By the time they’d finished the durian, aired out the room, and packed up to leave the firm, it was already ten at night.

Qi Xi’s mouth was still full of durian aftertaste, unbearably so, and she decided to stop by the convenience store downstairs for some gum.

Gu Yan didn’t leave either — he just glanced at Qi Xi, then followed her into the store.

“You don’t have to keep me company… you can head off first.”

Gu Yan shot her a look. “Do you own this convenience store?”

“…” Fair enough. She’d been flattering herself.

At this hour the store was nearly empty, the clerk drowsy behind the counter. Qi Xi grabbed her gum and was browsing snacks when she heard the door open again.

She glanced over reflexively, and found herself looking at a pair of somewhat familiar eyes — a pair of slightly downturned, triangular eyes.

The man wore a mask and a cap, his skin a bit dark, his build a little heavyset. But the woman who came in with him, though also masked, was clearly fair-skinned and beautiful — her impossibly long legs in thin stiletto heels made her a full head taller than the man beside her.

They quickly picked something up and left with their heads down. There was no overtly intimate physical contact the whole time, but Qi Xi could clearly sense something ambiguous in the occasional look that passed between them.

Why did this man look so familiar?

It wasn’t until they’d paid and left that it suddenly clicked for Qi Xi.

She knew why he looked familiar! That man just now — wasn’t he Ai Xiang, who was supposed to be out of town right now?! She’d just recently looked into his background and watched his interviews out of curiosity — no wonder he seemed so familiar.

Ai Xiang, who should have been away on business, showing up here late at night with an unfamiliar woman — however you looked at it, it was suspicious.

Qi Xi quickly shared this discovery with Gu Yan: “Do you think Ai Xiang is cheating? I feel so bad for Chen Xiang. Honestly, when that courier came, something already felt off, but I’ve been going back and forth on whether I should hint anything to Chen Xiang…”

Gu Yan, despite claiming he’d come to the store to buy something, had spent ages browsing without picking up anything. Hearing Qi Xi’s words, he said flatly, “Even married couples keep secrets sometimes, need their own space. Maybe he’s busy with the novel project, or told a well-meaning lie. Even if he just came to a convenience store with a good-looking, good-figured woman, there’s no hard proof that the two of them have anything improper going on.”

That was exactly what Qi Xi herself had been hesitating over — after all, she was just going on suspicion.

But… her conscience still nagged at her. She kept feeling that a large part of Ai Xiang’s success had been built on Chen Xiang’s sacrifices.

While she was still hesitating, Gu Yan seemed to have finally decided what to buy. Qi Xi watched him walk up to the register, say something to the clerk, and then…

Then Qi Xi watched, wide-eyed, as the clerk handed Gu Yan a box of condoms.

Gu Yan, buying condoms in the middle of the night?!

Wasn’t he supposed to be single, having failed to win over the girl he liked? His nightlife had suddenly gotten this eventful? He was buying condoms now? So did that mean…

Qi Xi stared at Gu Yan, eyes wide. “So that girl came around after all? The misunderstanding got cleared up? If it’s still needed, I could talk to her in person! Vouch for you properly! That would definitely speed things along for you two!”

If only she hadn’t brought it up — mentioning it seemed to remind Gu Yan of that scene at graduation, and his face darkened instantly. “No need. The misunderstanding’s already cleared up.”

Oh, it was cleared up! Wonderful!

If Gu Yan’s love life went smoothly, wouldn’t that mean she and he could get back on friendly terms all the sooner?

But before Qi Xi could get out her congratulations on his newly resolved single status, Gu Yan lifted his eyes and said, expression flat, “She knows it was a misunderstanding. She still doesn’t like me.”

This…

This was a little rough.

Qi Xi ventured carefully, “So you’re buying this because… you’re not planning to drink yourself into oblivion and let loose tonight, are you?”

Gu Yan’s face darkened, his expression thoroughly exasperated. “Who do you think I’m buying this because of?”

Undeterred, Qi Xi pressed on. “Because of who?”

Gu Yan said, irritated, “Because of you.”!!

That couldn’t be right… what did Gu Yan mean by that? Was this man implying something?!

Qi Xi was still reeling in shock when she heard Gu Yan continue, “I told the clerk I wanted the same thing that guy just bought.”

Qi Xi blinked, and then it finally clicked. “So that’s why the clerk gave you this?”

“Mm. The clerk assumed I was just a shy young guy too embarrassed to ask directly, so he didn’t suspect anything and just handed it over.”

So that was it!

So what Ai Xiang had bought just now was condoms! Which meant Qi Xi’s suspicion was right — Ai Xiang really was having an affair.

Gu Yan nodded. “You can be certain now. Something’s definitely off with him.”

Qi Xi said, with genuine admiration, “Gu Yan! You’re way too clever!”

At the compliment, Gu Yan turned sour. “Weren’t you just accusing me of wanting to let loose?”

This had to be misdirected frustration from failing to win someone over…

Qi Xi immediately patted Gu Yan on the shoulder in solidarity. “Well, since the misunderstanding about graduation is cleared up, and this woman still hasn’t accepted your confession, clearly she’s got terrible taste — probably half-blind, honestly.”

Gu Yan glanced at her. “Mm.”

He’d actually, rarely, agreed with her! Comforting a friend nursing a broken heart was practically a bonding milestone, so Qi Xi pressed on. “It’s fine, Gu Yan. You’re so good-looking, you’ve got such a bright future ahead — pick someone else! The next one will be sweeter!”

Unfortunately, Qi Xi had badly misjudged how fast a heartbroken man could flip moods. One second he’d been trash-talking the woman’s taste right alongside her, and now, suddenly, he’d turned his frustration on her again.

He glared at Qi Xi. “I’m not picking someone else. Is that any of your business?”

With that, he tossed the box of condoms neatly into the trash can and stalked off, scowling.

Qi Xi was utterly floored. How could this man be so stubborn? What else was there to do if he couldn’t win her over? Fine, don’t pick someone else then! It wasn’t her running headfirst into a wall anyway!

Unbelievable!

But Qi Xi soon forgot about the whole incident, because she started turning her mind to how best to tip Chen Xiang off.

As it happened, the next day, thanks to the successful progress on the earlier contract termination, Chen Xiang brought some homemade cookies to give to Gu Xuehan. Since Gu Xuehan was out at a court hearing, Qi Xi ended up receiving her instead.

The two chatted about small things, and just as Chen Xiang was about to leave, Qi Xi produced a book she’d rushed out to buy from the bookstore that morning: “Ms. Chen, could I trouble Teacher Ai Xiang for an autograph? A friend of mine is a huge fan of his — she’d love a personalized signature.”

Chen Xiang, suspecting nothing, smiled and agreed.

Qi Xi smiled back, then added, as if it had just occurred to her: “Actually, my friend and I happened to run into Teacher Ai Xiang downstairs last night, but I was too nervous in the moment to think of asking for an autograph on the spot. Lucky you came by today — would you mind bringing the book to him for me?”

Sure enough, Chen Xiang’s brow furrowed. “You saw him last night?”

“Mm-hm, at the convenience store downstairs. He’d probably just finished work — he had a staff member with him, bought something, and left right away.”

Chen Xiang’s expression had visibly tightened. “Was the person with him a woman or a man?”

Qi Xi smiled faintly. “A female staff member.”

Chen Xiang’s face had already gone quite grim, but she kept her composure, forcing a smile at Qi Xi, though it looked strained. “That was probably his assistant. He was probably rushing a deadline last night.”

Still, Qi Xi could clearly sense that, even as she said this, Chen Xiang was struggling to maintain her outward calm.

Chen Xiang was a smart woman — Qi Xi’s feigned, casual, seemingly unwitting mention was more than enough to catch her attention. The convenience store downstairs had 24-hour surveillance; if she wanted to look into it, she’d certainly find something. And if she preferred to look the other way, then Qi Xi’s oblivious-seeming hint also let her save face, letting her continue turning a blind eye if she chose.

It soon became clear, though, that Chen Xiang couldn’t turn a blind eye to this. Three days later, she returned to the firm and requested a meeting with Gu Xuehan—

“Ai Xiang is cheating. I want a divorce. I need you to help me secure as much of the assets as possible.”

Chen Xiang looked pale and exhausted, seemingly aged a decade overnight, her eyes full of resentment and bitterness. “Everything he has today, he owes to me. I built the whole world-setting for Meeting the Immortal — he’s no good at writing romance, so I handled almost all of the male lead’s emotional arc myself, and I designed several of the well-received female characters too. And this is how he repays me. When he had no money, he gave in to me on everything — and now, right under my nose, he’s cheating.”

It was clear the affair had hit her hard — this woman, normally so composed and restrained, was now pouring out a stream of grievances about everything that had gone wrong in the marriage.

Chen Xiang, eyes red-rimmed: “Do you know who he’s cheating with? A junior schoolmate of mine from high school! I brought the wolf into my own house with my own hands!”

“This girl came from a poor, remote village, not much money at home, average grades, but decent-looking, so she’d applied to an arts academy. Except arts academies are full of pretty girls, and she wasn’t particularly standout, so after graduating she never got any big opportunities — just small background roles, the odd paid appearance, scraping by. I’d been supporting her financially since high school, and after seeing how she was struggling post-graduation, I kept wanting to help her out.”

Bringing this up clearly still pained Chen Xiang. “When Meeting the Immortal went into production, the director wasn’t happy with the script once filming started and couldn’t find a reliable screenwriter on short notice, so Ai Xiang joined the crew to write on-site. That’s how he made some connections in the industry. I figured since he had some connections, I’d have him put in a word for my schoolmate — and as it happened, the original actress cast for the third female lead had a scheduling conflict, so my schoolmate ended up getting that role.”

“My reasoning was, first, to give my schoolmate a leg up — she’d had it rough, and I wanted to help when I could; and second, I thought the production environment was complicated, and since I couldn’t go along with Ai Xiang because of the kids, having her there would let someone keep an eye on him.”

At this point, Chen Xiang’s tears finally spilled over. “I never in a million years imagined she’d turn out to be so ungrateful — using the very trust I gave her to betray me. Writing on-location is exhausting work, so I asked her to look after Ai Xiang a bit more. I never imagined ‘looking after him’ would end up in bed.”

Qi Xi felt deep sympathy for Chen Xiang and tried to offer comfort, but Gu Xuehan cut in, perfectly composed: “When a woman’s been cheated on, complaining and crying won’t change the situation. Rather than spend time on that, let’s go through all of Ai Xiang’s assets so we can get ahead of the division of property before the divorce.”

“We jointly own two properties, but both down payments came from my family, registered under both our names. In the early years, I paid off the mortgage payments too — it was only after Meeting the Immortal took off that he started contributing to the payments. If we divide things now, I’ll be the only one losing money from that…”

“What about the income from the film rights to his new book?”

Didn’t that film company representative say Ai Xiang had taken the money and bought a house, and it had appreciated too?

Chen Xiang lowered her head. “That’s a fully paid-for house registered under his parents’ names — because the property purchase tax on a third property was too high at the time…”

Gu Xuehan asked about Ai Xiang’s other income, but unfortunately Chen Xiang didn’t even know how much liquid cash he had on hand — she only knew he’d opened a studio, said he wanted to start his own business, and planned to invest in his own film projects with the production company through equity in the rights, but she had no oversight or knowledge whatsoever of the studio’s books or cash flow.

Still, Chen Xiang soon produced a USB drive. “Once I started suspecting Ai Xiang was cheating, I installed cameras at home. I caught footage of him bringing my schoolmate home while I was out, being all over each other. That’s enough to prove the affair, prove he’s the one at fault in the marriage — can’t that get him to walk away with nothing?”

Never mind Gu Xuehan — even Qi Xi wanted to sigh.

You don’t even know the full extent of his assets, and you’re talking about him walking away with nothing? Not to mention…

“It’s true that a court can, at its discretion, award a smaller share of the property to the party at fault when one spouse has cheated — but that’s entirely up to the judge’s interpretation. Some judges hold that even if there’s infidelity, if the at-fault party is the main contributor to the marital assets, they’ll rarely rule for a reduced share for that party. Take a stay-at-home wife and a wealthy businessman, for instance — if virtually all the marital property comes from the businessman’s earnings, ruling that he gets less, or nothing, simply because he cheated would be seen as unfair. So more often than not, courts still rule on a roughly fifty-fifty split.”

Hearing this, Chen Xiang didn’t seem particularly crushed — she just looked like she was gritting her teeth. “I don’t care if I don’t get a cent. I never married him for his money in the first place — I married him because he was good to me back then! I don’t want money, I want them punished. I want him to suffer. I want to post about this online and expose the two of them for what they are! I want his fans to see who he really is!”

“Once a man’s feelings for you are gone and he’s cheating behind your back, no matter how much you expose him, the damage to him will only be temporary. So many bizarre stories break on the internet every day — public discussion moves on to the next thing fast, and he can easily wait it out and rehabilitate his image over time. Right now, the only real bargaining chip you have is this evidence of his affair. If you spend that card immediately, without a clear plan for what you actually want to get out of exposing him, you’ll have given up all your leverage in this divorce settlement. Your husband can simply think, well, it’s out now, so be it, and just ride it out.”

Gu Xuehan continued, guiding her patiently: “The only real way to get back at a man is to hit his wallet — to divorce him and take away every asset you’re entitled to. Make him understand that breaking his marriage vows comes at a cost.”

Gu Xuehan’s voice stayed calm and rational: “If you go to pieces over a man, he won’t remember you for it. It’s only by taking his money that he’ll remember you for the rest of his life. Men are far more pragmatic than women. Even if you took a knife to your schoolmate right now, or jumped off a building with the child you share with him, your husband would grieve for a while — but as long as he still has money, he’ll soon find a new woman and have new children. Wife, mistress, child — none of them are truly irreplaceable to a man. What’s genuinely irreplaceable to a man is his money, and himself.”

Whether Chen Xiang really took all this in was unclear, but in the end, she signed an engagement agreement with Gu Xuehan, hoping Gu Xuehan would take on her divorce case and help her secure as large a share of the assets as possible.

The moment Chen Xiang left, Gu Xuehan assigned tasks to Qi Xi and Gu Yan: “Based on the leads Chen Xiang’s already given us, go dig further into Ai Xiang’s other income — especially starting from his affair partner. He’s likely spent a good deal of money on the mistress, and that money counts as marital property. With proof, Chen Xiang can claim back her rightful half.”

To Gu Xuehan, this was probably just another fairly ordinary case among the many she’d handled. But to Qi Xi, it was her first truly serious case in her career.

She took it very seriously.

So did Gu Yan.

The two of them threw themselves into gathering evidence, almost as if competing with each other, and a week later, they presented Gu Xuehan with results they were proud of—

“Here’s the consolidated breakdown of Ai Xiang’s assets, including his royalties, plus a house and car he bought for the mistress. But we’re having a hard time getting information on the studio’s revenue — the moment Chen Xiang files for divorce, Ai Xiang will definitely make the studio’s books show a loss, both to avoid dividing that portion of the assets and possibly even to fabricate debts. We might need a professional audit team to step in to fight for that share.”

Gu Xuehan glanced over the list Qi Xi and Gu Yan had submitted and nodded. “Good work. Let me ask you both this — if we simulate the next steps, how would you proceed? Especially with that affair footage Chen Xiang obtained — how do you plan to use it?”

Qi Xi thought it over and answered first: “Now that we’ve mapped out all of Ai Xiang’s assets as far as we’re able, Chen Xiang can confront him directly and demand a divorce and asset division. Since she has video evidence of the affair, his infidelity is airtight. If he refuses to budge on the assets during negotiation, we’ll have no choice but to go through litigation. Even though courts only discretionarily reduce an unfaithful spouse’s share, the video at least proves Ai Xiang is at fault, and we can push hard for a larger share of the assets.”

Gu Xuehan nodded. “That’s a solid, conventional approach. Gu Yan, do you have anything to add?”

Gu Yan looked at Gu Xuehan. “I think we could also sue the mistress. Of course, evidence in this kind of case is hard to gather — usually the only way the wife wins is if the cheating spouse is willing to come back to the marriage and cooperate, providing transfer records and payment proof of money given to the mistress. If Ai Xiang doesn’t cooperate, our odds of winning against her aren’t great. But suing her would at least throw her into disarray — dragging her into litigation means she’ll have to spend time and energy hiring a lawyer to fight it, and get pulled into all the negative fallout. Odds are she’ll start pressuring Ai Xiang over it, and he might make concessions on the asset division just to get her to back off going after the mistress.”

Gu Xuehan smiled. “Not bad thinking for newcomers, both of you. That asset breakdown especially shows you put real effort in.” But she didn’t say anything further about her own approach — she just checked her watch. “Chen Xiang will be here any minute. I’ll go over the plan with her.”

Almost as soon as she said this, the front desk called — Chen Xiang had arrived.

Gu Xuehan brought Qi Xi and Gu Yan into the conference room.

Gu Xuehan, as always, was crisp and efficient. She showed Chen Xiang the asset list they’d compiled, and just as Qi Xi expected her to lay out the approach she and Gu Yan had proposed, Gu Xuehan simply smiled and offered Chen Xiang an entirely different plan—

“Combining the surveillance footage you legally obtained in your own home with the film rights contract Ai Xiang signed, we can likely skip the whole complicated litigation process entirely, and instead reach a negotiated divorce settlement that gets you the bulk of the assets, purely through negotiation.”

Qi Xi wasn’t the only one caught off guard — even Gu Yan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Was Gu Xuehan overselling this? Lawyers weren’t supposed to exaggerate likely outcomes to clients — and with only this evidence, once a marriage reached the stage of a divorce showdown, things tended to get ugly, with neither side inclined to preserve any goodwill or make concessions over fault.

Yet Gu Xuehan seemed entirely confident. Under Qi Xi and Gu Yan’s disbelieving gazes, she pulled out the copy of the film rights licensing contract for Meeting the Immortal that Chen Xiang had provided earlier—

“Look closely at Clause Fifteen, on breach of liability: essentially, it states that if, between signing and the completion of the first broadcast run, Party B — the author — becomes embroiled in negative press involving criminal activity, illegal conduct, violations of public morals, gambling, drugs, extramarital affairs, or other serious breaches of social ethics, or violates relevant regulations from the national broadcast and media authorities, resulting in damage to his own reputation or image that negatively affects Party A, the licensed work, or its adaptation, then Party A has the right to terminate the contract, demand repayment of the licensing fee, and seek compensation for all economic losses incurred by Party A and the production’s investors — including but not limited to the full investment amount in the adaptation and legal costs incurred in enforcing their rights.”

Gu Xuehan smiled, confident of victory. “Meeting the Immortal is airing right now. If you use this affair footage to publicly call out Ai Xiang for his infidelity and moral failings — and the woman involved happens to be the actress playing the third female lead in the very show — given how strictly the broadcast authorities crack down on artists with damaged reputations these days, and given that Ai Xiang has built his whole public image around being a devoted husband, the fallout from an affair would be enormous. It would absolutely hit the broadcast of Meeting the Immortal. And if the production company decides to seek damages at that point, do you think Ai Xiang could handle it?”

“Not to mention, as long as he wants to keep making a living from writing, if his reputation is thoroughly ruined, will future projects even want to option his work? And even if they do, production companies will factor in the risk from his negative press and drive his prices down — some might even terminate contracts and seek damages over it. All told, the impact on him would be unprecedented.”

Gu Xuehan turned to Chen Xiang. “If you time your confrontation with him before Meeting the Immortal finishes airing, and let us as lawyers step in to manage the negotiation carefully — staying well clear of anything resembling extortion — we can absolutely use this clause to force Ai Xiang into concessions on the division of marital property, in order to protect his future career.”

Gu Xuehan laid it all out smoothly, and by the end, both Qi Xi and Gu Yan felt as though something had clicked into place—

Legal advocacy is a systematic undertaking — scattered pieces of evidence, woven together, can form the key logical thread that drives everything forward.

Since the film rights contract for Meeting the Immortal had been signed years earlier, and the income from it had long since gone into funding the studio and buying the property registered under his parents’ names, neither Qi Xi nor Gu Yan had thought to look back at that money or that contract — they’d been entirely focused on the studio’s recent financial records.

Qi Xi had only thought to stand in Chen Xiang’s shoes and use every resource available to her to fight Ai Xiang directly, without considering leveraging outside forces. In a purely personal confrontation — especially within a marriage — it’s nearly impossible to achieve total advantage, especially when the wealthier party has already taken steps to conceal assets; the other side is rarely a match for that alone. But bring in a corporate player, and use that leverage against the other individual, and the effect is halved the effort for double the result.

Gu Xuehan looked at Qi Xi and Gu Yan. “The production company behind Meeting the Immortal had, just a couple of years back, a lead actor caught up in a scandal that tanked a project worth over a hundred million in investment, unable to air at all. Back then, their contract hadn’t included clauses like this to bind the actor, so they had to swallow that hundred-million-plus loss on their own. But no company falls into the same trap twice — once they’ve been burned in some area, their future contracts get far stricter about it. So I made a point of checking Meeting the Immortal’s contract, and sure enough, found this clause working in our favor.”

A wave of genuine admiration and respect for Gu Xuehan welled up in Qi Xi’s heart.

Gu Xuehan hadn’t made partner this young for nothing — she really did have skills to back it up.