Over the course of three days, there were actually new developments to the Elderly Bobblehead case that came into the spotlight. The police concurrently discovered trace evidence in several warehouses, which, after further investigation and verification, affirmed that there was another key suspect involved in the case aside from the first one that had sparked intense discussion.

Perhaps spurred by the large volume of public discourse, the efficiency of the police for this case was much higher than ever before. A co-op team was established to work together on this case, led by the police headquarters at Redstone, where the initial discovery was made, alongside police from other implicated stellar systems. 

The consolidated findings from the various police departments showed instantaneous results. After three days, the co-accused’s identity was essentially locked down.

Naturally, the police had always been inclined to keep the investigation of such cases under wraps. Despite the public scrutiny, what was reported was only what the police were willing to disclose. They would not report any information about the co-accused in advance, lest it affected the arrest of the suspect.

The only reason that Southcross Law Firm had access to any information at all was because of Lawyer Dane.

There was talk that the police had started to cast their nets. 

There was talk that the co-accused was already apprehended.

There was talk that the co-accused had slipped through again.

There was even talk that the newly collected evidence and testimonies actually pointed to two people, and the police were wavering indecisively between who was the real suspect…

By the time Yan Suizhi finished lunch and was returning to the office, the story he heard had already been updated to version 5.0—

“By the way, the co-accused has been determined.” This was the fifth time that Luke was using this enigmatic opening.

Yan Suizhi had only just perfunctorily brushed off his question about wiping his fingers. When he heard this familiar opening, he couldn’t restrain his smile, again perfunctorily going “mhm, mhm”, indicating that he was all ears. “Did Lawyer Dane divulge it in the washroom, or did it happen to come up in conversation across comms?”

Luke was also aware that he had gotten it wrong several times already, and scratched his cheek abashedly. “Nah, it’s not Lawyer Dane this time.”

Once hearing this, Yan Suizhi was all the more inclined not to take his words seriously. Dane, the defence lawyer for the first suspect, hadn’t even handed out much information, yet his words could still make two turns in the transmission and be garbled beyond recognition. Could there be any truth in the words of others? 

Luke said secretively, “I heard it from my teacher this time.”

Hobbes?

Yan Suizhi cast him a sidelong glance, calling him a little fool in his mind. “Isn’t your teacher quarantined in a hospital? Where did this news come from?”

“His test kept coming out invalid, because of all the interfering factors from his old age, y’know? It’s tricky to actually ascertain the result. He went to do the final test today and saw this with his own eyes at the screening gate.” Luke spoke, then added, “My teacher happens to know the supervising officer leading the co-op team, and said that the officer was waiting there with a whole bunch of police, all grave-faced. My teacher went over to chat with him for a bit, but he only showed concern for my teacher’s health, then said that he was here on a bit of official business, and didn’t go further into it. But—” 

Luke shot him a knowing look. “But at this time, what other kind of official business can the co-op team have?”

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Luke muttered, “If they are waiting at the screening gate, are they waiting for a patient in the quarantine station? Or could it be a doctor?”

Speaking of doctors…

Yan Suizhi thought back to the doctor that he had run across in the residential building at the black market. He had two other opportunities to explore that area more when out of office on the pretext of work. That street was still under police watch, and the people there were still striving to maintain the semblance of daily life.

But both times, he never saw the blue-eyed doctor who was otherwise wrapped all over in a hat and a mask. 

In a meeting room at an office on the ground floor, Senior Manager Adams’ fingers were swiftly replying to a new email on the screen as he talked to Gu Yan, “…The situation’s basically like this. When the police came knocking, the co-accused immediately brought up his right to counsel, and he had a clear target. The Request for Representation was sent over just an hour ago. I wanted to turn it down in your place and get the other party to hire someone else at first, but I considered two things—”

He rotated the angle of the hologram from his smart device so that it faced Gu Yan, allowing him to read the contents of the email on it. “On one hand, I still have to listen to your opinion, even if I feel like it’s a no-brainer. On the other hand, I just received an email from the Legal Aid Bureau. Concurrently with the Request for Representation, the co-accused had also submitted an Application Statement to the Legal Aid Bureau, and now the Legal Aid Bureau is more inclined for you to appear in court as well.”

After saying this, Adams gave a particularly disgruntled harrumph.

Gu Yan could naturally understand what he was so disgruntled about. 

The nomination for First-Class Lawyers was now in the public notification period, and between him and Hobbes, one was sure to be knocked out. Compared to Hobbes, he was indeed much younger; historically, there were a few cases of someone becoming a First-Class Lawyer at such a young age. However, the review board wouldn’t use age as a basis for screening unless it was as a last resort.

Now, a controversial case like this was being tossed to Gu Yan. Taking the case would be tantamount to trapping himself in an impossible situation.

If the public abhorred the suspect and Gu Yan performed well in court, no matter whether the verdict was an acquittal or a reduction in sentence, his public image would be affected. Conversely, if he botched it, then his professional obligations as a lawyer wouldn’t be fulfilled.

No matter how it went, his nomination for First-Class Lawyer would be affected. 

However, this would save the review board trouble. If he was affected, they wouldn’t have to bother dithering between him and Hobbes and just keep one as a matter of course. This was why those in the bureau were inclined to let Gu Yan represent the defendant.

Gu Yan was flipping through a portion of the case file that Adams gave him. When he was done, he placed the holographic papers back on the table and said calmly, “I can take the case.”

Adams, “???”

His gulp of coffee got stuck in his throat. He hacked violently until his face turned livid, and he asked, “What are you talking about? You’re in the public notification period; what the heck are you taking this case for? Don’t joke with me, alright?” 

Gu Yan looked at him. “I’m not joking.”

Adams had known him for many years. Of course he knew that Gu Yan wasn’t joking.

“First-Class Lawyer, hey! Mate, it’s a First-Class Lawyer on the line! You—! ‘Fess up, do you think that even this is beneath you already?” Adams was going to riot.

Gu Yan, “Naturally not.” 

Adams wiped the coffee staining the corners of his mouth, glaring at him, “Then what is this?”

Gu Yan said, “Wouldn’t it be counter-intuitive if my first reaction to taking a case was to worry whether or not it would affect the public notification and consequently my nomination for First-Class Lawyer?”

Adams continued to glare at him.

“Take a look at the name list of First-Class Lawyers. How many had shrunk back in consideration of the public notification period?” 

Adams said indignantly, “I didn’t count, but it definitely wouldn’t be few in any case.”

“At least, the First-Class Lawyer that I acknowledge isn’t this way.”

Adams prattled discontentedly, “Uh-huh, someone you acknowledge. Give me a name?”

Gu Yan picked up his coffee and sipped it with a bland expression. He appeared unwilling to get into this issue with him anymore. 

Adams engaged in a unilateral stand-off with him for a long time, then eventually crumbled, clutching at his hair. “You’re going to be the death of me. Do you think that senior managers aren’t human? Look at this, I lost this patch of hair, all for you.”

“With all due respect, your hairline has been like this since the very first day I met you.”

Adams, “…”

Over his many-year working relationship and friendship with Gu Yan, he was naturally aware of the personality the other had. From the outset, Gu Yan would never take pains to change anything for the sake of ‘First-Class Lawyer’. To him, ‘First-Class Lawyer’ wasn’t a goal, but a consequence of hard work. 

Half an hour later, Adams compromised with a grimace, sending a new email to the bureau. “Fine. I’ll scope it out more; if it’s about ready, you can represent him. I’ll give you a definite answer tomorrow.”

Gu Yan came out of his office with a copy of the case file on his smart device screen. A photograph taken at Spring Ivy Hospital was attached to it, showing the police chief and his team of uniformed police surrounding the gentlemen who had been identified as the co-accused.

The man was in a hospital gown that marked him as a patient under quarantine. However, he didn’t look as frail as the others who were infected, and instead had haughtiness written all over his face.

That face wasn’t unfamiliar to Gu Yan; he had come across him at least once before, on the space shuttle from Helan to De Carma—the dark-haired man, surnamed Lee. 

“How did Adams swindle so much of your time?”

Yan Suizhi asked this when Gu Yan returned to the office.

“It’s nothing. I might be taking a case; I’ll only get the specifics tomorrow.” Gu Yan didn’t talk much about it since the details weren’t firmed up yet.

But Yan Suizhi was very astute. “What case? Will it affect your publicity period?” 

“Are you very concerned about this?”

Yan Suizhi elegantly intertwined his fingers on the table and nodded, raising his eyebrows. “It depends on what type of concern you’re asking about. If it’s for myself, the publicity period would pass as it should; there’s nothing special about it. But if it’s for you, of course I’d hope that it’d go as smoothly as possible.”

Gu Yan was holding two cups of coffee in his hand. He drank from one, whereas the other cup was obviously just brewed. It was evident who this cup was for.

He walked over to Yan Suizhi’s office desk, passing that cup of coffee over. He cast his gaze downwards and asked, “Why?” 

“What do you mean by why?”

“Why do you hope that it’d go as smoothly as possible for me?”

Yan Suizhi raised his brows. He deliberated for a moment, before saying, unable to rein his tongue, “Probably… out of the care and concern of an elder, I suppose.”

“…” 

Lawyer Gu impassively took back that cup of coffee, turning heel to leave.

“Hey—don’t run!” Yan Suizhi’s eyes curved as he reached out and caught him. “Accompany me to someplace in a bit.”

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