sound calm. “The future’s still long. Don’t speak so certainly. When you’re the one down on your knees begging me to marry you, I hope you’ll still be this stubborn.”
But Qian Heng showed not the slightest instinct for self-preservation. “You’re still young. Once you’ve handled a few more years of family law cases like I have, once you’ve seen through the true nature of marriage, seen enough of the ugliness when men and women finally turn on each other—you won’t have any expectations about marriage left.” He said it as though it were simply obvious. “Marriage is the graveyard of love. The moment you enter it, whatever attraction existed between two people gets shackled by contract. Besides, as long as you love each other, whether there’s a marriage certificate or not makes no difference. And having kids is basically asking to die. Isn’t it better with just the two of you? Once you add a troublesome little creature like a child, you can’t even properly develop a career anymore, you lose all freedom in life, you can’t simply live for yourself—completely meaningless, completely suicidal.”
Having said his piece, he glanced at Cheng Yao curiously, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Don’t you agree with my principles about not marrying and being childfree? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you want to marry me. Do you actually want to have my kids?”
Swallowing her rage, Cheng Yao said stubbornly, “I do not!”
Qian Heng ruffled her hair, pleased. “That’s exactly what I appreciate about you. We’re so in sync. I knew my judgment wouldn’t be wrong about who to fall for.”
“…”
“Besides, think about it from my perspective—marrying me wouldn’t do you any good at all. In a divorce, you wouldn’t get a single cent, you’d end up owing me money instead,” Qian Heng said, thoroughly pleased with himself. “After all, who in this world could ever beat me in a family law case?”
“…”
“Having kids would be even worse. My parents love children, and to keep them from bothering me, if there were ever a divorce, custody would definitely be contested—and no one could out-argue me for it either.” Qian Heng grinned, showing his teeth. “So not marrying and not having kids is simplest. Just have a relationship that never ends. That’s enough.”
Qian Heng kept talking, this cosmic-tier oblivious man completely failing to notice the subtle shift in Cheng Yao’s mood, or the way she was grinding her teeth.
Was there really a man in this world who worked this hard to advertise how miserable marrying and having kids with him would be?
And a man like that had actually managed to get a girlfriend? She must have been blind!
Cheng Yao felt her face burning hot and cold at once. Liang Yiran’s mocking, satisfied smile stuck in her throat like a fishbone, and Qian Heng’s confident answers were driving her out of her mind.
She walked in silence for a stretch before finally giving in.
“Do you not think you’ve set your expectations of marriage way too low?” Cheng Yao pressed her lips together. “You’re not even married yet and you’re already planning how to handle disputes after a divorce—that’s why you say you’re against marriage. But plenty of marriages last a lifetime, with the couple growing old together.”
“We’re lawyers. Before doing anything, lawyers should think carefully, weigh the pros and cons, and think in terms of risk—we should always plan for the worst-case scenario, so the damage can be minimized. Marriage is a form of responsibility, and responsibility means restriction and constraint. When two people live together for a long time, it’s only because love makes them willing to file down their own edges, suppress their nature, put away their sharp sides, and twist themselves into a shape the other person likes—adapting and accommodating each other. But people are independent individuals. Restricting yourself for someone else is like cutting off your own wings. While you’re in love, the sacrifice feels noble, but sooner or later the mundane grind of daily life wears that love down, and what’s left is resentment and bitterness.”
Qian Heng’s voice was calm. He glanced at Cheng Yao. “I don’t want us to end up like that—losing ourselves for the sake of marriage. You should still be you, and I should still be me. There’s no need to sacrifice for each other just to fit into a stale, dull married life.”
That sounded reasonable enough, but Cheng Yao quickly found the flaw. “Doesn’t dating also require adapting to each other?”
Qian Heng smiled faintly. “At least without marriage, our relationship won’t be mixed up with anything else. We won’t fight over household trivialities, we won’t be worn down chasing after children, and we won’t get tangled in all the back-and-forth that comes with marriage. It’ll just be pure love, and freedom.”
“Marriage may sound like a hassle, but the law protects marital relationships and marital property. Because Li Mengting wasn’t married, she ended up in a very passive position over the property division, while Jiang Wenxiu got the maximum protection.”
“We’re both family lawyers. Neither of us would ever be as careless as Li Mengting was about protecting ourselves.”
“But didn’t you say no one can beat you? Even if I try to protect myself, I still couldn’t out-argue you.” Cheng Yao lowered her gaze. “Besides, if we date for several years and then realize we’re not compatible and have to go our separate ways, you’ll still be a prize catch in your thirties, while I, at that age—forget marriage, I might not even find a suitable person to date.”
Qian Heng frowned. “Why would we break up?”
“Didn’t you just say we lawyers need to think rigorously enough to plan for the worst-case scenario?” This time Cheng Yao was determined to see it through. She reasoned it out coolly. “So let’s draw up a property division plan for during our relationship—so that if we break up a few years from now, we can just follow it. It’s the same idea as a prenup, so we don’t have to deal with disputes once feelings have already soured.”
“Also, like I said—for a woman, the ten years between twenty and thirty are worth more than the equivalent decade is for a man. If we break up, shouldn’t you owe me some kind of compensation, emotional or otherwise? Since I’m not marrying you, the risk falls more heavily on me. You men can change your minds anytime, even at forty, and as long as your conditions are good, you can still find someone in her twenties to settle down with. Women can’t do that.”
Qian Heng’s expression soured. “Our laws don’t support that kind of emotional compensation.”
Cheng Yao smiled. “I know, I already thought of a workaround. We just frame it differently—as a loan. We can set an amount, modeled on the child-support provisions in Western prenups—the longer we’re together, the larger the loan amount gets if we break up. After all, the longer we’re together, the higher the cost to me as a woman if we split, so it’s only fair I get more compensation.”
Cheng Yao laid it all out with perfect logic, and Qian Heng’s face grew darker and darker—though she didn’t care one bit.
“Since we’ll have separate finances during the relationship, there shouldn’t be other disputes. So let’s sort out the childfree issue next.” Cheng Yao continued, methodical. “Being unmarried and childfree carry roughly the same risks for a woman. Marriage and having children involve personal status matters, so even if we sign an agreement now saying we’re firmly committed to no marriage and no kids, with penalties for whoever breaks it—that kind of agreement would actually be illegal. So if we break up down the line, or if you change your mind, my risk is still high either way.”
Qian Heng’s face was a storm about to break. “I don’t like kids. I won’t change my mind.”
“Never say never. Once you’re old and mellowed out, maybe you’ll suddenly like children. And once you’re old, life might need some new energy injected into it from a new life.” Cheng Yao pressed on, infuriatingly reasonable. “Let’s keep going. Men’s reproductive window is a lot longer than women’s. Say seven or eight years from now, you decide you want kids—by then I might already be a high-risk older mother with fertility problems. At that point you’d definitely dump me and go find some young woman to have kids with, and I’d be left alone, weathering it out by myself, and by the time I’m old I’d have no partner and no children to take care of me—might end up as one of those news stories about an elderly person found dead alone weeks later. So tragic. So on this point too, you should offer me some kind of guarantee. What are you going to do about it when we break up?”
“…”
Qian Heng’s expression wasn’t pleasant, but his tone stayed steady. He looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to break up with you.”
Cheng Yao choked on that for a second.
Qian Heng looked away. “I was going to say, unless you’re the one who wants to break up—but actually, no, not even then.”
“I won’t break up with you, and if you try to leave me for someone else, I’ll just wreck whoever you find until you have no choice but to come back.” Qian Heng looked at her, his gaze murderous. “Either way, we’re not disagreeing on the principle of not marrying and not having kids. Stop overthinking it. Let’s go.”
No disagreement? This was the biggest disagreement of all!
Cheng Yao was almost speechless. Was Qian Heng actually dense? After everything she’d just said, had he really not caught the subtext at all? Did she have to literally say “I want to get married, I want to have kids” out loud for him to understand?
From that angle, honestly, Qian Heng really shouldn’t have children. This particular brand of stupid-but-supremely-self-satisfied straight-man DNA really didn’t need to be passed on. Let it go extinct right here.