Chapter 15

In the end, Jiang Mian got into Chen Gu’s car again.

“Where to?”

“I’ll take you to see an art exhibition. Interested?”

Jiang Mian was indeed interested.

But: “I don’t really know much about these things.”

Chen Gu curved his eyes. “That’s fine. With me here, if you have questions, you can ask. You’ll also save on hiring a guide.”

That didn’t sound too bad.

Jiang Mian wasn’t the type to insist on staying only within the fields he knew. He was willing to accept new things.

Chen Gu started the car and drove out of the complex. The route to the exhibition didn’t need GPS. It was clear Chen Gu had thoroughly familiarized himself with all the art exhibition venues in South Boundary.

After all, this was his professional domain.

The car hit the road again. Jiang Mian looked out the window at the endless stream of traffic, but his gaze was unconsciously drawn to Chen Gu’s blurry reflection.

Until his phone rang.

Jiang Mian answered. It was Li Yue.

Li Yue said, “Little Jiang, Partner Wang says he took on a criminal case—likely going to be a defense trial. He wants to know if you’re willing to meet with him.”

Criminal defense cases weren’t as common as civil ones. Generally, defendants in criminal cases either requested leniency or first sought settlement to get the victim’s forgiveness.

In those situations, there wasn’t much for a lawyer to do.

Moreover, most people who broke the law didn’t think about spending money to hire a defense attorney. Defense lawyers were typically public defenders—free, state-appointed.

The win rate was abysmal, maybe even nonexistent. But defense lawyers were a necessity. It was a matter of the defendant’s human rights.

The firm Jiang Mian was working part-time at was carefully selected by Jiang Liaoyi. It didn’t take many criminal cases—mostly civil ones.

Criminal cases often led to complications. Specifically, victims’ families could transfer their hatred onto the defense attorney. It wasn’t safe.

Jiang Liaoyi had acted as defense counsel before. And because of him, the defendant was ultimately acquitted and released. The victim’s family had come after him with a knife.

He hadn’t been in immediate danger because he was out, but young Jiang Mian had been terrified. Thankfully, at the time, a distant relative was also living with them.

His older cousin from a distant branch, also a legend at South Boundary University—Rong Xun.

Rong Xun was calm, composed, and steady. The moment he heard the first bang on the door, he sensed something was wrong. He told Jiang Mian to go to his room and then called the police.

Later, the case went back into review. The police and forensics found new leads, locked onto another suspect, and caught the real culprit. The family never came back to apologize.

But this didn’t dampen Jiang Mian’s determination to become a lawyer.

It was also because of this incident that he became even more certain: defense lawyers had a necessary role to play.

So Jiang Mian replied, “Alright.”

Li Yue added, “Then come in tonight for overtime. Have dinner at the firm. Arrive around six. Go directly to Partner Wang’s office. You’ll need to prepare materials tonight and go see the defendant tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Working overtime as a lawyer was common.

Even partner-level attorneys couldn’t avoid it.

After hanging up, Jiang Mian first glanced down at his watch.

Noticing his movement, Chen Gu asked, “Something up?”

“Need to go to the firm for overtime at six.” Jiang Mian told the truth. “But it’s only 1:30 now. Still have three hours.”

The firm was close to his home. The exhibition Chen Gu wanted to visit was also nearby. It was doable.

But after hearing this, Chen Gu sighed softly. “I was hoping we could have dinner together too.”

Jiang Mian paused.

Seeing him silent, Chen Gu lazily added fuel to the fire. “Can’t even complete a belated birthday celebration. Do you think fate is telling me my twentieth year is destined to have a flaw?”

Materialist Jiang Mian: “.”

His brain told him not to engage. Chen Gu was clearly doing this on purpose. Yet his eyes couldn’t help but drift toward Chen Gu.

Chen Gu happened to be stopped at a red light. His gaze shifted onto Jiang Mian.

Their eyes met. Under the assault of those pitiful-looking puppy-dog eyes, Jiang Mian ultimately said what Chen Gu wanted to hear. “Next time.”

Closing his eyes, Jiang Mian cursed himself inwardly for being so weak. But his mouth kept moving. “Next time, we’ll make plans.”

Chen Gu’s lips curved. “Alright.”

He smiled. “So does this count as you owing me? Should I charge a little interest?”

Jiang Mian: “?”

He looked at him warily. “What do you want?”

Seeing Jiang Mian’s guarded, as-if-facing-a-formidable-foe expression, Chen Gu couldn’t help laughing even more. “Let’s call it two meals.”

Two meals were nothing major.

They were friends now. Friends occasionally had meals together. It was normal.

But Jiang Mian just felt… everything that came out of Chen Gu’s mouth was never quite normal.

So Jiang Mian hesitated, failing to think of any ulterior motive Chen Gu might have, and finally nodded. “Fine.”

As they talked, the car pulled into a parking garage.

Jiang Mian knew this exhibition center, but he hadn’t known there was an art exhibition here. So he asked proactively, “When did they start holding an exhibition here?”

“Speaking of that, what a coincidence.” Chen Gu tilted his head and smiled. “It was promoted last month. Today’s the opening day. This is my first time seeing it too.”

Chen Gu wasn’t lying. This exhibition really did open today. He had originally planned to come see it—it was just that now, Jiang Mian was here too.

The exhibition didn’t feature works by widely renowned artists known even outside art circles. Instead, it showcased some lesser-known painters—a few of whom even Chen Gu, an insider, didn’t recognize.

This was a charity exhibition. If anyone purchased a piece, the artist only kept five percent—just enough to scrape by. The rest was donated.

It was precisely because of this that the exhibition could include works by unknown artists.

After Chen Gu gave a rough explanation, Jiang Mian nodded but was still a bit puzzled. “Then why come see it?”

An ordinary person would find Jiang Mian rude for this. But Chen Gu could tell that Jiang Mian was simply curious—no hint of disdain whatsoever.

He recalled Chen Yishen saying Jiang Mian was naturally an airhead. He hadn’t thought so before—he’d just found Jiang Mian a little slow to react. Now seeing this…

It seemed to be true.

But Jiang Mian’s brand of airheadedness was unique.

His intuition was sharp. It was just…

He was too soft-hearted.

Chen Gu said, “It’s not that every piece on display is by unknowns. I saw in the promotions that Ms. Meng Zhao’s work will be here. She’s one of our country’s very famous realist painters.”

The exhibition hall had perfectly comfortable air conditioning. Entry required a ticket, but it wasn’t expensive—thirty yuan per person, the same price as a candied hawthorn skewer outside.

Jiang Mian wanted to split the ticket cost with Chen Gu. Chen Gu deflected it by saying Jiang Mian had already bought the coffee.

Fine.

Jiang Mian had no way around it.

He couldn’t outtalk Chen Gu.

When it came to social maneuvering, Chen Gu was truly a fish in water.

The exhibition didn’t require absolute silence—just keeping voices low enough not to disturb others.

So Chen Gu kept his voice down, leaning slightly toward Jiang Mian as he explained.

But he didn’t explain every single painting. With over thirty pieces here, explaining each one would take too long.

He only talked about the ones where Jiang Mian’s gaze lingered for a moment.

On this point, Jiang Mian found it rather magical.

In truth, he wasn’t giving that much attention or focus. He really didn’t understand these things. Yet Chen Gu could always sense exactly what interested him.

Finally, Jiang Mian stopped in front of an oil painting.

After Chen Gu explained what school it belonged to, guessed at the brushwork, and critiqued its merits and flaws, he saw that Jiang Mian still hadn’t moved.

He raised an eyebrow. “You like this one?”

Jiang Mian shook his head. “I like the painting inside the painting.”

It sounded convoluted, but Chen Gu understood what he meant.

He looked at the painting-within-the-painting and was slightly surprised.

The overall piece was in warm tones. But due to the unique painting style and color combinations, anyone with strong empathy standing here could feel the overwhelming sense of suffocation and oppression pouring out from those warm hues.

The inner painting was even more so.

It depicted a lone sparrow, framed and boxed in, watching the “outside” where flocks of sparrows flew together and built nests.

It simply stood there quietly, showing no intention of spreading its wings to fly, nor any thought of breaking through its cage.

And sparrows—they were supposed to be flocking creatures. Just like people.

Chen Gu looked thoughtfully at Jiang Mian.

Come to think of it… he’d felt it during that basketball game. Jiang Mian seemed overly distant from his classmates.

When they’d left after the game, his classmates had called out to him to play again next time. But no one had said that to Jiang Mian.

Back then, Chen Gu had been too occupied with his schemes to pay much attention. But now, thinking back…

Because Jiang Mian had to go work overtime soon, they didn’t linger too long at the exhibition.

After finishing the tour, they went back to drop Jiang Mian off at home so he could change into his suit for the firm. The timing was about right.

Except—

Chen Gu insisted on driving Jiang Mian to the firm. Jiang Mian couldn’t refuse.

So in the end, Chen Gu parked his car in the underground lot of their office building.

As he got out of the car, Jiang Mian unexpectedly ran into Lawyer Luo.

Lawyer Luo smiled. “Ah, Little Jiang.”

Jiang Mian nodded.

Lawyer Luo was about to step closer and say something more when the driver-side window of the expensive luxury car beside Jiang Mian rolled down. “Lawyer Jiang.”

Chen Gu’s face appeared inside. His brow held a trace of a smile, his voice carrying a faint flirtatiousness—yet not crossing any lines. It was simply familiar. “When you free up some time, remember to call me.”

Jiang Mian knew he meant the two meals he owed him. So he said, “Alright.”

Chen Gu didn’t say anything more. He waved at him and drove straight off.

Jiang Mian glanced at Lawyer Luo, whose expression had slipped out of his control. Without any particular reaction, Jiang Mian nodded at him just as calmly as before, as if nothing had ever happened.

Whether it was Luo badmouthing Chen Gu to him, or Luo stepping on him behind his back to elevate himself—it was as if none of it existed.

But it was precisely that calmness that gave Lawyer Luo an even more indescribable surge of emotion.

However, the two didn’t exchange many words, because Jiang Mian also spotted Partner Wang, who had just arrived at the firm too.

Partner Wang waved him over. Jiang Mian walked to him.

One explained the case details. The other listened, occasionally nodding or responding with a sound to indicate he was paying attention.

And Lawyer Luo, already preparing to clock out and leave, watched their retreating figures. His face involuntarily twisted.

Jiang Mian had a father like that. He really was born lucky.

From university onward, he’d been guided by top experts in every field.

—

By the time Jiang Mian got home after working overtime at the firm, it was already quite late.

He rolled his neck and turned on the lights. Noticing one of the throw pillows on the sofa was askew, he reached out to straighten it—and then—

He saw a very familiar box.

Jiang Mian’s eyelid twitched.

He picked it up and opened it. The faint scent of laundry detergent drifted out. Jiang Mian stood there in silence for a long time.

In the end, he still pulled out his phone.

【Jiang Mian: You forgot your wrist guard.】

On the other end, Chen Gu was either busy or had deliberately waited before replying. 【Ah, the egg tarts were just so good. Completely forgot.】

【Chen Gu: Next time.】

Jiang Mian: “…”

He knew it.

Next time after next time. How many next times could there be?

For a fleeting moment, a rare spark of temper surged in his heart—

What if he just didn’t remind Chen Gu? He’d see just how many “next times” Chen Gu could come up with, what schemes he’d spin around this wrist guard, what opportunities he’d create.

And the moment that spark rose, Jiang Mian also felt a flicker of confusion.

Had he just… been throwing a mood?

At Chen Gu? Throwing a mood?