Qi Xi thought that she and Gu Yan had resolved this crisis for Cheng Junliang. But barely a day later, she and Gu Yan received a desperate call from Cheng Junliang, who had run out of options.
“The client won’t budge no matter what—she insists I pay her the hundred and twenty thousand immediately, or she’ll report me to the bar association right away.” Cheng Junliang’s voice was anxious and helpless. “I asked her to meet me at a coffee shop to talk, and now she’s brought some people to corner me here, demanding I sign a written statement promising to pay her within three days, or they won’t let me leave…”
Given the urgency, Qi Xi and Gu Yan dropped everything and rushed straight to the coffee shop where Cheng Junliang was being held. The two of them finally got to meet this client in person.
Surprisingly, she looked very young, but her manner was quite seasoned—clearly prepared for this, having brought along several burly men.
Qi Xi ordered her a cup of milk tea to ease the tension, then looked at her with a smile, keeping her tone as gentle as possible. “We’re friends of Cheng Junliang. Whatever’s going on, let’s all sit down and talk it through calmly. We know about your situation—Cheng Junliang is working on getting the money together.”
Hearing that Cheng Junliang was raising the funds, the woman’s mood finally eased somewhat. She waved off the burly men accompanying her, telling them to leave first, and sat down herself.
As they talked, Qi Xi got a general picture of Cheng Junliang’s client. Her name was Lu Juan, and remarkably, she was two years younger than Qi Xi and the others—she’d dropped out of school at sixteen to work, which, going by years of work experience, made her quite the seasoned veteran, and her manner reflected that street-smart quality.
Though not highly educated, Lu Juan seemed sharp and shrewd.
Even though Qi Xi’s side were the actual lawyers, whenever money came up in the negotiation with Lu Juan, she pressed the advantage relentlessly, refusing to yield an inch.
The man who owed Lu Juan a hundred and twenty thousand, Pan Zhendong, was her ex-boyfriend. The two had worked together at a KTV, both far from home, similar in age, with plenty in common—they’d quickly fallen into a relationship and moved in together.
“We were really in love, and we’d planned to get married this year. In the middle of last year I even brought him home to meet my parents. But my parents wanted a hundred thousand in betrothal money, and he couldn’t come up with that much all at once. After we got back from my hometown, he said he needed to save up for the betrothal money so he could marry me, so he started saving everything he earned.”
Lu Juan took a sip of her milk tea, paused, then continued. “I thought about it and figured it made sense—I have an older brother, after all, and my parents would obviously need that betrothal money to help my brother find a wife, not to help our little household. The fact that Pan Zhendong didn’t look down on my family for that, and was willing to build a steady life with me anyway, actually moved me.”
Qi Xi began to understand. “So after that, you covered all the household expenses?”
Sure enough, Lu Juan nodded. “That’s right. Rent, utilities, daily food and living costs—all on me. But KTV work doesn’t pay much, and he saved for a long time without much to show for it. He said he’d met a boss, and to marry me sooner, he decided to go into business with this boss, but he needed startup capital…”
Qi Xi frowned. “So you lent him money?”
Lu Juan nodded. “Whatever I earned over the years, after covering my own living costs, I sent the rest home—I didn’t have much savings. But for Pan Zhendong’s business to succeed, so we could save up for the betrothal money and get married sooner, I took out online loans. Originally it was only fifty thousand, but with compounding interest, it’s ballooned to a hundred and twenty thousand now.”
Unsurprisingly, Pan Zhendong’s business venture appeared to have failed.
Lu Juan’s mood dimmed as she continued. “Turns out he didn’t just fail to make money—he lost a good deal more, pouring in everything he’d saved to marry me. Now this loan of mine is overdue, debt collectors hound me every day, I don’t dare turn my phone on, and they’ve even harassed my manager at the KTV, so I lost my job too. Pan Zhendong can’t come up with a single cent to pay me back, and he won’t even go find a steady job to slowly pay off the debt—he’s still fixated on going into business again with that ‘boss,’ wants me to take out more loans, keeps saying this time it’ll definitely work…”
Hearing all this, Qi Xi felt a pang of sympathy—she hadn’t expected someone as shrewd as Lu Juan to be so naive when it came to love.
Without experience, and in over her head—how could a venture like that possibly succeed?
After all, people who actually succeed at starting a business are rare; most people would count themselves lucky just to have stable work and income.
Yet even now, when Lu Juan brought up Pan Zhendong, she couldn’t help but paint him in a flattering light. “He didn’t have much money, but he was truly, genuinely good to me. Honestly, he might be the person who’s treated me best in my whole life—better than my own parents.”
As she said this, Lu Juan’s eyes reddened slightly. “The debt collectors kept coming after me every day, I was in such a terrible mood, we started fighting constantly, and eventually the relationship just fell apart from all the fighting. In the end, he was the one who broke up with me, but he acknowledged the debt he owed—gave me an IOU for a hundred and twenty thousand, and promised to take responsibility for the online loan on my behalf.”
Lu Juan sniffled. “I don’t want to think about the relationship stuff anymore. I just want to get this money back. Pan Zhendong has actually been making a bit of money lately with that little business partner of his. I could have used that IOU to go collect—except Lawyer Cheng lost my IOU!”
Sure enough, the moment the conversation turned back to money, Lu Juan’s sharpness returned. “Now that Pan Zhendong knows I don’t have the IOU anymore, he flat-out refuses to admit he ever borrowed money from me! Back when we broke up and he wrote that IOU, he still had some feelings for me and was willing to take responsibility like a man. But it’s been a while since we broke up, and now that his business is picking up and needs more capital, the moment he heard the IOU was lost, he decided to just deny everything!”
At this, Lu Juan glared at Cheng Junliang, who stood there at a complete loss. “So this money I could have gotten back—because of your carelessness in losing my IOU—I can’t get it back now! Do you have any idea how many years it took me to save up a hundred and twenty thousand? Do you have any idea what state those debt collection companies have driven me to, without this money?”
It had to be said, Lu Juan’s emotional control was remarkable—one moment she was grilling Cheng Junliang, and the next, tears were falling, her mood swinging sharply into anguish. “Lawyer Cheng, you have to take responsibility for me. You have to give me this money. My parents don’t even know about this yet—if they found out, they’d kill me. Not only did I not bring any money home this year, I’m in debt. I couldn’t bear the shame of it getting out, and the collection company is demanding I pay within three days. I can’t sleep at night anymore. If you don’t give me this money, I won’t be able to go on living. Death is the only way out I can see…”
Cheng Junliang had never faced anything like this, and given that the mistake truly was his own carelessness, he immediately grew flustered and guilt-ridden. “I… I don’t have that much money either. What if I pay you in installments… give me some time…”
This was exactly the response Lu Juan had been waiting for. She wiped her tears and immediately said, “That works! If the collectors can see I’ve paid something back, they won’t press me so hard. But if you can’t pay me all at once, what if you pay a few installments and then disappear? Why don’t you write me a statement today, spelling out exactly when this hundred and twenty thousand will be fully paid off, and then you can pay me gradually after that. That way everyone’s at ease. I won’t pursue this further—I won’t go to your boss, won’t report you to the bar association. We’re all ordinary people; let’s show each other some mercy.”
Cheng Junliang was clearly swayed. Just as he was about to agree to Lu Juan’s terms, Gu Yan spoke up to stop him—
“Let’s not rush into any written statement yet. Cheng Junliang just started working and doesn’t have that much money—that’s why he called us in, to pool resources together. How much he’ll pay you, what the installment plan looks like, what the payment schedule will be—we still need to discuss all that. Once we’ve worked it out, we’ll arrange to meet you here again tomorrow.”
Lu Juan sized Gu Yan up for a moment. Apparently reasoning that Cheng Junliang couldn’t run far even if he tried to dodge her, and seeing his obvious shame with no objection from him, she thought it over briefly and agreed to Gu Yan’s proposal.
**
The moment Lu Juan left, Cheng Junliang’s expression collapsed. “Is there any freelance work translating legal contracts into English I could pick up? I’ll take it even if it pays badly…”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself with that.” Gu Yan’s brow furrowed slightly. “I have one question. Since Lu Juan and Pan Zhendong broke up long ago, the fact that you lost the original IOU should only be known to her and you. So why does Pan Zhendong know about it at all? How did he find out the IOU was lost? How is he so confident it’s really gone, confident enough to boldly refuse to pay?”
Gu Yan pressed his lips together. “Unless Lu Juan told him herself that the IOU was lost.”
Exactly!
Qi Xi finally understood where that nagging sense of wrongness about Lu Juan had come from.
Everything had seemed reasonable on the surface, but the reasonableness of Lu Juan’s every reaction had a strange, overly rehearsed quality to it—as if she’d pre-planned exactly how to respond in every scenario, alternating between fierce and yielding, playing poor one moment and threatening the next. Looking back on it now, it was practically seamless.
Cheng Junliang still looked a bit dazed, but Qi Xi had already caught on. She looked at Gu Yan. “So you think there’s something off about Pan Zhendong refusing to pay?”
Gu Yan nodded. “Starting a business isn’t that easy, and besides, based on what Lu Juan described, Pan Zhendong went straight to work after vocational school, never learned any real skills, and was just a low-level shift manager at a KTV. Setting aside whether he could even meet any genuinely high-level backers in that environment, just based on his background alone, it’s hard to imagine him going into business with some ‘big boss’ he knows and quickly turning a profit, let alone actually making money.”
As Gu Yan said this, it all clicked for Qi Xi.
If Pan Zhendong genuinely had no money, then even if Lu Juan had the original IOU, even if she won the case and applied for enforcement, there would be nothing to actually collect.
In that scenario, even if the IOU were miraculously recovered, Lu Juan would win the case but get not a cent—and she’d still have to pay legal fees on top of it.
But if Pan Zhendong actually did have money to pay her back now, and was only using the excuse of the missing IOU to refuse payment, then the person to blame for Lu Juan not getting her hundred and twenty thousand would shift to Cheng Junliang, who lost the IOU—giving her leverage to pressure him into compensating her for the loss instead.
Cheng Junliang, having graduated from law school after all, had been too caught up in his own predicament to see clearly before, but now that Gu Yan had spelled it out, he understood.
Realization dawned on him. “Under normal circumstances, if Pan Zhendong genuinely had the money to pay Lu Juan back, there’s no way she would have let it slip to him that the IOU was lost.”
“Exactly.” Qi Xi still felt a chill thinking back on it—she’d nearly believed Lu Juan’s story herself. “I didn’t expect someone younger than us to be so much more calculating than we are.”
Only now did Cheng Junliang fully register this, recalling suspicious details from before. “No wonder she was so anxious when I first told her the IOU was lost, but a few days later, she suddenly wasn’t anxious anymore. When I talked to her about continuing to pursue the case—that we might still win even without the IOU—and suggested she go get more evidence from Pan Zhendong, maybe even get him to sign a new IOU, she was strangely unenthusiastic about it. She kept saying either she couldn’t reach Pan Zhendong, or that he’d refused. I originally thought it was just because things were awkward between them emotionally after the breakup, so I asked her for his contact information, wanting to reach out to him myself—but she kept stalling and wouldn’t give it to me…”
The three of them exchanged glances, realizing this situation wasn’t going to be easy to resolve.
In this profession, when a client and their lawyer are aligned, they can accomplish anything together. But if a client has ulterior motives and is holding the lawyer’s own mistake over their head, that’s real trouble.
Qi Xi’s expression turned troubled too. “Even if you manage to get Pan Zhendong’s contact information, going to him for evidence probably won’t work either, because he and Lu Juan have likely already coordinated their story.”
After all, Cheng Junliang had lost the IOU, and if Lu Juan and Pan Zhendong worked together to exploit that, it would be a win-win for both of them—Lu Juan could get money from Cheng Junliang, while Pan Zhendong would no longer be on the hook for the debt. A perfect way to transfer and wipe out the debt entirely.
Cheng Junliang looked utterly defeated, but then Qi Xi had a sudden idea. “When Lu Juan originally handed you the IOU, was there any proof? Did you sign any handover receipt for the original document? Was anyone else present when she gave you the materials? Does your office have security footage that could prove she gave it to you?”
Cheng Junliang paused, then shook his head. “No handover receipt was signed. She brought it to me herself—the other lawyers at the firm were all out that day, so I was the only one there to receive her, and our office area doesn’t have security cameras.”
Qi Xi thought for a moment. “Then after you lost the IOU, how did you communicate with her about it? Did she record anything, any kind of evidence like that?”
“This was such a serious matter—I felt like texting on WeChat would be disrespectful, and a phone call wouldn’t convey it properly either, so I went to apologize to her in person and explain what happened. All our later communication, to express my apology and sincerity, was also done in person. I’m also quite certain she didn’t record anything, because when I first asked her to meet, she had no idea what it was about—there’s no way she could have prepared to record evidence in advance.”
Having said this, Cheng Junliang grew anguished again. “Honestly, I’d already sorted through the rest of the evidence and figured that as long as Pan Zhendong didn’t find out the IOU was lost, we could bluff our way to a win. But now that it’s come to this, I’m probably ruined for the rest of my life.”
Cheng Junliang’s eyes reddened, filled with genuine despair and helplessness. “A hundred and twenty thousand—how long would I have to go without eating or drinking to save that much…”
Deep dark circles ringed his eyes, his face haggard and drawn—he probably hadn’t slept properly in days.
Qi Xi thought about it. “Actually, there’s another way.”
Cheng Junliang looked at her without much hope, clearly not taking her seriously.
Qi Xi took a deep breath. “Yes, you lost the IOU first, and that could have been remedied. But now that Lu Juan refuses to cooperate with gathering evidence and is dead set on extorting you, if she’s going to be unscrupulous, we don’t need to hold back either.”
Cheng Junliang looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Gu Yan pressed his lips together. “What she means is: Lu Juan genuinely did lend Pan Zhendong the money. But legally speaking, unless there’s sufficient evidence to support a fact, it won’t be recognized as established. So even though you did in fact lose Lu Juan’s IOU, Lu Juan has no evidence proving she ever gave you the original document in the first place. As long as she can’t prove that, the law won’t recognize that fact either. So fundamentally, from the standpoint of law and evidence, you never received Lu Juan’s original IOU at all, and you never lost it either.”
Qi Xi genuinely found herself impressed with Gu Yan—he always seemed to grasp her line of thinking so quickly, from the smallest details.
“Yes, exactly what Gu Yan said.” Qi Xi blinked. “This is also a completely legitimate litigation strategy. Even though you’re an intern lawyer too, there’s no rule saying an intern lawyer can’t run into a legal problem or become a client themselves. So, treating you as my client, setting aside the fact that you’re my classmate and speaking purely as a lawyer—this is exactly the advice I’d give you for this case.”
Once you looked at it that way, the problem became much easier to solve.
“Lu Juan is going to lose her case against Pan Zhendong precisely because he’s exploiting the lack of an original IOU to deny the loan relationship ever existed. So if Lu Juan sues you, claiming you lost her original IOU, you can use the exact same defense strategy Pan Zhendong is using—simply deny ever receiving the original IOU. Then there’s no such thing as you having lost it, and naturally, you bear no responsibility.”
Having said this, Qi Xi glanced at Cheng Junliang and added, “After all, there’s no evidence proving you ever received the IOU. And there’s no evidence proving you lost it either.”
At this, Cheng Junliang’s eyes lit up completely. He got so worked up that he grabbed Qi Xi’s hand, his voice full of gratitude. “Qi Xi, this is exactly why you’re amazing! You’re incredible! Why didn’t I think of that!”
Since Qi Xi had gotten to the solution first, Gu Yan watched the two of them celebrating with visible displeasure, his expression cold and dark. “Can you two hold off on being so excited before this is actually resolved?”
The man added, in a nitpicking tone, “Holding hands and grinning like that—anyone who didn’t know better would think you two were about to get married. Is this really such a wonderful development?”
At this, Cheng Junliang immediately let go of Qi Xi’s hand, looking embarrassed. He scratched his head sheepishly. “Thanks to you two for coming up with this solution this time. As an intern lawyer myself, I know I shouldn’t take advantage of your time and effort for free like this. If you’re both willing, would you consider representing this case together? Treat me as your client, and I can leave all the future negotiations with Lu Juan in your hands.”
Cheng Junliang’s face was full of shame. “I don’t have a good head for this kind of thing—I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve facing her, and afraid I’ll mess up again.”
Worried that Qi Xi and Gu Yan might refuse, he quickly added, “I know this case is small and the legal fees won’t amount to much, but I really hope you two can help me out with this.”
Qi Xi thought about it, then looked at Gu Yan hopefully. “Can we take this on?”
Gu Yan frowned. “I heard from my sister that there’s a collective labor dispute lawsuit coming up soon—just the evidence materials alone will probably fill several suitcases. It’s likely to be exhausting, so I’d suggest we…”
Qi Xi couldn’t help pouting—something she did unconsciously whenever someone turned her down, puffing up like an irritated little pufferfish. She looked at Gu Yan pitifully. “We really can’t take it?”
Gu Yan paused, then cleared his throat, looking away with obvious awkwardness, though his voice remained composed. “I didn’t say we can’t take it. What I was about to say is, I’d suggest we take it on and resolve it quickly—handle it as a short engagement so it doesn’t interfere with the collective lawsuit case later.”
Excellent! Turns out she and Gu Yan were on the same page after all!
However, since they were both still intern lawyers, they couldn’t handle cases independently—even a case they’d brought in themselves would need a supervising attorney to sign off on it.
On the way back to the firm, Qi Xi was quite pleased with herself. “Lawyer Gu is definitely going to praise us, right? Sure, the case amount is small, but we’re only just interning and already showing this kind of initiative in bringing in clients. Overall, we’re clearly quite promising—our future looks bright!”
But compared to Qi Xi’s optimism, Gu Yan looked far less sanguine. “Don’t get your hopes up too much.”
“Is Lawyer Gu really that demanding, praise really that rare from her?”
Gu Yan didn’t answer, just pressed his lips together, brow slightly furrowed.
Qi Xi wasn’t too concerned, though—she figured that even if Gu Xuehan didn’t outright praise them, she’d at least acknowledge their effort.
**
Except Qi Xi never could have imagined that when she and Gu Yan reported their plan to take on Cheng Junliang’s case to Gu Xuehan, what they got wasn’t praise at all—instead, Gu Xuehan’s face darkened, and she delivered a sharp, unsparing rebuke.
“This is absolutely reckless of you two!”
Gu Xuehan’s tone carried restrained anger. “Whose terrible idea was this?”
How had she ended up walking straight into this?
It had been Qi Xi who’d given the report on the case just now, and though her heart was pounding with nervousness facing Gu Xuehan’s questioning, she still decided to step up and own it.
But before she could speak, she heard Gu Yan’s voice beat her to it—
“It was me.”
Gu Xuehan’s displeasure was obvious. “What were you thinking?”
“Legally speaking, the approach you two devised really isn’t wrong—it would maximize your ability to shift responsibility, and it’s completely sound as a defense strategy. But doing this—can you really say your conscience is clear?”
Gu Xuehan’s expression was solemn and serious. “Cheng Junliang’s client certainly isn’t perfect, and she clearly has her own agenda. But Cheng Junliang is a lawyer, and as a lawyer, he has professional duties to uphold. If he hadn’t lost the original IOU in the first place, would Lu Juan have ever resorted to tactics like this? Since Cheng Junliang was the one who set this in motion, his first instinct should be to do everything he can to make up for his client’s loss.”
“As lawyers, while we naturally have to consider things from our client’s perspective as much as possible, the legal matters we handle are, at their core, still about resolving interpersonal issues between people. Whether it’s a divorce or a tort dispute, it always comes down to human problems. To properly and soundly handle a case, the goal shouldn’t be to suppress and harm the other party’s rights by whatever means necessary for your client’s sake—it should be about achieving balance.”
“Granted, you could use the tactic you described against Lu Juan. But will she accept that quietly? No. What does a hundred and twenty thousand mean to someone like her? She has nothing to lose, so she’ll go to any lengths to keep hounding Cheng Junliang, or you two as the handling attorneys. Even if reporting to the bar association or suing in court doesn’t amount to much without evidence proving the IOU was handed over, Lu Juan has plenty of other ways to make sure none of you three can live or work normally. Whether it’s hanging banners, sending harassing messages, or exposing you online—you do not want to open that Pandora’s box.”
Gu Xuehan looked at Gu Yan. “As lawyers, we’re bound to encounter all kinds of clients. But whatever kind of person a client is, that’s no reason for us to become like Lu Juan ourselves. We don’t fight evil with evil. A client’s bad behavior is not justification for us to behave badly too.”
These words left Qi Xi feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
It was true—at the time, she’d been so focused on helping Cheng Junliang shirk responsibility, so fixated on how to use legal maneuvering to get him off the hook, that she hadn’t considered any of the consequences beyond that.
“Professionals should handle things professionally. A lawyer’s job is to protect their client’s rights, but a lawyer also needs to see the bigger picture. Many clients don’t actually know whether what they’re asking for is truly in their own best interest. Take Cheng Junliang—caught up in his own situation, all he could think of, shortsightedly, was escaping responsibility for that hundred and twenty thousand. But if you two wanted to represent him, as his lawyers, you shouldn’t think the way he does—you should see the whole picture. Once Cheng Junliang uses a legal loophole to dodge responsibility, is Lu Juan going to lose it? If Lu Juan’s emotions spiral out of control and she starts spreading this story everywhere, is that going to be good for Cheng Junliang’s future?”
“Lu Juan will know it was the two of you who orchestrated this for Cheng Junliang. She’ll know you’re both lawyers. She’ll hound Cheng Junliang, and she’ll go after the two of you just as relentlessly.”
Gu Xuehan’s tone was full of frustrated disappointment. “Gu Yan, did you even think this through?”
…
Because Gu Yan had taken the blame, Gu Xuehan’s criticism landed squarely on him. She showed her own brother no leniency at all—if anything, she was even harsher with him.
Gu Yan had always been the golden child at school, favored by teachers and everyone else. This was almost the first time Qi Xi had seen him scolded like this.
In truth, the person who’d actually proposed putting this plan into action was Qi Xi herself. Gu Yan may have thought of the strategy too, but he’d never actually encouraged or urged Cheng Junliang to go through with it.
Even though she didn’t want to be scolded, didn’t want to leave a bad impression on her boss, Qi Xi finally steeled herself, her face pale, and prepared to step forward and own up to it. “Lawyer Gu, actually this plan was mine—”
But before she could finish, Gu Yan cut her off. “It has nothing to do with you.”
Having said that, Gu Yan turned back to Gu Xuehan, his tone calm. “Whoever does the deed should answer for it. This is on me.”
Gu Xuehan was clearly showing no more mercy to her own brother than to anyone else, but Gu Yan pressed his lips together and said nothing more, ultimately shouldering the entire blame alone, without a single word of protest.