Under the light at the end of the corridor, a figure gazed toward the meeting room.
She wore a neatly tailored beige suit that accentuated her slender and composed figure. Her black hair was pinned into a low bun, with a few stray strands hanging by her ears, adding a touch of softness. Her steps were unhurried, her eyes clear and bright, as if she had just stepped away from an intense courtroom debate, still carrying a lingering sharpness.
Wen Wan Ning nodded to the female assistant. “Is Lawyer Han meeting someone in the conference room?”
The female assistant clutched her files a little tighter and said softly, “Yes, Lawyer Han is wrapping up another case and will head over soon.”
Just then, Han Yuchu approached from the other end of the corridor. His strides were steady, his dark gray suit impeccable, his gaze cool and focused. When he spotted Wen Wan Ning, his stern demeanor softened instantly, and the corners of his mouth curved upward. “Wan Ning, perfect timing. I was just about to look for you.”
With that, he gestured for her to head to the small meeting room with him.
They sat down. Sunlight filtered through the blinds outside the window, casting fine patterns of light and shadow on the desk.
Han Yuchu glanced at his watch and then quietly instructed the assistant, “Go tell Lin Che and Shen Jia Yan that I’m sorry, but they’ll need to wait a bit longer. I still have some things to finish here, and I’ll head over right after.”
Wen Wan Ning was momentarily stunned. The name “Shen Jia Yan” struck her like a bolt of lightning.
That was the person she thought about day and night but didn’t dare mention.
The assistant nodded and left.
“Wan Ning.” Han Yuchu spoke up.
Wen Wan Ning came back to herself and composed her emotions. “What’s up?” She looked at him, her voice calm.
Han Yuchu paused for a moment, his fingertips tapping lightly on the desk as if choosing his words carefully.
“You heard it too—I’ve taken on a new case. The plaintiffs are that hot band, the Chuze Band. One of their members, Lin Che, was my college roommate, and we’re really close. But I can’t wrap up the case I’m currently handling yet, and this new one is urgent. I don’t trust anyone else with it, so I want you to take it over.”
Wen Wan Ning didn’t respond. She simply stared quietly out the window, the sunlight outlining her profile softly, her eyes so deep that her emotions were unreadable.
Of course she knew the Chuze Band.
She had started following them from the moment they burst onto the scene.
It began by chance. One late night, she scrolled to a short video of one of their performances. The camera shook, panning over the drummer’s position.
Her heart skipped a beat.
It was Shen Jia Yan.
The person she could never forget.
She tapped into the band’s page and saw the member list: lead singer Lin Che, guitarist Zhou Ke, bassist Zhong Ruyi, keyboardist Wu Lin, drummer Shen Jia Yan.
Her finger lingered on that name for a long time.
She began tracking every performance, every new song, every interview.
She watched them rise from obscurity to stardom.
She collected every article about them but never liked or commented.
She was like a secret guardian, quietly watching from the noisy fringes as Shen Jia Yan lived the life she herself had always wanted.
This time, with Tide Line accused of plagiarism, she saw the hot search almost immediately.
She didn’t dive into the arguments or debates.
She just quietly played the song, over and over from start to finish.
She heard the rain, the waves, and that melody accused of being “plagiarized.”
She smiled—not a cold smile, but one tinged with heartache.
She knew it wasn’t plagiarism at all.
It was Shen Jia Yan’s breath, her memories, a monologue written in notes by one person alone.
She wanted to reach out and help, but didn’t know how…
Han Yuchu continued, “I know assigning you to this case is like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. You not only have top credentials, but you’re also the big boss of our firm—”
“Stop with the flattery.” Wen Wan Ning interrupted mildly, her tone carrying a familiar restraint.
“Heh.” Han Yuchu chuckled awkwardly. “She’s a big star after all, and we’re so close. I can’t just hand it off to some junior lawyer.”
“I have other cases and can’t free up time.” Wen Wan Ning’s hand on the table clenched tightly as she added, “But I can help prepare this case with whichever other lawyer you assign.”
She was still afraid—afraid Shen Jia Yan would resent her, afraid she’d reject her.
But now that Han Yuchu had taken their case, she still had a chance to help.
At least, she could hide behind the identity of “Lawyer Han’s team” and quietly do something for her.
Han Yuchu’s brows furrowed, his voice laced with urgency. “That won’t work. I’ve checked—all our capable lawyers are tied up.”
He glanced at Wen Wan Ning, saw she still showed no reaction, then shifted his tone with a hint of probing playfulness. “Fine, if you really can’t make it, I’ll just grab a newbie lawyer. It should… probably win, right?”
He was betting Wen Wan Ning wouldn’t gamble the firm’s reputation.
The “Chuze Band plagiarism case” had shot into the top three hot searches. Media circled like vultures, critics were ready to pounce, sponsors could pull out anytime. For a high-profile public case like this, handing it to an inexperienced rookie—even if they won—any slip-up could be blown into the firm’s “negligence.”
The air grew tense for a few seconds.
Wen Wan Ning did waver, but not because of the firm’s reputation.
She worried a newbie couldn’t handle it properly, leading to defeat. This wasn’t just about a song’s ownership.
It concerned the Chuze Band’s future.
A band built on originals—if branded “plagiarists,” even a reversal later would leave a lasting stain. Public opinion’s blade wounded invisibly. Albums could be shelved, tours canceled, three years of effort destroyed.
It especially concerned Shen Jia Yan’s future.
Wen Wan Ning knew better than anyone: Shen Jia Yan wasn’t just writing a song. She was burying a life in notes—the passing of her grandma, the end of an unrequited love.
If even this song was questioned, stripped away, crudely labeled “plagiarism,” if her final creative dignity was trampled, what would she have left?
Wen Wan Ning couldn’t bear imagining Shen Jia Yan in the storm’s eye again, bearing it all alone.
She had heard her sobbing heartbrokenly in the private room, asking if she was unworthy of love; heard her self-doubting from the pain…
She knew Tide Line was a dialogue with her past self.
She knew the seemingly silent girl hid how much unspoken pain.
And she—the one who had hurt her—couldn’t let malice shatter her again.
She should take the case.
To ensure every piece of evidence was presented with respect for the creator, every argument let the world hear the rain behind Tide Line.
She looked up, her gaze calm and resolute. “Alright, I’ll take it.”
The corners of Han Yuchu’s mouth twitched upward almost imperceptibly as he suppressed a chuckle. “I knew you’d say that.”
He stood, straightening his collar and tie. “Come on, let’s go meet the big star.”
Meet?
Wen Wan Ning froze for a second, her heart clenching hard.
The word “meet” was like a key, unexpectedly unlocking the door she had sealed herself.
She was going to see her.
See the one whose cries outside the private room she hadn’t dared enter; the one she had deeply loved, betrayed, and lost.
In five years, she had imagined reunions countless times—bumping into her on the street, seeing her in the news, meeting in dreams.
But never like this, under these circumstances.
Would Shen Jia Yan want to see her?
She didn’t know, didn’t even dare think.
Would Shen Jia Yan let this once most familiar, most hurtful person back into her world?
Would she refuse authorization because it was her? Turn and leave upon seeing her, just like five years ago?
Wen Wan Ning’s fingers unconsciously gripped the folder’s edge, her knuckles whitening.
She feared Shen Jia Yan’s eyes would hold no warmth upon seeing her—just distance, wariness.
She feared mustering the courage to stand before her, only to hear a cold, “I don’t need you.”
She feared finally having a chance to get close, but her already not wanting her near.
Han Yuchu noticed her stiffness and slowed his pace, his voice gentle. “Wan Ning?”
Wen Wan Ning snapped back.
The corridor lights fell on her face, illuminating the fleeting panic and struggle in her eyes.
What had to be faced, had to be faced.
She had evaded for five years, missed five years, betrayed five years.
If she lacked even the courage to see her, how could she talk of making amends, of protecting?
She wanted to see her.
Not to rekindle old dreams or beg forgiveness, but to see with her own eyes if the girl who had cried, laughed, written songs, and silently endured for her was doing well now.
She wanted to help her.
Not out of guilt, but because her songs deserved to be heard, her intentions deserved respect, her creations shouldn’t be shattered by malicious accusations.
Even if behind the door waited rejection, distance, that cold “I don’t need you.”
She had to step through.
She took a deep breath, as if compressing five years of hesitation, self-blame, and longing into it, then slowly exhaled.
Her shoulders finally relaxed, her steps lifted steadily, keeping pace with Han Yuchu.
“I’m fine,” she told him, her voice still soft but with a newfound resolve. “Let’s go.”
Han Yuchu glanced at her, asked no more, just nodded.
They reached the meeting room door. Inside, low voices grew clearer—Lin Che speaking urgently, Shen Jia Yan’s reply faint, like a leaf falling on water, barely audible.
Wen Wan Ning raised her hand and knocked.
Three times.
Short, slow, heavy.
Inside the door lay the end of five years.
Inside the door was Shen Jia Yan.
The voices stopped.
One second, two. Then a quiet, slightly weary female voice said, “Come in.”
Han Yuchu pushed the door open and entered first. Wen Wan Ning followed steadily, but her gaze involuntarily fell on the person in the room’s corner.
Five years later, she was slimmer, her features even cooler, but the slight furrow of her brows as she looked down was exactly as in her memories.
