Chapter 23 – Little Rabbit

Zhong Wei didn’t dare come directly to see Zhou Daosen.

Even though Professor Zhou wasn’t home.

After being hung up on, he tried sending Zhou Daosen a few more messages. Even through the cold text, his earnest sincerity was evident. Zhong Wei asked if he could wait for him near the Zhou residence.

Zhou Daosen didn’t reply.

On his desk sat a fresh gardenia, placed there today—his mother making sure he would come home.

On the display cabinet stood a deity statue. It couldn’t have been Auntie Wang who put it there—she knew he didn’t believe in Buddhism. The Zhou family had recently switched cleaning services after one of the younger workers was caught with sticky fingers, dragging the whole team down with him. The statue could only have been placed in his room by the new housekeeper.

But who had instructed it? Some self-important gesture to put a deity in his room? Unlikely.

Zhou Daosen didn’t believe in gods or pseudoscience, but disbelief and disrespect were two different things. He left the statue untouched and had no intention of investigating the matter.

Wang Chunlan came up to ask what he wanted for dinner. Zhou Daosen said it was too early to decide.

Even though he despised formalities, he still had to follow protocol. After paying his respects to Zhou Bao, Zhou Daosen called his uncle to congratulate him on his daughter topping the national exams.

Zhong Wei, having received no reply from Zhou Daosen, had come to the Zhou residence but didn’t dare enter. He lingered by the stone lions outside, appearing suspicious and indecisive, until someone spotted him and reported the situation at the gate to Auntie Wang.

Wang Chunlan checked the surveillance and confirmed it was indeed Zhong Wei. Recalling how Zhou Daosen had earlier asked if Zhong Wei had come by—his expression clearly displeased—she thought to send him away. But before she could, Zhou Daosen happened to walk into the scene.

“What is it?” Zhou Daosen stood on the stairs, a document folder in hand, having just come from his father’s study.

Wang Chunlan hesitated. “Xiao Wei is here.”

Zhou Daosen descended. Professor Zhou despised two of Zhou Daosen’s friends the most: Lu Pingwei and Zhong Wei. Lu Pingwei for his recklessness, Zhong Wei for his character—both equally unwelcome in the professor’s eyes.

Wang Chunlan wavered on whether to let him in. Professor Zhou wasn’t home, but Zhou Daosen didn’t seem eager to receive him either.

Zhou Daosen tossed the documents onto the table and strode toward the door. “I’ll see him myself.”

The person Wang Chunlan had sent to dismiss Zhong Wei barely got two words out before Zhong Wei caught sight of Zhou Daosen.

“Brother Zhou.”

With Zhou Daosen present, the other person said nothing more, exchanging a glance with him before retreating inside.

The gate was open, yet Zhong Wei didn’t dare cross the threshold. The last time he left this place, Zhou Daosen had made it clear he didn’t want to see Zhong Wei at his home again.

Zhou Daosen stepped outside. Zhong Wei kept his gaze lowered, not daring to meet his eyes. After a long pause, he asked stiffly, “Got time? Let me treat you to dinner.”

Zhong Wei’s car was parked some distance away, far from the gate—a Land Rover, upgraded from the secondhand ride he used to drive.

Zhou Daosen and Zhong Wei were around the same age. Zhong Wei had already started working, while Zhou Daosen should have entered the workforce as well. But he had slacked off for two years after graduation, skipping straight employment to fool around with Duan Chen and the others, opening a martial arts gym instead.

At Huazheng University, Zhou Daosen and Zhong Wei were known as the twin titans of law. Zhong Wei was the top student, while Zhou Daosen was the prodigy. They were friends, but there was also a competitive edge to their relationship.

They had agreed, however, that no matter how intense their rivalry became, it wouldn’t affect their friendship. Both adhered to their principles, and no matter how much their peers teased them, they never saw each other as mortal enemies. Instead, they became good friends.

Before graduation, they made a pact: if they couldn’t get into Hengtai, they would start their own firm together. They vowed never to become the kind of lawyers who shielded criminals, disrupted social order, or acted without regard for justice.

Zhou Daosen didn’t have the same selfless dedication as Zhou Tanxi, who wanted to provide free legal aid to people in impoverished areas. But like most law students fresh out of school, his initial goal in entering the profession was to use the law to help more people, maintain social stability, and uphold justice for the common folk—especially given his family background.

Though Zhong Wei didn’t come from the same privileged background as Zhou Daosen, he was a passionate and ambitious top graduate of Huazheng. He chose not to pursue a master’s degree, entering the workforce earlier than Zhou Daosen, saying he would scout the path ahead. Once Zhou Daosen finished his master’s and doctorate, they could start their firm together.

The dream was beautiful, but reality was often cruel.

During his internship, Zhong Wei quickly won the favor of his superiors. With mentorship and rapid promotions, he rose through the ranks, becoming a rising star in the legal world and carving out a place for himself.

Everything should have continued smoothly, but an unexpected case became the breaking point between Zhou Daosen and Zhong Wei.

Years earlier, when Zhong Wei was still a rising star, most of the cases he handled were minor civil disputes—small, easily mediated matters. His first major case was a high-profile spousal homicide. The defendant had been sentenced to death in the first trial, with no room for doubt. Yet Zhong Wei single-handedly turned the case around in the appeal, managing to secure the defendant’s acquittal and release in court.

In the courtroom, Zhong Wei presented evidence that the deceased had suffered from bipolar disorder and delusional episodes. He and the defendant accused the victim of frequent violent outbursts, even attempting to murder her husband multiple times. The defendant was ultimately acquitted on grounds of self-defense.

It was a stunning legal reversal, a victory that cemented Zhong Wei’s reputation as a top-tier lawyer.

Zhou Daosen, also trained in law, knew that the intricacies of the case might escape laypeople, but not the sharp instincts of a legal professional. One afternoon, he met with Zhong Wei and questioned him about the case. At first, Zhong Wei was evasive, speaking in vague terms. That was when Zhou Daosen realized the truth behind the victory wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed.

Under Zhou Daosen’s persistent questioning, Zhong Wei finally admitted how he and the defendant had slandered the deceased, how they had pressured and bribed the victim’s family to retract their testimony in court, twisting the truth beyond recognition.

Zhou Daosen sat in the café for a long time that day. Zhong Wei, knowing the truth was far from honorable, glossed over many details. But the reality was simple: the defendant had been caught cheating, and in the ensuing argument, he stabbed his wife to death with a pair of scissors.

As Zhong Wei recounted these events, Zhou Daosen kept his eyes fixed on him, not missing a single flicker of genuine emotion in his gaze. When Zhou asked why Zhong had chosen to take on this case, Zhong replied, “It wasn’t so much a choice as it was a twist of fate that landed it in my lap. The client had powerful connections—far beyond needing someone like me to run errands for them. But the lawyer originally assigned was my mentor, who happened to be embroiled in his own scandal at the time. I suppose Lady Luck smiled on me.”

He picked up his coffee and flashed a sharp, almost mocking smile.

Zhou Daosen didn’t say much that day. After catching up with his old friend, he stood to leave, pausing only to deliver a parting shot: “Zhong Wei, don’t let me see you at the Zhou family home.”

Zhong Wei had once studied under Zhou’s father, attended his lectures, and visited the Zhou household several times. The two had always been on good terms—until that moment. Zhong knew then that he’d crossed a line.

Zhou Daosen was uncompromising, still untainted by the cynicism of the real world, clinging to the rigid ideals of justice and morality instilled in law students. He couldn’t fathom defending the guilty, not when they had both once sworn to “uphold social order and humanitarian fairness through the law.”

Zhou’s temper was unyielding, and Zhong had spent years trying to justify himself. Though their relationship had thawed somewhat over time, it never fully recovered.

Zhong Wei had made multiple trips to Chaohai to see Zhou, only to be met with avoidance. These past years had been a meteoric rise for Zhong—leaving Hengtai a year ago to strike out on his own, founding Fangyuan Law Firm. He’d crisscrossed the country, resolving high-profile cases, barely stopping to breathe. At first, he’d visited Chaohai frequently, but the past year had left him no time—until now. He’d decided to make the trip again, coinciding perfectly with Zhou’s return.

“When are you heading back?” Zhou asked.

Zhong glanced at him. Even back in their university days, Zhou had stood out—his striking looks making him seem anything but a law student. Yet it was with that same face that he’d stubbornly upheld his unbending principles.

“Still holding a grudge, Zhou-ge?” Zhong pulled out a cigarette, offering Zhou a premium pack of Golden Leaf worth four figures, his smile oozing goodwill.

“How could I dare?” Zhou kept his hands in his pockets. “What stature do I have next to Boss Zhong now? A golden-tongued lawyer? The go-to defender for death row inmates? I haven’t even passed the bar yet—I don’t deserve that ‘ge.'”

He didn’t take the cigarette, his stance clear.

Unfazed, Zhong slid the cigarette back into the pack and said, still smiling, “Zhou-ge, I brought some gifts for Professor Zhou and your mother. Maybe you could see if they’d like them.”

With that, he retrieved a set of elegantly wrapped boxes from his car.

“I know your mother loves scarves, and I’ve been dealing with a silk merchant—top-tier fabric. Take it back for her to see if it meets her standards.” He patted the other box. “This is something I picked up at an antique market for Professor Zhou. He enjoys studying historical artifacts in his free time—I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Zhou tapped the packaging lightly. “Boss Zhong, have you forgotten Professor Zhou’s rules?”

Zhong Wei raised his wrist slightly. “I haven’t forgotten, but I’m not just anyone. Given our relationship, sending gifts to Professor Zhou is simply my way of showing respect to an elder and my former teacher.”

Zhou Daosen caught his choice of words and asked sharply, “Our relationship?”

His expression instantly turned frosty.

Zhong Wei relaxed his wrist, realizing the gift wouldn’t be accepted.

He dropped the present at his feet with a sigh. “Brother Zhou, how many years has it been? I’ve told you before—even lawyers need to eat. Did we really have a choice about which clients to represent at the beginning?”

This path wasn’t easy to walk. Society would wear down one’s fervor, drag lofty ideals into the mud. There was no need for others to criticize his past naivety and foolishness—after enduring countless hardships, he had long since crushed those idealistic notions underfoot.

Not a single meal came easily.

“If I’d only taken cases for the poor, if I’d only stood on the side of justice, I would have starved to death long ago,” Zhong Wei said. “We uphold fairness and justice, but who upholds us? If I starved to death tonight in some rented room, no one would notice or care. To have the freedom to choose my clients, I first need to stand tall enough, to hold that power of choice in my own hands.”

“Then let me ask you,” Zhou Daosen said sternly, “have you stood tall enough now?”

Zhou Daosen saw everything clearly—how Zhong Wei’s firm had been established, whose support he had relied on. Though they hadn’t interacted in years, Zhou Daosen knew all the rumors about Zhong Wei in legal circles, knew exactly which clients he defended in the name of “fairness and justice.”

He might not have paid attention himself, but his father certainly had. The meaning behind Professor Zhou’s sigh would become clear to Zhou Daosen by the next day.

Meeting Zhou Daosen’s skeptical gaze, Zhong Wei answered earnestly, “Not even close.”

Zhou Daosen let out a light scoff.

He stretched out his hands, one clenched into a fist while the other pressed down on it, knuckles cracking sharply. Watching a Land Rover in the distance, Zhou Daosen said, “Zhong Wei, you always think I don’t understand you, always play the victim card with me. Back when we parted ways, you called me a privileged heir who couldn’t grasp your struggles. But I’m human too—I know people need to eat. I’ll admit my principles might be too rigid. I don’t approve of underhanded dealings or shady methods. People should conduct themselves with integrity. But some struggle just to survive. We shouldn’t stand on moral high ground judging them. Did you really think I didn’t understand that?”

Zhong Wei stared at him.

“Do you see yourself as one of them now?” Zhou Daosen found it laughable. “Do you think I’m that easy to fool?”

Zhong Wei protested, “No.”

Zhou Daosen ignored him. “Zhong Wei, stop using struggles and understanding as excuses to play the victim with me. I can accept any choice a person makes to survive. But when they continue twisting truth, defending the indefensible, harming society even after securing their livelihood—how does someone like that deserve respect?”

Zhong Wei asked, “You think I’m someone who calls a deer a horse?”

“You know best whether you are or not,” Zhou Daosen said sharply. “Your tricks can only fool those beneath your level. The only reason you’re still standing here unscathed is that no one in the industry has bothered to come after you yet. Keep playing this game, and I guarantee the day will come when the judge’s gavel falls—and it’ll be you behind bars.”

What reason did he have to seek out Zhou Daosen now?

He was already a prominent figure in the legal world, hardly in need of Zhou Daosen’s forgiveness.

Yet Zhong Wei didn’t seem so at ease. His gaze at Zhou Daosen was earnest. “Brother Zhou, you still don’t understand me—not yet. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. If you come out now, we could join forces at the top of the industry. We could build Fangyuan into something strong, make it a second Hengtai—”

“Thanks for the offer,” Zhou Daosen cut in. “But I could never master your company’s talent for twisting the truth. You’d better find someone else, Boss Zhong. Working with someone like you might just shorten my lifespan.”

Zhong Wei wasn’t a hot-tempered man. Years in the industry had smoothed out even the roughest edges, and he’d always been mild-mannered—so much so that back at Huazheng, his good nature had often been taken advantage of. Zhou Daosen’s words were pointed, leaving Zhong Wei no room to pretend otherwise.

Still, he forced a smile.

“I’ll be back, Brother Zhou,” Zhong Wei said, almost like a curse.

Zhou Daosen shot him a glance before turning away decisively.

Zhong Wei was left behind.

The wrought-iron gate remained open. Zhou Daosen knew Zhong Wei had his limits—even if he sent a thousand messages begging for permission, unless Zhou Daosen gave the nod, he wouldn’t step through that door.

Before long, dusk settled in.

Zhou Daosen had spent half the day in his father’s study when, at six-thirty, his mother called, asking him to pick her up.

By the time he drove out, Zhong Wei’s car was already gone. He couldn’t fathom why Zhong Wei still bothered trying to salvage their old school ties. The man was already a celebrated success.

Exhausted after a day at the exhibition, Zhou’s mother slumped into the car, her legs giving out. She carefully handled the artwork she’d acquired at auction, turning it over in her hands. From the driver’s seat, Zhou Daosen stayed silent, and his mother quickly sensed his mood.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She knew her son was never one for idle chatter, but emotions had a way of spreading—especially between mother and son, where nothing could stay hidden for long.

“Nothing,” Zhou Daosen said, resting his hand against the window. He glanced back toward the exhibition hall. The streets at six were ablaze with lights. “When’s Dad coming back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” his mother replied. “Are you waiting for him?”

“No.” Zhou Daosen started the car, gripping the wheel firmly as they pulled away from Tea Street, that nightly hub of noise and crowds.

Zhou Tanxi video-called her mother during the trip, chatting the whole way. She was staying in a rundown-looking hostel, which worried her mother deeply. She urged her to stay safe—mountain regions were unpredictable, and people’s hearts could be just as treacherous. Poverty didn’t always mean purity.

Harsh lands breed harsh folk—an old saying that wasn’t entirely baseless, even if it needed nuance.

And Zhou Tanxi was just a girl in her twenties.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not alone. Auntie’s people are with me, and the folks here are quite easy to get along with. There won’t be any danger,” Zhou Tanxi said. “Plus, I showed them my brother’s photo, so no one would dare think of messing with me.”

Mother Zhou smiled.

Zhou Daosen had always looked like someone not to be trifled with since childhood—even upperclassmen feared him. Zhou Tanxi attended the same school as him, and while he was there, she never had any issues. But once he graduated and left, she occasionally ran into minor troubles typical of adolescence.

Zhou Daosen was tall and kept himself fit. By middle school, he was already more solid and burly than most boys. Their eldest sister, a few grades ahead, had also faced unwanted attention from boys, and Zhou Daosen had stepped in then too. He never fought—just standing there was enough to make any trouble disappear.

No one wanted to pick a fight with someone who looked unbeatable.

Hearing them talk about him, Zhou Daosen turned his face toward the window.

“Just be extra careful. Don’t take chances. There are so many incidents these days, and society’s full of aggression. Keep your head down, don’t provoke anyone, understand?” Mother Zhou urged her daughter, afraid she might miss any crucial advice.

Zhou Tanxi assured her, “Relax, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll be careful. Tell Brother to drive safely—I’ll be back once I’m done here.”

“Be careful! Don’t cause trouble!”

“Got it, got it. Xixi always listens.” Zhou Tanxi was all sweet talk as the mother and daughter chatted the whole way.

After dropping his mother off at home, Zhou Daosen didn’t get out of the car—he was ready to leave.

When his mother asked if he wouldn’t stay for dinner, he declined, saying he had a dog to take care of at his apartment—the one Zhou Tanxi had left behind needed daily walks.

Mother Zhou didn’t stop him. The kids were grown now, each with their own lives. She waved him off. “Go on, then. Drive safe.”

Zhou Daosen wasn’t attached to home.

Even though his parents were harmonious and his siblings got along, he didn’t like staying there. He didn’t linger over the warmth and affection the family offered—he could walk away without a second thought.

Maybe it was a gender thing. Boys weren’t as sentimental as girls. Zhou Tanxi clung to their mother, always wanting hugs as a child. Their eldest sister was the same, reluctant to part whenever she left. But Zhou Daosen? He was always indifferent, able to detach without a fuss.

He’d once wondered if he had some kind of emotional detachment, an undiagnosed issue. Later, he realized he’d just never focused on emotional needs growing up. His parents gave him plenty of care—he never had to seek out that kind of bond.

News of his return reached his father’s ears.

At a red light, Zhou Daosen got a text from him—a simple question.

You came home?

Zhou Daosen told him he’d stayed for half a day and was already on his way back. His father asked why he didn’t spend more time with his mother, and Zhou Daosen said he had things to do—without specifying what.

He always left the task of keeping their mother company to their eldest sister and Zhou Tanxi. He figured women had more to talk about, and since he was boring, it didn’t matter whether he was around or not.

He would rather stay in his apartment and bury himself in books than engage in an awkward staring contest with his mother. The differences between men and women extended even to familial relationships—his way of accompanying his mother could never be as affectionate as Zhou Tanxi’s, with her hugs, cuddles, sweet nothings, or tender words of comfort. Formulaic concern and forced companionship would only make his mother feel uncomfortable.

Have you made up your mind?

His father had sent him this message.

A month ago, he had argued with his father, declaring that he no longer wanted to pursue law. His father had been furious, his mother worried, unable to understand why he would suddenly abandon the path he had walked for half his life. His mother reminded him of how hard he had worked to get into East China University of Political Science and Law—had he forgotten all that?

Zhou Daosen hadn’t forgotten. And he couldn’t.

His far-above-average scores, his outstanding academic achievements, owed partly to his parents’ inherited intellect but even more to his own relentless studying. The first half of his life had been textbook-perfect and utterly dull. Aside from exams, he didn’t know what else to do, so he had honed his test-taking skills to perfection.

But the deeper he delved, the further he studied, the more that initial fervor seemed to fade. From the ironclad determination to get into East China University of Political Science and Law to now, where he couldn’t see the road ahead—Zhou Daosen was facing his first real dilemma in life.

He realized he had been influenced more by his father. His actions were largely motivated by not wanting to disgrace the Zhou family name. He realized he might not actually love law as much as he thought—like finishing a game and having no desire to replay it.

Zhou Daosen didn’t reply to the text rashly.

His father, still mindful of their argument, had softened his tone.

You need to think this through carefully. This is a major life decision—every choice can change the course of your life. The tracks of life only move forward, and you’ve already wasted three years.

Zhou Daosen’s phone was mounted on his car dashboard. His vision was sharp, and the words registered clearly in his mind.

He had never been in love.

Had never experienced the paradise Lu Pingwei spoke of.

He didn’t know the excitement or emotions between men and women—or between men and men.

He didn’t know the feeling of boiling blood, the touch of skin against skin, the fiery entanglement of tongues, the pleasure of a foot cupped and kneaded in a palm.

Didn’t know the madness of being taken in.

All he knew was exams. Half his life had been spent taking them. A blank sheet of paper, a score, admiration, envy, praise, reverence—all the emotions that had accompanied him along the way, all the things that had once fed his vanity and given him pride, now felt meaningless.
I know. I’ll consider it carefully.

Zhou Daosen replied to his father’s concerns.

Then he didn’t open his phone again.

The return trip didn’t take longer than expected—he arrived at the apartment garage within forty minutes.

Going home had felt like a trip to prison.

Zhou Daosen was in low spirits as he climbed the stairs, his mind filled with the excuses of old friends.

The hallway was quiet, the only sound the echo of his footsteps on the stairs. He didn’t want to make noise, so he deliberately stepped lightly, but someone had left a plastic water bottle in the way. His foot landed on it, the sudden crunch making his frown deepen.

Making his mood even more agitated.

Reaching his floor, Zhou Daosen turned the corner.

He paused.

There, crouched in the hallway, was a figure.

The man wore fluffy bunny ears and a low-cut short dress with a ring of white fur around the chest. His long legs, compressed by the squatting position, appeared even more plump and fleshy, sheathed in pearlescent knee-high stockings that tightly cinched the soft flesh of his thighs. The stockings traced the smooth lines of his legs before disappearing into nine-centimeter stiletto heels.

“Little Bunny” held a cigarette between his fingers, arms resting straight in front, wrists adorned with lace wristbands that accentuated the slender purity of his arms.

The hallway light was blindingly bright, so intense it seemed to make his skin seep through the stockings and stab into Zhou Daosen’s eyes.

As cigarette ash fell to the floor, Yu Zhen lowered his head to fiddle with his lace wristband.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of legs walk past. Raising his gaze, he saw Zhou Daosen’s back as the man pressed his fingerprint to unlock the apartment door.

The rapid “click-clack” of heels sounded as Yu Zhen stood up. His legs tingled from squatting too long, causing him to sway slightly before steadying himself with a hand on his knee. “Wait,” he called out.

Zhou Daosen braced a foot against the door, glancing sideways as the bunny ears trembled under the bright light, their wearer scurrying to his front.

Yu Zhen discarded the cigarette and cupped a round box in both hands—a blue container holding a fresh cheesecake.

“Cheesecake flavor,” Yu Zhen beamed. “Did I guess right?”

Zhou Daosen’s eyes flickered with momentary surprise.

His gaze fixed on the snow-white fingertips and wrists, where the lace wristbands fluttered. Against all expectations, he found coquettish charm radiating from a man’s face.

“Didn’t I tell you I don’t eat cake?” Zhou Daosen kept his hand on the doorknob, neither withdrawing nor accepting the gift.

Yu Zhen cradled the cake against his chest, where the low-cut dress revealed fake but equally tantalizing curves.

“I know. Give it to your girlfriend,” Yu Zhen said brightly. “Coach Zhou, you never give me clear answers, so I had to guess. Did I get it right?”

He asked again.

Zhou Daosen had encountered shy admirers, bold ones, those who wrote love letters, even someone who proclaimed affection through a megaphone—but never anyone as bewildering as this.

Could this man truly not understand yesterday’s warning? Where had he filed that caution away?

The bunny ears twitched atop his head, the realistic fur headband lending lifelike movement. The beautiful man held the cheesecake with eager, burning eyes fixed on Zhou Daosen.

Zhou Daosen wanted to ruin him.

Crush him, shatter him, force him to lift his own ankles while dripping with sweat, begging never to provoke him again.

He wanted to dominate him.

To break him.

When no answer came after prolonged silence, Yu Zhen’s expression turned puzzled. Zhou Daosen mentally tore that look apart, yet found himself helplessly entranced by the meticulously made-up face—enhanced cosmetics rendering it even more exquisite.

Like a hammer striking a critical nerve center, Zhou Daosen’s expression darkened abruptly.

Turning fully, he placed a hand atop the cake box and spoke with grave seriousness: “Yu Zhen.”

He said the name again.

His voice remained icy, full of warning—the kind that set blood boiling.

“Was I not clear enough?” Zhou Daosen’s gaze sharpened like a silver needle. “Listen carefully—”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“And I don’t want your cake.”