The outer office began to buzz with activity. Through the half-open blinds, Nan Qi could see lawyers settling into their workstations, methodically tackling their cases.
Ye Sheng wrapped up her playful banter and turned serious, sliding a thick stack of files across the desk to Nan Qi. “Heard of Xinyang Real Estate?”
Nan Qi nodded. “Of course.”
She casually flipped through a few pages of the documents Ye Sheng had pushed her way.
Xinyang Real Estate was a nationally renowned property developer. The homes they built were both aesthetically pleasing and highly practical, earning widespread acclaim from the public. With over twenty years of development under its belt, the company had expanded not just domestically but overseas as well, riding a wave of unstoppable momentum.
The files offered a concise summary of Xinyang’s history and an introduction to its founder—nothing particularly groundbreaking.
“President Li from Xinyang is in the middle of a nasty divorce with her husband,” Ye Sheng said leisurely. “She’s heard about those landmark cases you’ve handled in the field and specifically requested you as her attorney. The retainer? One billion. Interested?”
Like Nan Qi, Ye Sheng specialized in family law—divorce cases, in layman’s terms. But their work wasn’t limited to splits; they also set up asset trusts for elite families.
After completing her internship and earning her practicing certificate, Nan Qi had taken on several textbook-worthy divorce cases. She’d secured total victories for her clients, leaving their spouses with next to nothing. Her ruthless approach earned her equal parts praise and infamy—some hailed her professionalism, while others accused her of winning at any cost.
In short, Nan Qi’s rock-solid expertise and icy negotiation style had earned her the nickname “Cold-Faced Yama” in the industry.
Nan Qi smiled faintly. “A fee that high? It’s hard not to bow to the allure of money.”
Ye Sheng shot her a knowing glance, as if to say, If only you actually spent it on yourself. Nan Qi pretended not to notice.
“Alright, then. I’ll pass along President Li’s contact info. You can arrange the follow-up yourself.”
Ye Sheng lingered a bit longer to discuss some firm operations with Nan Qi before leaving her office.
Nan Qi leaned back in her chair for a brief rest. Then the front desk rang her internal line: a delivery rider had dropped off a package for her.
Puzzled, she headed out and collected a sizable bag from the reception desk. The packaging bore medical markings.
As she walked back, a vague memory surfaced—Bo Ranying, right before they’d parted ways, had promised to buy her some medicine.
Back in her office, Nan Qi snipped open the staples on the packaging. Sure enough, inside was a bag stuffed with cold medicine.
Bo Ranying clearly wasn’t sure about the exact symptoms, so she’d bought every common remedy under the sun: Jingfang Granules, Quick-Acting Cold Capsules, and more—traditional Chinese meds, Western drugs, anti-inflammatories, antibiotics. It was a full-blown medical care package.
But that wasn’t all. Alongside the assortment tailored to various cold types, there were several doctor-printed prescriptions for combination therapies. Nan Qi could just pick the one matching her symptoms and follow it. Bo Ranying had thought of everything.
Just like the Little Sun from high school—the one everyone adored and quietly watched over. Nan Qi had always been utterly immersed in the gentle warmth Bo Ranying offered.
She touched the medicine boxes and the handwriting on the prescriptions, her heart stirring with emotion.
A rare softness crept onto her usually impassive face, laced with nostalgic tenderness.
But it lasted less than two seconds. Recent events flooded back: Ranran on the verge of engagement, Ranran rejecting her confession even while drunk, Ranran constantly mentioning her fiancé, Ranran deliberately shoving her toward others, Ranran summoning and dismissing her at will, Ranran growing ever more distant from the girl in her memories…
All of it screamed that her persistence was nothing but a joke.
Everyone said Nan Qi was cold and unapproachable. But she felt that description fit Bo Ranying far better.
Bo Ranying was a master at drawing people close—like a nightingale with a voice sweet and enchanting, alighting effortlessly on your shoulder to stir ripples in your heart. But the moment you reached out to hold her, she fluttered away with graceful ease.
Her closeness always came with strings attached. When she liked you, she followed her heart, letting intimacy bloom freely.
But once you harbored deeper feelings, she withdrew just as swiftly, drawing a strict line impossible to cross.
Bo Ranying would never look back at her. To her, Nan Qi was just a block of ice that refused to thaw—
A sharp pang twisted in Nan Qi’s chest. She realized this line of thinking was wrecking her focus. A lawyer had to stay sharp during work hours, projecting unwavering reliability for her clients and handling every case with utmost diligence.
With grim resolve, she gritted her teeth and locked her phone—and the medicine—into her desk drawer, quashing the impulse to text Bo Ranying.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Moments later, Nan Qi had recomposed herself into the poised, stern-faced lawyer once more.
She picked up the internal line and called Wenwen. “Schedule a meeting with President Li based on my calendar. And dig up every scrap of detailed background on Xinyang Real Estate—no lead too small.”
Nan Qi’s signature approach to cases was meticulous thoroughness. She’d task her team with investigating the client’s full history, assets, relationships, and more until it was exhaustive. To outsiders, it seemed like a waste of time on irrelevant details.
But after Nan Qi flipped several cases using those “irrelevant” tidbits to secure wins for her clients, the skeptics fell silent.
Wenwen had been Nan Qi’s assistant for years and worked with impressive efficiency.
She quickly got in touch with President Li and locked in a meeting for the following afternoon in Nan Qi’s consultation room to discuss the case in detail.
From there, Nan Qi dove into her work, losing all track of time.
It wasn’t until Ye Sheng knocked and poked her head in—”Where do you want to grab lunch?”—that she realized it was already noon.
Nan Qi blinked, then replied offhandedly, “That claypot rice place in the downstairs mall.”
As she said it, under Ye Sheng’s stunned gaze, she unlocked the drawer and retrieved her phone.
It took Ye Sheng a few seconds to recover. Nan Qi’s behavior clashed so wildly with her usual persona that today’s version of her felt downright abnormal. “L-Little Qi, since when do you have to lock away your phone just to stay focused?”
Didn’t you always flip the switch to pro-mode the second you stepped into the firm?
Nan Qi’s tone stayed flat as she straightened up and strode toward the door. “You underestimated my self-control. But I won’t need to do it anymore.”
Ye Sheng mulled it over and caught the deeper meaning—the development she’d been hoping for. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she hurried after Nan Qi. The moment they stepped out of the office, she smoothed her expression back to calm composure.
As one of the partners, she had to uphold the proper gravitas. No room for grinning like a fool.
