The study door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, startling Tao Ze, who had been waiting outside. Qin Mu had left just now without a word, and now Shen Liu came out with that kind of expression. Even a blind man like Tao Ze could tell that something was wrong between the two of them. He silently sighed in his heart.
“What has he been doing these past two days?” Shen Liu asked, his face dark.
Tao Ze pulled himself together and reported in full detail, “Yesterday he had a video meeting, contacted people from the law firm, and went out with you in the evening. Today he spent the whole day studying in front of the computer.” He then quietly added, “Nothing unusual.”
Shen Liu asked again, “What did he look at?”
To prevent Qin Mu from getting too involved in the Baolijian case, that computer had been set up with remote monitoring, and Qin Mu had been informed beforehand.
“He… browsed trending news online, and information related to the Baolijian case.” Tao Ze hurriedly checked on his tablet. “Oh, right—this morning his legal assistant sent an email. It contained the identities of all the clients whose cases he handled over the past few years.”
Shen Liu’s breath stopped for a moment, as if something inside him cracked. A massive boulder rolled off a long-neglected high platform and crashed fiercely onto his heart, sending that once-impenetrable heart stumbling.
“Is there a problem?” Tao Ze asked cautiously.
Shen Liu closed his eyes, exhaled a heavy, defeated breath, and murmured, “He already knows.”
Knows what?
Tao Ze froze for a second, then reacted as if struck by lightning. His eyes widened. “Impossible. I’ve always been extremely careful, just like you ordered. There’s no way he could’ve found any evidence.”
“He doesn’t need evidence.” Shen Liu leaned against the bannister at the corner of the stairs, as if his strength had been drained. A bleakness filled his eyes. “Between him and me, his conviction alone is enough.”
He now understood why Qin Mu had said those things last night, and why he had acted so strangely today.
The contract he had unintentionally discovered in the book had torn open the truth of that year. Behind the hard-won ‘fairness’ hid the absurd deal between the Shen family father and son. All of this left Qin Mu shocked, helpless, conflicted, and filled with an indescribable guilt and sorrow. Years ago, in order to protect his own laughable hopes, Shen Liu had stepped into the world of under-the-table exchanges for the first time in his life. A young man who had nothing had sacrificed his pride and freedom to light a lamp for him. That lamp had given him strength and courage, accompanying him through silent nights and long, long roads. Even now, upon discovering that it had only been an illusory flame, he still wanted to hold it carefully in his palms.
What right did he have to blame him?
He simply felt distressed. That was why he became ‘angry for having no right or qualification to be angry’; and why he couldn’t help but admonish, “When a person grows accustomed to relying on power, money, and connections, they should beware of the consequences if these things are lost one day.” Hidden in those words were his sincerity and his apology. He knew how frightening power and desire were, and he feared Shen Liu would fall into the whirlpool and never climb out.
Even though they had missed each other, even though mountains, years, and distance lay between them, the unforgettable love of their youth would not completely fade. Qin Mu still trusted Shen Liu. He understood the predicament that came with being ‘a member of the Shen family’. He tolerated that night of indulgence born from private desire, avoided a direct clash with Shen Liu’s profit-driven beliefs, and even tacitly accepted the extraordinary measures he took. Because he believed that the man who had once drawn his blade without hesitation on a snowy night to help a stranger could distinguish right from wrong, discern truth from falsehood, and hold fast to proper boundaries and a basic bottom line.
But Sun Jiangao’s death pierced the defensive line Qin Mu had built in his heart. Like a gust of icy wind, it made that lamp flicker unsteadily. Power became a blade, and human life its bait. Under the weight of influence, people became chess pieces to be manipulated at will, and a person’s life a script that could be rewritten with ease… Shen Liu’s terrifying ‘omnipotence’ awakened the seed called ‘doubt’ buried deep in Qin Mu’s heart.
Qin Mu was perceptive. That perceptiveness had been forged from the fragility and sensitivity of his youth and from harsh trials, allowing him to instinctively detect anomalies from scattered details and connect faint traces together.
Why had his career gone so smoothly?
Why had that proud, highly selective top attorney chosen him among so many talented candidates?
Why had wealthy clients entrusted their fortunes to a newly established firm?
Why had that defence case, which had cornered him due to his negligence, suddenly turned around in the end?
Everything he had once chalked up to ‘luck’ suddenly had another possible explanation. That seed pierced straight through his heart and sprouted bloody branches.
He had checked every case he had handled. Shen Liu knew he wanted to verify it. He was searching for that invisible hand.
No matter how precise the calculation, there would be flaws; no matter how careful the arrangement, there would be traces. Not to mention that the two of them understood each other too well. Qin Mu didn’t even need solid evidence to realise that the hand that had pushed Sun Jiangao to his doom had also entered his world, building steps beneath his feet, turning crises around, smoothing his path, pushing him onto a road of comfort and security.
The judicial fairness was nothing but a gimmick; the scales of law were nothing but a joke; integrity was nothing but a façade. He was nothing but a clown, proudly delighting in victories he had believed he earned through hard work. That hand became a slap across his face—shattering his pride, his confidence, the principles he had held as sacred, and even his ideal of ‘wielding the law as a sword to defend the borders of justice’.
The seed of doubt finally grew into a vine of self-denial, stabbing his heart full of wounds, piercing flesh, winding around bone, growing wildly inside him. His entire world began to shake, to melt, to crumble apart.
In the end, the faint light he had been cradling in his palms also fell into the dust.
The world shifted, all things turned, and fate was like a fickle voyeur. Fate stood at a great height, watching coldly as Shen Liu grasped power to resist his father’s authority, manipulated others to escape control, and abandoned his bottom line to become stronger. It tugged on the red thread in its hand, luring Shen Liu into turning his gaze again and again toward the distant K City, urging him to step in and shelter Qin Mu from wind and rain. It waited patiently for all dust to settle, then, with great interest, delivered Qin Mu right to Shen Liu’s side and afterwards placed ‘Being and Nothingness’ into his hands with a smile.
The warrior who picked up a blade to slay a dragon eventually turned into a dragon himself. Shen Liu, who had lit a lamp for Qin Mu, had personally extinguished that very lamp. Round and round he went, making a cocoon that bound him tight.
The way Qin Mu had looked just now had seared Shen Liu.
Lonely and sorrowful, transparent and fragile. Like a shadow that had lost its soul, as if it would vanish if the light grew just a little brighter.
—In your eyes, how much is my life worth?
What kind of feeling had he carried when he asked that question?
The man stared blankly toward the top of the staircase, feeling as if someone were sawing back and forth across his heart, the pain nearly stealing his breath. Never had he been as regretful or as panicked as he was now.
Even Tao Ze, who had followed him for many years, had never seen him like this. Uneasily, he suggested, “Maybe… you should go explain. It only happened a few times…”
Shen Liu did not hear clearly what he was saying. He felt like a rusted, malfunctioning robot, no longer under his own control. His legs moved on their own, carrying him up the stairs to the door of the master bedroom. He lifted his hand, then slowly lowered it again, his mind a complete blank.
What could he say? Every explanation would only be an excuse.
He had overestimated himself. When he had interfered in Qin Mu’s life out of his own wishful thinking, he had not even considered the possibility that it would all be uncovered. Perhaps, in some arrogant corner of his heart, he had believed that his intentions had all been ‘for Qin Mu’s own good’and that even if he were found out, he would still be able to handle it with ease.
But now, at this very moment, he realised he did not even have the courage to face Qin Mu.
That gaze of disappointment and distance had nearly killed him.
Dealing with the Zhao family was no easy task. The current situation was complicated, and everything depended on Shen Liu’s planning and strategy. At such a critical moment, he could not afford any distraction, yet the two of them had ended up in conflict. Tao Ze was practically dying of anxiety.
He waited downstairs for a long time without hearing any movement. He quietly climbed half a flight of stairs, craned his neck for a look, and froze in shock—Shen Liu had not even gone in. He was standing silently at the door, completely still, like a telephone pole planted there.
What was this? A ‘king does not face king’ standoff1originally referred to two people of equally high status or power who avoid meeting each other?
Where were all those sweet-talking tactics he usually used? The carrot-and-stick methods? The life-or-death cleverness? Was he planning to stand there blocking the Wi-Fi signal until Lawyer Qin was forced to come out?
Tao Ze was roasting him frantically in his heart. Out loud, he muttered, “If this problem stays stuck between them, won’t both of them be doomed? And if the boss is in a bad mood, won’t I be doomed?”
He clenched his teeth. Regardless of any prohibitions, he bolted up the stairs. He took two steps in one and pounded violently on the door, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Lawyer Qin, help! Help me!” His voice was so miserable it sounded like someone being mauled by a dog.
Outside, Shen Liu was startled half to death, instantly snapping back to himself. Inside, Qin Mu was also startled and thought something had happened, so he pulled the door open. The moment Tao Ze accomplished his suicidal mission, he turned and ran. He was practically flying down the stairs as if he had mastered light-footwork martial arts, leaving only the two men at the doorway staring at each other.
The scene was inexplicably ridiculous.
When a subordinate did something like this, it was the boss who lost face. Shen Liu awkwardly explained, “I didn’t tell him to do that.”
Qin Mu held a cigarette between his lips. He glanced at Shen Liu expressionlessly and started to close the door. Shen Liu hurriedly pressed against it. “I have something to say.”
Qin Mu stood silently for a moment. Seeing that he had no intention of letting go, he released the door and walked back inside.
The window was open, and the room was very cold. The ashtray on the coffee table was filled with cigarette butts; the wind blowing in had scattered much of the lingering smoke. Qin Mu was a highly disciplined person and rarely smoked this many cigarettes in succession. Shen Liu saw it and felt a sharp ache in his heart. He called softly, “Log.”
Qin Mu leaned against the window and exhaled a stream of smoke, calm as still water. “Are you here to answer my question?”
“I came to apologise.” Shen Liu admitted his mistake as a belated remedy, “I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to interfere in your affairs. Back then, I…” His tongue suddenly grew clumsy; he couldn’t find the right words.
Qin Mu pulled at the corner of his mouth—a smile that looked utterly exhausted, or perhaps just self-mocking. “I only want to know one thing. Can you tell the truth?”
“Yes.” Shen Liu agreed without even thinking.
Qin Mu fixed his gaze on him. “About anything that concerns me, aside from what I’ve already found out, is there anything else you’ve been hiding from me?”
Shen Liu hesitated. In that instant, lazy clouds drifting across the sky, a cramped bathroom shrouded in darkness, fish that couldn’t be washed clean in the sink, and a rain-soaked face flashed through his mind like a film playing at thirty-two times speed.
Their gazes met, just for a moment, but Qin Mu caught it. His eyelashes trembled faintly.
Shen Liu felt his own heart tremble with them. He said urgently, “I can explain. Give me a chance—”
“Shen Liu.” Qin Mu cut him off. His voice was unusually composed. “That’s all in the past. You had your position. If I were in your place, maybe I wouldn’t have found a better choice. I don’t have the right to judge you, and I don’t want to pursue anything. It’s just that we each have our own lives now. After this transaction ends, please let me go.”
Time had carved naïveté into reason and tempered hot blood into cool restraint. Maturity meant learning how to protect oneself. If being genuine made one vulnerable, then joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness were hidden deep away. If being sensitive made one vulnerable, then anything that might affect him was thrown far from reach. If change easily led to pain, then he wrapped himself in the comfort of the familiar. If loving someone easily led to pain, then he became the silent, passive one.
The young Qin Mu would have grieved for a long time over a first love that faded without closure, but the mature Qin Mu had learned to use cold decisiveness against old affections left unresolved. He withdrew neatly, severing every path that led back to him, even delivering his final words with poise and dignity.
Shen Liu stood there in silence, unmoving, staring at him, his lips pressed into a straight hard line. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang.
It was Shen Lan.
He had no choice but to leave.
Shen Liu let out a heavy sigh. Before stepping out the door, he paused and said softly, “Don’t smoke so much.”
Qin Mu said nothing and quietly gazed out at the pitch-black night sky. The wind blowing in felt as though it poured straight into his body, chilling even his heart.
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