First-Class Lawyer

White Dove Street was a magical place that was just ten or so metres away from the busiest district.

It was the address of the extensive manor grounds of Hanjin Garden Hotel, its connecting shopping malls, recreational facilities, and other indispensable venues. A small residential area was also sandwiched in the middle, where the hotel’s staff dormitories were located. 

But the human traffic wasn’t high at White Dove Street. Usually, not even a handful of people could be seen across the entire stretch. The stores on the street were either out of business or had big red discounted property for sale notices on their windows, if not spectacular clearance sales. Even so, they were still unable to reel customers in. Times were bad.

The only exception was that dingy pub.

The pub had a quirky name, Gran & Gramps, as well as graffiti art of an elderly couple, the owners of the pub, embracing each other on the facade of its roughcast walls.

This elderly couple closed the pub for a few days to manage something back home and came back only to find that a homicide case took place right at their doorstep. They keeled over on the spot in shock and were brought directly to the hospital in a patrol car, leaving the pub for the police to set up camp. 

For once, White Dove Street welcomed its heyday; people were everywhere on the street—most of them uniformed police, as well as reporters and paparazzi lugging their equipment. They’d been hanging around here for so long that they’d practically become old-timers here, flaunting their press cards, moving around freely, skulking all over the place.

But there were also others apart from these.

On this night, two silhouettes stealthily routed about the perimeter of the pub, picking a crafty angle, snapping a few photos of the water fountain.

The man crouched in front lowered his head, sifting through the photos to save one of them, captioning it: The corpse of the hotel’s control room duty officer, Barry, was found at this fountain.

With that done, he waved at the person behind him, and the two of them speedily cut across the street.

“Fuck, the police chief! Get over here!” He pressed his minion’s head down, towing him into the nearest dark alley.

The dumpster, a holy ground consecrated for drunkard’s vomit, was right behind them, the stench so odious that it made one lose all love for life.

The young man, with his head being pressed down, stared at the press card in front of his chest, wondering if it was a dud. 

He tried to rein in his bewilderment to no avail, grabbing the person before him, asking, “Teacher Bens, we clearly have our press cards, so why do we have to sneak in here like this?”

This dubious duo was no other than the reporters that interacted with Yan Suizhi and Gu Yan on Tian Qin before—Jim Bens, along with the junior reporter assisting him, Norman Hersey.

Bens clicked his tongue impatiently. “Why? Shouldn’t I be asking you this? I’ve told you before, just go to the hotel entrance and take a couple of photos. Wouldn’t a picture of any of those bigwigs be much more interesting than this fountain? Weren’t you the one mumbling to yourself and pulling a long face like it would kill you if you didn’t follow the case?”

Hersey felt a bit wronged. “No, what I mean is why must we sneak in here like thieves? Look at those reporters; aren’t they openly chatting with the police?” 

Bens pinched his nose, the miasma of the dumpster so unremitting that his voice was all muffled, “For the love of god. You’re too young to understand.”

Hersey, “…” What the heck does this have to do with experience?

“Who’d want to hide next to a dumpster? I also want to openly parade in front of the police. Isn’t this just… a bit of a spat!” An embarrassed flush coloured Bens’ face as he went on.

“A spat?” Hersey was curious. “With who? If it’s any police officer, can’t we just skip them and talk to someone else?” 

Bens scratched between his brows. “That… Chief Xiao.”

Hersey, “…”

Now, wasn’t that splendid? Who could you talk to if their big boss had a bone to pick with you? No wonder when they’d only just glimpsed Chief Xiao’s shadow just now, he got yanked by Bens to the dumpster.

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Hersey perked up the moment he heard that it was an explosion case. “Are you referring to the explosion case that the dean was involved in?”

Bens snorted. “Bullshit, otherwise? Who else can it be?”

Hersey knew that Bens had also followed the explosion case back when it was still trending, and also knew that he didn’t uncover anything interesting, giving up after the hype went away, even forbidding Hersey from wasting time on it. But he didn’t know that Bens had actually gotten into trouble with a district police chief over it. 

It was no less queer than a dog tossing a bone aside to eat grass instead.

“Why are you staring at me with such wide eyes? You must be doubting me in your head now, huh?” Bens side-eyed him.

Hersey shook his head, making not a peep.

“Do you think that I don’t know what you’re thinking?” Bens harrumphed. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve done every one of those hot-blooded things you’re doing now way back. Everyone was young once.” 

Hersey muttered, “You’re still quite young now.”

Bens, “Cut the crap. Anyway, this is my advice to you, as someone who’s been there, done that. To use the simplest analogy, do you really think that nothing can be uncovered from the explosion case at all? It’s only that some don’t dare to look into it, and some are not letting others look into it. Maybe everyone is holding some scattered clues in their hands but just can’t gather them together, so they can’t be pieced together.”

“Then why not just gather them together?”

“Easy for you to say. Do you know who’s standing on which side? Whether the stuff someone has is useful or useless? Do you know where to go to find people to gather your findings? The whole alliance is so big!” 

On a roll, Bens pointed at the large mansions of Hanjin Garden Hotel in the distance, which appeared noble and immovable in the waning twilight.

“I’d even wager that, based on my professional experience and intuition, all of the chaos has been happening lately—the contagion, gene surgery mishap, and whatnot—if one day we do expose the manipulators behind the scenes, half of the people in those two mansions will fall; would you believe it?”

Hersey was blindsided by his momentum, nodding. “A bit… maybe… I do.”

“So what if you do! Do you have evidence? Is it logical? Do you know the whole sequence of events?” Bens said. “If empty talk and suspicions could be of use, then the world would be at peace.” 

Hersey opened his mouth, wanting to say something, yet was unable to find the right way to put it.

“Stop gaping, you’re not a fish,” Bens said. “It’s not for us to worry about those big things either, it’s more important to feed ourselves.”

Hersey said, “But the aspirations that led us to becoming reporters…”

“Can your aspirations feed you?” 

It wasn’t until the two of them emerged from the dark alley, dodged the police, and burrowed into a brightly-lit store that Hersey then muttered, “I can’t eat it, but I don’t want to toss it either.”

Bens’ expression turned rueful for a brief moment, as though tempted to chide him a bit more. But he didn’t say anything in the end, only closing the door with a sigh.

“What would you like to eat? The cook is on leave. There’s only sausages and beer now.” A rather stout woman said, flinging her rag, extremely unenthused.

Bens pushed Hersey to the front, saying indolently, “Go on, then. How can you actualise your aspirations when you’re always cowering behind.” 

Hersey was taciturn and bashful. “Um… Boss?”

The plump woman added, “Lady.”

Hersey, “?”

“Boss lady,” said the plump woman. “Tell me you want to eat. Don’t ask me about the case straight-up, I’m not going to let you hog space just to talk.” 

Fair enough. Considering its location, it was inevitable that many would have come into the store asking questions. This plump lady was probably fed up with it by now.

Hersey nodded and said, “Teacher, let me treat you to supper! Sausages and beer for two, please. Thank you.”

“Sure! Coming right up.”

Less than a minute later, the plump woman came over with the food and drinks on a tray. She was a good sport as well, grabbing one for herself and sitting down next to them, biting the beer bottle open with practised ease. “So what do you want to ask? Fire away.” 

“Oh, it really isn’t much. I just want to ask if you saw anything that morning?” Hersey asked, almost conversationally.

“Sure I did. I was upstairs and just got up, then saw someone running over like a deranged man.”

“Deranged?” Hersey shot Bens a look. “But there’s no way the hotel would hire someone mentally unsound in their control room, right? Moreover, I heard that the duty officer tampered with the surveillance.”

The plump lady took a swig. “How would I know? What I saw was a deranged man. But it’s pretty weird cause I’ve seen that guy before on this street and he was quite normal. Hearsay he was still fine after coming off work that morning, even when he returned to the dorms?” 

“Hearsay? Who did you hear it from?”

“You aren’t the only ones who have come to ask. I’ve always seen several groups and heard it from their conversations.”

“Oh… another one that was fine but turned deranged later?” Bens murmured.

“Another one? What do you mean?” Hersey asked. 

“It’s nothing much. Just, didn’t those old folks involved in the Elderly Bobblehead case suddenly lose their minds as well?” Bens said.

Hersey, “So… are these two cases actually related? Teacher, do you know something?”

Bens guffawed. “As if I know shit. I only just happened to draw the association based on my rich experience and sharp professional instincts.”

— 

The weather at this belt of Fa Wang was unusually fickle. It practically saw the four seasons during its winter; it would have fair and beautiful weather one day, only to whip up a small hurricane the next.

A hurricane of this magnitude wouldn’t cause much structural damage, though it did jinx the traffic.

Down on their luck, the guests who had planned to leave Hanjin Garden Hotel were unlikely to be able to leave anymore.

Yan Suizhi was awakened by the fierce gales thrashing the window panes. 

When stirred awake, he was actually hit by the moodiness of having just roused. His brows furrowed and his eyelids flicked up irately.

But he ended up opening his eyes to the sight of Gu Yan’s face, right in front of him.

For the very first time, Professor Yan found that he was actually so easily placated. Without Student Gu having done a thing, the moodiness stuffing his chest had abated.

In the past, Gu Yan went for a jog every morning without fail, always waking up earlier than the rooster crows. No matter what time the esteemed Professor Yan got out of bed, Lawyer Gu was perpetually brewing his coffee. 

A Gu Yan like today’s who wasn’t awake was a rare sight.

Yan Suizhi found it quite novel.

The sky outside had yet to brighten. Yan Suizhi admired Lawyer Gu’s sleeping countenance for a while, then made to quietly get out of bed.

However, Gu Yan’s arms were still winded around his waist, weighing so heavily down that it would be difficult to sit up without disturbing his sleep. 

Professor Yan pried open the blanket, making a stroke in the air with his hand, considering the best angle to move out.

But before he could make a second stroke, he sensed something and lifted his head, to see that Gu Yan’s eyes were already open, lazily watching him.

“…You gave me a shock.” Yan Suizhi said with a face that was without the least bit of shock. “Awake?”

Gu Yan tightened his arms around the other, pulled him even closer, and buried his face into the crook of his shoulder, saying, “Sleep with me for a while more.” 

Lawyer Gu’s voice when he wasn’t quite awake was low and husky, tinted with a seldom-seen indolence. Listening to it made the base of Yan Suizhi’s ears soften.

Whilst Professor Yan rebuked in his head: Incubus concubine!

—he also reached his arms over to return the embrace, patting the sturdy shoulders. “Why are you so sleepy today?”

They’d actually gone to bed very early last night, their kisses gentle and soft, but not doing anything more than that. 

By right, he shouldn’t be this sleepy.

Gu Yan didn’t move, languidly drawing out his “mm” in response.

“…Don’t talk in my ear,” Yan Suizhi attempted to salvage his sanity.

It was all for naught when a certain someone refused to cooperate, continuing to speak in that low, husky timbre. “I got up last night to pore over Joe’s files. It was a bit late when I went back to sleep…” 

Yan Suizhi, “Mhm…”

Actually, nothing went in at all.

He endured it for a while, before eventually shifting away, covering his ears and saying snippily, “Student Gu, you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”