After closing several cases back to back, Cheng Yao finally found a free moment and arranged dinner with Tan Ying, who had just come back from her annual leave.
That evening, Tan Ying showed up with several explosive pieces of news.
“Out of nowhere, Partner Liang resigned! She’d only just joined Qianheng, there wasn’t even a hint of trouble beforehand, and then she suddenly quit. At first none of us knew what had happened, but yesterday the partners issued a joint notice explaining the reason for Liang Yiran’s departure — that’s when we found out it was her who lost that piece of evidence of yours. Once they got to the bottom of it, Partner Qian had her resign to take responsibility.”
Cheng Yao’s chopsticks paused. “How did that end up getting dragged back up? They actually investigated it thoroughly? Wasn’t that all in the past?”
Tan Ying rolled her eyes. “Please. In Partner Qian’s eyes, nothing involving you is a small matter — he spent a long time digging up evidence just to clear your name. Because of that notice, everyone knows a female partner made such an amateur mistake and even let her own assistant take the fall for it. Anyway, Liang Yiran’s reputation in the A City legal circle is completely finished. I heard that’s why she has no choice but to leave A City and go build a career in B City. That woman really is something — even I used to think she was a decent person. Now everyone at the firm thinks the world of her has collapsed, it was just too low. We all figure she was jealous that Partner Qian liked you…”
Cheng Yao did feel something stir inside her. In the past, she had thought that someday she’d love nothing more than to expose Liang Yiran’s hypocrisy in front of everyone. But now, hearing that Liang Yiran had brought this on herself, she didn’t feel the fierce satisfaction she’d once imagined.
Ever since joining Golden Brick and proving herself case by case, she’d come to realize that once a person becomes strong enough, they simply stop caring what other people think. In this life, you can never keep everyone from misunderstanding you — but rather than chasing after those people to clear things up, explain, and set the record straight, it’s better to just live well, let your results speak, and let your actions do the talking.
Tan Ying’s eyes rolled around. “Honestly, what exactly happened between you and Partner Qian? You really broke up just like that? Any chance of getting back together?”
Cheng Yao took a bite of beef and hurried to change the subject. “This meat is really good, try a piece.”
“Fine, fine, forget Partner Qian, let’s talk firm gossip instead. Did you know Wang Lu and Li Menglei are actually getting married? The two of them finally came out of hiding — it’s public now, they’ve already gone to take wedding photos! They’re showing off their affection at the office every day now, feeding us nothing but PDA.”
Looking at the wedding photos of Wang Lu and Li Menglei on Tan Ying’s phone, Cheng Yao felt happy for them but also a complicated pang of envy. No matter how hard she tried to hold it back, she couldn’t help thinking of that man.
“Oh right, I forgot to mention — Li Meng just handed in her resignation too. Her supervising lawyer called her in for a talk last week, said she comes and goes exactly on time every day, never willing to work overtime, no sense of initiative at all for someone in this profession, handles cases mechanically without any drive, like she still thinks she’s working at a state-owned enterprise and hasn’t adjusted her mindset. Her supervisor put it diplomatically, but basically said she’s not cut out to be a lawyer.”
There was a flash of satisfaction on Tan Ying’s face. “Serves her right. She never put in the effort herself and was always jealous of other people. When you left, she never actually badmouthed you behind your back, but so what? If you’re not as capable and don’t even try to improve, of course you get pushed out — brought it on herself!” Tan Ying pursed her lips. “I also kept an eye on those interns who used to gossip about you behind your back — not a single one of them made it through the intern evaluation, all failed on competency. Not surprising, really — people who actually work hard don’t have time to gossip in the break room all day.”
The two of them hadn’t seen each other in a long time, so they kept talking for a good while before finally calling it a night, thoroughly satisfied.
Cheng Yao had just said goodbye to Tan Ying when Qin Qin — who’d been impossible to reach lately from being so busy — actually called her.
“Hey, Yao Yao, I’ve got a case lead for you.”
“It’s my boss. Something happened in her family, might turn into an inheritance lawsuit.”
The moment Cheng Yao heard “case,” she snapped into work mode. “What happened?”
“You know my boss, right — Chen Linli. This PR firm I work at now, she and her husband Zhang Kai founded it together. She’s the company’s nominal director, in charge of HR and admin.”
“Something happened to an elder in her family?”
“No.” Qin Qin sounded emotional. “A disaster out of nowhere. Something happened to her husband and son. A few months ago the three of them went on vacation to Turkey and took a hot air balloon ride. When the balloon came down, there was an accident — all three of them were thrown out. They were rushed to the hospital right away, but her husband and child couldn’t be saved.”
Cheng Yao was stunned for a moment. She’d heard a little about Qin Qin’s boss before — slim figure, supposedly very beautiful, and though she came from a poor family, she’d always been extremely driven in both school and work. Zhang Kai’s father ran a small factory, not hugely wealthy but kind-hearted and generous with charity. He had once sponsored Chen Linli’s education, and every holiday he would invite all the students he sponsored to a reunion dinner at his home. One thing led to another, and somehow Chen Linli and Zhang Kai fell for each other and started dating. Despite the enormous gap in their backgrounds, the two of them had eventually gotten married and had a son, Zhang Ran.
Even though Zhang Kai came from a well-off family, he’d chosen to start his own business, founding Kaili Culture from scratch, which had become one of the biggest dark horses in the PR industry. Not only had he made a name for himself in PR marketing and consulting, but Zhang Kai also had a sharp, steady eye for investment, using company surplus to invest in real estate, energy, and internet businesses across the board. He’d eventually founded Kaili Holdings, with an estimated net worth now close to ten billion.
“Here’s how things stand with her family,” Qin Qin said with a sigh. “Her parents passed away a long time ago, her father-in-law also passed a few years back, and her husband was an only child. So now the only two people left in the family are her and her mother-in-law, Huang Ran. My boss and her mother-in-law have never gotten along. Even back when she and her husband were dating, her mother-in-law kept interfering. Now that her son and grandson are both gone, she looks at my boss like she’s her mortal enemy — she’s already come to our office twice making a scene, saying my boss is bad luck for men, cursed by fate, and that she’s the one who got her son and grandson killed.”
“Now her mother-in-law is set on going after her, fighting to the death over the inheritance. You know she’s always been good to me, so I want to help if I can. She’s already hired a lot of well-known lawyers, but none of them worked out for what’s ahead — she’s already gone through several batches. There was a first-instance ruling last week that wasn’t very favorable to her. She’s planning to appeal for the second instance and switch lawyers, but hasn’t found the right one yet. I told her about the cases you’d handled before, and she got pretty interested. If you’re up for it, go meet with her and talk.”
Cheng Yao had joined Golden Brick as an independent practicing lawyer, so she no longer had a supervising attorney, which meant no one would be assigning her case leads. If she wanted to grow her practice, building up her own client base was entirely on her. Grateful for Qin Qin’s help, she thanked her and immediately struck while the iron was hot, arranging a meeting with Chen Linli.
Chen Linli set the time for the next morning, at a quiet, elegant teahouse.
Cheng Yao arrived first. Not long after, Chen Linli showed up, right on time.
Losing both loved ones at once had clearly shaken her to the point of looking almost unsteady on her feet — her already slight frame looked even smaller now, as if a cold gust of wind could knock her over. But what struck Cheng Yao most was Chen Linli’s face. She was extraordinarily beautiful, the kind of beauty that stays with you after just one glance — though even that beauty couldn’t hide her pale complexion and bloodshot eyes.
“Lawyer Cheng, hello. I imagine Qin Qin has already introduced me to you,” Chen Linli said, her voice gentle, flowing like water. “My case is about—”
“The biggest point of contention between you and your mother-in-law right now is the equity in Kaili Holdings. You don’t want Kaili Holdings divided up — you’d like your mother-in-law to be compensated with property, cash, and other assets, while you retain full control of Kaili Holdings. But your mother-in-law wants a share of the equity itself.” Cheng Yao pressed her lips together, trying to keep her tone from sounding sharp. “And I imagine the point of contention currently at trial is the order in which your husband and son died.”
Chen Linli looked a little surprised. “How did Lawyer Cheng know that? This is an inheritance dispute — the first-instance hearing wasn’t open to the public.”
“Your case may not have been publicly tried, but Ms. Huang Ran, your mother-in-law, has given interviews to a few media outlets, so I did some homework there.” Cheng Yao looked somewhat apologetic. “As for the point of contention at trial, I found English-language reports from the Turkish side about the accident, and learned that the local authorities in Cappadocia handled things imperfectly, which is why there’s a dispute about the order in which your husband and son died.”
Chen Linli gave a weak smile. “Lawyer Cheng, there was no need to go digging through those reports. I can tell you the facts of the case firsthand.”
“I know how painful it is to lose two people you love so deeply at the same time. I wanted to spare you from having to relive the details as much as possible, so I did my homework first. Unless absolutely necessary, I’ll try to minimize how much I ask you about unrelated case details — there are just a few key questions I need you to answer.”
This time, Chen Linli was truly caught off guard. Her expression mixed grief with something like being moved. She looked at Cheng Yao. “All I want is Kaili. Everything else, I can let go. Can you help me win that?”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
Chen Linli nodded. “I’d like to retain you for this case.” She glanced at Cheng Yao. “My mother-in-law’s lawyer is Qian Heng.”
Cheng Yao paused.
Chen Linli looked at her. “For the first instance, I hired every well-known lawyer I could find — two senior lawyers to appear in court as counsel of record, and the rest as a think tank, eight people in total. I even swapped out four of them along the way because I wasn’t satisfied. My mother-in-law only hired one person: Qian Heng. And still, the first-instance ruling wasn’t what I’d hoped for. All those people I hired combined still weren’t a match for him alone.”
Cheng Yao pressed her lips tighter.
“Too many people turned out to backfire, honestly. Every lawyer has a different approach, and they’re all senior and stubborn about their own views — it would have been better to just leave it to one lawyer.”
“Why did you think of me for this case?”
Chen Linli lowered her eyes. “Before I approached you, I looked into other lawyers. Because of Qian Heng’s name, I asked around in legal circles, and besides him, I heard that Lawyer Deng Ming is also extremely capable. He was quite interested when he heard the amount in dispute, but the moment he heard the opposing counsel was Qian Heng, he made an excuse about his schedule being full and turned me down.”
“That’s when I heard about you.” Chen Linli paused. “I won’t pretend I didn’t have an ulterior motive when I first sought you out — they told me you used to be Qian Heng’s girlfriend, and that he’s very fond of you.”
“Ms. Chen, I’m sorry, but I can only serve my clients through my professional ability. I will never use anything about my personal relationships to try to sway opposing counsel or the outcome of a case,” Cheng Yao said, neither humble nor arrogant. “If it’s my relationship you were counting on, then I’d suggest you find someone else.”
“I admit I did have that kind of scheme in mind at first — hoping your identity might sway Qian Heng, might influence the outcome of the case. But once I actually met you, I changed my mind. I’m sorry for having such an offensive thought about you before.”
Chen Linli said firmly, “I still want you to be my lawyer. I happened to learn you’re friends with Qin Qin, and she showed me the cases you’ve handled. You’re tenacious and capable. Also, you used to work under Qian Heng, so you understand his style and way of thinking better than any other lawyer would. Know your enemy, know yourself — I think you might be the only one who gives me any real chance at all.”
In the end, at Chen Linli’s earnest request, Cheng Yao took on the case and received the first-instance case file along with the related materials. Her guess had been right — the crux of the dispute in the first-instance case was indeed the order in which Zhang Kai and Zhang Ran had died.
Since there was no will, the legal order of inheritance would be entirely different depending on the order in which father and son had died. The first-priority legal heirs were the spouse, the children, and the parents, respectively. If Zhang Kai had died first, then his share of the marital joint property would be split evenly between Chen Linli, Huang Ran, and Zhang Ran — who was still alive at that point. After that, when Zhang Ran died, all of his inheritance would pass to Chen Linli. But if Zhang Ran had died first, then his inheritance would be split evenly between Chen Linli and Zhang Kai, and afterward, when Zhang Kai died, all of his property would again be split evenly.
In short, if Zhang Ran died first, Chen Linli would inherit less; if Zhang Kai died first, Chen Linli would inherit more. In practice, when a parent and child die at the same time, the parent is presumed to have died first.
But in Chen Linli’s case, the first-instance ruling had found as fact that the child died first, which increased the share of the estate going to Huang Ran — so much so that the property and cash alone weren’t enough to cover her rightful share, making a division of the Kaili equity unavoidable.
As Cheng Yao pored carefully over the materials, she understood why the time of death was disputed. After Zhang Kai and Zhang Ran were thrown from the balloon, neither had died on the spot — both deaths occurred en route to the hospital. At the time, everything had been chaos, and the two of them had ended up in separate ambulances, so honestly, no one had been closely tracking the exact time of death for either of them. The Turkish authorities had determined that the child died first simply because he had been thrown farther from the balloon, and from that had naturally assumed that the physically weaker child suffered more severe injuries and therefore presumed he died first — and that was reflected in the death certificate they issued.
If it could be proven that Zhang Kai died first, the outcome would be completely different — there was a very good chance Chen Linli could keep the Kaili equity intact.
Fortunately, there was still plenty of time before the second-instance hearing. Cheng Yao spent her time carefully sorting through the list of marital property between Chen Linli and Zhang Kai, though her energy was starting to run thin. To do this case justice, she asked Gu Beiqing to partner with her on many of the other new cases she’d taken on.
One day, the two of them were laughing and chatting as they left the courthouse after a hearing when Cheng Yao suddenly felt a death glare aimed at her. She turned around instinctively, and sure enough, standing at the corner of the courthouse lobby was none other than Qian Heng.
He was in a suit, exceedingly cold and exceedingly handsome, standing there with that detached, hard-to-please expression on his face. He swept a cold glance over Cheng Yao and Gu Beiqing beside her, then turned away. Standing next to him was the deputy chief judge of the Intermediate People’s Court, saying something to him.
Gu Beiqing happened to get a call from a client, so he stepped away, leaving Cheng Yao to walk toward the entrance alone. As she got closer to Qian Heng, she finally caught what they were saying.
“Qian Heng, I’ve got a niece — just graduated from law school this year. She’s curious about working at a law firm, a little lost about what to do next, and she really admires you. Any chance you’re free to have dinner with her sometime in the next few days?”
Cheng Yao glanced up at Qian Heng instinctively, her heart a tangled mix of surprise, tension, and disappointment.
Qian Heng was outstanding, and for a man like him to be single, it made sense that people would be eager to set him up — knowing that fact intellectually was one thing, but running straight into a scene like this was something else entirely, and it didn’t feel good at all.
He was single now, and faced with an olive branch from the deputy chief judge, surely he’d at least go along with it, whatever he said.
“Judge Wang, I probably won’t have much free time lately.”
Judge Wang had a good temper. “How about we wait a bit, then? No rush anyway. What case are you busy with these days?”
“I’m not busy with a case.” Qian Heng’s voice was cold and steady. “I’m busy dealing with the mess my girlfriend left behind.”
Judge Wang was startled. “Aren’t you single?”
“Oh, sorry, misspoke — ex-girlfriend. We broke up.”
“How’d that happen?”
Qian Heng lifted his eyes and shot Cheng Yao a cold glance. “She ran off with someone else.”
At that, Judge Wang completely gave up on matching his niece with Qian Heng, patting his shoulder with a face full of sympathy. “Young man, try to let it go…”
Cheng Yao was utterly dumbfounded, having somehow gotten thrown under the bus out of nowhere.
Judge Wang got a phone call, said his goodbyes to Qian Heng, and left. Not many cases had been on the docket today, so the vast courthouse lobby was left with just Cheng Yao and Qian Heng.
“What do you mean I ran off with someone?” Cheng Yao tried to hold it in, but couldn’t. “You see someone’s true character after a breakup — is this really how you’re going to twist the facts?”
“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Qian Heng’s expression stayed cold. He glanced at Cheng Yao, then dropped his gaze. “You, on the other hand, seem to be sleeping and eating just fine.”
Though his tone stayed calm, the content was nothing short of an accusation. It was only then that Cheng Yao noticed the faint dark circles under Qian Heng’s beautiful eyes, standing out starkly against his pale complexion.
“They say it’s always the new love laughing while the old love weeps,” Qian Heng said with a cold laugh, dripping with sarcasm. “Guess that’s about right.”
Now it was Cheng Yao’s turn to get angry. “Don’t act like the breakup was my fault. Why don’t you tell Judge Wang how you played around without any intention of marrying me?” she said. “You call that decent behavior?”
Qian Heng glanced at her. “I didn’t play around. You’re the one who played around.” He turned his head slightly. “Slept with me and then ran off, said it was over just like that, and now you’re already partnering up with some other man, snapping up case leads with him nice and smoothly.”
Cheng Yao laughed, arching an eyebrow, looking at Qian Heng provocatively. “Haven’t you heard the saying? If you want to master the craft, sleep with the master first. Sleep with the master, then steal his rice bowl — sounds about right.” She’d made up her mind today to infuriate him. “If I don’t build up my career and make money now, how will I be able to afford a younger man’s company once I’m old and ready to settle down?”
Qian Heng’s face darkened, and he glared at Cheng Yao. “Cheng Yao, are you trying to be the death of me?”
“We’ve already broken up. My future has nothing to do with you. And you’re twenty-eight now, practically middle-aged — you should really take better care of yourself, stay calm, don’t get worked up. Anger is bad for the liver.”
“Cheng Yao!” Qian Heng’s composed expression finally cracked completely. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “Is getting married really that important to you?”
Cheng Yao looked back at him. “Yes. Marriage isn’t the goal in itself — falling in love doesn’t mean you have to get married — but if it happens naturally, then marriage is just a normal part of life running its course, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t keep dating someone when I can’t see a future or an endpoint.”
She finished speaking and tried to pull her hand free, but Qian Heng wouldn’t let her. He held on tighter. “Give me a little more time.”
“Give me a little more time” — words like that sounded full of hope. But it was precisely because they carried that vague hope that Cheng Yao knew she couldn’t afford to linger. Without expectations, there was no way to get hurt. She practically forced her hand out of his grip. “We’ve already broken up. From now on, when you see me, you don’t need to go easy on me.”
Qian Heng had been thinking constantly about the nature and meaning of marriage lately, trying hard to find a way to keep going with Cheng Yao. When he first heard what she said, he was too caught up in his own frustration to register what she meant by “don’t need to go easy on me” — not until he saw Cheng Yao’s name on the second-instance appeal materials for the Chen Linli–Huang Ran inheritance dispute.
She was opposing counsel.