Since Zhao Yiran’s court and Qi Xi’s firm were close by, the two met up for lunch at a noodle shop beneath the firm.

Things hadn’t gone well for Qi Xi, and over lunch with Zhao Yiran, she launched into venting about her troubles. Unfortunately, Zhao Yiran was completely absorbed in a novel she’d just finished, and seized the moment to recommend it instead.

“Work life’s already hard enough as it is — use your lunch break to read a novel or watch a show, take your mind off things, relax a little. Things’ll work themselves out eventually.”

As she spoke, Zhao Yiran couldn’t help gushing about the novel she was obsessed with. “You really have to read this one, Encountering Immortals. It’s Ai Xiang’s breakout work — no wonder it exploded out of nowhere. Sure, the prose isn’t the strongest, but the plot twists are shocking, the characters feel incredibly three-dimensional, and most importantly, the whole thing has such grand scope and vision — you can tell the author’s got real depth. He managed to make this whole fantastical cultivation-world story feel genuinely epic. And the best part is, even though it’s written by a male author, the female characters feel so fully realized — none of that gross male-gaze nonsense.”

Zhao Yiran had clearly become a full-fledged fan of Ai Xiang. “And on top of that, his real-life love story with his wife is just so satisfying. He only had a high school education, dirt poor, and his wife came from this wealthy, highly educated family — and he fell for her at first sight, wrote her love letters every single day, pursued her relentlessly for five years, and finally won her over. Now they’ve even got a son and a daughter together.”

Qi Xi didn’t pay much attention to entertainment news, but even she knew how massively popular Encountering Immortals had become — the TV adaptation was airing right now, and along with it, the original novel kept trending, over and over.

Zhao Yiran couldn’t stop singing Ai Xiang’s praises. “What I really admire about him is how persistent he is — in love, and in his career too. He’d actually been writing for five or six years before this. Barely made any money at first, and then this book suddenly blew up. Now his career’s absolutely booming — he just sold the film and TV rights to his newest serialized novel for a huge sum, apparently the deal closed at twenty million yuan!”

At this, Zhao Yiran sighed wistfully. “Why didn’t I write novels back in college? If I’d stuck with it for a few years, maybe I’d be financially independent by now too. Studying law really has no future…”

Qi Xi wasn’t particularly moved. “You’d need a wife like his for that — solid family background, loving and supportive enough to let her husband go five or six years without a proper income while he writes. Otherwise, if you tried that, would you just live off thin air?”

Zhao Yiran shot her a look. “Do you have even one romantic bone in your body? Love and marriage are about mutual effort, both sides giving everything. Ai Xiang’s finally built this perfect life with his wife through his own hard work, and even now, all these years married, he still keeps up the habit from when he was courting her — writes her a love letter on Weibo every single day.”

Qi Xi wrinkled her nose. “I just want to know if he’s splitting that twenty million with his wife. What’s so touching about writing love letters? If Gu Yan were willing to forgive me, forget love letters, I’d write him a full confession every day! If he handed me ten million, I’d marry him on the spot!”

These words had simply slipped out in a moment of frustration, but before Zhao Yiran could even start teasing her about it, the sound of someone choking and coughing came from the booth next door.

Whoever it was coughed so hard that nearby staff came rushing over. “Sir, are you alright?”

The man in the next booth coughed a bit longer before Qi Xi finally heard his voice — cool, a little detached.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

…

Damn it all — it was Gu Yan!

Zhao Yiran recognized the voice too, and simply looked over at Qi Xi, whose face had already begun draining of all hope.

At this point, Qi Xi felt that “unlucky” no longer even began to describe her life.

Fortunately, Gu Yan seemed too disinterested to acknowledge her, finished his noodles, paid, and left, leaving Qi Xi to sit in overwhelming embarrassment, barely able to eat another bite, absorbing an important lesson in watching what she said.

Still, as long as you had thick enough skin, life went on — especially once work filled up the hours, leaving no room to dwell on nonsense.

Back at the office after lunch, Qi Xi finally met her first client since starting the job.

More precisely, it was Gu Xuehan’s client, but Gu Xuehan brought both Qi Xi and Gu Yan along for the meeting.

Gradually exposing interns to clients and cases was standard practice for senior lawyers mentoring newcomers — starting with observation, occasionally assisting with recordings or notes, without the real pressure of handling a case, but slowly easing them into the role of an actual lawyer.

Gu Xuehan’s client this time was named Chen Xiang, a gentle-looking woman with long hair, appearing to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed elegantly. She seemed to already know Gu Xuehan well, and waved cheerfully the moment she walked in.

Gu Xuehan, ever efficient, skipped the pleasantries. “What’s going on, Xiang? What’s this contract dispute about?”

“It’s my husband’s film and TV contract dispute.” Chen Xiang pulled out photocopies of the contract from her bag, thoughtfully bringing enough copies for everyone present, handing one each to the three of them. “This is the licensing agreement for the screen adaptation rights to his new serialized novel, Wolf.”

A film and TV rights licensing dispute?

Sounded interesting.

But the moment Qi Xi picked up the contract and glanced at it, it got even more interesting.

This was the film and TV rights contract for the author Ai Xiang!

So… this elegant, gentle-looking Chen Xiang was Ai Xiang’s wife?

Chen Xiang smiled. “This contract was signed right when my husband’s new novel started serializing. At the time, Encountering Immortals hadn’t aired yet, so the deal amount for this new book, Wolf, was fairly modest. But now that Encountering Immortals has aired and become a massive hit, we’ve had companies lining up asking about the rights to Wolf, offering several times more than what we originally agreed to. So we’re hoping to argue that this old contract should be voided.”

But hadn’t the new serialized novel been reported at the time as selling for twenty million? Was that considered “modest”?

Only when Qi Xi flipped to the section listing the deal amount did she realize…

“Five hundred thousand? The news reports all said it sold for twenty million?”

Faced with Qi Xi’s shock, Gu Xuehan stepped in to explain on Chen Xiang’s behalf. “Film and TV rights pricing is actually often treated as a trade secret, and sometimes there’s some inflation involved. Some authors like to publicize a higher price to boost their own market value and reputation. And some production companies inflate the reported purchase price too, to make the overall project look bigger before reselling it, or to justify higher production budgets. So the publicly reported figures often have some padding.”

Chen Xiang nodded. “Exactly. Though for this new book of my husband’s, Wolf, there really is a company now offering twenty million.”

Gu Xuehan raised an eyebrow. “So you want to terminate the contract? Feel like the original five-hundred-thousand deal sold it short? Did the other party breach anything?”

At this, Chen Xiang looked troubled. “No breach on their end. But we did the math — terminating the contract means, under its terms, we’d have to return the full licensing fee plus pay twenty percent of that as a penalty. We can afford that, but the production company insists they’re already developing the project and refuses to terminate…”

So essentially, Chen Xiang’s husband wanted to unilaterally breach the contract.

After all, terminating meant returning the five hundred thousand plus a twenty percent penalty — totaling only about one hundred thousand in penalties — and then signing a brand-new twenty-million contract. Not only would that not be a loss, it would net them a profit of roughly fourteen million.

Gu Xuehan nodded. “I understand. I’ll handle communications with the other side on your behalf — don’t worry, we’ll get this resolved under the best possible terms. But since the rights holder is technically your husband, we’ll need him to sign a power of attorney.”

Chen Xiang looked relieved. “That’s great. My husband’s actually been out of town all week for work. Once you have the contract documents ready, I’ll have him print and sign it and mail it back. The company we’re dealing with is honestly… just impossible to communicate with, so I’d really rather leave it to professionals like you.”

At this point, Chen Xiang looked apologetic. “Sorry, I need to go pick up my kids. Please reach out anytime if anything comes up after this.”

…

The moment Chen Xiang left, Gu Xuehan handed the coordination work with the production company over to Qi Xi and Gu Yan. “This case is straightforward. You two can handle it — go reach out to the other side first to arrange a time, get them to come to the firm, and I’ll handle the negotiation.”

The moment Gu Xuehan left, Qi Xi turned to Gu Yan. “So — are you going, or am I?”

“You go.” Gu Yan said curtly, clearly uninterested in dealing with her further. “I’ve got other cases to handle.”

“But…” Qi Xi felt a flicker of nerves. “This whole thing is Chen Xiang and her husband disregarding the spirit of the contract just to chase more money. How am I supposed to bring this up to the production company? They’re bound to yell at me, I just know it…”

“That’s your problem.”

Gu Yan tossed out that line and sat back down at his desk, clearly done with the conversation.

With no other choice, Qi Xi steeled herself and dialed the production company.

Sure enough, the moment she mentioned the word “terminate,” the person on the other end exploded into a torrent of curses. Qi Xi finally understood why Chen Xiang had been willing to pay legal fees rather than handle this herself — the other party was genuinely crude.

“Motherf***er, wasn’t it you people begging us to sign in the first place? Said you needed cash urgently for a down payment on a house? Wolf wasn’t even finished yet, technically you hadn’t even fulfilled the contract terms, and we still handed over five hundred thousand upfront so you could buy your damn house. Now that housing prices went up and you happened to catch lucky with Encountering Immortals blowing up, suddenly you want to jack up the price and terminate to sell to someone else.”

Chen Xiang had clearly already tried negotiating with this man herself, so the moment Qi Xi identified herself as Ai Xiang’s lawyer, he exploded, dumping his full fury onto her instead. “I went out of my way, found the top team in the industry to produce this project, ready to make Ai Xiang’s IP blow up all over again, and now you’re being this short-sighted, wanting to terminate on me? Think refunding five hundred thousand and paying a hundred thousand penalty is going to cut it? You think you can play me for a fool after all these months? You people got everything good out of this deal, and now you won’t even agree to terminate?! You goddamn worthless woman lawyer!”

…

If Qi Xi could have tolerated the initial shouting, once the man’s tirade turned into a stream of profanity, she could no longer hold herself together.

Fresh out of the ivory tower on her very first job, raised in a well-mannered, orderly environment, always assuming being a lawyer was a respectable profession — this kind of humiliation was something she’d never once anticipated.

She tried to hold it together, but the sting building behind her nose quickly spread, and soon it overtook her eyes, moisture gathering rapidly.

The man’s shouting on the other end was loud enough that most of the nearby office likely heard it, and yet everyone else seemed entirely used to it, continuing on with their own work without so much as a glance.

Just as Qi Xi sat frozen, unsure what to do, with the man still ranting on the other end, Gu Yan — who had ignored her completely until now — suddenly extended his hand toward her.

His handsome brows furrowed slightly. “Give it here.”

Seeing Qi Xi frozen without reacting, Gu Yan shot her a look, then simply took the receiver from her hand himself.

“In business, terms are terms. Since the contract explicitly outlines liability for breach, and my client is willing to fulfill that obligation upon breaching, then legally speaking, the matter is settled. You think a hundred thousand in penalties is too little? That’s your problem — your lawyer at the time drafted the contract with only a twenty percent penalty clause. There’s no provision requiring our client to cover any additional direct or indirect losses beyond that twenty percent if it turns out to be insufficient.”

Gu Yan’s tone was cold and composed. “Any contract that isn’t drafted professionally carries legal risk. You hired an inadequate lawyer, you signed and executed a risky contract yourself — you bear the consequences of that. As for your claim that the project’s already incurred production costs, the burden’s on you to provide evidence of that. There’s no point arguing that with a lawyer.”

“One last thing — watch your language going forward. If you continue insulting or personally attacking my colleague in future communications, I’ll be recording the calls and pursuing action on her behalf.”

With that, Gu Yan delivered his final line. “Tomorrow, ten thirty in the morning, at the Jingzhe office. Please be there on time, so we can discuss compensation like reasonable adults.”

He said all of this in one smooth, uninterrupted stream, and without waiting for a response, hung up the phone. The whole sequence left Qi Xi utterly stunned.

“That’s it? It’s done?”

Gu Yan looked at her flatly. “What else would there be?”

“But what if it made him angrier and he doesn’t show up tomorrow?”

“He’ll show.” Gu Yan pressed his lips together. “If he refuses to cooperate with the termination process, it’s practically guaranteed his project will get bogged down in lawsuits and struggle to move forward. Ai Xiang has an enormous fanbase, and they’re formidable when riled up — the whole reason this man wanted the IP in the first place was to ride that fan enthusiasm. Now, not only would he lose that support, he’d get buried under abuse from that same massive fanbase, and in the end, even recovering his six hundred thousand would mean years dragging through the courts. No matter how unwilling he is, once he understands the stakes, he’ll come.”

Qi Xi felt a confused, complicated knot in her chest. “I just… didn’t expect being a lawyer meant getting cursed at like that…”

“Clients hire lawyers specifically because they don’t want to deal with the negotiation themselves. Getting yelled at by the other party is just part of the job — otherwise, how else would you earn your legal fees?”

Gu Yan finished, then glanced at her. “And weren’t you pretty good at yelling at me during graduation? So why couldn’t you say a word when he was yelling at you?”

“…”

At that, Qi Xi’s embarrassment came rushing right back, chasing away any lingering urge to cry or feel sorry for herself. She said sheepishly, “That was an accident — a total accident, I’m sorry, Gu Yan, a thousand apologies… but thank you, for this. You’re a good person, stepping in for me like that.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Gu Yan looked visibly displeased. “Stepping in for you? He was just too loud, made it impossible for me to focus on my files. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He glanced down at her arm. “You’re over the line. Get back.”

Understood, understood.

Qi Xi immediately took the hint and scooted her chair further away from him.

She swore — never again would she trespass into Gu Yan’s desk “airspace.”