The Divorce Lawyer Is Very Hard To Flirt With - Chapter 99

Chapter 99: I’m Sorry, Just…

The smell of disinfectant permeated the air. Outside, the city lights were just coming on.

The private hospital room was quiet, with only the regular beeping of monitoring equipment. Ying Zhi’an had been transferred from the ICU to the orthopedic ward. Her parents, who had not yet retired, had hired a nurse for her.

When Song Xidan arrived, Ying Zhi’an’s parents had just gone home to prepare soup. The room was quiet. Ying Zhi’an lay in the hospital bed, a bandage taped to her forehead, her left leg suspended high in a plaster cast. Her face was still pale, but her eyes had regained their usual clarity.

The moment they saw each other, Ying Zhi’an offered Song Xidan a smile, as if it were the most ordinary day at the office, and greeted her: “You’re here.”

Hearing this, a tidal wave of guilt overwhelmed Song Xidan. Her tears finally broke free, large drops splashing onto the back of her hand, accompanied by suppressed, subtle sobs. “I’m so sorry… Sister Zhi’an… I’m so sorry.”

During Ying Zhi’an’s days in the ICU, the police had investigated the cause of the fire. Although it was an old complex, the apartment on the floor where Ying Zhi’an was standing happened to have an exterior surveillance camera, which clearly recorded the moment Mrs. Song struck Ying Zhi’an.

Song Xidan’s voice was heavily nasal, her shoulders trembling. “It’s all because of me. If it weren’t for my mother, you wouldn’t have… wouldn’t have been hurt so badly! I’m sorry!”

Ying Zhi’an watched her quietly, not immediately offering comfort. After Song Xidan had cried for a while and slightly vented her emotions, Ying Zhi’an gently sighed. Her voice was still a little weak, but it carried a strange, soothing strength: “Xidan, lift your head and look at me.”

Song Xidan sobbed, slowly lifting her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting Ying Zhi’an’s calm gaze.

Ying Zhi’an’s voice was very gentle: “Tell me, did you start the fire? Did you cause your mother’s breakdown? Did I cause it? Or did our loving each other cause it?”

Song Xidan paused, subconsciously shaking her head.

“Then, stop apologizing for the actions of others and for accidents, alright?” Ying Zhi’an’s logic was clear, but her eyes were gentle, like she was coaxing a child. “Xidan, not only are you not at fault, but in this accident, you were brave, calm, and responsible. You saved three lives, including mine.”

These words flowed like a warm current into the cold, guilty depths of Song Xidan’s heart. “But! If you hadn’t come to find me, you wouldn’t have encountered any of this…”

“I came to find you because I wanted to,” Ying Zhi’an interrupted, her tone firm. “That was my choice, and I naturally bear the consequences. Besides…”

Ying Zhi’an remembered their final moments clinging to each other in the fire, and Song Xidan’s figure rushing back without hesitation to find her. Even the most calm and restrained person would become emotional. Her voice unconsciously softened with a deep tenderness: “And you did come back for me, Xidan.”

She paused slightly, carefully choosing her words: “I have always been a devotee of rationality, believing in logic, evidence, and the optimal solution. But in that moment, you made me believe that there are things in this world that transcend all cost-benefit analysis, things worth proving with one’s life.”

Ying Zhi’an looked deeply into Song Xidan’s tear-filled eyes, saying clearly and solemnly, word by word: “Xidan, I want to be by your side forever. May I?”

Though true feelings might be fleeting, in this moment, Ying Zhi’an hoped for eternity.

Ying Zhi’an didn’t say “I love you,” but this sentence was more deeply etched into Song Xidan’s soul than a thousand declarations of love.

She had been lonely for too long to dare to hope for companionship.

She had been insecure for too long to dare to hope for a future.

The words caused Song Xidan’s tears to pour out again. Her heart felt tightly grasped by a warm hand, a mixture of bitterness and warmth surging within her. “Sister Zhi’an! This is my fortune! Wuwuwuwu!” The usually cheerful little sun was now sobbing uncontrollably.

“Don’t cry,” Ying Zhi’an tried to raise her hand to wipe the tears but winced from the movement of her injury. She gestured with her eyes towards the tissues on the bedside table. “Quickly wipe your tears. Your face is a mess.”

Ying Zhi’an’s teasing made Song Xidan want to smile. While still sobbing, she fumbled for tissues to wipe her face, but she managed to calm down, even gently pouting: “Sister Zhi’an! Don’t say that about me.”

“Alright, I won’t!” Ying Zhi’an smiled, her voice even softer: “Xidan, what’s going on with your mom? She seemed a little… not normal?”

Mentioning her mother, Song Xidan’s body stiffened imperceptibly.

She lowered her head, remained silent for a long time, and then slowly began to speak in a very low voice: “I had an older brother. He was excellent, and my mother loved him very much. He wanted to be a lawyer since childhood, but then he died in an accident. Since then, my mom… it’s like she can’t hear me talk. She looks at me, but the person she sees in her eyes is my brother.”

Song Xidan’s voice was strained, as if every word was rusted. She had never confided these things to anyone, but facing Ying Zhi’an, everything that felt unmentionable seemed okay to express, and all the emotions she feared showing seemed to be met with tolerance.

“She forced me to drop all my hobbies, forced me to study law, forced me to come home and enter the law firm. The day I came back from the grassland, she told me that becoming a lawyer was my brother’s dying wish, and I had to fulfill it for him. I had to become him. In her eyes, it’s as if only my brother existed, and I only had a sliver of worth because of him.”

Song Xidan’s eyes were filled with long-suppressed pain: “But Sister Zhi’an, she only remembers my brother wanted to be a lawyer, and doesn’t care what I want. More importantly, I tried very hard to study law, but I find memorizing those articles painful, and I feel distressed reading case studies. My university grades weren’t good; I failed several courses. And this bar exam, I prepared very hard for it, but I just couldn’t pass. Am I really… suitable for law?”

She looked at Ying Zhi’an like a lost child, helpless and confused, pleading for a direction.

Ying Zhi’an listened quietly, pondered for a moment, and then looked very seriously at Song Xidan: “Xidan, first of all, you need to understand that you are never anyone’s substitute. You are Song Xidan, the unique Song Xidan. Your value lies in yourself, not in fulfilling someone else’s dying wish.”

Her tone was calm and firm: “Secondly, if you don’t like law, why must you force yourself to continue? Life doesn’t have only one path. You are so young; you can completely change professions.”

Song Xidan shook her head blankly: “I don’t know… I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t seem to have anything I particularly like, nor any essential dream to fulfill.”

“That’s because you’ve been living within the framework of ‘how you should’ act, rather than ‘how I want’ to act,” Ying Zhi’an’s voice was exceptionally gentle. “Xidan, you don’t have to rush to find the answer right now. Give yourself some time, and give yourself permission—permission to be confused, permission to explore, permission to potentially ‘fail.’ Just be yourself. Whatever path you ultimately choose, or if you can’t find a path for now, it’s okay. I will be here, accompanying you.”

Hearing Ying Zhi’an’s words, Song Xidan buried her face deeply in Ying Zhi’an’s uninjured hand.

The next second, Ying Zhi’an felt her palm being wet with tears.

Ying Zhi’an didn’t stop her, only slightly curled her fingers, gently stroking Song Xidan’s jaw as if comforting a small puppy.

…

After leaving the hospital, Song Xidan returned home. The fire had been contained quickly, so the house was essentially undamaged.

In this place filled with memories, she rummaged through boxes, trying to find some trace of the “real Song Xidan.”

Finally, in a dusty old cardboard box, she found her elementary school diary and a few yellowed photos.

In the photos, a young Xidan, whose hair hadn’t yet been forced into a short cut, wore a brightly colored tracksuit and smiled brilliantly at the camera while holding a medal. That was her first prize in a school track and field competition.

The diary contained scattered records of memories.

• I got first place in running. My teacher said I have great perseverance!
• Played Cops and Robbers with classmates. I was the cop. They couldn’t outrun me at all! I caught the ‘bad guys’ quickly. It would be great to be a police officer when I grow up! I’m so happy!
• Hope to help many people when I grow up so they don’t have to be afraid.

These long-forgotten fragments flooded Song Xidan with mixed emotions.

It turned out that her true self wasn’t a blank slate; it had just been deliberately ignored and buried under her mother’s immense grief and expectations.

Perhaps…

Song Xidan sat at her desk, pushed the law textbooks aside, and opened her computer. She searched for information on “police recruitment” and “public security exams.”

The recruitment announcements, physical fitness requirements, and essay outlines that popped up on the screen—things that were once completely irrelevant to her “life plan”—now made her heart race. A long-lost emotion named “craving” surged in her chest.

Perhaps…

…

When Song Xidan told Ying Zhi’an about her decision to become a police officer, Ying Zhi’an had already been discharged from the hospital and was recuperating at home.

At the time, Song Xidan, acting like a devoted partner, emerged from the kitchen holding a bowl of freshly made soup.

In the warm glow of the lamp, she gently placed the soup bowl on the bedside table, habitually leaned down, and pressed a light, domestic-smelling kiss on Ying Zhi’an’s cheek, immediately blushing at the ears herself.

After listening seriously to Song Xidan’s decision, Ying Zhi’an leaned against the headboard, her eyes showing no surprise, only appreciation: “Have you thought it through?”

“Yes!” Song Xidan nodded vigorously, her eyes bright and determined. “I want to try it.”

“Very good.” Ying Zhi’an’s lips curved into a smile. She extended her uninjured hand towards Song Xidan. Song Xidan immediately and tacitly placed her hand in Ying Zhi’an’s palm.

“This path will be very tough—physical fitness, written exams, interviews. Each obstacle is difficult,” Ying Zhi’an squeezed her hand, calmly stating the facts.

“I’m not afraid,” Song Xidan replied without hesitation. She leaned forward, her clear eyes gazing directly into Ying Zhi’an’s. “Because I know, Sister Zhi’an, you will be with me.”

The absolute trust and dependence in her words were like a soft feather, precisely tickling Ying Zhi’an’s heart.

Ying Zhi’an did not speak, only gazed deeply at her, her eyes slowly drifting from her eyebrows down to her lips, which were slightly pursed with nervousness.

That focused gaze made Song Xidan’s heartbeat accelerate uncontrollably.

The next second, Ying Zhi’an exerted a slight pull with the hand holding hers, gently drawing Song Xidan towards her. Without giving her any time to react, a warm and soft kiss accurately landed on Song Xidan’s lips.

This kiss was different from Song Xidan’s usual shy, light touches. It carried Ying Zhi’an’s unique presence—gentle yet firm, lingering and deep.

Song Xidan’s mind instantly went blank. Her body reacted before her consciousness did. She closed her eyes, awkwardly yet obediently receiving and responding to the kiss.

After a long time, Ying Zhi’an pulled back slightly, her nose still intimately brushing against Song Xidan’s nose, her breathing slightly ragged: “I’m sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you.”

Song Xidan’s eyes were glazed, blinking nervously: “It’s… it’s fine…”

Ying Zhi’an smiled faintly and pecked her again: “I want to kiss you again. May I?”

Song Xidan immediately nodded, like a small dog eagerly soliciting a stroke from its owner. She moved closer: “Yes, you can kiss me as many times as you like.”

The next second, Ying Zhi’an’s kisses fell like soft rain.

…

While Ying Zhi’an diligently recovered, the fire and subsequent legal proceedings were also moving forward.

Ying Zhi’an was more concerned about the unfolding events than Song Xidan. Despite her unhealed condition, she insisted that her mentor, Cheng Qiyun, push her in a wheelchair to the Public Security Bureau. As a victim, she proactively clarified: “Zhou Juan did not intentionally push me. She lost her balance when her emotions broke down, and I fell with her while trying to steady her.”

The lighting in the police inquiry room was stark. Ying Zhi’an sat in the wheelchair, repeating this carefully constructed version of events again and again.

Her voice was weak but firm. Every detail held up to scrutiny. Since the stairwell camera only had video and no audio, after multiple rigorous inquiries, the police accepted her statement and did not pursue charges against Mrs. Song for intentional assault.

Cheng Qiyun pushed Ying Zhi’an out of the Public Security Bureau gate. The sun was shining brightly that day, the clear autumn weather lifting the spirits.

Cheng Qiyun leaned down and sighed softly in her apprentice’s ear: “I had Zhou Juan undergo a psychiatric evaluation at the hospital. The doctor issued a diagnosis stating she was a person with limited criminal capacity at the time of the incident, so a prison sentence was unlikely anyway. I just didn’t expect you to personally step in to conclude this matter.”

Ying Zhi’an was wrapped in a thick blanket, sinking into the wheelchair, her face pale. Her recovery process was long, primarily because steel plates were inserted into the fracture site, requiring two subsequent surgeries to remove the steel pins and plates.

To say she held no resentment towards Mrs. Song for causing all this would be a lie. She was never a saint. The muscle atrophy and the pain during partial rehabilitation constantly reminded her of this unprovoked disaster. But thinking of Song Xidan’s often anxious eyes, she chose this path.

Hearing Cheng Qiyun’s words, Ying Zhi’an sighed: “I cannot let her continue to affect Xidan. She has already affected Xidan too much. Although they are mother and daughter, this negative influence must end here.”

She thought further ahead than anyone else. Song Xidan wanted to become a police officer, and the political review process had to be absolutely flawless.

Therefore, Ying Zhi’an also actively participated in the aftermath of the fire caused by Mrs. Song’s actions.

She not only privately used her savings to help the Song family with compensation but also visited the affected neighbors with Mr. Song, offering sincere apologies and providing proper compensation.

Her attitude and actions largely defused the neighborhood tension and earned many letters of understanding. Considering the proactive and effective remedial measures taken afterward, and that the major cause of the fire was the lack of adequate fire safety in the old complex, the prosecutor’s office ultimately did not file public charges for arson.

…

Five years later, on a similar autumn day.

Song Xidan, wearing a crisp police uniform, with Ying Zhi’an’s trench coat draped over her arm, stood beneath the sycamore trees on the police station parade ground, waiting to take her partner home from a meeting she had just attended.

It was Ying Zhi’an’s first time attending a conference at Song Xidan’s workplace as an invited lawyer in all these years!

Ying Zhi’an was surrounded by several other participating lawyers. She immediately spotted the increasingly heroic figure waiting under the tree.

She smiled, bid farewell to her colleagues, and quickly walked toward her police officer.

“Been waiting long?” Ying Zhi’an naturally held out her hand.

“Just got here.” Song Xidan took her hand and skillfully draped the trench coat over her shoulders. “Are you tired?”

“Conferences aren’t tiring,” Ying Zhi’an smiled and shook her head, lightly brushing her finger over Song Xidan’s police rank insignia, filled with pride. “Is Officer Song not busy today?”

“Never too busy to pick up my Chief Lawyer from work.” Song Xidan’s ears were slightly red, but she firmly squeezed Ying Zhi’an’s hand.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long, intertwining them on the ground.

The past pain and storms had all transformed into the warmth in their palms and the light on the path ahead.

“Let’s go home!”

(The End)