First-Class Lawyer - Chapter 180

Evening on Tian Qin.

Joe rubbed the smart device on his finger, then pushed open the door to the visiting room once more. “I’d like to see Zhao Zemu again.”

A whole day had passed. By now, the wardens had gotten familiar with this young master and were not surprised to hear this. They silently sighed at his perseverance, and although they shook their heads with a grimace, they still escorted Zhao Zemu into the visiting room.

If Yan Suizhi and Gu Yan were here, Zhao Zemu’s transformation would surely have startled them.

While Zhao Zemu on the shores of Yaba Island would occasionally gaze at the sea in a daze, he would usually still be good company. He dressed well and carried himself like a successful businessman.

But now, his complexion was sallow and his chin was covered in grey stubble. His hair hadn’t been groomed for some time; his sideburns reached past the tips of his ears, and his fringe drooped down, obscuring his eyes in shadow.

It had already been a day, but every time Joe saw him, he had the urge to find a pair of scissors to clip off his fringe, constantly feeling that the tips of his hair would jab Zhao Zemu’s eyes with a gentle sway.

A warden brought him in, greeted Joe, then withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him.

Once he left, the entire visiting room quietened down.

As before, Zhao Zemu looked out of the window without a word. It was hard to tell if the man was zoning out or plainly refusing to cooperate.

Before, when faced with his cold shoulder, Joe would threaten and entreat him by turns, earnestly admonishing him, exerting the full extent of his talkativeness to talk him around, only for it to be in vain. And then he’d end up going into a fit of rage, slamming the door on his way out.

But it was different now. This time, Joe didn’t speak at all.

He was lounging in his chair, gazing down and picking at his fingers, staying quiet for a long time.

A bird streaked past the window. Zhao Zemu blinked gently, and just for a moment, he almost had the illusion that… Joe had given up.

Zhao Zemu projected his gaze out of the window for a long time before finally turning away, looking at Joe instead.

“What are you staring at me for?” Joe stopped fiddling with his fingers, looking up and asking him.

“…You seem to have lost interest in questioning me.” Apart from the greetings and pleasantries upon their first meeting in the morning, this was Zhao Zemu’s first utterance.

After the length of time locked up, his voice had turned hoarse, as though all of his weariness and worries were crammed within.

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Zhao Zemu haltingly asked, “Then why are you still here?”

Joe glanced at the wall clock and said, “My flight back to De Carma departs at nine in the evening. I’m sure you know that I feel ill at ease leaving Ke Jin elsewhere for too long.”

“Mm, I do.”

Joe went on, “I’ve been nagging at you for almost eight hours now since morning. I’m wiped out, yes, and no less angry. But that was because you’re a person of interest in this case. Now, I’ve a little over two hours before I leave for the port, and I don’t know when the next time that I’ll be back to Tian Qin is, so I’ll sit with you for a bit more. Not for anything to do with the case, just… as a playmate of many years, I guess.”

Whatever it was that Zhao Zemu thought of, his brows creased faintly. His expression looked complicated, as though he had a bellyful of words to say but just couldn’t get them out.

Joe added, “Don’t be too touched yet. Playmate needs a qualifier—in the past. These days, let alone playmates, all we talked about when we met were those pompous civilities. In our present situation, we can’t even fall back on that anymore, so I’ve run out of topics. So I can only sit with you. Sit, in the literal sense of it.”

His words were exceptionally forthright, yet it seemed to tickle some bone in Zhao Zemu. He listened in silence to the end, then suddenly chortled.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing much.” Zhao Zemu shook his head. “I just tried to recall since when did we stop having anything to talk to each other about.”

Joe snorted in laughter as well, half-jokingly wagging his finger. “That’ll be too long ago, so long ago that I almost can’t quite recall. I think I watched horse racing in high school, just the two of us? To tell the truth, we didn’t have much to talk about at that time, either. The afternoon was tortuously slow. When I went home after that, I resolved not to hang out alone with you again. It was too awkward.”

Zhao Zemu arched an eyebrow.

When he made this expression, the faint semblances of his usual self could be glimpsed. “Back at you. I never invited you out on one-on-ones again after that.”

Joe counted the years on his fingers. “After university, I always hung out with Gu Yan and the rest. But I’d still invite you guys when we ran into each other at events.”

“Out of etiquette, right?” Zhao Zemu exposed him.

“Yeah, etiquette.” Joe laughed, then asked smoothly, “Who did you hang out with at that time?”

“Manson.” Zhao Zemu paused, and he supplemented, “Brewer, Miller… and George. All the Mansons, basically.”

Joe symbolically sneered when hearing Brewer and Miller, but he didn’t gyrate on this topic. “Anyone can tell I’m asking about *friends*, real friends.”

Zhao Zemu shook his head. “I’ve none. Where would they have come from?”

Nodding, Joe commented, “I guessed so. Your luck is quite crap. It’s wonderful to have true friends; you’re seriously missing out.”

Zhao Zemu said, “I know.”

And then, he suddenly submerged in a long silence again, looking out of the window, maybe lost in some memory or other.

A long, long time later, Zhao Zemu abruptly whispered, “People can be really strange…”

He had always held the belief that friends were those who could speak honestly to each other, without reservations. So, by this definition, he never did have any before. But he now abruptly realised that, from the opening sentence until now, this conversation between him and Joe was devoid of false pretences. Every word was the truth straight from the heart, an exchange, yet with neither taking offence.

It suddenly casted the illusion that they were ‘still friends’.

That was why, people really were strange…

They, in their childhood, were full of vigour; they would battle and catch snakes for each other. They were undaunted in the face of danger. It seemed like just these two friends, willing to go to hell and back with them, were all they needed to the end of time.

But by the time they reached adolescence, in just a decade, they were already slowly drifting apart. Their introductions for each other went from ‘sworn brothers’ to ‘childhood friends’, then to ‘childhood playmates’, and again to nodding acquaintances. And it seemed again like it would remain as such until the end of time.

However, in the present, Zhao Zemu was forty. Joe and Young Master Manson were thirty-five. They had been exchanging feigned civilities for over twenty years. Now, one was recuperating in the hospital, one was running around on a case of tremendous scale, and one was locked up in a detention centre. They were worlds apart, and yet a hint of friendship glimmered again, lost and found.

A long time passed. Zhao Zemu didn’t make an utterance.

Joe regarded him, and he suddenly spoke, “You’re wavering, I can tell.”

Zhao Zemu lifted his eyes. After a moment’s silence, he confessed, “…Yes, I am.”

“Wavered yourself dizzy yet?” Young Master Joe asked. “What are you hesitating for? If it were me, I’d have cracked and poured out an avalanche long ago.”

“Things have already come this far. Would anyone care if I did?” Zhao Zemu said, “It’s meaningless now.”

“What kind of nonsense is that, stop making excuses!” Joe scolded without a lick of tact. “You used to be so unfaltering when catching snakes and twisting their necks; why are you such a wuss now?!”

Zhao Zemu shook his head. “You don’t understand. Brewer and Miller Manson have their roots set in deep; many powerful people are caught in it. The web that they’ve woven for almost three decades won’t topple with just a few words from me.”

Joe, “Yeah, yeah.”

Zhao Zemu, “…”

“It’s complicated, I get it, it’s three decades after all.” Joe said. “Not only do I know, but I’m even crystal clear on it. Who had died at their hands, who is on their hit list, who is in cahoots with them, who is doing their utmost to unearth evidence. You might not even know some of these, but I do. Not only do I know, but I even have evidence.”

“You have evidence?” Zhao Zemu finally looked steely.

“Yeah, and it’s quite a bit.”

“How much is quite a bit?” Zhao Zemu ruminated over it, and he couldn’t refrain from reminding, “They’re not that easy to beat. One or two things won’t bring them down.”

“So-so,” said Joe modestly. “Just enough to keep them in prison until the coming of the apocalypse, or each taking a bullet from a vaporiser.”

Zhao Zemu, “…”

“C’mon, you tell me. Is this level of evidence enough to pry open that mouth of yours?” Joe asked, almost jokingly.

Without waiting for Zhao Zemu to respond, Joe projected a hologram from his smart device, pulling up a screenshot that Gu Yan had sent him. “If it isn’t enough, then add this.”

Zhao Zemu saw all sorts of data from that screenshot, what with ‘surface-tier signal source’ and ‘base-tier signal source’, confusing him. “What is this?”

“Mansons’ minions have been sending malicious emails our way.” Joe said, “Do you know what the consequences are when something of this nature is investigated?”

Zhao Zemu, “I do.”

“Good for you. So this screenshot is saying, despite all your family has sacrificed for the Mansons, they have no qualms about screwing your family over. They even want to pin the blame on your family for stuff like sending malicious emails and hacking smart devices. Just in case your family isn’t damned enough.”

Zhao Zemu’s face darkened. Then, Joe placed an item on the table. “And if all that’s still not enough, there’s this too.”