“Brother? When did you get here?” Following Lin Fang’s gaze, Qin Ran saw nothing and simply stood up to leave the office.
Outside, Qin Yi leaned against the corridor railing, lost in thought, ignoring his sister’s question.
Had Qin Ran remained seated in the office, the wall between the door and window would have blocked her view of Qin Yi. Lin Fang and Qin Ran were separated only by a desk, and from Lin Fang’s angle, she shouldn’t have been able to see Qin Yi outside either. Moreover, Qin Yi had deliberately used concealment magic—ordinary people wouldn’t have noticed anyone outside. Yet, Lin Fang had somehow detected him.
Lin Fang then walked to the office door, gestured politely, and smiled. “Officer Qin, please come in and have a seat.”
“Brother, you came at the perfect time. I have something to tell you.” Without waiting for a response, Qin Ran pulled Qin Yi into the office and excitedly announced, “Brother, I’ve decided to stay here and teach yoga. Didn’t you say I should start small? This will be my internship, and I’ll even get paid! Lin Fang said if I teach well, I’ll get professor-level treatment.”
“It’s good that you’ve figured this out,” Qin Yi replied, though his eyes remained fixed on Lin Fang.
Just as the old monk had said, this world’s Fang’er had an ordinary appearance, yet her demeanor carried a unique charm that differed from her otherworldly self—one that fascinated him even more. *My Fang’er has grown up.*
“Officer Qin, do you have any questions?” Lin Fang remained composed under the policeman’s scrutiny.
“Brother, you mean you support my decision?” Qin Ran happily clung to Qin Yi’s arm, her exaggerated reaction partly meant to divert his attention. Since waking up in the hospital, her brother had always worn a cold expression. She had grown used to it, but she didn’t want him to scare others—especially her boss.
Nodding at his sister, Qin Yi asked Lin Fang, “Does your school need a legal consultant?”
Lin Fang was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“Brother, are you saying you want to be the legal consultant for Lin’s Talent School?” Qin Ran exclaimed in delight.
Qin Yi nodded at his sister and turned to Lin Fang. “Director Lin, what do you think?”
He nearly blurted out *Fang’er* but quickly corrected himself, opting for the formal *Director Lin*. Though it sounded overly professional, calling her by her full name felt unbearably awkward to him.
Lin Fang laughed. “Officer Qin, just call me Lin Fang, or like everyone else, ‘Little Boss.’ Some parents call me ‘Teacher Lin,’ but please don’t call me ‘Director’—it makes me sound like an old lady.”
Qin Yi replied, “Then I’ll call you ‘Teacher Lin.’ And don’t call me ‘Officer.’ I’m just an ordinary policeman.”
He wanted to match her lighthearted tone but found it unnatural—he wasn’t good at joking. His expression twisted into something unreadable.
Lin Fang obliged. “Alright, then I’ll call you ‘Brother Qin.’ From a long-term perspective, my school does need a legal consultant. Brother Qin, forgive my bluntness, but from what I know, the police force is inconsistent. It’s not uncommon for law enforcers to lack legal knowledge. My ideal consultant would be a lawyer, not a policeman.”
“Moreover, the consultant I hire must be someone who can answer my questions and solve problems at any time—not like the joke goes: *consultants only advise when convenient.* You’re a policeman, always on call, with unpredictable schedules. So, being a legal consultant might not suit you.”
Her words were brutally direct, leaving Qin Yi speechless and conflicted. His Fang’er was just as decisive as before—just like when she had rejected his love in the trenches, firm and final. But if he couldn’t be her legal consultant, how else could he stay close to her?
“It’s simple—my brother can just switch to being a lawyer!” Qin Ran chimed in.
Her words sparked an idea in Qin Yi. “Right, I already have a lawyer’s license. I should meet your requirements.”
“If you have a lawyer’s license, why are you still a policeman?” Lin Fang found it odd.
The relationship between police and lawyers was complex—both allies and adversaries.
Broadly, both were legal professionals working to uphold the law and ensure justice. Yet, their differing roles often put them at odds.
Police were state agents representing public authority, while lawyers were private practitioners defending individual rights. Police prioritized national interests and public order; lawyers safeguarded personal rights.
In criminal cases, they were direct opponents—police and prosecutors sought to prove guilt, while lawyers fought for innocence or leniency.
For efficiency, police often prioritized substance over procedure, risking wrongful convictions. Lawyers, meanwhile, emphasized due process, sometimes seen by police as nitpicking or obstructing justice—leading to frequent clashes.
Additionally, police had power but little money; lawyers had money but little power—another source of tension.
In reality, rational police, prosecutors, judges, and lawyers could coexist harmoniously, understanding their shared legal mission—many were even classmates or mentors. Some officers later became lawyers, and vice versa.
Qin Yi—or rather, Qi Biao—had only accessed the real Qin Yi’s memories when necessary. To answer Lin Fang’s question, he dug deeper into those memories. “Right after I got my license, a major case involving me arose. To investigate, I postponed becoming a lawyer.”
“My brother’s telling the truth. That case nearly killed him. The doctors declared him dead—he was even sent to the crematorium before reviving. For two years, he never gave up on solving it.” Qin Ran vouched for him.
“Alright, then show me your lawyer’s license. That’s crucial before we discuss the consultant role.”
Most people would react with shock or awe at a resurrection story, but Lin Fang only paused briefly. Having died and revived twice herself—soul-jumping across worlds—such tales didn’t faze her.
Before her transmigration, she’d worked in a hospital and encountered cases where patients declared dead later revived naturally. So, she skipped commentary and cut straight to the practical matter.
Qin Yi had hoped Lin Fang might connect the dots from Qin Ran’s words, but her immediate focus on the license dashed that hope. “Fine. I’ll bring it when I return to the provincial capital.”
Lin Fang nodded. Qin Ran asked, “Brother, when are you going back? Will you come again?”
Qin Yi ruffled her hair. “I’ll leave tomorrow, get some paperwork approved, and return as soon as possible. Once I wrap up this case, I’ll switch to law.”
This hair-touching habit was new since his hospital discharge. Qin Ran swatted his hand away. “Then bring my yoga gear when you come back—and buy me a few extra sets for rotation.”
“You’re not going home?” Though his sister was impulsive, she was also close to their parents. Staying without returning first surprised him.
Qin Ran shook her head. “Brother, if I go back, do you think they’d let me come here again?”
“Fine. Make a list of what you need, and I’ll get everything.” Qin Yi agreed readily. Their parents would never approve of her staying in this small town, so her approach made sense.
“Oh, Lin Fang, you’re heading back to the city tomorrow too, right?” Qin Ran suddenly remembered Lin Fang’s phone call and suggested, “Why not ride with my brother? Save yourself the train hassle.”
Lin Fang declined firmly. “No need. Others are returning with me—we’ll take the train. Besides, I have errands and might be busy late. Brother Qin should leave early; driving at night isn’t ideal.”
“Alright, I’ll list the yoga equipment for you to purchase as needed. Haha, my brother really shouldn’t drive at night.” Recalling his driving skills, Qin Ran agreed the train was safer.
Qin Yi, who’d been watching Lin Fang’s reaction, spoke up. “I wasn’t planning to drive. I’ll take the train too—I’ll practice driving more before long trips.”
With matters settled, Lin Fang arranged Qin Ran’s lodging and left teaching arrangements to Principal Wang.
The rest of the day, Lin Fang toured Lin Group’s various businesses with Shangguan Qinglin.
In three years, Lin Group had expanded rapidly, focusing on food and education, becoming a local giant. The recipes she’d brought from the other world had greatly boosted their culinary ventures.
Her parents and brother were experts, and other managers, shaped by her influence, now required little oversight. Her main focus these past days had been her chain of kindergartens.
Being a preschool teacher had been her dream before transmigrating—abandoned due to health issues. Now, with a sound body, she could not only teach but also run her own kindergartens. How could she not cherish this?
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