First-Class Lawyer

“I haven’t seen this report before,” Gu Yan said, out of the blue.

Joe didn’t take it seriously and clicked into another one at random, saying without a lift of his head, “It’s normal. Didn’t I say that this one was deleted soon after it was posted? I guess not many people saw it. Moreover, you only did research for your analysis many years after that; how could you have found it? 

This article probably survived for no more than a few seconds. With no one seeing it, no one brought it up.

So, when Gu Yan was researching the case, all he saw was the most plain and open court verdict, the mess of controversy, as well as some quotes from Yan Suizhi in various articles.

For example, when asked by a reporter why he insisted on his client’s innocence, he only threw down a few words: Why not? It’s what I’m being paid to do.

There were other blunt and pointed remarks, and it was this kind of answer that stuck him into the limelight, receiving ceaseless diatribe. 

Those answers made people feel off, as though his later gentleness and gracefulness, including the words he used to guide his students, were all wrapped behind a veneer.

It was like a pencil-straight trunk suddenly grew a horizontal protrusion. It was stark, yet it existed, contrasting sharply with the impression he later gave.

But one had to admit that between these two images, at least one was closer to his true self.

That year, those ragging on him only saw one side.

Later, the case was forgotten, and those who single-mindedly praised him only saw another side.

“Send all of these over to me,” Gu Yan said.

Joe didn’t perceive the subtle shifts in his emotions, or, better put, he had hidden them too well.

“You want them now? Sure, hold on. I’ll send it right over.” 

Joe’s smart device had too many screens opened. He hastily fought his way out of that mountain of documents, pulled up the messaging interface, and slid down his contact list, hitting send on one of the names.

Right after sending it, Young Master Joe froze up.

He stared at the ‘sending…’ screen that was being displayed, his mind completely blanking out for a split second. Then, his hands fumbled and jabbed at the screen, almost throwing his smart device from the second floor.

This flurry of action was, in truth, very hard to miss. 

Gu Yan shifted his gaze from the photo attached to that old article, looking at him with a frown, “What are you doing?”

Joe stood paralysed to the spot for a moment. Then, with a loud smack, he slapped his hands over his face, screaming soundlessly, right as though he had just run out of the famous painting, The Scream.

“I… I did something stupid… Don’t scold me…” Joe said skittishly.

Gu Yan, “…Is this anything new? Have Ke Jin and I ever scolded you?” 

Joe, “Fine. Hold on to the railing first.”

Gu Yan, “…”

Joe shut his eyes and kicked the bucket, confessing his crimes, “I sent it to the wrong person…”

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Xe Tjc, “…”

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“How did you accidentally send it to him?” The ice on Lawyer Gu’s face was close to cracking.

Joe, “I have him saved over here as ‘Gu’s intern’, so it’s right under your name… and then, my hand shook…”

“Joe?” Yan Suizhi’s voice carried over from the sofa.

Young Master Joe seemed to hear the summoning of the Grim Reaper. 

He stiffened his neck, laughing drily as he slowly turned over, whilst shouting shrilly in his heart ‘Noooo, I’m not goinggg’. But his feet were already mechanically taking him, following behind Gu Yan, to the sofa booth.

Yan Suizhi’s smart device was projecting a row of pages in front of him.

It was apparent that he didn’t know what Joe had sent him, and was subconsciously opening a few from within to give them a look.

The light from the wall lamp next to the booth seating struck his face diagonally, silhouetting it in just the right shade of brightness and darkness, such that bystanders couldn’t see his expression, much less make out his mood. 

And from that row of pages… he didn’t seem to intend to read the rest.

Young Master Joe felt like he had time-travelled a decade back to when he took that elective. His heart was jittery, his legs were jelly, and every step he took felt floaty.

Gu Yan sat down next to Yan Suizhi.

Joe stared at this action, for the first time in his life, direly looking forward to being fed dog food. He hoped that Gu Yan wouldn’t take this single dog into consideration and seize hold of Yan Suizhi’s hand, smacking a kiss right over so that he wouldn’t look at those, or directly lift Yan Suizhi in a princess carry and return to their room without a word. 

Sadly for him, his bosom bud didn’t have such a personality.

Young Master Joe immediately looked utterly wretched.

The slight dip of the sofa caused Yan Suizhi’s gaze to move. He turned away from the reports in front of him, and with a sweep of his hand, closed the row of holograms. He glanced at Joe and Gu Yan. “The two of you eloped to the railing to study these?”

He still… sounded okay? 

It was like Gu Yan had said; he wasn’t disgusted by it, but also didn’t blatantly avoid it.

Joe touched his chest. The heart that had leapt out of his throat gradually settled back down.

Gu Yan’s elbow was propped on his knees. He touched the corner of his lips, but before he could speak, Joe already sat his butt down next to Ke Jin, resigning himself to his fate, saying, “Man… forget it. Blame my hand for shaking. Since things have come to this, I’ll just say it straight. Dean Yan… my sister and I would like to ask you for a favour.”

When he came to the last sentence, Joe’s expression had turned serious, even looking rather sincere. 

But whilst speaking, he grabbed Ke Jin’s hand for courage.

Yan Suizhi glimpsed his hand, and the corners of his lips rose. He said, “Oh? What favour?”

Joe, “It’s a long story.”

Yan Suizhi, “…” 

“So I’ll just pick the important bits.” Joe lowered his voice. “My sister and I… always felt that during the days that Old Fox hung around Manson’s lot, he had done some… not-so-nice things. This is the main reason why Old Fox and I have been at odds over the past few years, with never a good word to say to each other. However, lately my sister has found some clues that make her suspect that there might be many misunderstandings behind our speculations about Old Fox.”

Joe said, somewhat helplessly, “To tell the truth… actually it’s some mishmash family matters. But if we really can find proof that we had misunderstood him, then… at least we can still give him an apology before it’s too late.”

He bowed his head, interlacing his fingers together in silence, fidgeting. “…Actually, I’m rather looking forward to that apology. Of course, if facts prove that it wasn’t a misunderstanding, and he’s a right old bastard, then, my sister and I… likewise… won’t cover for him.”

Yan Suizhi nodded. “So, what do you need my help with?” 

“My sister wanted to revisit a few old cases that we believe Old Fox is involved in, but lacked an entry point for us to investigate without alerting people,” Joe said. “So, we’re going about it in a roundabout manner, starting from cases that are more peripheral. Dean Yan, a case that you once handled is among those.”

Yan Suizhi’s expression changed minutely, his gaze rippling under the light.

He didn’t respond immediately, seeming to look at Joe deeply for a moment before waving the smart device on his finger, asking, “Are you talking about the ones you’ve just sent me?”

“Or have you handled any other medical-related cases before?” Joe asked. 

“No,” Yan Suizhi said. “I’ve seen many but only took this one on.”

“Then… it’s this one,” Joe said.

Yan Suizhi nodded. He still didn’t show any visible signs of displeasure. His voice was very calm, very normal, just as though Joe was simply asking to borrow a lighter. “So you’d like to know more about the specifics?”

Joe, “Yes. Is that okay?” 

“Of course.” Possibly due to how carefully Joe was toeing around it, Yan Suizhi smiled, and his voice warmed significantly. “But if you want me to talk about it, I might not know where to start. Ask what you want, and I’ll answer. If I still recall, naturally.”

Joe, “…”

He contemplated it in silence for a moment, suddenly finding that his understanding of that case was pathetically paltry. If he were to narrate it, he’d probably finish his account in less than a sentence or two.

It was just a medical mishap arising from genetic modification surgery, but the case wasn’t as simple as that. It was suspected that the hospital had attempted to use the patient’s surgery as an opportunity to experiment in genetics. The casualty was a minor as well, and the parents’ grief moved many people’s hearts, heightening the attention on the case. 

However, the vice-president being accused had an oily attitude and refused to admit his guilt, igniting another fierce wave of public outrage.

This was all he had learnt by osmosis from watching Gu Yan write his analysis. He had barely more than a shallow understanding, and was unable to catch any oddities at all.

And so, Joe found that he didn’t even know what questions to ask.

He silently pulled up the files in his smart device, speedily reading through them, and tried asking a few questions. 

Yan Suizhi gave a brief explanation to every question, then said, “Actually, you should be able to learn these from the reports that you sent over.”

More importantly, with questions like these, even if hundreds were asked, he’d be unable to find any traces of Devore Yves’ involvement.

The base of Joe’s ears were steaming.

He gulped down some wine and went through a few more reports. 

Yan Suizhi couldn’t bear to keep watching, reminding him with some measure of amusement, “I can’t tell what your sister wants to glean with these hit-and-miss questions. Why don’t you look at the information you have with you again and discuss it with your sister. It isn’t too late to ask then.”

Joe was startled. “Can I do that? If… I come back later with questions, will that be alright?”

Yan Suizhi nodded. “Of course. Is it possible for this to expire?”

Now with work to do, Joe didn’t stay in the hall much longer, preferring to go back and read through the information over watching the Manson brothers’ stormy faces. Ke Jin set down his spoon and the four of them returned to the deluxe suite. 

During this, Gu Yan kept an eye on Yan Suizhi’s expression. But when among company, his face never betrayed any particular emotion.

Ke Jin didn’t look very eager to sleep and was unwilling to enter his bedroom. Joe settled him in the living room and sat down on the sofa next to him, earnestly reading the documents word by word, just like he had returned to his school days.

Yan Suizhi’s gaze flitted across his hand, pausing briefly before entering the bedroom.

“Tired?” Gu Yan didn’t stay in the living room either, following him in. 

“No. I’m going to wash my hands,” Yan Suizhi said.

The bedroom light wasn’t turned on, and behind him, Gu Yan closed the door. Even then, the room wasn’t completely engulfed in darkness. The lamps in the garden outside and lights from vehicles passing through a road in the distance silently shimmered across the room.

Yan Suizhi took the remote controlling the lights, turning it over in his hand, yet, as if forgetting about it, set it down again.

Then, he walked through the fluid gliding of light and shadows into the inner room, and not long later, the sounds of rushing water resounded. 

Gu Yan glanced at the remote. He wasn’t in a hurry to turn on the lights either.

He stood in place for a while, then followed the sounds of water inside.

The glass sliding door to the washbasin platform was left open. Yan Suizhi appeared to be carefully rinsing his fingers, as he always did. After a while, he stopped. He braced his hands on the rim of the sink, as though his thoughts were drifting away in the darkness.

After a few seconds, he suddenly whispered, “Gu Yan.” 

“I’m here.” Gu Yan stepped onto the platform.

Yan Suizhi turned his head to look at him for a while. Suddenly, he reached over to rest his hands on his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around him.