The Divorce Lawyer Is Very Hard To Flirt With - Chapter 75

Chapter 75: Freedom Does Not Allow One to Completely Give Up…

Nowadays, everyone says that one should neither excessively glorify hardship nor overly emphasize childhood trauma, as doing so can inadvertently imprison oneself in an invisible cage, leading to a state of self-pity that is difficult to escape.

This perspective encourages people to face and overcome challenges rather than wallowing in the past and forever losing courage.

Song Moqiu was no exception.

The path she traveled was not smooth, and her fate did not treat her kindly, despite her beauty.

She discovered her extraordinary sexual orientation early on. Faced with this budding self-awareness, Song Moqiu chose neither escape nor fear but, with the characteristic calm and studiousness of a top student, actively immersed herself in learning and exploring related knowledge.

She extensively read various books and literature, striving for a comprehensive, scientific understanding of her sexual orientation and condition. This courage and determination were truly commendable.

Subsequently, the books she consulted were discovered by classmates. Rumors, like the chilling wind of winter, spread silently like a plague across every corner of the campus, quickly pushing her into the eye of the storm.

The sharp blades of these words mercilessly cut through her harmonious relationships with those around her, making her life exceedingly difficult.

Song Moqiu, already highly visible due to her outstanding appearance, was now thrust under the spotlight. However, this time the focus was no longer on her enviable beauty but on her identity as an “outsider” or “freak.”

The awakening of her sexual orientation seemed to be accompanied by a silent war, growing alongside the ever-present school bullying. Every breath was full of challenge and difficulty.

It could be said that her sexual orientation and her experience of being bullied were rooted in the same soil.

Initially, when she tried to integrate into the group, she would always catch those fleeting glances in the eyes of some classmates. Sometimes, she could even feel the strange looks from her own gender—a complex mixture of curiosity, confusion, and exclusion—like silent ridicule, telling her that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change her “outsider” status in their eyes.

Whenever she walked around campus, she could hear whispers. Though low, those voices were like sharp blades, each cut causing her heart to ache.

Some would point fingers behind her back, others would deliberately keep their distance in front of her, as if she carried some unspeakable virus, making people eager to avoid her.

Discrimination silently severed her ties with her peer group, making the natural flow of friendship and camaraderie unattainable. This invisible rift not only left indelible marks on her heart but also quietly erected an insurmountable wall between her and the surrounding world.

However, what hurt her also silently reshaped her character.

She learned to find strength in adversity, embrace solitude, and understand a principle: one must either erupt in the face of silence or gradually lose oneself and become distorted.

In this memory fragment, Ying Zhi’an watched Song Moqiu enter the silent crowd with an almost resolute expression, only to decisively turn and leave the classroom under the watchful eyes of everyone, heading straight for the broadcasting room.

Night study had just begun, and the entire campus was immersed in silence. Only her voice, clear and strong, resonated through the speakers in every corner of the campus: “I am Song Moqiu from Class Three. I know the rumors circulating about me privately, not just the fact that I like girls. If you wish, you can certainly continue to discuss them recklessly. But I must emphasize that, apart from the fact of my sexual orientation, if any fabricated rumors appear again, I will personally find the source of the rumor, and I will report it to the police.”

At that moment, the campus radio host, whose microphone had been suddenly seized by Song Moqiu, and Ying Zhi’an, who silently witnessed everything from the side, were both stunned into silence.

Song Moqiu’s actions undoubtedly exceeded everyone’s expectations. The courage and determination she displayed far surpassed that of a child her age, even stronger than many adults.

It must be said, Song Moqiu was even braver than Ying Zhi’an.

What was even more moving was that, just as the broadcast was about to end, Song Moqiu added in a cold yet forthright tone: “As for my sexual orientation, it is not a rumor; it is a part of my life.”

There was no hesitation or retreat in her voice. Every word was like a heavy hammer, striking deep into the listeners’ hearts.

She was so resolute that anger and defiance completely masked the hurt and pain she bore. Yet, she was also so clear and upright, making everyone realize that silence and evasion couldn’t change the status quo. Only by bravely stepping forward and confronting those injustices and prejudices could she earn the respect and understanding she deserved.

The student-aged Song Moqiu hadn’t worn glasses, was naturally beautiful without makeup, and her clear, black-and-white eyes already held power. This strong core had long been rooted in her soul.

Therefore, her growth into the unique, composed, and determined person she was today seemed to be entirely traceable.

The memory fragment ended with Ying Zhi’an’s wide-eyed astonishment.

The memory faded, returning to reality.

Song Moqiu stood firmly on her feet and gently slipped out of Ying Zhi’an’s hand, which was still holding her arm. She turned her head, and the look in her eyes had less of that reckless defiance from her high school days and more of an imperceptible gentleness and relief. “You didn’t leave?” Her voice carried a hint of surprise, yet seemed tinged with a subtle dissatisfaction.

Ying Zhi’an took a deep breath before separating memory from reality. “I was afraid you were in a bad mood.”

“I’m not that upset; your dislike of me isn’t enough to upset me.” Song Moqiu curved her lips into a self-mocking smile, feeling a bit stubborn. She folded her arms across her chest, her posture displaying an unconscious defensiveness, as if protecting herself from further hurt.

Ying Zhi’an keenly caught this defense. Connecting it with the memory fragment, she instantly understood the whole context. She quickly clarified, “I don’t dislike you, truly. I just don’t like having too much physical contact with others; it makes me uncomfortable.” Even without the “Love Cheat Device” special ability, she wasn’t very fond of “sticking close” to others. Since her school days, Zhang Zhang knew this habit, which is why they rarely held hands to go to the restroom.

Now that she had the “Tracing Backstream” special ability, Ying Zhi’an was even more careful; she absolutely avoided touching others if she could.

Ying Zhi’an’s tone was sincere, and her eyes were full of truth, but her actions of avoidance throughout the day made Song Moqiu still unclear. She didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

Ying Zhi’an wasn’t someone who liked to explain herself. If it had been anyone other than Song Moqiu, in this silence, Ying Zhi’an would have turned and walked away. But recalling the Song Moqiu from the memory fragment, the whispers she faced, and the misunderstanding and potential harm she might have caused Song Moqiu, Ying Zhi’an’s heart involuntarily softened.

She emphasized again, her tone firmer: “I rarely lie. I don’t dislike you, and I certainly don’t discriminate against you. I am the same as you.”

Song Moqiu’s eyes flashed with a complex emotion upon hearing this. Perhaps it was due to Ying Zhi’an’s honesty; she nodded lightly, trying to process Ying Zhi’an’s words. “It seems we easily misunderstand each other, but when you stand in front of me and say those things, I want to believe you.”

Ying Zhi’an recalled their few encounters, which were indeed filled with misunderstandings and the resulting estrangement.

—This time, you can’t blame the System.

The Love Cheat Device suddenly interjected in her mind.

Ying Zhi’an retorted: —Then shouldn’t you put an off-switch on this “Tracing Backstream”? Why is it a passive skill? If it weren’t for this special ability, would this misunderstanding have happened? Of course, it’s your fault.

—Reasonable suggestion. System adopted.

As a lawyer, advocating for her own interests had become an instinct for Ying Zhi’an.

So, while skillfully arguing with the Love Cheat Device in her mind, she also said to Song Moqiu: “Perhaps we are just too similar; we are always more accustomed to judging things ourselves and aspiring to be rational people rather than emotional ones. In reality, perhaps rationality is more prone to arbitrary judgment and is more demanding than feeling?”

“But humans still need rationality.” Song Moqiu casually sat on the ground, looking at the scattered lights of the entire city. “The law also needs rationality. Just like that provision regarding the crime of sexual assault: having sexual intercourse with a girl under the age of fourteen, even with the girl’s consent, is still classified as rape.”

Ying Zhi’an sat down beside Song Moqiu. In her view, the scattered city lights twinkled in the night sky, like countless rational eyes witnessing human joys and sorrows. Even with Song Moqiu’s sudden and seemingly random words, Ying Zhi’an immediately understood. “You mean the law restricts the sexual freedom of minors to protect them because they lack sufficient rationality, and even if they consent, they cannot clearly perceive the consequences of the behavior’s harm and the situation’s evolution due to this lack of rationality.”

“Exactly. Human rationality is very important, because of rationality, there is restraint, and one learns to remain clear-headed in the face of impulse and desire. But perhaps I should look at you and perceive with feeling more.”

“My thoughts are the same as yours.”

Song Moqiu turned to look at her, smiling slightly, her eyes carrying a hint of inquiry: “Then, when you say ‘the same,’ are you referring to a similarity in personality, a resonance in thought? Or is it…” She intentionally paused, seemingly waiting for Ying Zhi’an’s response, yet also pondering a deeper question.

Song Moqiu didn’t say it aloud. Time had changed her somewhat; at least she knew how to rein in her sharp edges and how to weigh options instead of going all-in.

Ying Zhi’an wasn’t sure how to reply. She knew clearly that if she wanted to advance this relationship, she should steer the conversation towards more intimate and ambiguous territory. But had she truly decided to take their relationship down the path of love? Wouldn’t it be too deliberate and lack naturalness and authenticity?

For the first time, Ying Zhi’an was uncertain, but she was also unwilling to give a perfunctory answer. So, she carefully replied: “We are very similar, whether it’s our personalities, our values, or that non-conventional persistence. Just as John Mill said, freedom does not allow one to completely give up their freedom as a cost. We are both pursuing our own freedom, even if this freedom seems unusual in the eyes of the secular world.”

“Mmm, he was a liberalist. So the difference you speak of is that which is not prohibited by law and is also unrelated to moral flaws?”

Ying Zhi’an looked at Song Moqiu’s serious and probing expression and suddenly found their current state of playing word games a little humorous. She abruptly thought of Song Xidan; if that young friend were here, unable to understand these riddles, she would probably directly expose these twists and turns.

Indeed, there was no need for such complexity. As sexual minorities, they should seek comfort in each other. Thinking of Song Xidan, Ying Zhi’an was suddenly led to this realization.

She spread her hands, dropping her adult defenses. “Yes. So, we like the same sex, and we haven’t harmed anyone. That is where our freedom lies—freedom of choice, and freedom to bear the consequences. Perhaps this is true respect for a person.”

Upon hearing this, Song Moqiu’s lips curved into a brilliant smile. “Indeed, my feeling was right.”

Ying Zhi’an shrugged. “I’m starting to believe in this ‘radar’ thing now. The group is saying the final tug-of-war is about to start. Shall we head down?”

Song Moqiu felt completely satisfied with this communication. It had been profound enough, and pressing further might only disrupt this rare harmony. Adults understand moderation in their actions, and any further pressing would not be graceful. So, she immediately stood up. “Let’s go.”

When Song Moqiu and Ying Zhi’an returned to the field, the last activity was just beginning.

Ying Zhi’an looked at the scoreboard; well, their team had come in last for all the preceding activities.

The team leader stood at the front of the line and started the pre-tug-of-war pep talk: “Comrades, although we are already out of the running for the prizes, we must still go all out in this tug-of-war and show our spirit! Let’s cheer for our efforts! Go team!”

“Go team!” The members responded in unison, being cooperative, although their voices carried a hint of fatigue.

It had been a long time since Ying Zhi’an had participated in a tug-of-war; she remembered the last time was in her high school campus. She was young and thin back then. Now, although she was much stronger than in high school, facing the clearly superior opposing team, a feeling of powerlessness couldn’t help but creep into her heart. The “spirit” the leader spoke of seemed somewhat out of reach at this moment.

The whistle blew sharply, and the tug-of-war started and ended almost instantaneously. The opposing team, relying on their strong power and tacit cooperation, pulled the entire rope over in one go, like an irresistible torrent instantly swallowing their small boat.

The people on Ying Zhi’an’s side were dragged forward involuntarily by the opponent’s strong force, like dumplings just tossed into boiling water.

In the midst of this chaos, Song Moqiu was directly in front of Ying Zhi’an. As the entire team was about to lose balance, Ying Zhi’an instinctively stretched out her arms and completely embraced Song Moqiu, afraid that both of them would fall face-first and get hurt.

She exerted a counter-force, pulling Song Moqiu a few steps backward, and the two managed to stand firm.

“Are you okay?” Ying Zhi’an looked down at Song Moqiu in her arms, asking with concern. Song Moqiu was like a tightly hugged large backpack, nodding with difficulty, her voice muffled: “I’m fine, how about you?”

Ying Zhi’an had just released Song Moqiu and was about to say she was fine too, when she heard someone shouting her name loudly nearby: “Sister Zhi’an!” She looked toward the voice and saw Song Xidan, who had brought the documents, had arrived at the academy entrance sometime earlier but couldn’t enter due to the security restrictions.

She pitifully shook the document bag in her hand, but her gaze, like two scorching flames, was fixed intently on Ying Zhi’an and Song Moqiu.

When she saw Ying Zhi’an look over, she even pouted forlornly.

In that instant, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in Ying Zhi’an’s heart, as if she had been inexplicably caught “cheating.”

This feeling was truly bizarre! She quickly shook her head, trying to banish this absurd thought from her mind.

It must be her imagination! It must be!

…

Would you like to explore the complexity of Song Moqiu’s character or the implications of Ying Zhi’an’s memory flash?