The case for Jiang Mian and the others’ Moot Court was written by the professor himself. It was a complex and tricky criminal case.
The defendant, the accused, was charged by the prosecution with “Excessive Self-Defense Resulting in Death”.
In a matter of excessive self-defense resulting in death, if the defensive actions were not taken against violent crimes that seriously endanger personal safety, such as robbery, rape, or murder, it would be judged as “Intentional Homicide”.
Carrying a sentence of over ten years.
According to the case details, the defendant was an 18-year-old university student. While out dining with a friend, they encountered the victim, with whom the friend didn’t get along.
The victim and the friend got into a verbal argument. The victim shoved the friend first, causing the friend to crash into a table. The defendant tried to break up the fight, but was pushed by the victim. So the defendant pushed the victim back, and the two started scuffling.
From the materials, the victim indeed struck first and was the first to grab a chair to hit the defendant. However, after the defendant wrested the chair away, he began beating the victim.
When the victim fell to the ground, the defendant paused briefly, then upon seeing the victim reach into their pocket and pull out scissors, he directly smashed a bottle onto the victim’s head. The victim was declared dead at the scene.
Jiang Mian wore the “Prosecutor” badge around his neck. Chen Yishen wore “Defense Lawyer.” Song Wen and other classmates played “Judge” and “Jury” respectively. The defendant was represented by a plush doll placed right in the center of the room.
Chen Yishen’s house didn’t have a courtroom setup, so they were performing without props.
Jiang Mian pointed at the empty wall. His pace was as unhurried as ever, but his enunciation was very clear. “From this surveillance video, we can clearly see that the defendant could have pulled his friend away and left when the victim fell, as the victim no longer possessed full mobility. The defendant and his friend still had strength and could have chosen to run away and dial 999.”
Chen Yishen: “But the surveillance video also clearly shows my client seeing the scissors in that chaotic situation. I ask, in such a situation, who wouldn’t be afraid upon seeing a sharp weapon? Who wouldn’t fear that the assailant holding the weapon might suddenly get up and stab them?”
Where Chen Yishen was impassioned, Jiang Mian was exceptionally calm. “First, I would like the opposing counsel to clarify the definition of ‘assailant.’ At that moment, the victim was already on the ground, struggling several times to get up but failing. The victim could no longer be categorized as an ‘assailant.'”
“Furthermore, the defendant could have simply kicked the scissors out of the victim’s hand, rather than choosing to smash a bottle on the victim’s head.”
…
Chen Gu held the DSLR provided by Chen Yishen. From the moment Jiang Mian started speaking, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to him.
Because the Moot Court required formal dress, Jiang Mian was wearing a suit. The black jacket and white shirt, paired with a red necktie mimicking a prosecutor’s, looked excessively stiff and proper.
Anyone would think Jiang Mian’s slender frame couldn’t support such a seemingly authoritative outfit. But in reality, wearing it like this, even without the badge, those slightly cool and indifferent willow leaf eyes gave him a faint hint of gravitas.
Even though the youthful greenness hadn’t entirely faded from him, amidst everyone in the room, his composed, calm, and somewhat focused expression wrapped him in the appearance of the most steady presence.
The Jiang Mian within the law, and the Jiang Mian in everyday life, had a considerable gap.
He no longer seemed slow or easily teased. It felt like cracking a joke with this version of Jiang Mian would be akin to blasphemy.
Yet, looking at this Jiang Mian, the interest in Chen Gu’s eyes only intensified.
By the time the Moot Court recording ended, it was time to start thinking about dinner.
Song Wen and Chen Yishen were discussing where to eat later. Jiang Mian quietly took off the badge, then his suit jacket, and then his dress shirt.
Underneath the dress shirt, he had another white T-shirt on. Only the slacks couldn’t be changed, but they were somewhat similar to casual pants anyway, so it didn’t matter.
Chen Gu watched him fold his clothes. “I’ll edit it later and send it to you?”
Even without being addressed directly, Jiang Mian just knew Chen Gu was talking to him. So he replied, “I’m not the team lead. Send it to Chen Yishen.”
Chen Gu raised an eyebrow, leaning idly against the table where Jiang Mian had placed his bag, looking down at him. “He’s the team lead? How was this team lead chosen?”
The tone sounded genuinely disdainful of Chen Yishen, even carrying a hint of doubting the selector’s judgment.
Jiang Mian therefore looked at Chen Gu.
Chen Gu blinked at him. Before Jiang Mian could slowly utter the hint that “Chen Yishen is your brother,” Chen Gu asked first, “Want some water?”
Having talked for hours, Jiang Mian was indeed thirsty. He nodded.
Chen Gu turned and left, returning shortly with a cup of warm water.
After taking it, Jiang Mian paused. “Warm?”
“Drinking cold water when your throat is dry will make it sore.” Chen Gu’s tone was lazy. “Sir Jiang, you must take care to protect your voice, or how will you speak eloquently in court later?”
Jiang Mian held the disposable paper cup, the temperature just right. He slowly took a sip of the warm water, moistening his parched throat.
While lowering his eyes to drink, using the cup as cover, he stole a glance at Chen Gu, who happened to be looking down at his phone.
Chen Gu appeared completely unbothered, as if this caring gesture was something he did often, very habitually.
Yet with so many people present, even his own brother Chen Yishen, he hadn’t asked if they wanted water, let alone brought any.
It was as if his eyes held only him.
But why?
A trace of bewilderment rose in Jiang Mian’s heart.
Because they clicked? Or because Chen Gu saw Chen Yishen as his brother, so the two were hosts needing to take care of guests, and Jiang Mian was the only guest Chen Gu considered a friend?
Jiang Mian didn’t understand.
He felt interpersonal relationships were truly so complicated.
Ever since he was little, he had never figured them out.
“Brother Gu!”
Song Wen called out to Chen Gu. Ever since that basketball game last time, the few of them had started calling Chen Gu ‘Brother.’ Even though he and Chen Yishen were twins. “You coming?”
Chen Gu raised an eyebrow slightly, looked up from his phone, but his gaze went to Jiang Mian. “Coming?”
With that one question from Chen Gu, everyone’s eyes fell on Jiang Mian, who was usually so quiet and unremarkable.
Song Wen and the others were naturally puzzled by Chen Gu’s overly familiar attitude towards Jiang Mian. But then thinking that Jiang Mian and Chen Yishen were close, it seemed somewhat normal.
Jiang Mian, still pondering how human emotions were even more complex than perplexing criminal cases, paused. “What?”
Chen Gu said patiently, “They just suggested going for hot pot.”
Jiang Mian pursed his lips slightly, hesitant.
He genuinely had a decision-making disorder. Making choices in daily life always required him to hesitate for a long time.
Not just daily life, even major decisions like quitting his job, whether to become a lawyer or not—if not for Chen Gu’s guidance, Jiang Mian would probably have agonized until school started with no resolution.
He didn’t speak immediately. The room wasn’t large, but held a fair number of people. One or two were a bit impatient.
“Coming or not? Hurry up and decide.”
“So slow. We need to decide early to book a table and confirm numbers.”
“I,” Jiang Mian paused, “I won’t go.”
Chen Gu’s gaze swept over the two boys who had spoken, his overly dark eyes carrying a faint, imperceptible chill.
But when he looked back at Jiang Mian, his expression reverted to its previous state. “Then I won’t go either.”
Chen Yishen let out a long, exaggerated sound. “What? Bro, Jiang Mian, what’s with you two?”
Jiang Mian gave an honest answer. “Don’t feel like hot pot that much.”
Chen Gu nodded. “Same as above.”
Chen Yishen was baffled. He asked an extra question, “Then what are you guys going to eat?”
Jiang Mian didn’t answer. But Chen Gu looked at him, parroting the question like a recorder. “What are we going to eat?”
Jiang Mian answered honestly. “Feel like eating Liangpi.”
Chen Gu nodded again. “We’re going to eat Liangpi.”
Jiang Mian: “…”
Since when was it “we”?
Just as he showed a sliver of confusion, Chen Gu added meaningfully, “Jiang Mian, you seem to have forgotten something.”
A second question mark slowly formed in Jiang Mian’s head before it belatedly dawned on him that he still owed Chen Gu a meal.
…Did Chen Gu have to say it so ambiguously?
Couldn’t he just properly say he owed him a meal?
In the end, Jiang Mian and Chen Gu went for Liangpi, while Chen Yishen, Song Wen, and the others went ahead for hot pot.
After the group left, the room became much quieter.
Chen Gu said he’d put the hawthorns in the fridge. Jiang Mian retrieved the paper bag from the refrigerator, waited for Chen Gu to tie up his hair, and then the two of them left together.
When Jiang Mian said he wanted Liangpi, he meant it.
His hesitation earlier was just him debating whether to participate in “socializing.”
After being hurried, his instinctive response was “no.”
Because he felt that if he went, he would probably just be a downer—bringing down their mood.
He’d be better off just eating a meal himself.
He just hadn’t expected Chen Gu to follow along.
Chen Gu: “Where to for Liangpi?”
Jiang Mian gave the name of a restaurant, unlocked the car, and Chen Gu tilted his head at him innocently. “I don’t know the way.”
“You navigate.” Jiang Mian swallowed the hawthorn in his mouth before speaking. “It’s a chain. There’s one nearby.”
Because Chen Gu didn’t know the characters, Jiang Mian told him.
After he finished, Jiang Mian gazed out the window at the moving scenery, slowly chewing on a sweet and sour hawthorn, a little lost in thought.
He realized that being with Chen Gu was more comfortable than being with anyone else.
Of course, Jiang Liaoyi didn’t count. Jiang Liaoyi was his Dad, a blood relation. That was different.
Arriving at the place, Jiang Mian ordered a combo of Cold Noodles and Liangpi. With Chen Gu there, he bravely ordered other snacks too.
He didn’t even need to ask this time. He knew that if he ate with Chen Gu, he wouldn’t have to worry about wasting food.
Because this restaurant didn’t have pearl milk tea, Chen Gu went to buy it from a standalone shop.
At this hour, the bubble tea shop had a bit of a queue. While waiting in line, Chen Gu lowered his head and scrolled through Weibo. The algorithm pushed a relationship question his way.
[@When will sweet love find me: Today’s topic: Do you believe in love at first sight?]
Chen Gu didn’t reply to this promoted question pushed onto his feed.
But when he saw that specific idiom in the question, the first thing that surfaced in his mind were those willow leaf eyes that had appeared several times now on his canvases.
And then, he could imagine that the owner of those eyes was probably now sitting obediently in the restaurant, staring at law books, waiting for him to come back with the milk tea.
Even if the server brought the food, he wouldn’t start eating. He would definitely politely wait for him to return before picking up his chopsticks.
Jiang Mian.
He should have known long ago.
Chen Gu never found anyone particularly good-looking. Whether a celebrity praised as a once-in-a-decade beauty or a universally acknowledged divine-level face, Chen Gu would glance once and then lose interest.
He didn’t like painting people because he felt everyone in this world looked the same.
Just like a line from a TV drama: once dead and cut open, it’s all just a mass of flesh. No difference.
But when Chen Yishen showed him Jiang Mian’s photo—just a profile shot—it was the first time he thought someone looked rather beautiful.
