The Divorce Lawyer Is Very Hard To Flirt With - Chapter 76

Chapter 76: The Same Type of People Are Not Necessarily The Same Path…

The icebreaker games concluded, and Ying Zhi’an’s team finished last in every single sub-activity, naturally claiming the very last spot.

However, among adults, no one truly cared about the scores; the main goal was to quickly get acquainted, and this evening’s segment had achieved that.

Afterward, everyone returned to their rooms. The academy explicitly stipulated no staying out overnight without permission and no returning late after 11 PM.

Ying Zhi’an had initially planned to take Song Xidan to a coffee shop next to the academy. As the event dispersed, she said to Song Moqiu, “I’m going to take care of some business; I’ll be back later.”

“Going to a coffee shop means spending money, and can you sleep after drinking coffee so late?” Song Moqiu said. “Just bring her to the room to handle it; there’s an external network cable in the room.”

“Can she come in?”

“Yes, just register at the guard’s desk.”

“Alright, I’ll go bring her in.”

When Ying Zhi’an reached the entrance, Song Xidan was standing alone under the dim streetlights, tightly holding a stack of heavy documents. Her gaze pierced through the surrounding hustle, fixed eagerly on Ying Zhi’an. The blend of anticipation and anxiety in her expression was particularly clear in the night.

“Sister Zhi’an…” Her voice was, for the first time, as quiet as a mosquito’s buzz, as if the night had swallowed her vitality.

“I’ve registered you; come in.” Ying Zhi’an gently uttered these words, while an unnameable, strange feeling of guilt inexplicably welled up inside her. She tried hard to suppress this odd sensation, not letting it show. “Why do you look a bit tired? Have you been studying too hard for exams recently?”

Song Xidan had excellent eyesight. Standing at the main gate, even from that distance, she had keenly spotted Ying Zhi’an in the crowd and had naturally not missed Song Moqiu standing nearby. “Sister Zhi’an, is Judge Song also attending this training?” Her tone carried a subtle tension; she was surprised by Song Moqiu’s presence.

“Yes, she is,” Ying Zhi’an answered briefly, without much elaboration.

“Then…” Song Xidan hesitated, seemingly with a thousand unspoken words bottled up, not knowing where to begin.

“Hmm?” Ying Zhi’an had already led Song Xidan near Song Moqiu and beckoned Song Moqiu upstairs. “Let’s go.”

Upon seeing Song Moqiu, Song Xidan immediately closed her mouth. Despite the mix of emotions, she maintained her politeness and greeted Song Moqiu: “Good evening, Judge Song.”

Song Moqiu maintained her usual detached attitude toward others. In response to Song Xidan’s greeting, she merely nodded slightly.

This aloofness didn’t surprise Song Xidan; after all, Song Moqiu had been equally distant during their last dinner, earning the label of “aloof” from Cai Ya.

However, when the three of them entered the room together, Song Xidan paused at the door for a few seconds, scanning the room before slowly taking a step, appearing hesitant. “You two… are sharing a room?” She finally couldn’t help but ask the question on her mind, her voice laced with disbelief.

“Yes, it’s quite a fate,” Ying Zhi’an said casually while pulling out her laptop and connecting the room’s network cable. “There are a few lawyers I know from before in this training, but I barely know anyone from the system, only Moqiu.”

“She even calls her Moqiu…” A pang of bitterness struck Song Xidan’s heart. Already deeply in love with Ying Zhi’an, this phrase sounded especially jarring.

She mumbled softly, her voice barely a whisper. The other two in the room didn’t notice her distress; only she could hear the unwillingness and fear echoing in her mind.

There was only one simple, large desk in the room. Ying Zhi’an and Song Xidan sat side-by-side and started working.

Song Moqiu leaned leisurely against the bed, a book tightly held in her hand. The subtle sound of turning pages occasionally echoed clearly in the room.

However, for Song Xidan, Song Moqiu’s presence was like an invisible, giant light source. Even sitting quietly in the corner, Song Moqiu created an inexplicable pressure that made Song Xidan’s already rattled mood even more restless. Her eyes kept straying from the documents in her hand, her mind in turmoil.

In contrast, Ying Zhi’an was already fully immersed in her work. Her sharp eyes quickly scanned the files, occasionally asking detailed questions about the case to clarify the context.

Song Xidan’s thoughts had drifted far away. When faced with Ying Zhi’an’s questions, she could only force a wry smile; her mind was a mess, and she couldn’t answer clearly.

Ying Zhi’an put down the documents and slowly frowned. “Xidan, are you spacing out?”

“I’m sorry.” Song Xidan pulled her scattered thoughts back. “I’m sorry, Sister Zhi’an. I’ve already talked to the client about this case in detail and had preliminary communication with the opposing lawyer. The main disagreement is over the proportional assumption of joint debt, making it difficult to reach an agreement. However, the opposing party seems eager for a divorce. I plan to contact them again tomorrow to see if I can find a breakthrough.”

Ying Zhi’an nodded slightly upon hearing this, reopening the file folder, preparing to delve deeper into the case. “Focus a little. Finish early, and you can get off work and go home to rest early too.”

This casually spoken sentence was like a thorn, piercing deeply into Song Xidan’s heart. —So you two can stay together in this room! The thought instantly jumped into her mind, followed involuntarily by certain images.

A feeling of unspeakable bitterness surged within her, like soaking in a cup of strong black coffee, so bitter it almost brought her to tears.

She managed to look up and quietly asked, “Sister Zhi’an, isn’t your home nearby? Why don’t you stay at home? Isn’t it more comfortable?”

“The academy has rules to prevent late returns and drinking during the training. Management in the system is much stricter than what we are used to.” Seeing that Song Xidan lacked her usual vitality, looking like a sunflower with its head drooped, Ying Zhi’an asked, “Do you want some water?”

A wave of frustration washed over Song Xidan; she forced a smile: “I’m not thirsty. Are you thirsty, Sister Zhi’an? I have some brewed snow pear tea; would you like to try it?”

“I don’t need any. You seem a bit unwell; maybe you should take a break.”

Ying Zhi’an got up to grab a bottle of mineral water from the room. Song Moqiu, seeing that they had paused, said to Ying Zhi’an, “The book I’m reading happens to discuss Paternalism.”

On the rooftop, Ying Zhi’an had mentioned John Stuart Mill, a representative figure of Liberalism. Mill’s liberalism is the philosophical foundation of punishment theory in criminal law, and Paternalism is opposed to Liberalism.

Ying Zhi’an handed the mineral water to Song Moqiu. “In the later stages of development, Liberalism did absorb some of the essence of Paternalism to some extent. My personal stance leans towards a middle ground between the two doctrines. On the one hand, I firmly believe that every individual is their own sovereign, and as long as our actions don’t infringe on others’ rights, we possess absolute freedom; but on the other hand, for special groups who are unable to protect themselves for various reasons, the law does need to step forward like a responsible parent to protect them from potential harm due to voluntary choices. Finding the appropriate balance between these two requires us to consider more details when drafting laws, ensuring that every legal provision can be accurately implemented.”

Song Moqiu listened, nodding lightly, a sense of resonance in her eyes. “I completely agree with your view. Extreme freedom and unrestrained control are both undesirable. Whoever excessively pursues freedom is, in effect, inviting absolute slavery. A delicate balance must be struck between freedom and control.”

Ying Zhi’an couldn’t help but chuckle. “Tocqueville’s warning is indeed worth deep consideration.”

The two exchanged smiles.

However, the third person in the room—Song Xidan—grew even quieter.

She watched the mutually engaging conversation between Ying Zhi’an and Song Moqiu, feeling entirely unable to interject into their discussion topics. She could only silently clutch her phone and begin searching online for those unfamiliar terms and viewpoints.

Who is Tocqueville? What profound words did he say? What is Liberalism? What is Paternalism?

There were too many unfamiliar knowledge points; she couldn’t even search them all quickly enough…

Loving someone can sometimes lead to timidity due to the other person’s brilliance. But more painful than this timidity was the realization that her rival also possessed an equally dazzling brilliance.

This comparison to her romantic rival caused her unprecedented pressure and frustration.

Putting everything else aside, the fact that she didn’t even understand the knowledge points they were discussing felt like a failure!

At that moment, her sense of inferiority surged like a tide, threatening to engulf her completely.

When the documents were finally processed, Ying Zhi’an got up to see Song Xidan out. At the elevator entrance, Song Xidan hesitated for a long time, finally summoning the courage to ask, “Sister Zhi’an, you and Judge Song seem to get along very well?”

Ying Zhi’an looked at Song Xidan’s bright, wet, puppy-like eyes, recalling her affection for her.

In that instant, she suddenly realized she could use this opportunity to make Song Xidan understand that a relationship between them was impossible. After all, there was the difference in their mentor-apprentice status and a considerable age gap. If they were destined not to be together, there was no need to let Song Xidan continue this fruitless affection.

So, Ying Zhi’an nodded, using a slightly exaggerated tone: “Yes, Moqiu and I are very compatible. We agree on many things. This must be what you young people call ‘three views alignment’ (compatibility in worldviews, values, and life perspectives).”

Upon hearing this, Song Xidan felt her heart constantly sinking. She felt like she was watching the person she loved about to walk away with someone else. The agony of unrequited love hung over her like a sharp sword.

She couldn’t even find her voice to respond to Ying Zhi’an’s statement.

But Ying Zhi’an had to twist the knife further, quick and precise like a skilled executioner: “Don’t you think the two of us are quite a match? We are both quite rational people who don’t generate excessive emotional turmoil or demand emotional needs beyond a reasonable scope. We are the same type of people.”

Song Xidan lost her voice. She felt as if her throat was choked by an invisible boulder. She helplessly opened her mouth, trying with all her might to produce a sound, but could only manage a few faint gasps, unable to articulate a single word.

In that moment, she seemed to have lost all strength and courage, standing there disoriented, as if she might shatter into countless pieces and drift away with the wind in the next second.

The elevator doors slowly closed, isolating the outside noise.

Ying Zhi’an looked at Song Xidan’s unfocused eyes. She, who usually had a heart of stone and prided herself on being rational, couldn’t help but feel a little pity and concern. She was afraid this young girl would break down and shed helpless tears right then and there.

Forget it, no need to say anything more. Ying Zhi’an sighed inwardly. She understood that Song Xidan was a smart girl who had probably grasped her implicit meaning and would likely retreat, no longer clinging to this fruitless relationship.

With this thought, Ying Zhi’an decided to remain silent, allowing Song Xidan to process the loss and pain on her own.

The elevator finally reached the first floor, and the doors slowly opened.

Ying Zhi’an and Song Xidan walked out of the elevator together and headed toward the academy entrance.

All the way, they maintained silence; only their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.

Reaching the academy entrance, Ying Zhi’an turned to Song Xidan: “Are you taking a taxi back or…”

However, Song Xidan suddenly stopped. She clenched her back teeth tightly, as if concentrating all her unwillingness and stubbornness into this moment. She said one word at a time: “But if two people agree on the exact same viewpoint, without other voices or differing opinions, won’t that viewpoint become boring?”

Song Xidan was not a flower in a greenhouse; she was a tree growing in the prairie. Thus, despite her feelings of inferiority, she possessed her own resilience. Even in her disorientation, she attempted to argue, unwilling to give up easily. “Rational people are always rational, but would they also acknowledge the impulse of ‘I shall go even if ten thousand people oppose me’? Perhaps rational people should be matched with the adventurous and romantic who don’t calculate worldly pros and cons. Diversity makes people more complementary.”

Ying Zhi’an hadn’t expected her to say this and was momentarily stunned.

The young person’s words, though naive, were burning and incredibly firm! To a certain extent, they broke through the adults’ so-called assumptions.

Just as Ying Zhi’an had assumed Song Xidan would retreat gracefully, she now dared not look into Song Xidan’s eyes, which were full of affection!

“Sister Zhi’an!” Song Xidan spoke again, her voice trembling slightly, but every word was filled with strength and conviction. “I think the same type of people are not necessarily the same path of people.”