Chapter 34: Rounding up to a first date!

Dong Shan’s case came to an inconclusive end. Although Cheng Yao’s emotions fluctuated, the deceased had passed, and everything had settled.

That evening, as planned, Cheng Yao took Qian Heng to the Michelin-starred restaurant they had previously agreed upon.

She had never eaten anything this extravagant before, so she found it all very novel. However, she hadn’t expected that Michelin dining emphasized ambiance and slow savoring. The dishes arrived at a leisurely pace, with long intervals between each course.

Which meant that during these gaps, she was stuck in a private dining room with Qian Heng… staring at each other.

“Since we have time, let’s recite legal provisions—”

“Boss!! Let’s talk about life instead!!!”

Cheng Yao practically blurted it out in a moment of desperation, stopping Qian Heng before he could initiate what she considered a deathly dull legal recitation session.

Qian Heng paused, then looked up and asked, “Talk about what?”

The following parts of the text will be scrambled to prevent theft from aggregators and unauthorized epub making. Please support our translators by reading on secondlifetranslations (dot) com. If you are currently on the site and and you are seeing this, please clear your cache.

“Zsw—obu eke usw nbsspl vs xyfsa kd zyo kd wdkhlapkvu?” Ubldt Zys aynjle bla caykd. “Eyp kv clnywpl usw clzklhle kd fwpvknl?”

“Xb, ds. R xkpalye vbl xyfsa.”

Ubldt Zys: ???

Ckyd Tldt pyke xyvvla-sq-qynvzu, “R rwzzle yd yzz-dktbvla rzyukdt tyxlp vbl dktbv clqsal qkzzkdt swv xu nszzltl yrrzknyvksdp. Yu lulp olal czwaau vbl dlmv xsadkdt, yde R vbswtbv R oyp yrrzukdt qsa Waldnb. Rv oypd’v wdvkz R altkpvlale qsa nzypplp vbyv R alyzkgle R bye ynvwyzzu nbspld zyo.”

“…”

Ckyd Tldt vssj y pkr sq bkp Kyrydlpl asypvle vly. “Jynj vbld, R zkjle Waldnb yav qkzxp, ps R oydvle vs pvweu Waldnb. Jwv zssjkdt cynj, vblal oyp ds dlle vs xyfsa kd kv.”

“Jlnywpl fsc rasprlnvp qsa dknbl zydtwytlp yal zkxkvle?”

“Ls, clnywpl R qswde swv vbyv Waldnb oyp akeknwzswpzu lypu. R nypwyzzu pvwekle qsa y ulya yde y byzq, rypple vbl U2 zlhlz, yde nswze nsxxwdknyvl okvb dyvkhl prlyjlap qzwldvzu. Fvweukdt kv qsa qswa ulyap oswze’hl clld y nsxrzlvl oypvl sq vkxl.” Ckyd Tldt pxkzle, yp kq vbkp oyp vbl xspv schkswp vbkdt kd vbl osaze. “Zsw pll, obld usw’al uswdt, psxlvkxlp usw esd’v qwzzu wdelapvyde uswaplzq. Ebld R oyp rknjkdt xu xyfsa, bso oyp R pwrrsple vs jdso vbyv R oyp vbkp pxyav?”

“…”

Cheng Yao thought to herself, I don’t think I can keep up with this conversation about life…

What caught Cheng Yao’s attention the most was the fact that Qian Heng had once pulled all-nighters playing video games. Judging by his cold and distant demeanor now, she found it hard to imagine him being passionate about gaming in his younger years. As a hardcore gamer herself, Cheng Yao couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

“You used to love gaming? What kind of games did you play?”

“I was playing Diablo back then.”

Cheng Yao was thrilled. “I love that game too!!! What class did you play?”

“Sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer, huh? That class is definitely a solo grind early on. No matter how good your gear is, you could still get one-shot!” Talking about this nostalgic game made Cheng Yao’s eyes light up. “I liked playing Druid. It’s a pretty versatile class—you can wield elemental magic, summon beasts, and even shapeshift into a bear or wolf.”

Qian Heng scoffed in disdain. “Versatile? More like a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Mediocre at everything, excellent at nothing. Elemental magic is weaker than the Sorceress, summoning falls short of the Necromancer, and in melee combat, a shapeshifted Druid is no match for the Barbarian. Druids are fine for beginners, but if you really want to master the game, playing a Sorcerer is the way to go.”

“Aside from Diablo, I played Counter-Strike too!”

“Counter-Strike, huh…”

…

Cheng Yao never expected that one day, she and her boss would get so engrossed in a conversation that they’d completely forget about their Michelin-starred meal.

From classic retro games to modern gaming and esports, to French art films, bands, and music—they talked about everything. Though she didn’t want to admit it, Cheng Yao gradually realized that she and her infamously toxic boss actually shared many interests. They liked the same games, the same art films, the same bands, and even the same singers.

Despite working closely with Qian Heng for a long time, he had always felt distant to her—no matter how much they interacted, he remained the untouchable boss.

Professional. Elite. Sharp-tongued. Overconfident. Cheng Yao had labeled him in many ways, but beyond that, she couldn’t say she truly understood him.

Yet, at this moment, Qian Heng suddenly felt alive to her.

Right now, he was talking about heavy metal music.

“I prefer the Nordic death metal style. The North American variant is too gory, but the Nordic one focuses more on melody—it has a sorrowful beauty to it, without being overly violent.” He paused for a moment, then suddenly chuckled. “Thinking back, my old interests were really… unconventional.”

For some reason, that chuckle felt tangible, like a ripple that gently—yet powerfully—struck the bell in Cheng Yao’s heart.

Qian Heng had always been an extraordinarily handsome man. He rarely smiled, but at that moment, Cheng Yao realized—some people truly have a smile that could bring nations to their knees.

When he smiled, she noticed for the first time that he had a slightly prominent canine tooth, making him look unexpectedly youthful and lively. His bright, unclouded eyes carried a pure warmth, making him seem radiant and carefree.

In that moment, Qian Heng was no longer the aloof, untouchable senior partner of Junheng Law Firm. Instead, he was just an ordinary, sunshine-filled young man—someone with his own hobbies, someone who had a youth filled with games and passion, someone who had once been naive, maybe even a little cringy. Perhaps he had even gone through an embarrassing “emo hair” phase…

Of course, there was one major difference between him and the countless ordinary young men out there—his face was anything but ordinary.

He was like a delicately crafted chocolate dessert, adorned with gold leaf—utterly irresistible to women. Even if he were placed behind a display case, even if there was still some distance between them, that intoxicating sweetness in his smile was already spilling over.

There had been many times when Cheng Yao wished Qian Heng would smile more instead of always keeping a straight face.

But at this moment, she sincerely hoped he would smile a little less.

Some people… are just too lethal when they smile.

By the end of their Michelin-starred meal, Cheng Yao found herself completely distracted—until the bill arrived, and the eye-watering total snapped her back to reality.

“Put it on the card,” she said.

Just as she was internally wrestling with the decision to pull out her wallet, Qian Heng reached out and handed his card to the cashier.

“Huh?” Cheng Yao was puzzled. “Wasn’t I supposed to be the one treating today?”

“I have principles. I’m not used to letting women pay for my meals,” Qian Heng replied with a cool and elegant smile. “I don’t want to owe people favors—it prevents them from using it as an excuse to keep approaching me. Or worse, assuming that just because I accepted their treat, I must have some kind of interest in them.”

Cheng Yao couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “But weren’t the noodles and drinks last time on me? Why didn’t you stick to your principles then?”

Qian Heng shot her a sharp look, his voice gritted with irritation. “Are you insisting on paying?”

Cheng Yao quickly waved her hands. “Not at all, not at all! Boss, please, go ahead, be my guest!”

At that moment, just as Qian Heng was signing the receipt, Cheng Yao happened to glance around—and suddenly, she spotted a familiar figure.

Bai Xingmeng, dressed in a white, low-cut gown, was gracefully walking toward the restaurant entrance, her arm intimately linked with a man’s.

She looked radiant, still breathtakingly beautiful, her face beaming with a dazzling smile—completely unaffected by the whole Xu Jun suicide incident.

Even though Junheng’s official Weibo account had already announced legal action against Bai Xingmeng, sparking public suspicion, and even though more discerning netizens had begun questioning the truth behind the situation, Bai Xingmeng—well-versed in media manipulation—had aggressively spent money to clean up her image with paid commenters.

And as if luck was on her side, the entertainment industry had been hit with scandal after scandal at that time.

A married A-list actor was exposed as a closeted scammer who had tricked his wife into marriage. A supposedly all-natural beauty influencer was revealed to have undergone plastic surgery. A wildly popular reality talent show had its final rankings leaked, proving they were rigged from the start…

One shocking revelation after another overwhelmed the gossip-hungry public, and before long, Bai Xingmeng’s scandal was all but forgotten. She quietly faded into the background, and just like that, the whole Xu Jun incident was brushed aside.

And now, here she was, in a high-end Michelin restaurant, playfully tapping her male companion’s chest before tiptoeing up to whisper something intimately in his ear. She made no effort to hide their relationship, behaving as though she didn’t care who saw them. After speaking, she even coquettishly asked him for a kiss.

In that moment, Cheng Yao was almost certain—Bai Xingmeng was deeply in love with this man.

No matter how skilled an actress she was, her eyes couldn’t lie.

Her gaze was filled with admiration and devotion, so much so that she didn’t even care about keeping his identity a secret. She leaned against him fearlessly, unbothered by potential paparazzi lurking around.

The man, too, seemed completely taken with her. He walked beside her attentively, holding her close. When Bai Xingmeng nearly stumbled on a step, he instinctively reached out—not just to steady her, but protectively covering her lower abdomen.

It was then that Cheng Yao noticed—Bai Xingmeng’s once slender figure had changed.

Her waistline, once sharply defined, had softened significantly. Though her long dress concealed it well, the cut of the gown wasn’t particularly fitted around the waist.

Subtly, Cheng Yao tugged at Qian Heng’s sleeve.

“What?” he asked.

She motioned toward Bai Xingmeng.

Qian Heng paused for a moment, followed Cheng Yao’s gaze, and after a brief flicker of surprise, a look of understanding crossed his face.

Bai Xingmeng and the man beside her seemed completely oblivious to their surroundings. They approached a waiter, exchanged a few words, and then followed the staff member down a hallway leading to the private dining rooms.

“You should now understand why Bai Xingmeng was so determined to destroy Xu Jun back then,” Qian Heng remarked.

“Why?”

Qian Heng smirked. “The man she was holding onto just now—he’s the actual owner of Kanxin TV.”

Kanxin TV?

The name sounded familiar to Cheng Yao. She thought for a moment before the realization hit her. “Wait, you mean the competitor that was applying for IPO at the same time as Xu Jun’s ‘TuanTuan Online’—the one in the exact same industry?!”

“Mm.” Qian Heng glanced at his watch. “It took you forty-eight seconds to remember. I suggest you start memorizing dictionaries when you get older—to keep your brain sharp and prevent dementia and memory decline.”

“…”

Setting aside the comment about dementia, Cheng Yao was completely stunned by this new revelation.

Only now did she finally understand why Bai Xingmeng had been so ruthless with Xu Jun.

They had once been husband and wife. There was no irreconcilable blood feud between them. Even knowing Xu Jun’s struggle with depression, she had refused any settlement, hell-bent on ruining him and sabotaging his IPO.

It wasn’t out of emotional impulse.

Qian Heng was right—she had done it for her own interests.

She had gotten together with the owner of Kanxin TV, and judging by her figure, it was obvious to anyone that she was already pregnant.

Her attack on “TuanTuan Online” was likely at the behest of this soon-to-be father, perfectly timed to strike at the most critical moment before its IPO. It wasn’t just a marital dispute—it was a calculated business war in disguise.

Had she known all along that Xu Jun had given her a smaller share of assets in the divorce? Had she deliberately waited until “TuanTuan Online” was at its most vulnerable before suing him—just to catch him off guard?

By dragging out the lawsuit and ultimately derailing his IPO, she had given Kanxin TV the upper hand, ensuring they would go public first.

The truth behind their marriage was far too complex—one that would likely never be fully uncovered.

“Marriage is a kind of alliance,” Qian Heng said coolly. “When a man and a woman form a shared interest group, and love still exists between them, they become an unbreakable force, the best partners.

“But when love runs out, they can become colder to each other than strangers.

“They know each other’s weaknesses, which makes them the most formidable enemies—and each other’s worst nightmares.”

His tone was indifferent, as if making a detached closing argument. But Cheng Yao found herself deeply unsettled by his words.

“Does a loveless marriage really have to end this way? Is there no way to maintain or salvage it?”

“Of course, it can be maintained,” Qian Heng said with a faint smile. “Once a couple has children, even without love, they can keep going for the sake of their kids—or at least avoid tearing each other apart so viciously.”

“That’s why Bai Xingmeng was in such a hurry to get pregnant.

“Kanxin TV’s owner isn’t like Xu Jun. He comes from old money, and Kanxin TV is just one piece of his family’s business empire.

“Bai Xingmeng finally landed someone she’s absolutely certain is wealthy. She’s secured her future.”

“But is a marriage built on pure calculation really meaningful? Can there be any real love in a relationship based on mutual exploitation and power struggles?”

“Love is too abstract. Too rare.”

Qian Heng pressed his lips together. “If you can’t have a lot of love, having a lot of money is still better than being stuck in a poor marriage—one where you have neither love nor money.

“Besides, money has a way of making love grow.”

He shot Cheng Yao a glance. “If you’re thinking of getting married, you should stop overanalyzing it.”

Cheng Yao blinked and nodded thoughtfully. “I guess… after working in family law for so long, I’ve seen too much of the reality behind marriages. It has its pros and cons.

“The good part is, I know how to protect my interests. The bad part is, being too rational and clear-headed makes it harder to find happiness.

“So I think, sometimes in life, you have to learn how to play dumb.”

“You don’t need to pretend.”

Cheng Yao: “???”

Qian Heng didn’t say anything else. He simply gave her a subtle glance—one that all but had the words “because you’re already dumb” written across his face.