Chapter 15 – Sunrise Three Thousand Kilometers Away

It was true when they said it was hard to pin down Bian Ji; there wasn’t an ounce of exaggeration in that statement.

Yan Ankuo’s work schedule was already packed, and few of his friends were willing to hang out with him due to their mismatched schedules. Bian Ji took it to another level; he spent at least four days a week in the air, with his days and nights flipped upside down.

This delay stretched until the end of the month.

The law firm had cycled through several rounds of decorations, having just celebrated New Year’s Day and now gearing up for the Lunar New Year. On this day, Yan Ankuo came to work and noticed someone dressed in a red sweater and a red hat. He asked, “Why so festive today?”

“It’s almost time for the Lunar New Year,” replied the speaker, Huang Xiaoxiao, who was nearing the end of her internship at Hengtian and preparing for her performance review to become a full-time employee. She had been working under Yan Ankuo all along. “New year, new atmosphere, right!”

Yan Ankuo nearly doubted his own memory. “Isn’t it still two weeks away?”

Huang Xiaoxiao laughed. “Isn’t it good to start warming up early?”

“Sure, stay warm then.” Yan Ankuo didn’t engage in small talk with her further and asked, “By the way, that pilot’s case — have you gone through the arbitration documents yet?”

“I’ve reviewed them, but I find it quite strange,” Huang Xiaoxiao said as she spun her chair around with a swish and slid next to Yan Ankuo. “Initially, it was believed that Qiao Yuan couldn’t prove that his act of returning the item preceded the investigation, indicating a subjective intention to accept a bribe. Therefore, the reason for grounding him was valid. But logically speaking, shouldn’t the airline, the party imposing punishment, bear the burden of proof? Why is the employee required to prove his innocence?”

Yan Ankuo nodded. “Whether the party violated regulations is related to the rationality of the grounding penalty. Unsurprisingly, this will be the focus of the court debate.”

Huang Xiaoxiao expressed concern. “We don’t have much of an advantage then. There isn’t enough corresponding evidence.”

“We search,” Yan Ankuo said succinctly. “If the evidence for one focus point seems insufficient, we look for more.”

Huang Xiaoxiao caught on quickly and soon showed Yan Ankuo her laptop. “Speaking of which, Attorney Yan, take a look at this — the party’s social security record and salary slip. I found that the airline didn’t purchase the promised grounding insurance and didn’t fully pay the provident fund after grounding the party.”

“What about the recruitment documents?”

“I found them on the official website. The airline explicitly advertised benefits such as grounding insurance.”

Yan Ankuo nodded, everything aligning with his expectations. Perhaps they could start from false recruitment, arguing that the airline violated the laborer’s rights first and claim that the party has no liability to terminate the contract.

Yan Ankuo glanced at the time and realized there were still five minutes before the meeting. He stood in front of the computer and briefly scanned through the materials Huang Xiaoxiao had organized.

“Are these all the suppliers providing pilot training services to Airline A?” Yan Ankuo asked, pointing at one of the tables.

Huang Xiaoxiao nodded. “Yes, we just finished organizing the training costs but haven’t had time for a detailed review yet.”

“Xingyuan…?” Yan Ankuo scanned the densely packed table and precisely identified the company with the highest frequency of appearance. He immediately instructed, “Check the qualifications of this company and go through the equity structure between Airline A and all suppliers again.”

Huang Xiaoxiao was very smart and suddenly understood. “I see, Attorney Yan.”

“Good, I’ll head to the meeting first, and I’ll catch up with you later.” Yan Ankuo said and knocked on the door of the managing partner’s office.

Today’s schedule for Attorney Yan was already considered manageable, but it still included a few small meetings.

Zhou Tianrui was signing documents when he saw Yan Ankuo enter. Without looking up, he said, “Come sit down.”

Yan Ankuo asked, “You called for me?”

Zhou Tianrui tossed him a file folder. “I have a case for you.”

The managing partner was busy every day, never wasting words. Yan Ankuo was accustomed to his style and naturally accepted the folder, about to open his mouth when Zhou Tianrui interrupted him.

“The client is the son-in-law of the former chairman of Wenshun Group. It’s a marital property division case with a value of around 60 million yuan, and the legal fee is 1.5%. The specific information is in the dossier; take a look first.”

Yan Ankuo only skimmed through it briefly and shook his head. “I’m not too available at the moment. How about giving it to someone else in the team? Lawyer Zhang is very skilled in handling this type of case.”

“A case this big, you’re giving it to a salaried lawyer?” Zhou Tianrui couldn’t understand. “No, the client specifically requested senior partners like you to handle it.”

Yan Ankuo helplessly said, “Sorry, I can’t take it on. The defendant in the Kunming case wants to appeal, and I need to prepare for the second trial soon. There’s also a labor dispute involving a pilot, and I’m currently working on the lawsuit material.”

“A labor dispute?” Zhou Tianrui was surprised. “I remember you haven’t worked in that direction for a long time.”

Yan Ankuo vaguely explained, “It was introduced by a friend, and I took it on as a side job.”

Zhou Tianrui was even more curious. “You have friends in the aviation industry?”

Yan Ankuo didn’t deny it. “We’ve only known each other for a short time.”

“How much is at stake?”

“Over a million.”

Zhou Tianrui didn’t press further but advised, “Pilots have unique professions, high training thresholds, and complicated certification procedures. This type of case is difficult to win, not to mention the low amount at stake. I suggest you hand it over to Xiao Huang and concentrate on the Wenshun case.”

“It’s not suitable,” Yan Ankuo said with a bitter smile. “Xiao Huang hasn’t been promoted yet; I have to guide her through it.”

As a partner, Yan Ankuo was responsible for the team, and the cases he brought in were related to the team’s profit and loss. Zhou Tianrui didn’t entirely approve of him abandoning a major case, but he still respected his choice. “Alright, you decide. I’ll give the Wenshun case to Old Liu then. Don’t say I didn’t offer it to you.”

Yan Ankuo smiled and played along. “Of course not, I know my superior values me.”

Zhou Tianrui hummed. “You’re busy then.”

Yan Ankuo returned to his desk and, passing through the hall, saw Huang Xiaoxiao still investigating the equity. He went over to obtain the existing evidence and began revising the complaint one by one.

Huang Xiaoxiao knocked on the door and handed him the results of the equity analysis, asking if she could go home earlier. Yan Ankuo helped her sign the overtime form and transferred her a ride-hailing fee, saying, “It’s late, be careful on your way home.”

This day passed in chaos. Yan Ankuo continued to bury himself in the vast pile of case materials, and in the blink of an eye, it was almost eight o’clock.

He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, tiredly removed his glasses, and stared blankly at the clock on the wall.

The watch in New York displayed eight in the morning, the morning sun casting a soft yellow hue on the seats, with a halo above the heads of each passerby.

Bian Ji sat in the airport cafe, taking a photo of the sun outside the panoramic window. He was like an indefatigable collector of sunrises, privately storing over three hundred photos of sunrises from all over the world in his phone.

Bian Ji posted the airport photo on his Moments feed and casually scrolled through others’ updates. He saw that Yan Ankuo had just shared a status a minute ago: [Overtime]. Accompanying it was a picture of a cup of coffee and thick documents with key information blurred out.

Below it was a string of comments from Nie Hang and Qiao Yuan: Hard work, Attorney Yan! Why haven’t you gone home yet?

Seeing the Beijing time, Bian Ji, out of humanitarian concern, copied the text and joined the queue of comments: [Hard work, Attorney Yan! Why haven’t you gone home yet?] It was in line with adult social etiquette and openly visible to all friends, straightforward and aboveboard. Bian Ji felt he had done well.

One second later, a message appeared in Bian Ji’s private chat.

Yan Ankuo messaged him: [Working on the complaint.] The open and aboveboard public chat suddenly turned into a private window, leaving Bian Ji somewhat at a loss. He tried to maintain politeness and composure: [Looks like Brother Yuan’s meal was worth it; you’re even more invested than he is.] Yan Ankuo responded politely: [Just doing my job.]

As the sun rose higher, the light became increasingly dazzling, eventually dyeing the entire waiting area yellow. The people moving back and forth on the ground became silhouettes in the lens due to the backlighting.

The other party suddenly asked: [In New York?] Bian Ji guessed that he must have seen the photo he had just posted and replied with an [Mm].

Not only did Yan Ankuo see it, but he also downloaded it and sent it to the chat box: [What’s this?] The airport’s internet speed wasn’t great, and the message circled twice before Bian Ji received it.

In the photo was the golden sun and Bian Ji walking against the sunlight with a brisk pace.

Such an obvious question, even a primary school student would know the answer, yet Attorney Yan was here asking knowingly.

Bian Ji cleverly described it: [Sunrise three thousand kilometers away from you.] Yan Ankuo made a double entendre: [Very beautiful.] Bian Ji didn’t pursue what he meant but tacitly stored this topic as a happy nut in his mental warehouse, refraining from disturbing it.

The two chatted intermittently. Bian Ji guessed that Yan Ankuo’s significant other wasn’t at home today, allowing him to spend so long at the company.

Thinking this, Bian Ji decided to test his hypothesis and bluntly asked: [It’s so late, won’t your family worry?]

This was the second time Bian Ji mentioned “family,” and Yan Ankuo didn’t suspect anything, replying normally: [No, they have their own affairs.]

Bian Ji stared at the word “they” for a while.

Aside from the significant other, which “they” was he referring to?

Could it be…that Yan Ankuo already had a child?

Bian Ji’s typing became a little uncontrolled: [Your home must be lively then.] Yan Ankuo had two houses, and his sister and mother didn’t live with him, so he naturally replied: [Not really lively, I live alone.] Bian Ji was utterly shocked, flipping the sentence over and over in his mind, unable to help overthinking. How could Yan Ankuo live alone? Previously, he had never seen Yan Ankuo wearing a wedding ring either. Was it possible that they were living apart due to geographical reasons, or were they currently separated?

Regardless of which guess was correct, given their relationship, pressing further would be an intrusion. Bian Ji didn’t know what to say and expressed sympathy for Yan Ankuo’s situation: [Sorry.] Yan Ankuo was puzzled: [What are you apologizing for?] Coincidentally, a flight attendant from a friendly airline approached him to greet him, carrying bags filled with cosmetics, asking why he didn’t bring some things back home.

Although airlines prohibited employees from moonlighting as personal shoppers, it was still convenient for them to buy some small items for their families or themselves occasionally. Bian Ji, due to flying international routes too frequently and having no family members left to contact, had no use for these items.

He politely declined with a smile, seeing his acquaintance off. Then, he lowered his head and replied: [Nothing.] Inspired by the flight attendant’s suggestion, Bian Ji suddenly had an idea. Since Yan Ankuo rarely spent time with his family, perhaps he would need some novel gifts.

Bian Ji felt it was proper to say: [Spend more time with them when you have the chance. If you need me to bring back any bags or cosmetics from New York, feel free to let me know.] Yan Ankuo didn’t reply for a long time. It wasn’t until five minutes later that he sent back a: [?]