Qi Xi’s mind was in such a daze that she couldn’t even remember, afterward, in what kind of silent, awkward atmosphere she and Gu Yan had shared a cab back to the firm.

Maybe emotions really did affect one’s physical health somehow, because once back at the office, Qi Xi started feeling unwell, as though she’d eaten something bad.

While Gu Yan and Gu Xuehan were off meeting with a client, Qi Xi, feeling truly awful, messaged Gu Xuehan to request a half-day off.

Not long after getting home, Qi Xi received a message from Gu Yan on WeChat. He first asked why she’d taken time off, then five minutes later asked what exactly was wrong with her. Probably because she hadn’t replied, half an hour after that he messaged again, asking whether it was serious.

Qi Xi actually felt much better by then, but for some reason — maybe because she had no idea what tone to take with Gu Yan, her thoughts a complete mess she hadn’t sorted through — she buried her head in the sand like an ostrich and didn’t reply to his messages.

She sat down at her computer and started browsing the recruitment pages of major law firms to check for job openings. After noting down the firms whose practice areas and teams interested her, along with their resume submission emails, Qi Xi began revising and polishing her resume accordingly.

When the doorbell rang, Qi Xi assumed it was Zhao Yiran. But when she opened the door, she was startled to find it was actually Gu Yan.

The man stood at the door holding a bag, still in his suit, looking somewhat ill at ease — probably because he hadn’t expected her to open the door so quickly, as if he hadn’t quite composed himself yet.

But once he saw her, he quickly frowned. “Why do you open the door without even checking who’s outside first?” His mouth pressed into a flat line. “What if it wasn’t me, but some random stranger?”

Qi Xi knew she’d been careless, but she no longer had the energy to discuss this kind of thing with him, so she pretended not to hear, asking instead, “Why did you come?” — successfully changing the subject — and, feigning naturalness, let him inside.

“Weren’t you feeling unwell?” Gu Yan’s tone sounded a little stiff as he handed her the bag. “I happened to be out running errands, and thought of it along the way, so I brought this for you.”

Qi Xi took the bag with some surprise. “What is this?”

Gu Yan answered succinctly. “Medicine.”

Qi Xi knew it was medicine, but what kind of medicine could possibly fill an entire bag like this?

She opened the bag and found it covered practically everything imaginable — cold medicine, fever reducers, stomach medicine, cough medicine, antihistamines, asthma medication. Besides medicine, there were plenty of health supplements too — calcium tablets, multivitamins, even lutein and anthocyanin pills…

Faced with Qi Xi’s stunned expression, Gu Yan remained quite composed. “You didn’t reply, and I didn’t know what was wrong with you, so I bought a bit of everything. Take whatever you need. If you need it, I can take you to the hospital. Do you need me to?”

Qi Xi waved her hands rapidly. “No — no, that’s not necessary.”

Qi Xi very much wanted to send Gu Yan away, because with him here, that hot-headed feeling was creeping back over her again.

Gu Yan didn’t seem to know what to say either. By all rights, he should have left by now, but for whatever reason, the man just sat there, seemingly reluctant to go, and an awkward tension settled between them as they stared at each other.

Fortunately, Gu Yan eventually seemed unable to bear the atmosphere any longer. He glanced idly at the laptop and scattered documents on Qi Xi’s dining table, and, as if desperately searching for a topic, said, “If you’re not feeling well, don’t work overtime. If there’s anything urgent, I can handle it, I—”

Perhaps meaning to help her tidy up, Gu Yan picked up the papers on the table. His eyes fell on them without much thought at first, and then he froze.

He stared, disbelieving, at the recruitment emails for other major firms that Qi Xi had jotted down, then looked at her. “You want to leave?”

Qi Xi hadn’t expected to be caught, and quickly, guiltily, snatched the paper back from Gu Yan’s hands. “I — I was just looking.”

But Gu Yan wouldn’t let it go. “Your one-year internship period isn’t even up yet. Are you planning to leave the moment you hit the year mark and get your bar license?”

Gu Yan had hit the nail on the head — that was exactly Qi Xi’s plan. Endure a few more months, get her lawyer’s license, and then leave the firm without a second thought.

Trainee lawyers had to complete a full year of internship before they could obtain their bar license, and without a license, changing firms was considerably harder — especially before getting the license, because switching firms meant the prior internship period became void, and the clock reset to zero at the new firm, forcing them back to square one. So many trainee lawyers, even when treatment at their current firm was poor or the atmosphere unbearable, gritted their teeth through that first year, because once they had their license — combined with a good enough academic background and strong English — switching firms afterward became remarkably easy.

Only, leaving the moment you got your license, while standard practice in the industry, was also something that mentoring lawyers thoroughly despised. After all, no one wanted the protégé they’d painstakingly trained by hand to bolt the second they finished their apprenticeship and got certified — it felt like watching an investment go to waste.

Gu Yan was, after all, Gu Xuehan’s younger brother, and almost from the moment he’d seen that piece of paper, his expression had rapidly turned cold.

Qi Xi knew this was unfair to Gu Xuehan too, but — if only she could control her own heart, her own eyes, she wouldn’t want to leave the firm either. It was just that Gu Yan was like some potent new designer drug, and Qi Xi simply couldn’t withstand him.

Her sense of morality wouldn’t let her become the third party who came between someone’s relationship, and she couldn’t bear the slow torment of enduring this suffering day after day either.

Gu Yan seemed to want an answer. He stared fixedly at Qi Xi, as though afraid of missing the slightest detail in whatever she said, his gaze demanding, insistent. “Why? Do you have some issue with my sister, or with me?”

In that moment, Qi Xi felt awkward and panicked, distressed and helpless enough to cry.

Why? Because of you, obviously.

But Qi Xi couldn’t possibly say that out loud, so she forced herself to stay calm and lied smoothly. “I don’t have any issue with your sister, or with you, or with the whole team. I think you’re all great, I’ve enjoyed working with everyone, your sister is highly skilled, and I’ve learned a lot from her.”

Gu Yan frowned, his lips curving into an expression impossible to please.

Qi Xi avoided meeting his eyes directly, instead glancing toward the potted plant on the windowsill, and began improvising. “I’m considering switching firms simply because I feel like the benefits and perks at Jingge don’t quite measure up. Since I joined, there haven’t really been any team-building activities, no organized trips — honestly, that side of things feels a bit weak. I heard Big Gold Firm just went to Dubai the other day; and Chengxuan Firm has a team-building budget too, they regularly go out for casual meals and entertainment, they just got back from a hot spring trip last week.”

Hearing this, Gu Yan was clearly taken aback. “That’s the only reason?”

He paused, then lowered his gaze. “So that sudden desk move, taking the stairs, so obviously avoiding me — was that because you wanted to change firms, and felt too embarrassed about how close we’d gotten, so you wanted to keep your distance before leaving?”

Qi Xi had thought she’d been quite subtle about it, but apparently her efforts to avoid him had been obvious enough that he’d figured it out regardless.

She felt a flash of embarrassment, but fortunately Gu Yan had handed her a convenient excuse, so she went along with it. “Mm, yeah, that’s it. I mean, since I think of you as a friend, and we’re pretty close, I felt like leaving like this would be sort of a betrayal of your sister, and of you as a teammate too.”

Gu Yan’s voice came out soft, almost like he was talking to himself. “You think of me as a friend?”

Qi Xi suppressed the ache in her chest and quickly nodded. “Yes, of course!”

She continued, with great seriousness. “But — maybe you don’t care about this kind of thing, but I really do. I still think people should balance work and rest, and if there are some perks to look forward to, work feels like it has more meaning and something to hope for. So I do care quite a bit about the benefits a position offers — it’s not aimed at you or your sister, it’s just that maybe Jingge’s work culture doesn’t quite suit me!”

Though this was an excuse Qi Xi had invented on the spot, it was true that Jingge’s benefits package really wasn’t anything to boast about among Rongshi’s law firms.

Once, in an idle chat, Qi Xi had heard from other colleagues that Jingge never did team-building activities or group trips. Aside from the annual gala, group activities were exceedingly rare at the firm — because several of the partners had personalities that leaned toward disliking socializing, and didn’t buy into the idea that collectivism should take precedence over individualism. They believed that as long as each lawyer focused on their own life goals and wanted to earn good money, natural cohesion would form on its own — that genuine team spirit couldn’t be manufactured through team-building exercises anyway, and that such activities and group trips ate up an enormous amount of time and energy. Ineffective socializing left people exhausted, failed to recharge anyone, and could even backfire — a pure waste of time.

After joining Jingge, Qi Xi had genuinely come to agree with this tradition of the firm — only now, ironically, she had to lie and claim she disagreed with it in order to justify leaving.

Gu Yan, naturally, was well aware of this fine tradition too.

Sure enough, after Qi Xi’s little speech, unable to find much to argue against, Gu Yan pressed his lips together and fell silent for a moment before speaking again—

“So if there were benefits, you wouldn’t leave?”

Gu Yan’s gaze on Qi Xi was intense and focused, and he probably had no ulterior motive behind it at all — but Qi Xi, being the one with the guilty conscience here, couldn’t hold his gaze so calmly. She looked away, practically fleeing the scene, and nodded haphazardly, her words growing a bit incoherent. “Mm, if there were benefits, I guess I wouldn’t leave. But without them, it’s really not okay.”

“Then you don’t have to leave.”

Qi Xi froze. “What?”

Gu Yan looked composed. He pressed his lips together, and this time it was he who looked away, clearing his throat, his voice sounding a little unnatural. “I happened to hear from my sister a few days ago that the firm might be reforming its benefits system soon. She’d already noticed the exact issue you’re describing, and if nothing goes wrong, there should be some related activities coming up soon.”

Having said that, he looked back at Qi Xi, staring into her eyes, and said, deliberately, one word at a time, “So, Qi Xi, you don’t need to leave. Whatever other firms have, Jingge will have too. Since you have no other complaints about the firm or the team, can’t you stay?”

Having said this much, he looked away again. “If you left like this, it wouldn’t be fair to my sister. She’s gone to considerable lengths to mentor you and bring you cases. As her actual younger brother, I obviously have to try to prevent her team from losing people. I’m sure my sister would want you to stay.”

The man added, “She’s praised you plenty of times, even lent you a place to live. If you just up and left like this, it would really be a blow to her.”

Qi Xi had no way to argue against that. All she could do was twist the hem of her clothes in irritation and, biting her lip, say, “But without any benefits, I still—”

Other colleagues at Jingge had said before that newly joined partners had tried to push for reform on this issue in the past, but had all met with opposition and been shut down. How could a policy at a law firm possibly be changed or overturned so easily?

Qi Xi was convinced Jingge would never actually add benefits, and had decided to use that as her excuse.

Only, Qi Xi never got to finish, because Gu Yan cut her off—

“There will be benefits.”

Gu Yan’s voice was firm and unwavering. He stared at Qi Xi with those deep, devastatingly handsome dark eyes of his, like a high-level mage casting a spell a low-level mage had absolutely no way of resisting—

“So you’re not going anywhere.”