Only when the moment actually arrived that Saturday, Qi Xi completely chickened out.

A giant in words, a dwarf in action — that described her perfectly.

After all, she wasn’t really looking to date anyone; she felt her motives for making new friends weren’t entirely pure, and so, with a guilty conscience, she found herself suddenly dreading this mixer. In the end, it was Zhao Yiran who all but dragged her there by force.

Fortunately, the mixer didn’t have too heavy a blind-date atmosphere. Besides singles from the court and procuratorate, there were quite a few from law firms and the labor inspection bureau as well. The mood was relaxed, full of laughter and conversation — everyone belonged to the same legal community and had plenty of common ground. Even setting aside any matchmaking purpose, simply coming to make connections within the legal circle wasn’t a bad use of time.

Qi Xi relaxed too, thanks to the easygoing atmosphere, and ended up hitting it off quite well with a young civil court judge named Liu Zhen. He showed no excessive enthusiasm or obvious hints toward her, admitting he too had been dragged here by a coworker, and instead spoke to her in a big-brotherly way, walking her through key details and points to watch for in handling civil disputes. The two of them talked shop and got along well, eventually exchanging contact information, with Qi Xi promising to reach out again if she had further questions.

Overall, Qi Xi found the event quite relaxing, while Zhao Yiran looked like she’d aged ten years from grief.

“You know what? Six male judges from our court alone asked me for your contact info. Two more came over from the procuratorate through roundabout channels, asking me to arrange another meal with you sometime.” Zhao Yiran was full of resentment. “First time this many men have come looking for me so eagerly, and I didn’t even get the chance to feel flattered before I realized they just wanted me as a matchmaker.”

Qi Xi had no particular interest in any of the other judges or prosecutors, so she didn’t share her contact info with them, though she did keep up quite a bit of correspondence with that young judge, Liu Zhen.

And so, uneventfully, the weekend passed, and with the new week Qi Xi psyched herself up and returned to work mode.

Though she very much wanted to avoid Gu Yan, that morning she and he both happened to have cases requiring a trip to the Chengxi District Court, and so, to save on expenses, the two of them shared a cab there. Along the way, Gu Yan was on the phone with a client the whole time, which spared them the awkwardness of conversation.

The moment they arrived at the courthouse, Qi Xi couldn’t wait to part ways with Gu Yan. “I’m going to go submit the supplementary evidence. You go do your own thing.”

Gu Yan glanced at her. “Contact me once you’re done, and we’ll grab a cab back together.”

Qi Xi didn’t particularly want more one-on-one time with him, but couldn’t think of a proper excuse to refuse on the spot, so she said vaguely, “We’ll see.”

But soon enough, her proper excuse arrived on its own—

“Qi Xi? What a coincidence! Are you here for a hearing?”

Qi Xi turned toward the voice and saw Liu Zhen, the judge she’d gotten along with so well before.

She was a little surprised too, and smiled as she greeted him. “Yeah, just dropping off some documents.”

“How about lunch together, then?” he said, smiling as well. “I can walk you through that practical question you asked me last time in more detail.”

That would be perfect!

It wasn’t that Qi Xi was especially eager to learn — she just felt like she’d finally been handed a legitimate reason to avoid Gu Yan. She looked at him and cleared her throat. “Gu Yan, you go on ahead once you’re done with your business. I’ll stay here and have lunch with a friend.”

Gu Yan had been fielding client calls since early that morning — presumably some tricky snag in the case — and his expression had already been flat to begin with. Now that they were at the courthouse, the psychological pressure of the case had probably intensified, and his expression grew even less pleasant. His lips pressed into a flat, thin line, like a boss impossible to please.

And right at that moment, several of Liu Zhen’s colleagues came walking up behind him. Spotting Qi Xi, they immediately started teasing Liu Zhen with knowing looks. “Oh ho, what kind of fate is this between you and Attorney Qi? Just met at the mixer this Saturday, and now you’re running into each other again on Monday…”

Flustered by the teasing, Liu Zhen turned red and hurried to clarify. “Don’t talk nonsense, Qi Xi’s here for work.”

As Liu Zhen was forced to deal with his male colleagues’ ribbing, he had no time to attend to Qi Xi standing off to the side. It was at this point that Gu Yan, standing not far from her, spoke up—

“You went to a mixer on Saturday?”

Gu Yan was here for a hearing today and his schedule was tight. Hearing his voice, Qi Xi only then remembered he was still there. Puzzled, she asked, “You haven’t left yet?”

At that, Gu Yan’s face visibly darkened. The man said, dripping with sarcasm, “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be going now.”

He tossed out those two sentences and stalked off, expression grim.

Qi Xi didn’t think much of it, because by then Liu Zhen had already sent his colleagues away and come back to stand in front of her. “I’ve got a hearing to get to now. I’ll send you the restaurant location, see you at lunch.”

“Sounds good, Judge Liu!”

Qi Xi finished her reply and waved goodbye to Liu Zhen.

“Looks like a tearful farewell. What, one day apart feels like three years?”

Before Qi Xi had even lowered her waving hand, Gu Yan’s sarcastic voice sounded from behind her once more.

Startled, Qi Xi spun around. “Gu Yan? You’re back again?”

“What, is the courthouse’s hallway your private property?” Gu Yan seemed to be having an especially rough day with this case, as sour as if he’d swallowed a bullet. He glanced at Liu Zhen’s retreating figure. “He looks a bit old. Doesn’t seem to be your age.”

Honestly, men — how could they turn absolutely everything into a comparison contest?

Qi Xi spoke up in Liu Zhen’s defense. “Just five years older, it’s fine. He’s got that whole boy-next-door older-brother vibe, mature and steady, strong professional competence, solid legal knowledge — he’s a really good judge.”

Gu Yan looked thoroughly displeased, his tone almost accusatory. “Didn’t you say you were too devoted to your career to think about romance? So why go to a mixer? Didn’t you flatly reject that junior who confessed to you last time? So — you like them older?”

Older, younger — what was this, ordering beef slices for hotpot? Qi Xi found this utterly ridiculous.

And besides… besides, what business was it of Gu Yan’s? He himself had already gotten together with his white moonlight, a match made in heaven, and yet here he was, being so sarcastic about it, as if he genuinely minded Qi Xi seeming interested in someone else.

What right did he have to be jealous? He wasn’t even single anymore — he’d already gone to a hotel with his white moonlight!

Qi Xi felt a flash of anger, her tone unusually firm. “I just happen to like them older, so what? Do I need to report that to you too?”

Perhaps not expecting Qi Xi to respond like that, Gu Yan froze for a moment, his expression turning slightly dazed. Then he pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze. “No need. You really don’t need to report anything to me. Haven’t you always done exactly as you please? It really is none of my business.”

Having said that, the man glanced at her once more. He said nothing further, but the look on his face made him seem like some kind of victim — as if Qi Xi going to a mixer and agreeing to have lunch with Liu Zhen were some kind of unscrupulous, backstabbing act unbecoming of a decent woman.

Wasn’t Gu Yan the one who’d gone looking for someone first?

How could he be such a two-faced hypocrite?

Did he want to have his cake and eat it too?

Dream on!

Qi Xi psyched herself up once more and went to submit her supplementary materials.

The case Qi Xi had been working on this time had originally seemed like a dead end. She’d worked hard to dig up new supplementary evidence, though she hadn’t been sure it would be accepted. She’d gone in with a try-and-see attitude, and to her surprise, things had taken a turn for the better. Though it hadn’t formally gone back to trial yet, the judge handling the matter had looked over the evidence and felt it would likely be given weight.

This was fantastic news!

Qi Xi walked out of the judge’s office practically bursting with excitement, and almost without thinking, pulled out her phone and tapped open her chat with Gu Yan, wanting to share the good news with him.

She typed out a line, then suddenly realized how inappropriate that was.

Qi Xi pressed her lips together and deleted the message in the text box, word by word. In that moment, she felt a flicker of resentment toward Gu Yan, and even more toward herself for being so hopeless — she’d clearly said she was going to stay away from him, clearly kept telling herself in her heart to move forward, to meet new people, to forget him, and yet the moment something good happened, her first instinct was still: if only Gu Yan knew.

She sat on the public bench in the courthouse’s waiting area, gazing blankly at the little garden in the courthouse’s central courtyard. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling half the corridor.

Then Qi Xi received a message from Gu Yan on WeChat—

《Judges Have Become a High-Risk Profession: Grassroots Judges Frequently Face Retaliation》

《Judge Fatally Stabbed in Courtroom by Male Litigant Over Divorce Ruling》

《Marry a Judge, and You’d Better Learn to Entertain Yourself》

《Twenty Flaws of Male Judges》

…

Gu Yan had sent a whole string of links.

Qi Xi stared at her phone screen, dazed, for a long time. Even though the sun was shining brightly, she suddenly felt dejected.

Gu Yan, Gu Yan.

She felt like crying, almost. How could he do this to her.

Right when she’d worked so hard to talk herself into letting him go, he goes and sends her something loaded with this kind of ambiguous, suggestive meaning.

What did he mean by it?

Was he telling her not to get involved with a judge, not to find a judge boyfriend?

Then what kind of boyfriend should she find?

But regardless, it definitely couldn’t be him, so what did it matter what kind she found? Did he think he could have it both ways?

Qi Xi angrily turned off her phone. She decided she wouldn’t pay Gu Yan any more mind, straightened out her emotions, and went to meet Liu Zhen for lunch.

But because of that whole episode with Gu Yan, Qi Xi spent the entire meal somewhat absent-minded. She smiled at Liu Zhen, kept up with the conversation, discussed legal matters normally enough, and yet she knew perfectly well that her mind was completely elsewhere.

After the meal, Liu Zhen had to hurry back to handle a case, and the two of them parted ways.

Qi Xi walked leisurely toward the taxi stand in front of the courthouse entrance, and there she spotted Gu Yan.

But his case should have wrapped up two hours ago already.

Gu Yan stood right at the intersection anyone leaving the courthouse had to pass through. Having appeared in court, he was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair neatly styled, looking more mature and composed than usual. He was tall, his legs impossibly long, his proportions so perfect it was hard to find a single flaw. The lazy afternoon sunlight fell across his handsome brow and eyes, and yet his expression stayed cool and flat, as though the warm sun couldn’t melt it, carrying a faint chill. At that moment, he seemed to be on the phone with someone.

When he spotted Qi Xi, he took out his earbuds and hung up the call, then walked toward her.

“Why was your phone off?”

“Did you eat lunch?”

Gu Yan’s questions were brief, as if he wasn’t even expecting an answer. After asking, he lowered his gaze. “Let’s go. Let’s grab a cab back together.”

Qi Xi’s heart suddenly began to race.

This was an entirely ordinary exchange.

And yet Gu Yan was like an allergen to her — even the slightest exposure produced all sorts of strange reactions in her: her head grew hot, a jumble of emotions welled up inside her wanting to burst out, without her knowing how to let them.

Qi Xi didn’t move. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at Gu Yan. “Did you eat lunch?”

Gu Yan’s expression was hard to read. He quickly looked away, his voice a little low. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Couldn’t eat.”

Qi Xi knew she shouldn’t keep pressing, that a mature person would just laugh it off and tell Gu Yan to hurry up and eat something, ending the conversation safely there. But she didn’t know what had gotten into her today — it was as if she absolutely had to have an answer.

She stared at him, almost aggressively. “Then why couldn’t you eat?”

Gu Yan looked somewhat irritated, as if he didn’t want to answer, but in the end he did. “Your phone was off.”

“So you’ve been waiting here this whole time?”

“Mm.”

This wasn’t the answer Qi Xi wanted to hear — not any version of it.

She’d wanted Gu Yan to tell her that he hadn’t eaten because he wasn’t feeling well, that it had nothing to do with her; that he was waiting here only because of some other matter, that it had nothing to do with her either.

Qi Xi wanted Gu Yan’s answer to help her give up on him for good. But he hadn’t given her that.

Qi Xi felt like a foolish fox, and Gu Yan like a cunning grape merchant — the grapes had already been claimed by another buyer, would never be sold to Qi Xi, and yet this despicable, cunning merchant still insisted on dragging out a giant banner and parading it right in front of her, flaunting how his grapes weren’t sour in the least, boasting about how sweet and juicy they were, only to snatch the grapes away the moment Qi Xi reached out to try one, telling her, shamelessly and self-righteously, that they weren’t for sale, that such fine grapes had long since been reserved and already had an owner.

She knew it was petty of her, but for a moment, Qi Xi still felt so upset she almost wanted to cry.

Damn Gu Yan. Couldn’t he just leave her alone?

She really, truly never wanted to see him again.

He was like a dazzling luxury item on display in a shop window, and Qi Xi was like someone with no money in her pocket to buy it. If she didn’t pass by the window, that ache of wanting something she couldn’t have wouldn’t feel so intense.

And yet reality kept reminding her of this fact, over and over.

Before their conversation could continue, Gu Yan’s phone rang. He frowned slightly and answered it.

Though she couldn’t make out the words clearly, Qi Xi could tell from the voice coming through the phone that the caller was Gu Yan’s new girlfriend — that female neighbor who lived downstairs from him, Gu Yan’s official girlfriend.

The sun blazed brightly all around, but Qi Xi felt as though she’d suddenly been caught in a downpour, surrounded by people huddled together sharing umbrellas, while she alone had none, and when she tried, dazed, to find someone to share an umbrella with, she discovered that everyone already had someone of their own.

Just seeing Gu Yan every day already stirred up all sorts of feelings in her that shouldn’t be there, and now, catching this glimpse of him casually in touch with his girlfriend, Qi Xi felt like she could barely breathe.

Qi Xi thought, rather than keep teetering back and forth on the edge of what was proper, she might as well cut it off completely.

She needed to leave Jingge.