Qi Xi had never imagined that one day she’d find herself personally investigating whether her own father was having an affair. Yet now that it had come to this, she found that despite the low, complicated mood weighing on her, and the chill and trembling running through her body, once she managed to calm down, she didn’t fall apart the way people in TV dramas always seemed to when facing something like this.
Though she now had reasonable grounds for suspicion, some part of Qi Xi didn’t want this to actually be true, so she wasn’t ready to convict Qi Ruiming outright, without further evidence.
She wasn’t exactly extremely online, and had only a vague understanding of internet celebrities who’d broken into the mainstream, let alone niche influencers within the legal field. Fortunately, Zhao Yiran was well-versed in this.
When Qi Xi called Zhao Yiran to ask about it, Zhao Yiran didn’t disappoint. “Oh, you mean legal influencers? I follow a whole bunch of them, all different types. There’s the scholarly type, mostly aimed at law students, discussing practical issues or tricky questions from the bar exam—pretty professional-leaning content. Then there’s the public-education type, who explain legal issues in a more accessible, straightforward way for regular people. And then there’s the consultation-and-promotion type—these usually put out short videos, like a legal team that specializes in marriage disputes, filming lots of little dramatized clips about marital conflicts, then briefly explaining what to do in that kind of situation at the end. Pretty shallow content, mainly meant to drive traffic to their own firm or business.”
As Zhao Yiran talked, she sent Qi Xi a string of recommendations for legal influencer accounts on WeChat and Weibo. Qi Xi clicked through them, but most turned out to be men. The handful of female influencers were mostly senior, well-established lawyers—none of them matched Wang Juan.
Qi Xi pressed her lips together. “Are there no young female influencers in the legal field?”
Zhao Yiran paused. “There are, actually—a few young female influencers, though they don’t post much professional content. It feels more like they’re building a persona. There’s this one called ‘Trickling Stream,’ and another called ‘Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World.’ Both of them seem to work at law firms, occasionally posting about daily life at the office, but almost no real substance about actual casework. They come across more like beauty influencers or pure internet celebrities. Take ‘Trickling Stream,’ for instance—her family seems pretty well-off, she’s always showing off different bags and shoes. In real life she’s supposedly a very successful female lawyer, living a self-made, glamorous life through her own professional skill…”
Trickling Stream? The character “Juan” in Wang Juan’s name did have a similar sound to it.
Zhao Yiran had said it without any particular intent, but Qi Xi felt herself tense up entirely.
Unaware of what Qi Xi was actually dealing with, Zhao Yiran assumed she was simply curious, and kept enthusiastically explaining. “But you know, the influencer world is pretty cutthroat too—’Trickling Stream’ and ‘Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World’ aren’t exactly allies, in fact they’re famously at odds. Their fanbases are always sniping at each other, it’s gotten pretty heated, and even the two of them personally have thrown some passive-aggressive shade at each other online. Like with ‘Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World’—her family seems to have money, and she claims to be conquering the legal world, but ‘Trickling Stream’s’ followers actually dug up that she’s never even passed the bar exam, failed it five times and is still studying for it. She does technically work at a law firm, but only in an administrative role. After getting exposed, she picked up a lot of hate, with people accusing her of flaunting her father’s wealth, being not that bright, and giving legal professionals and female lawyers a bad name.”
Zhao Yiran paused, as if taking a sip of water, then continued. “Meanwhile, ‘Trickling Stream’ has had every detail confirmed—she really does work at a law firm, and seems to be a genuine top student. Netizens found out she actually came from a poor rural background, and worked her way up step by step on her own—a real self-made success story. So her fanbase is incredibly loyal, they really admire her, hold her up as a role model.”
Qi Xi frowned. “Then why did ‘Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World’ get exposed and branded as a fake legal elite, while ‘Trickling Stream’ just claiming to be self-made was enough to earn everyone’s trust?”
Zhao Yiran’s tone carried the confidence of someone well-versed in internet trivia. “The internet never forgets, you know? Both of them have been online for a long time—of course there are traces of their past lying around for people to dig up. ‘Trickling Stream’ used to post a lot with her location tagged in her home village, even posted photos of her family’s house back home during Chinese New Year, along with everyday life there. She’s deleted all of that now, but back when she posted it, she wasn’t famous at all—just an ordinary personal Weibo account, venting about random things. Same with ‘Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World’—she’d complained on Weibo before about failing the bar exam multiple times…”
So that was how it was.
After listening to Zhao Yiran go on about the whole “love-hate saga” between “Meng Taotao Conquers the Legal World” and “Trickling Stream,” Qi Xi finally found an opening to hang up.
The moment the call ended, Qi Xi began going through the list Zhao Yiran had given her, one by one.
By the time she reached “Trickling Stream’s” Weibo homepage, with just a handful of posts and photos, Qi Xi’s gut instinct had already all but confirmed it.
This was her.
This person was Wang Juan.
And Qi Xi was almost certain—that Hermès bag was the very one Qi Ruiming had bought.
Because “Trickling Stream” had posted about the bag on Weibo almost the moment she got it, and the date matched exactly—the day after Qi Xi’s father had picked up the bag from Hermès.
Frowning, lips pressed tight, Qi Xi kept scrolling through the woman’s Weibo posts, and the further she went, the more her heart sank.
“On a business trip to Changsha! Had to check in at Chayan Yuese!”
“In Shenzhen today negotiating an acquisition. The weather here is gorgeous. Wrapped up the acquisition talks in just half a day, way ahead of schedule, so I’ve got the rest of the day free to sneak off. Pulling out my beach dress, heading to the coast!”
“Off to Beijing! Absolutely have to climb the Great Wall! You’re not a hero until you’ve made it to the top!”
“Heading to Hong Kong tomorrow. Already racking my brain tonight putting together my shopping list…”
…
As she read, Qi Xi noted down each location and date the woman had traveled, then went back through her chat history with her mother—
“Your dad’s off on a business trip to Changsha.”
“He’s been negotiating an acquisition case in Shenzhen lately…”
“Your dad’s on a business trip to Beijing—don’t you love those Beijing candied hawthorn skewers? I asked him to bring some back for you.”
“Xixi, need anything in the way of makeup? Your dad’s heading to Hong Kong…”
…
Qi Xi compared Qi Ruiming’s business trip locations and dates over the past six months, and found they lined up perfectly with Wang Juan’s.
And Wang Juan had only rejoined Ruiming a month ago.
Qi Xi stared blankly at the photos accompanying each of Wang Juan’s posts. She rarely showed her face directly, focusing instead on glimpses of luxury—her carelessly placed Chanel bag, her exquisite manicure, her Dior sunglasses, her Louis Vuitton shoes…
Whatever last flicker of hope Qi Xi had held onto regarding her father was extinguished by this reality.
Qi Ruiming hadn’t just started an affair with Wang Juan recently. The two of them had almost certainly been involved for a long time.
**
Fortunately, that afternoon Gu Xuehan had assigned Qi Xi to proofread a bilingual Chinese-English contract, work that didn’t require much mental focus, so Qi Xi managed to complete the task despite being utterly distracted.
Gu Yan didn’t get back until right before the end of the workday. He sat down beside Qi Xi and quickly picked up on the fact that something was wrong.
“What’s going on? You seem so distracted.”
Qi Xi hadn’t even figured out how she was going to face her parents, let alone how to explain any of this to Gu Yan. She forced a smile, trying to appear unbothered. “Don’t you have that basketball match with Yilin tonight? I can hardly wait to see my boyfriend become the MVP of the whole game.”
Gu Yan, none the wiser, seemed to perk up at the mention of the basketball game, looking almost eager. He seemed like he wanted to say something, held back at first, but in the end couldn’t quite stop himself.
Right before they left work, he suddenly turned to her with an unusually solemn expression. “I’m going to play my best tonight.”
But compared to Gu Yan’s focus and enthusiasm, Qi Xi remained genuinely in a daze. She couldn’t even remember how she’d made it to the game venue with her colleagues from Jinghe and Gu Yan—not until the opening whistle jolted her out of it like waking from a nightmare.
Though it was just a friendly match, the male lawyers from both firms clearly had something to prove, playing with real intensity. The moment Gu Yan stepped onto the court, he became the center of everyone’s attention—just as Qi Xi had predicted, even the family members who’d come along to watch from Yilin couldn’t help but glance his way, and the students hanging around the court leaned in eagerly, cheering him on.
Qi Xi’s mood finally started to lift amid the lively atmosphere. Watching Gu Yan dash across the court, she felt a quiet sense of pride, and a small secret happiness stirred in her.
The boy everyone was watching—his eyes were only for her.
Gu Yan played exceptionally well in the first half. With his height and stamina working in his favor, the team he led from Jinghe practically swept the court, while Yilin found themselves visibly outmatched, several of their lawyers showing genuine fatigue and the sting of being outplayed. One of Yilin’s main players was clearly putting in real effort and had solid skills, but against Gu Yan, he simply had no real chance.
Every time Gu Yan scored, the whole crowd erupted in unison. He moved across the court like a leopard on the loose—confident, bold, as though he’d been born to sit at the top of the food chain.
Once he traded his suit for a jersey, Qi Xi noticed just how good Gu Yan’s physique really was—clean, well-defined muscle, not overdone, everything perfectly proportioned, every movement carrying a taut sense of contained power.
Since their relationship hadn’t been made public at the firm, Gu Yan obviously couldn’t openly declare himself on the court. But every time he scored, he’d instinctively scan the crowd for Qi Xi, his gaze intense and focused even through the sweat. Across the distance, amid all the applause and cheers, he’d look toward her, like a boy eager for praise, as though no matter how much everyone else complimented him, he stubbornly only wanted approval from one particular person.
Eventually swept up in the atmosphere too, Qi Xi’s mood lifted further. She waved enthusiastically at Gu Yan, cheering him on loudly along with her coworkers. Gu Yan finally smiled and threw himself back into the game.
During the halftime break, the moment Gu Yan stepped off the court, a crowd of unfamiliar young women rushed over to offer him water and towels. He found himself practically surrounded, but he politely declined every one of them, pushed through the crowd, and headed straight for the stands where Qi Xi was sitting.
“Why didn’t you come over to bring me water?” He took the water and towel right out of Qi Xi’s hands, complaining with a childish pout. “I am, after all, your…” He glanced at Qi Xi’s coworkers nearby and quickly switched course, looking somewhat aggrieved. “I’m at least your team’s teammate, aren’t you supposed to show a bit more enthusiasm?”
Qi Xi couldn’t help but laugh, feeling her mood genuinely lifting. She looked at him, playing dumb. “I didn’t come over because I knew you’d come to me.”
With so many colleagues around, Gu Yan couldn’t openly flirt back with her. He could only shoot her a couple of restrained, somewhat unsatisfied looks, chat briefly with the coworkers who’d come to cheer, and after a short rest, head back onto the court.
Almost the moment he returned to the court, a few Yilin players approached Gu Yan, seemingly to discuss something. Whatever they said left Gu Yan momentarily stunned; he glanced over at Qi Xi, his expression conflicted, but after the other lawyer apparently said something further, wearing a pleading expression, Gu Yan finally nodded.
As the second half began, Qi Xi immediately noticed something was off with him.
He’d clearly toned down his aggressiveness. Though he was still playing seriously, he kept passing up shooting opportunities, distributing the ball to his teammates instead. Meanwhile, Yilin visibly regained their momentum in the second half, with nearly every player feeding the ball to that one main player for shots. The lead Gu Yan had built up in the first half quickly began to erode under these circumstances, and Qi Xi watched, helpless, as the other side overtook him in scoring.
In the end, Jinghe still won the match by a narrow margin, but the player with the highest individual score wasn’t Gu Yan. Since it wasn’t a strictly official match, the MVP title simply went to whoever scored the most, which meant the honor went to Yilin’s main player, with Gu Yan coming in second.
Before Qi Xi even had time to wonder about it, the Yilin lawyers suddenly pulled out a banner from the sidelines, along with balloons and flowers they’d been hiding, and amid a chorus of cheers and hollering, the player who’d won MVP dropped to one knee and staged a surprise proposal right there on the court.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the venue turned electric. Everyone’s attention shifted away from the game itself and onto the proposal. The spotlight now belonged to this player and his overwhelmed, delighted girlfriend, and amid the applause and cheers of the crowd, she ultimately accepted.
No matter the circumstances, witnessing this kind of joyful, hard-won romantic moment tends to stir instinctive happiness in anyone watching, and Qi Xi found herself clapping along with the crowd, not even noticing when Gu Yan had made his way back to her side.
Not until his sour voice drifted over. “All the excitement’s theirs. I really got nothing out of this—even my own girlfriend’s clapping for some other guy.”
Taking advantage of the moment while their coworkers were all preoccupied cheering for the proposal and not paying attention to him, Gu Yan sat down beside Qi Xi, feigning indifference as he sighed dramatically.
“I clapped for you too, just now!” Qi Xi felt compelled to clarify her position. She held out her hands. “Look, my palms are still red from clapping.”
Gu Yan seemed somewhat placated by this. Taking advantage of no one watching, he pulled her hand toward him. “It really is red. Let me blow on it for you.”
“Gu Yan!” Qi Xi panicked a little, quickly pulling her hand back and glaring at him. “Our coworkers are still right here!”
Gu Yan looked satisfied, as if he’d gotten exactly the flustered reaction he wanted, and let go of her hand with a smile.
**
Once the game wrapped up and everyone went their separate ways, and once she was away from the lively crowd, Qi Xi couldn’t help but start thinking about her father again.
“Qi Xi, are you upset that I didn’t get MVP?”
Her distraction must have been too obvious, because Gu Yan clearly misread the source of her mood.
Looking a bit at a loss, Gu Yan came over and took her hand, trying to explain. “I really did want to be MVP tonight. But right before halftime ended, someone from Yilin came over and told me their main player was planning to propose to his girlfriend during this match, and asked if I could go easy on them.”
Gu Yan lowered his eyes. “I know I promised you I’d get MVP tonight, but this was probably his one and only chance to propose in his whole life, and winning MVP in this game mattered a lot more to him than it did to me.”
Qi Xi finally understood. “So you deliberately passed up your shots in the second half to your teammates, while Yilin gave all their shooting opportunities to the guy proposing?”
Gu Yan nodded. “I didn’t throw the game entirely and let Jinghe lose—I just gave up the MVP title.” He glanced at her. “But if I’d known it would upset you, I wouldn’t have given up the title…”
Because of the whole situation with Qi Ruiming, Qi Xi’s mood had been low all along. Though she’d tried hard to act normal, Gu Yan had noticed at a glance—he’d just misjudged the reason behind her low spirits.
Seeing her apparent unhappiness, Gu Yan visibly deflated too. “Qi Xi, is it that if I can’t come in first, you won’t like me as much anymore?”
This was the first time Qi Xi had ever heard him say something like that. She blinked, startled. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it feels like you only ever notice whoever comes in first.” Gu Yan’s voice dropped lower. “Back at school, I joined a lot of activities, but you never seemed to notice me. Every time you went to the library, I’d go too, and sit not far from you, but you barely ever registered I was there—you’d just bury your head in your studies.”
Gu Yan’s gaze dropped to the floor. “It was only later that I realized—it seemed like the only time you’d actually look at me was when I placed first. Every time the exam rankings came out, you’d look my way. Even if it was only for ten or so seconds, not even a full minute, I kept working to stay in first place, just for those few seconds of your attention.”
After a long silence, it finally clicked for Qi Xi, and she remembered what he’d told her before, back when she hadn’t known his secret admiration had been for her all along.
She looked at him. “So is that why you always came in first place—just so I would look at you?”
“Mm.” Gu Yan’s voice sounded a little muffled. “So this time, since I didn’t come in first at the game, are you not happy about it? Do you think only first place really counts as excellent?”
Qi Xi felt torn between laughter and tears, but at the same time, a wave of tenderness rose in her chest. She suddenly wanted to tell Gu Yan everything—all the weight, the hurt, the helplessness she’d been carrying inside—
“I don’t know why you chose to major in law, but for me, it had nothing to do with actually liking law or wanting to become a lawyer. I just had something to prove.”
Qi Xi had never told even her own mother this. But somehow, with Gu Yan, she felt able to speak freely.
Gu Yan made her feel safe—gentle and harmless, both the boy who made her heart race and the friend she could trust completely, a teammate she could stand shoulder to shoulder with.
“I actually preferred art. I really wanted to study art originally, but one day I overheard my dad say something in passing—that girls could only really manage things like art. He’s always been bothered by the fact that I’m a girl, sighing to my mom more than once about how he’d built up his own law firm, only to end up with a single daughter, no one to carry it on.”
Gu Yan blinked, clearly not expecting there to be a whole backstory behind it. “So you studied law just to prove a point?”
“Mm. I wanted to prove to my dad that girls can do anything—study any subject, take on any career, and as long as they work hard, they can do it all exceptionally well.”
Qi Xi pressed her lips together. “My original reason for choosing law school wasn’t exactly pure. Both my parents graduated from Rong University’s law school, and I was determined to get into that same law school out of sheer stubbornness. Once I got in, I basically buried myself entirely in my studies, shutting out everything else. There were so many fun activities and experiences on campus I never got to experience, all because I was chasing first place—because I felt like only a clear-cut ranking like that could prove myself to my father.”
Qi Xi paused, then looked up at Gu Yan. “So it’s not that I only care about first place, or that I only like whoever comes in first. I’ve just been chasing that ranking in a somewhat unhealthy way, for a long time.”
She paused again before continuing. “But it’s only now that I’ve realized—even getting first place never actually meant anything.”
She laughed bitterly. “Because in my dad’s eyes, maybe just because I’m a girl, he’ll never really see my effort, my accomplishments. He’ll never acknowledge my success.”
Gu Yan’s reaction was exactly what Qi Xi had expected—though surprised, he quickly regained his composure, looking at her with gentle, understanding eyes. In that moment, he was the best listener she could have asked for, and the complete absence of judgment or criticism in his gaze left Qi Xi feeling relaxed and steady.
“I wasn’t in a bad mood today because you didn’t get first place, Gu Yan. I want you to know—I like you because you’re you. It has absolutely nothing to do with whether you come in first or not.”
Qi Xi took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and confided in Gu Yan. “I’ve been feeling down because I found out my dad’s having an affair.”
If Gu Yan’s expression had stayed relatively composed up to this point, this admission finally broke through even his usual calm—shock flashed across his face. He tried to comfort her. “Could it be a misunderstanding?”
Normally, family matters like this weren’t meant to be aired outside the household, but right now Qi Xi genuinely needed someone to confide in. She’d only recently graduated, and the truth of her father’s long-term affair was simply too much for her to carry alone.
And she still clung to one last flicker of hope—that after hearing everything, Gu Yan might find some evidence suggesting she’d misread the situation about her father.
But reality was never a fairy tale. After listening to all the details Qi Xi laid out, Gu Yan fell silent too.
After a moment, he finally spoke. “So what are you planning to do now? Are you going to tell your mom? What do you think your mom’s personality is like—if she finds out about this with your dad, what do you think she’ll do?”
Qi Xi had actually already thought this through. “My mom studied law too, but she’s not particularly tough by nature, and she’s never had much ambition career-wise. Her dream has always just been to run a happy household, to have a warm little family.”
“Right now, all I can be sure of is that my dad is definitely having an affair. But I don’t know how bad it actually is—whether it’s just an emotional affair, or a physical one too, or something else. I want to look into it more and figure that out first.”
Only once she understood exactly what her father had done could Qi Xi begin to predict how her mother might react.
“If my dad’s just been carrying on some kind of ambiguous relationship, spending some money on her, then based on how I understand my mom, she probably wouldn’t get a divorce—but she’d be devastated once she found out. If that’s really all it is, I’ll probably hold off on telling my mom for now, and talk to my dad myself first, see how he responds.”
But…
Before Qi Xi could say it, Gu Yan had already voiced what she hadn’t managed to say herself. “But Qi Xi, I think you should probably prepare yourself for the worst, when it comes to this.”
Gu Yan paused, as if giving her time to process. His eyes stayed fixed on her, attentive to her every shift in mood, and only once he was certain she was steady and holding up did he continue. “I don’t think what your dad’s done is the minor kind of misstep you’re describing. It sounds more like a long-term, serious affair. I know this might be blunt, but it seems clear your dad and Wang Juan were already together before she even rejoined the firm—so working backward from there, isn’t it very possible the two of them were already involved back when Wang Juan interned at your dad’s firm? The actual timeline of this affair might be a lot longer than you think.”
What Gu Yan said wasn’t something Qi Xi hadn’t already considered—she’d just been stubbornly refusing to face it.
It was true. Anyone genuinely serious about building a career in law wouldn’t quit before even finishing a one-year internship, and certainly couldn’t have formed such a close bond with a firm’s founding partner in such a short working period—close enough that the partner would pass over cheaper, more capable recent graduates to instead bring back a woman in her thirties with no relevant work experience or qualifications.
The persona Wang Juan cultivated online was that of a girl from a poor rural village who’d clawed her way up through hard work into a good university, a good firm, eventually earning a glamorous lifestyle through diligent effort.
But Qi Xi knew now that all of it was a fabrication. Wang Juan really had come from a poor background, but she hadn’t gotten into a prestigious school at all—just an expanded enrollment slot at a tier-three law school. And for all those years in between, her social insurance records showed a complete gap, meaning she hadn’t held a proper job at all—so where exactly had all that supposed income from working come from? Her Weibo presence had only really taken off in the past two years, yet the “glamorous life” she’d been showcasing had clearly been going on for at least six or seven years!
There was only one possible explanation: all those years without a job, yet with so much money to spend—it was because someone had been supporting her.
The color drained from Qi Xi’s face, and it was clear enough what she was thinking. A flicker of sympathy crossed Gu Yan’s expression. He didn’t say anything more, simply pulled her into his arms and gently stroked her hair.
“Qi Xi, don’t panic yet. Things might not be as bad as you think.” In the midst of this overwhelming, disorienting upheaval, Gu Yan’s voice was like a lighthouse cutting through the fog, gently comforting a lost traveler’s heart, and somehow it left Qi Xi feeling steadier.
He patted her back. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you while we figure out what’s really going on. When to tell your mom, and how—the first thing we need to do is get a clear picture of the facts, the truth of it all.”