0028 The True Meaning Retained (Part 1)

Zhai's car was not parked in the designated parking lot, but on a lawn.

This place is safe in some ways, as there are no streetlights nearby, making it pitch black, and the faint moonlight is insufficient for illumination. However, it's also dangerous in others, because it faces Taoguang Building, the main teaching building of H University's graduate campus. Many students come here in the evenings to find empty classrooms to study.

Qu Zhong sat in the passenger seat, fastened his seatbelt, and stared silently at the car window in front of him.

After a long while, Zhai still didn't turn on the car key.

The atmosphere was even more deathly still than an empty mountain.

The car was pitch black, and Qu Zhong couldn't see his expression or know what he was thinking. She could only urge him, "What are you daydreaming about? Let's go."

He still didn't move.

With her vision obstructed, her other senses were heightened. Qu Zhong heard him take a long, deep breath in the darkness, and then utter, "Qu Zhong, have you ever thought about me?"

Perhaps it's an occupational hazard, but as a prosecutor, Zhai Shi always tends to be defensive when facing criminal defense lawyer Qu Zhong. In his own words, he's all about responding to each move as it comes.

His unusually proactive move caught Qu Zhong off guard. It's like being suddenly attacked with evidence during cross-examination, or the opposing party filing a counterclaim in court; it would be a lie to say he wasn't flustered.

Qu Zhong froze, gripping the seatbelt tightly, feeling the car's warm air rushing towards her face, as if Zhai had sent a wingman to quickly heat up her face.

She was distracted and couldn't say a word.

Instead of waiting for her response, Zhai spoke up again, as if this was a question he was asking and answering himself: "No, right?"

He then chuckled softly, a self-deprecating laugh, but also a shrug of defeat: "But I miss you so much."

"Qu Zhong, I miss you so much."

Afraid she wouldn't hear him clearly, afraid she wouldn't believe him, he repeated it.

When Zhai was an assistant prosecutor, Ling Yedong taught him how to defend without revealing any weaknesses. So much so that he forgot one crucial point: sometimes offense is the best defense.

An expression of intent only has meaning if it is explicitly stated; otherwise, it has no legal effect.

After the argument at the Renaissance Hotel that day, Zhai didn't sleep a wink all night.

He was still perfectly sober the next day. Instead of driving, he went to the subway station, having calculated the time he had met her in the same carriage before.

After boarding the train, he was restless, listening intently to the station announcements while silently counting down in his mind, afraid of missing the station where she would appear.

At that moment, all he could think about was that he would definitely give her the spot he had reserved in advance.

But he waited until he missed his stop, and she never appeared.

That afternoon, he went to wait for her again downstairs at the SG office building. As expected of a top-tier office building, people were constantly coming and going. But among so many people, not a single one seemed to be interested in her. Even after the last light in the building went out, he still hadn't seen her emerge from behind the revolving door.

Five days passed in this repetitive cycle, a week of workdays, until Zhai finally woke up from his self-deception. She would never appear again; it was over. He had ended the relationship himself.

His landline stopped ringing so frequently, and he no longer received any messages from her on WeChat.

He thought she had deleted him from her friends list, but when he carefully opened her profile, he found that her settings were still "Friends can only show posts from the last six months".

Amidst the palpitations, he suddenly noticed the first line hanging above those system messages: the "duty benefits" that always brought a smile to his face—

A picture of a sea salt toffee latte.

Behind the picture is his name, which he deliberately left behind—a secret that no one else can see, belonging only to the two of them.

At that moment, his heart visibly clenched.

Zhai never liked drinking coffee, but after seeing this post on his WeChat Moments, he started going to the coffee shop on the seventh floor every afternoon.

She would stand there pretending to hesitate for ages, unsure of what to order, and in the end, she would always order a sea salt toffee latte, the only flavor she had ever tried.

The last time we met at the coffee shop, he said "It's none of my business" with an unwavering resolve.

But in the end, not long after returning to his office, he resigned himself to his fate and went back.

Without a second's hesitation, I quickly dripped a card: "Sea Salt Toffee Latte."

The young girl at the coffee shop, however, was quick-witted and saw right through it all. She asked, "Would you like me to take it down for you?"

"Need not."

He went by himself.

During the days he lost contact with Qu Zhong, he tried his best to return to the life he had before without her, and he thought he had succeeded.

But when he heard about her from others, it was just fragmented words, without even mentioning her name. Yet he desperately wanted to see her, a real, flesh-and-blood Qu Zhong.

Whether she smiles at him, gives him the cold shoulder, or doesn't show any expression when they meet, he can accept it, as long as he can see her once.

With that thought in mind, he rushed out of the office and strode to the seventh floor. While waiting for the elevator to descend, he felt that time was incredibly long.

Even so, it was still too late.

When he arrived at the lawyer's office with a trembling heart, the person he wanted to see was no longer there.

Sitting inside was Xu Yanru, who clearly didn't recognize him: "Who are you?"

“I’m looking for Attorney Qu…” He couldn’t even openly say her name in front of a third party.

Xu Yanru replied, "Attorney Qu had to leave due to unforeseen circumstances, so I'm filling in for her."

Then he asked, "Do you need to see her for something?"

"It's alright now."

How strange, this person clearly said he was fine. But for some reason, Xu Yanru felt that his slowly departing figure looked so lonely, like an unclaimed, desolate island.

A sample that cannot be bought or sold.

A fictional novel that no one appreciates.

It makes you want to comfort him.

Later, Zhai received a WeChat message from Professor Wu, asking if he had time to give a lecture to criminal law students at the H University Graduate School.

H University, Graduate School, Criminal Law—he deliberately picked out these words one by one, absorbing them into the depths of his memory. All he could think of, the only thing he could think of, was Qu Zhong.

She had boasted to him about the influential alumni network of H University in Shanghai's legal community. He saw on the official website of the Shanghai Bar Association that she held a master's degree. After receiving the judgment in Xue Bo's case, she devoted her life to upholding the principle of legality in criminal law on her WeChat Moments.

These are the reasons why he agreed to go to class.

He was thinking, "There's a one percent chance I'll run into her there, so I have to go."

Zhai Shi's tone was calm and gentle as he spoke these words that he should have said long ago, without expecting a response.

It's simply a matter of speaking it out, letting the intention be expressed. As for what kind of legal act this weighty expression of intention will ultimately evolve into, and what legal consequences it will have—whether it takes immediate effect, is invalid from the beginning, or is voidable—that's not something he can control.

With each word he spoke, Qu Zhong's heart would beat faster.

She doesn't know.

She knew nothing about these things.

She was simply exercising her legal rights as a worker and taking five days of annual leave without even looking at it.

As for Zhai, during those five days, and in the countless five-day periods that followed, he was like an uncontrollable serial offender, relentlessly committing the same crime: thinking about someone he shouldn't be thinking about.

As the last word "翟" was uttered, the car fell silent again.

Qu Zhong snapped the switch on her seatbelt, and just then, moonlight streamed in, illuminating the blush rising on her face.

"We're not going to the Renaissance Hotel."

"I've changed my mind, and I want to do it here."