Love Finds Its Time - Chapter 49

After many days away from the firm, the moment Wen Qinghan appeared at the entrance in the morning, everyone swarmed around her—first greeting her, then endlessly asking when the wedding would be held.

Wen Qinghan responded calmly to all of them. At last, she exchanged a smile with Jian Yizhi, who was standing at the door, and glanced at Fu Anran beside her.

After taking care of some work in her own office, Wen Qinghan headed to Jian Yizhi’s office. By coincidence, Fu Anran had gone to the records room, so the two closed the door behind them.

Sitting down in front of Jian Yizhi’s desk, Wen Qinghan’s lips curved faintly. “Long time no see. Do you have anything you want to say?”

Jian Yizhi shrugged, returning the key to the front gate that Wen Qinghan had entrusted to her before leaving for the program recording. With a cheerful look, she said, “You look radiant. So, did you make it to first base? Or second? Or third?”

Wen Qinghan’s smile dimmed, and Jian Yizhi pretended to be shocked. “Don’t tell me it was a home run? Incredible. Our Lawyer Wen either doesn’t make a move, or when she does, it’s decisive.”

“You’re overthinking.” Wen Qinghan reached for the key, casually scanning Jian Yizhi’s office. When her gaze fell on Fu Anran’s small desk, her brows furrowed slightly as she asked, “Yizhi, what’s the situation with this junior of yours?”

Clearing her throat, Jian Yizhi leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she explained, “I’ll guide her for a few more days. After that, I’ll have another desk set up on the first floor. Then we’ll have two male and two female lawyers there—a nice balance.”

Wen Qinghan nodded. Just then, Fu Anran returned from the records room. Since Jian Yizhi had allowed her to enter without knocking, she was startled to see Wen Qinghan sitting inside.

Carrying her files forward, she lowered her head slightly and said, “Lawyer Wen, sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

Recently, she had been working out of Jian Yizhi’s office. If she had to knock every time she entered or left, it would have been too troublesome, so Jian Yizhi had permitted her to skip knocking—just to keep her movements light if she was busy.

Wen Qinghan turned to her and shook her head slightly. “It’s fine, I’ll be leaving soon. If you have any work-related questions in the future, you can ask me too.”

In Fu Anran’s impression, Wen Qinghan had always been difficult to approach. She had even once wondered whether Wen Qinghan might suddenly fall silent mid-conversation, leaving others uneasy. But hearing her speak today felt both different and not so different from her image—still not the same as Jian Yizhi, though.

“Alright, I’ll remember that. Thank you.” Fu Anran thanked her politely.

Jian Yizhi chuckled. “Ask you? Do you even have the time? Anran is diligent and full of questions—I can barely keep up with her myself.”

After all, these days Wen Qinghan was busy chasing after someone. How could she have spare time to guide a newcomer? To be fair, Fu Anran not only asked about case details but also engaged in discussions, sharing many opinions—undeniably hardworking.

“I’m not like that…” Embarrassed by Jian Yizhi’s remark, Fu Anran lowered her head.

Hearing the implication in Jian Yizhi’s words, Wen Qinghan, who had been about to rise with her hand on the armrest, pulled back and calmly interlaced her fingers, resting them on her lap. “Do you perhaps have some misunderstanding about me?”

Jian Yizhi laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. I’d be afraid you’d misunderstand me in return—that’d be a losing bargain.” She tapped her cup thoughtfully, then, seeing Wen Qinghan about to stand again, spoke up. “It’s nearly lunchtime anyway. I don’t feel like going out. Anran, could you get me a seafood fried noodle takeout? I’ll cover yours too. And Qinghan, wait a bit—I have something to say.”

Wen Qinghan’s brows knit at once, but seeing Jian Yizhi’s expression steady, she sat back down.

Catching on, Fu Anran nodded. “Alright, I’ll go now.”

Once she had left, Wen Qinghan asked, “What is it?”

Holding her cup, Jian Yizhi ran her fingers over the ceramic surface, her eyes thoughtful as her fingertips tapped slowly. After a long pause, her gaze focused on Wen Qinghan. “Qinghan, what stage are you and Qingqiu at now?”

Wen Qinghan’s thumb rubbed over the key in her hand. She looked steadily at Jian Yizhi, replying in a quiet voice, “In any case, there won’t ever be a day we divorce.”

The chill between her brows eased slightly, like a branch just sprouting new shoots, still covered by a thin layer of frost—cold lingering, yet slowly giving way to warmth.

Ice three feet thick doesn’t form in a single day, and Shi Qingqiu’s knots of the heart couldn’t be undone in a single day either. But now, the only one who could unravel them was Wen Qinghan. Only her—and no one else.

Jian Yizhi sighed, taking a sip of water before speaking quietly. “I heard by chance that not long ago, Qi Yue arranged a gathering overseas with a few of our old classmates. Yao Rui should know about this too, but she probably won’t tell Qingqiu.”

Wen Qinghan’s hand froze instantly over the key, her gaze fixed on Jian Yizhi, as if confirming the truth of the news.

After a long silence, her thumb resumed its slow rubbing, though her voice was cooler than before. “Anything else?”

Setting her cup on the desk, Jian Yizhi spoke with deliberate weight. “She’s been silent for so many years. Suddenly arranging a reunion with old classmates—it’s obvious she’ll continue to keep in touch. After all, if she planned to stay abroad forever, there’d be no need to reconnect. So, Qinghan, you’d better be prepared.”

Wen Qinghan said nothing. Her eyes were on Jian Yizhi, yet unfocused, deep in thought. The key in her hand was clenched tightly, the sharp edge pressed hard into her thumb, but she ignored the pain.

She couldn’t imagine what emotions would surge in Shi Qingqiu if she saw Qi Yue again. The searing pain of those years would resurface, the suffering she had finally managed to set down replaying once more—as if a knife were cutting open a scar that had only just healed.

If Qi Yue still couldn’t let go, that might be sweet for her—but for Shi Qingqiu, it would be nothing but cruel. Yet perhaps Qi Yue believed it would bring joy to Shi Qingqiu as well.

After a long silence, Wen Qinghan looked at Jian Yizhi and said in a low voice, “I’ve always been preparing for this. I’m not worried that Qingqiu will change her heart. What I fear is that she’ll remember the past, and be consumed by sadness all over again.”

Jian Yizhi recalled the group photo their classmates had shared, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what kind of person Qi Yue is now. But after so many years abroad, she can’t possibly still be the same girl she once was.”

“I know.”

Of course Wen Qinghan understood. But what use was worrying now? The only thing she could do was find every possible way to protect Shi Qingqiu—to shield her from being overwhelmed by memories, to keep her from fearing for their future, and to ensure that Qi Yue’s sharp blade could never wound her again.

Wen Qinghan suddenly loosened her grip on the key. When it slid into her palm, she clenched her fist tightly around it, a faint smile appearing on her face. “What’s meant to come will always come. Since it can’t be stopped, I’ll just see it through to the end.”

Jian Yizhi couldn’t help but smile and asked curiously, “By the way, when are you two holding the wedding? Remember to toss the bouquet to me when the time comes, let me catch some of that luck.”

“Qingqiu is preparing to join a filming crew. At the very least, we’ll wait until she comes back before discussing it.” Seeing that the topic had shifted, Wen Qinghan no longer wished to stay. She stood up and headed toward the door.

“Don’t close the door, I’m waiting for my noodles.”

Jian Yizhi raised her voice in reminder. Wen Qinghan, who was about to close the door out of habit, pulled her hand back. Her tall figure slowly disappeared from Jian Yizhi’s sight.

Left alone in the office, Jian Yizhi took out her phone, opened WeChat, and tapped into a chat with a friend. Looking at the group photo her friend had sent, her expression darkened.

In the photo, a woman with chestnut-colored long hair smiled gently, tilting her head slightly to match the pose of the classmate beside her. She looked extremely kind and approachable.

But Jian Yizhi felt that there was something about her now, a feeling that hadn’t existed years ago.

That faint sense of unease unsettled her—not for herself, but for Wen Qinghan and Shi Qingqiu. As for her own feelings, perhaps that trace of affection she once had really had been too shallow.

A knock on the door pulled Jian Yizhi from her thoughts. She put her phone away and smiled brightly. “Back so soon?”

“Mm, there weren’t many customers just now, so it was pretty quick.” Fu Anran set Jian Yizhi’s noodles in front of her but pushed away the hand offering money, blinking playfully. “Senior, this time it’s my treat.”

“Hm?” Jian Yizhi paused, then laughed. “Alright then, I won’t be polite. Sit down and eat with me.”

She was never one for excessive formality. Since Fu Anran had offered, she accepted easily. After all, they’d eaten out together before; it wasn’t as if they were strangers.

Fu Anran knew that the reason Jian Yizhi had sent her away earlier was probably to talk privately with Wen Qinghan, so she lowered her head and ate her own portion quietly without asking questions.

While eating, Jian Yizhi paused to sip some water, then suddenly asked, “Anran, what do you think happens if, after a relationship ends, one person can’t let go? What kind of result would that bring?”

Fu Anran silently chewed her noodles, thought for a while, and then said, “I think it depends. For example, how deep their relationship was before, and whether both people still can’t let go after breaking up. And sometimes it’s not even about feelings anymore—it could just be unwillingness to accept the ending.”

“And what if one person has basically forgotten, only occasionally recalling it by accident, and lives peacefully now—but then the other person suddenly comes back, wanting to rekindle things? Do you think that’s possible?”

Unconsciously, Jian Yizhi bit the end of her chopsticks, her usual composed image cracking a little.

Fu Anran couldn’t help but laugh but still answered seriously, “If it were me, that’d be impossible. Basically, if I’ve stopped thinking about someone, that means the feelings are gone. I might feel familiar when I see them, like an old friend, and I might remember the past, but I’d never get back together.”

Even without knowing the exact situation, the answer carried conviction. Jian Yizhi nodded repeatedly. After a quick, “Mm, I think so too,” she happily went back to eating her noodles.

But Fu Anran sensed something was off. She stirred her noodles with her chopsticks, then glanced carefully at Jian Yizhi—who was focused on picking out carrots—and, out of kindness, moved the carrots from Jian Yizhi’s noodles into her own box.

Jian Yizhi didn’t refuse, waiting as Fu Anran picked them out. Then, out of the blue, the younger woman asked, “Senior, are you the one who can’t let go and wants to rekindle things, or the one who’s basically forgotten?”

“Huh?” Jian Yizhi looked up, startled, then laughed helplessly. “Not me—I was asking for someone else. Besides, do I look like the type who can’t let go?”

“You don’t…” Though she did look like the type who wouldn’t think of it again.

Jian Yizhi cleared her throat, tapped Fu Anran’s lunchbox with her chopsticks, and said, “Hurry up and eat. Don’t talk while eating or sleeping.”

Don’t talk while eating? Yet every time they ate together, Jian Yizhi was always the one talking the most.

Smiling, Fu Anran went back to eating. But a few seconds later, she suddenly heard Jian Yizhi mumble through a mouthful of noodles, “That’s something I’d never want in this lifetime—exhausting…”

“Hm? What did you say, Senior?”

After swallowing her noodles, Jian Yizhi replied seriously, “Nothing. I said they put too much seafood sauce today.”