Chapter 36

The days that followed were a blur for Xia Zhile.

He made mistakes at work, too distracted to focus, and finally gave the department head—who had clearly been waiting for an excuse—exactly what they needed. He got chewed out mercilessly.

Xia Zhile didn’t even care anymore. Whatever.

That day, he left with the cat in his arms.

Lin Hening didn’t say anything. No words of comfort, no parting shot. He simply handed the cat back to him—the one he’d bought to replace Qiu Bi.

After a few seconds, Lin Hening said, “Give me your phone.”

Xia Zhile obeyed without question.

He watched as Lin Hening opened the photo gallery and began deleting every photo—of the two of them, of Lin Hening alone.

Xia Zhile felt like he’d been pierced through the heart with a thousand arrows. He reached out, panicked, yelling “Stop!”—but it was already too late.

Lin Hening handed the phone back to him. He didn’t say a word.

But he smiled.

The same smile he’d worn when they first met.

That clean, handsome boy bathed in gentle sunlight—so vivid, so unforgettable.

Xia Zhile kept the substitute cat.

He named it Qiu Bi.

Sometimes… he called it “Salad.”

The weekend finally came.

Xia Zhile clipped a leash onto the cat and took it out for a walk. From noon to sunset, and then into the night—they walked until the cat was too tired to take another step. So he picked it up and carried it the rest of the way.

When he finally snapped out of his daze, Xia Zhile realized with a start: he had unknowingly wandered to that place—the one where they once took shelter from the rain.

The place where Lin Hening had confessed to him.

He had said: “Do you like me? I kind of like you too. Wanna be together?”

And Xia Zhile had answered: “As long as I can afford instant noodles, I’ll never let you live off plain noodles and hot water.”

He’d sworn: “I’ll make a lot, a lot of money for you to spend. I’ll treat you right, for the rest of your life.”

They’d spun around in the rain, arms wrapped around each other—and in that moment, Xia Zhile felt like he had the whole world.

The spring thunder was like fireworks in the sky, and every raindrop shimmered like a halo made just for them.

Now, Xia Zhile collapsed onto the steps, clutching the cat in his arms, and broke down in sobs.

Gu Fei brought over a plate of braised eggplant and set it down in front of Lin Hening. “Since when are you eating vegetarian?”

Lin Hening was once again haunted by the memory of that mystery “fried stuff” and replied with a heavy sigh, “Don’t ask. You’ll be traumatized.”

Gu Fei took the hint. Once Lin Hening had eaten his fill, he brought over a tall glass of lemon iced tea to cleanse his palate.

Refreshed and recharged, Lin Hening returned to the prosecutor’s office full of energy.

He used to just grab lunch in the cafeteria, but his palate had gotten more spoiled lately. Whenever his schedule allowed, he’d rather make the trip to Gu Fei’s restaurant—even if it meant giving up his afternoon nap.

Back in his office, his phone rang. Not bothering to check the screen, Lin Hening answered casually, “Hello? Who’s this?”

There was no response.

Frowning, Lin Hening glanced at his screen—the call was still active. “Hello?”

Just as he was about to hang up, thinking the line was dead, a woman’s voice came through:

“Hè Hè…”

Lin Hening froze. She had just called him by his childhood nickname.

But he didn’t recognize the voice. “Who are you?”

There was a five-second pause.

Then the woman said, “I’m your mother.”

Lin Hening felt his mind blank for a second. “?!”

As if worried he hadn’t understood, she added softly, “I’m Wen Zhi.”

Lin Hening’s fingers tightened around the phone.

He was familiar with that name—Wen Zhi—but the word “Mom,” which he hadn’t used in over twenty years, felt utterly foreign.

His biological mother had left the country with her first love and vanished without a trace.

When he was little, he yearned for his mother’s love. Day after day, he’d wait, hoping she would come back. He used to believe that maybe—just maybe—he’d wake up one morning to find her standing by his bed.

Eventually, he had no choice but to accept the truth: she had abandoned him and would never come back. So he downgraded his hopes. Fine, he told himself. She doesn’t have to come back. Just a phone call would be enough.

But even that never came.

A complete, cold-blooded break. As if she had no ties to him at all.

And so, over time, he stopped expecting anything. Wen Zhi became just that—his biological mother. Nothing more.

That was the end of it.

He wasn’t even sure how many years it had been since their last contact. But one thing was clear: he no longer remembered her voice.

In fact, he found himself trying—unsuccessfully—to match that voice to some memory of her from his childhood. But he couldn’t summon even a blurry image in his head.

He couldn’t recall her face or how she sounded.

If they passed each other on the street, he probably wouldn’t even recognize her.

A hollow, ironic smile tugged at Lin Hening’s lips.

Then the woman said, “Hehe… congratulations on your win.”

His voice was cool and distant. “It wasn’t me who won. It was the law.”

There was a pause. Then Wen Zhi said, “Zhang Wangchun has asked me to represent his son in the appeal trial.”

“…Of course.” Lin Hening wasn’t surprised.

Her junior had been thoroughly defeated—it made sense that the senior partner would step in to salvage the law firm’s pride.

“So why are you telling me this? After all these years of no contact, you suddenly call to what? Declare war? Planning to defend the honor of the ‘Wen faction’ and avenge Ma Huaixue’s humiliation?” Lin Hening laughed lightly and leaned back in his chair.

“I wish I could face off with you in court,” she replied, “but the rules don’t allow it.”

Indeed—he wouldn’t be assigned to the second trial anyway. And even if he were, their biological relationship would disqualify him from participating.

What a shame.

Lin Hening would’ve loved to wield the sword of justice in court—to cut ties with family in the name of righteousness.

They hadn’t spoken in years, had no relationship to speak of, and really had nothing to say.

He had no interest in asking if Wen Zhi and her beloved had gone on to have baby #2, #3, or #4. And Wen Zhi, for her part, wanted to ask how Lin Hening was doing but couldn’t seem to bring herself to say the words.

The silence between them stretched.

“I’m hanging up unless you’ve got something else,” Lin Hening said.

“Hehe…” she called softly. After a short pause, she asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replied.

“I see… You’re not young anymore, you should—”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“…What?”

Click. He hung up.

He thought the call would leave him filled with complicated emotions. But oddly, there were none.

He stared blankly at the black screen for a few seconds… then turned to dive back into work and case files.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, expecting some spam. But when he saw the message, he froze.

Bank deposit: 1,000,000 yuan.

…What the hell?!

He looked at the sender: Gu Fei.

Before he could call to ask about it, Gu Fei messaged him on WeChat:

[That’s the last of the debt. All paid up.]

Their little “matchmaker,” Zhou Zhou, would now be working for Gu Fei for life.

Lin Hening went straight to the point:

[Where the hell did you get that kind of money?]

[From my dad.]

Gu Fei added a sticker of a bear sighing dramatically.

Then he sent a screenshot.

Sender: Xie Xun

Time: Today, noon

Amount: 10,000,000 yuan

[He wired it without asking me. Said it’s just pocket money.]

[What am I supposed to do with this much? It’s a pain.]

[Bear throwing tantrum emoji]

“…”

Lin Hening thought to himself, That kind of complaint? Only safe to say it to me.
If he ever said it to Zhou Zhou or Fatty, those two would definitely rebel, team up, and kidnap Boss Gu!

And as for the ransom? No less than a few hundred million, for sure.

Gu Fei: [What do you want for dinner tonight?]

Lin Hening seriously considered it and glanced out the window.

Clear blue skies. Blazing sun.

Suddenly, the sound of cicadas echoed faintly—summer had arrived.

He sent a voice message: “I feel like having cold noodles tonight.”

Gu Fei: [Got it.]

Gu Fei: [You still owe me 181.]

Lin Hening paused, his fingers starting to type “What do you mean?”
But then it hit him—and he chuckled as he slowly erased the message.

181…

A lifetime.