After the Cannon Fodder A Accidentally Marked the Paranoid Female Lead - Chapter 49

The cold of early spring seeps into the bones.

Ming Sian was surprised by the peacefulness of these days—attending classes, going to work, and serving the Eldest Miss; life was orderly yet addictive.

However, she and He Yining naturally didn’t spend every night in revelry; in comparison, they spent much more time working.

Cases at the law firm were growing at a frantic pace. Having won two high-profile cases in a row, Anning Law Firm was no longer as “half-dead” as before. He Yining was very dissatisfied with Anning’s original employees.

Anning Law Firm had always been a lackluster entity among the firms under the He Group, unable to land any major cases; its primary income came from drafting legal documents for others. It wasn’t exactly losing money, but it was essentially a “tail-ender.”

Since He Yining took over Anning Law Firm, she naturally wanted to give it a fresh look; hiring and firing were necessary experiences. Only a complete “marrow cleansing” could revitalize this firm that had almost been on the brink of bankruptcy.

Anning Law Firm was a team of over twenty people. He Yining’s first task upon taking charge was to inject fresh blood. In fact, Hong Kong is only so big; lawyers from top universities, especially those who have passed the PCLL, are not short of work and have no need to come to a firm like this.

There are only so many lawyers in all of Hong Kong, so hiring is difficult. Thus, He Yining made dual preparations: looking for outstanding students in advance at the HKU Faculty of Law, enticing them with high salaries, and training them ahead of time.

This is called “recruiting one group, cultivating another.” Gradually, the firm began to improve.

Actually, most of the lawyers in the firm were solicitors—regular ones who gradually promoted from junior associate to partner.

Barristers are somewhat different; they focus on court trials, though some hold dual roles, like He Yining, who can handle non-litigation work and also appear in court.

With so many firms under the He Group, there is always an annual ranking. Anning Law Firm was second to last; the one in last place was losing money, while Anning simply hadn’t started losing money yet.

The firm in last place had already shut down, and its employees were distributed among various other firms. They weren’t assigned good positions and their salaries were average—it was better to just resign and change jobs.

In the view of headquarters, a lawyer who cannot create value in one firm might not be valuable in another; it’s better to let them “sit on the cold bench” (be sidelined) until they resign on their own.

The He family has dozens of law firms, large and small, ranging from teams of a few people to headquarters teams of thousands. Every year they are ranked, and the firm at the bottom is dissolved.

Firms vary in scale, so maintaining fairness in rankings is difficult. But so what? A small scale isn’t the headquarters’ fault; if you haven’t developed yourself, you can only wait to be swallowed up.

Actually, it can be seen that the He family is currently consolidating assets and trying not to be too distributed. Besides, capable lawyers have been transferred to headquarters, so it’s normal for branch offices not to be as strong.

One could say the dozens of firms are all “supplying blood” to the headquarters, which also implements a “bottom-out” elimination system, making the survival environment quite difficult.

The strong stay, the weak leave.

However, the He Group cannot strictly follow this rule because of the He family members; one’s own family is always an exception. If they cannot treat everyone equally and are only strict with outsiders, how can the He family last?

If not for the excellent benefits at the He firms, it’s uncertain if they could retain so many senior lawyers.

But the He family members will only increase; the core group already has over a hundred people, plus friends, relatives, and even more people in the future.

For instance, although Eldest Uncle He Rufeng seemingly has only two children, he has over a dozen illegitimate ones. It’s only because Grandma is strict that those children haven’t entered the house officially, yet they have been arranged to work within the He Group—mostly in idle positions with high salaries.

The Eldest Uncle’s son, He Zhenduo, already has four children, not counting illegitimate ones outside. It’s hard to say how many children he will have in the future; father and son are of the same mold.

If this continues, everyone in the Tianyuan Building will be named He. At that time, it will truly be a spectacle; the He family will truly be using money to raise these “parasites.”

Grandma feels that giving the children money is normal, but she overlooks that these people don’t just want money—they want power. With power, they get even more money.

Like He Zhenduo: he doesn’t work as a lawyer but in another department, insisting that the Eldest Uncle get him into a “lucrative” spot. Every year, the money that reaches his hands is as high as a hundred million.

Grandma is too indulgent toward the He family members. Therefore, even if others in the Tianyuan Building know what the He family has done, they turn a blind eye simply because the person is named He.

Grandma’s family rules are strict for the sake of family honor, yet she is lenient toward them, watching with her own eyes as they cling to the He family to suck its blood.

He Yining once asked Grandma why she was so lenient. Grandma said, “They are all my children. How much longer can I protect them? At this stage, I don’t want to manage them anymore.”

“Then is Grandma just going to watch her life’s work be destroyed?”

“I have already achieved fame and success. Even if the He family declines in the future, it will absolutely not be destroyed by my hand.”

“Does Grandma truly think that?”

“A-Ning, it’s because Grandma didn’t teach them well. I was busy with work when they were young and neglected them. I can only reprimand them or transfer them, but I cannot make them leave the He family law firms.”

He Yining still remembered what she told Grandma: “What use is it for me to obtain a He family like this? Surely Grandma isn’t unable to strike and is waiting for the next head to take over and solve these issues?”

Grandma couldn’t be harsh with her own descendants, so she chose to give them a not-so-severe reprimand, hoping they wouldn’t go too far. Yet she placed her hopes on the next head to solve the common ills of a family business.

Essentially, Grandma defaulted to wanting someone else to do what she couldn’t bring herself to do.

In reality, there was another point: no mother wants her children to remember her for her faults rather than her virtues after she is gone, especially since these He family members are interviewed from time to time.

She didn’t know how deep Grandma’s selfishness ran. Fortunately, the He family wasn’t just a mess; as long as the common ills of family businesses can be handled, making the He family thrive again is not impossible.

She had even thought of the name for the He family law firm: in the future, it would be called “Star-Trail Law Firm.” A star-trail symbolizes order and regularity; the He family is increasingly lacking in order.

He Yining became busier and busier, as did Ming Sian; the time they spent together grew less and less.

Besides classes and work, Ming Sian also started a studio with Cheng Cheng—the kind that runs short video accounts.

The first topic was #Transmigrating into a Palace Drama as a Gossip-Monger#. Later there would be transmigrating series, rebirth series, etc. Nowadays, the workplace is hard to survive in, so “workplace-beast-of-burden” short videos would also be filmed.

Ming Sian only wrote one script, which has been filmed and edited; today was the day of release.

Ming Sian discussed with Cheng Cheng and ultimately decided to find a screenwriter to customize scripts; the price was very cheap—ten thousand yuan for fifty episodes in total.

The ten thousand yuan was paid by Ming Sian. Currently, she and Cheng Cheng have a profit-sharing arrangement: Cheng Cheng gets 40% and she gets 60%. Because she doesn’t do much of the heavy lifting—which falls mainly on Cheng Cheng—she was satisfied with this split.

As for the other participants, they were even cheaper. After all, the video hadn’t been posted yet, and no one knew if it would go viral. They recruited actors for just the cost of a meal; Cheng Cheng, the director, was not only an actor but the lead.

Cheng Cheng originally wanted to trick Ming Sian into acting too, but Ming Sian refused immediately. She was definitely going to be a lawyer in the future; there was no need to act in short dramas. She could stay behind the scenes.

Compared to Cheng Cheng, she was considered wealthy, so she provided most of the funds.

When not writing scripts, she also handled script revisions. When Cheng Cheng was on camera, she would part-time as the assistant director for the shoot.

Though her tasks weren’t as many as Cheng Cheng’s, they added up to quite a lot.

Since it was a co-created account, they discussed whose identity to use. Ming Sian had her own account, so this account used Cheng Cheng’s. With the constraint of a contract, even if Cheng Cheng tried to take the account for herself, Ming Sian could sue to recover it.

Furthermore, “Do not use who you doubt, and do not doubt who you use.”

Her relationship with Cheng Cheng was good and the contract was signed. As law students, they specifically asked a professor to draft the contract, and all the “ugly words” (harsh terms) were stated upfront.

Once everything was prepared, they just waited for market feedback, hoping their video would go viral.

Ming Sian thought about whether she should use her own account to give them a boost, but the two accounts are in different “lanes” (niches); for now, it’s better not to mix them. If the account truly fails to take off, then they’ll find another way.

Fortunately, it’s 2020. For a personal account to go viral, it still depends on video quality—unlike later years, where eight out of ten viral accounts are already signed to MCNs.

Ming Sian sat with Cheng Cheng and three other classmates who filmed with them.

The three classmates were from the Mainland, studying in the Faculty of Arts. Their families had some money, but they had a “bug” for acting and were in the same club as Cheng Cheng. They’d known each other for a long time. Hearing Cheng Cheng had an idea to film videos, they came without a word, saying they only needed to be fed and could even provide money if funds were tight.

Compared to the tight budgets of Ming Sian and Cheng Cheng, they were very well-off.

After all, those who can come from the Mainland to study at HKU are either after scholarships or their family conditions aren’t bad; they happen to be good students who couldn’t quite get into Peking or Tsinghua, so HKU was a decent choice for them.

If they can stay in Hong Kong, their treatment won’t be bad whether they go abroad or return to the Mainland later.

But Ming Sian still drafted a contract. During their time with the crew, each person received $300$ per day—this money was pooled together by her and Cheng Cheng. They only hoped the account would take off and earn back the money they invested.

“Is it posted?”

“Mm.”

Cheng Cheng nodded. They chose an auspicious day: the 8th, at 8:08 PM—very lucky numbers.

This time slot is a peak period for scrolling through videos, so they decided to post then.

Of course, this was just for a sense of ceremony. After posting, they could each go home and wait for tomorrow morning to see the data.

The moment Cheng Cheng clicked “post,” no one suggested leaving; everyone was very nervous.

Ming Sian was okay; her personal account had already successfully launched. For some reason, even though she only updated twice a week, her followers were nearly reaching a million.

This follower count is quite massive; every one of her videos has hundreds of thousands of likes and tens of thousands of comments—real traffic.

However, since the first live stream until now, she hadn’t broadcasted; fortunately, she updated steadily, otherwise people might report her as a missing person.

“It’s getting late, let’s head back,” Ming Sian suggested while packing her bag.

The others shook their heads. “Today is a day worth commemorating. Let’s go celebrate.”

Ming Sian looked at Cheng Cheng. Although He Yining hadn’t set a curfew for her, she was conscientious; she would definitely return before ten. Unless something required her to stay at the dorm, she would message He Yining to explain why she wasn’t coming back.

There was a contract between them; she didn’t have to do so much, yet she felt that given their relationship, even with a contract, she should do these things.

It’s one thing if it’s “in name only,” but “in name and in fact,” certain things must be done.

She looked at Cheng Cheng, wanting her to break the tension. Her relationship with the others wasn’t as good as Cheng Cheng’s.

Receiving the signal, Cheng Cheng immediately said: “I think we should skip it today. The video data hasn’t come out yet. If the data is good, we’ll celebrate another day—my treat.”

“How can we let it be your treat? I think it’s best to use the account’s first earnings for the treat,” Ming Sian said, following Cheng Cheng’s gaze and pushing the time back.

It takes two or three days for video data to come out, and who knows how long for the account to earn revenue. At the very least, they wouldn’t have to mention a gathering for half a month.

It wasn’t that she was unwilling to dine with them, but she preferred to keep a low profile before things were successful.

Especially in front of He Yining: she didn’t want to talk about things that hadn’t succeeded yet. After all, if she didn’t return, she had to give a reason; she couldn’t lie.

Whether it was a big matter or a small one, she didn’t want to engage in deception.

She still felt that once things were successful, she could directly state the reason for being late at the celebration party.

“That’s right! Eating with the money we earned from filming short videos is more meaningful.”

“What if we don’t earn any?”

“Does that mean our video didn’t go viral?”

“Hey! Watch your mouth! Quick, spit it out!” (A superstitious gesture to ward off bad luck).

Seeing the few of them fooling around together, Ming Sian smiled and looked down at her watch. This was an athletic watch she just bought, for use when exercising.

the watches He Yining prepared for her were too precious; she didn’t even wear them to the He manor, let alone to school.

Cheng Cheng laughed and raised her hand. “Alright, everyone go home. Wait for my news tomorrow.”

Ming Sian said goodbye to everyone and then left.

On the bus, she sat by the window, her eyes fixed outside at the bright lights, feasting, and dreams—she felt out of place here.

One day she would leave this place. At that time, her relationship with the Eldest Miss would also be nearing its end.

Perhaps their ending was destined to not be together.

Ming Sian and He Yining arrived home one after the other. She had only arrived a moment ago and just taken off her bag when He Yining returned.

He Yining’s things were all carried by Ali; today, Ali had an exceptional amount of items on her.

“You’re back.”

Ming Sian stepped forward to take the things from Ali. Miscalculating the weight, her hands were weighed down for a moment.

“So heavy.”

Ali nodded. “Case files. The Eldest Miss said they must be finished today.”

Today? It was already 9:00 PM. To finish reading them all would take until tomorrow.

Ming Sian lifted them—these files must weigh twenty pounds. What kind of case required so much material?

She went over the cases recently taken by the firm in her mind. There were truly too many cases at the firm and not many lawyers who could be of use, so most cases fell solely on He Yining.

She didn’t know why He Yining trusted her so much. Perhaps since the last collaboration, her way of doing things satisfied the other; some legal opinion letters were even given to her to write. So she had a fair understanding of the firm’s cases—there shouldn’t be a case with this much material.

“Is this a new case?”

He Yining nodded. “Mm.”

He Yining glanced at her. “Stay with me today and sort out the materials.”

“Huh? Okay.”

Ming Sian agreed, then suddenly reacted. “Then does this count as overtime?”

Overtime means overtime pay. Her private relationship with He Yining was one thing, but work was work.

He Yining raised an eyebrow. “It counts.”

He Yining was “wealthy and overbearing”; she could certainly afford mere overtime pay. However…

“If Finance asks how the overtime pay was generated, what will you say?”

Ming Sian: “?” What could she say? Surely she couldn’t say she was working overtime at He Yining’s home? Who would believe that?

Finance certainly wouldn’t dare to verify it, they would only think she was talking nonsense.

Ming Sian was speechless. So the trap was waiting for her here—meaning no overtime pay? This was simply too wicked; she was being made to do voluntary overtime.

Seeing Ming Sian’s helpless look, He Yining said without looking back: “You can refuse.”

“Then I refuse.”

Subsequently, He Yining stared at her with a half-smile for a while, then turned and went back to her room.

Ming Sian was completely baffled. What did that mean? While washing up, she thought: He Yining was making her ask Finance for overtime pay herself, and then seeing how she’d explain that the two of them were off the clock yet working overtime together—at home, no less.

Exactly what kind of “overtime” was being done? Surely it wasn’t serving the Eldest Miss?

Ming Sian’s face turned red instantly. She hurriedly finished washing up and came to the sofa in the living room, silently sorting the materials.

By the time He Yining came out, Ming Sian had mostly sorted them, though she hadn’t had time to read them.

However, Ming Sian caught a glimpse and had an idea. It was another property division case; a stack of materials was all about the opponent’s assets.

Interestingly, with this much money, they could have found a senior lawyer. Although He Yining’s recent two cases went well—in entertainment terms, they “broke the circle”—her seniority was still there, and many people felt He Yining could win cases because her family helped.

As for the case between He Yining and He Chenzhang, outsiders also felt it was a clash between their mothers and had nothing to do with them.

To many people, what did it matter? It’s like going to a doctor: getting an expert to see you for the price of an intern—why not?

Just a brief scan showed this family was very wealthy. To be safe, they shouldn’t have handed the case to He Yining; after all, she was still young.

When He Yining walked over and saw her browsing the materials of this family, she let out a light laugh. “Curious why this case came to me?”

He Yining was very excellent, but she had only just debuted. A case this large would certainly be handled more confidently by a senior lawyer.

“Division of tens of billions in assets—even at the He headquarters, this would be a major case.”

Ming Sian didn’t deny it. What she worried about more was that someone was using this case to set a trap for He Yining.

“This case was given to me by Mother.”

“President Mo?”

“Mm.”

The two sides had reached a cooperation. If He Moyu didn’t contribute something, their cooperation couldn’t continue.

Knowing Grandma wanted the third generation to be the head, whoever among the third generation is more excellent gets more.

Even though Grandma He’s will had been written, stating He Yining would be the next head, names can be changed and property can be redistributed. By the time it’s all divided up, could the remaining He family be just an empty shell?

Putting hope in others is the most foolish thing. He Yining strove for more so that if Grandma changed her mind, she would have already grown big and strong—whether she became the head of the He family wouldn’t matter as much anymore.

Actually, He Yining still wanted to become the head. The things inherited by the head are different—for example, some family heirlooms of antiques and paintings. These can only be obtained by the head.

Those were collections of many He generations. They weren’t to be sold except in times of difficulty; they were to be passed down forever. He Yining happened to love paintings and calligraphy; her own calligraphy and ink paintings were exceptional—not quite equal to true masters, but very strong among amateurs.

And it wasn’t just paintings; it was the accumulation of hundreds of years. The He family had been in the legal profession for several decades; for the hundred years before that, they were in commerce, and even further back, they were officials for generations. The things accumulated would absolutely not be ordinary items.

And the He family would also become her best springboard in the legal industry. Obtaining the He family was still very important to her.

He Yining found the information on the client and handed it to Ming Sian.

“Han Chengyue?”

Ming Sian looked at the client’s information with some surprise: Han Chengyue, 27 years old, a dentist…

The file showed Han Chengyue’s salary was very high—the kind that earns a hundred thousand a month. Her educational and professional experience were both excellent; otherwise, she wouldn’t have such a high salary.

However, after reading to the end, Ming Sian understood. Han Chengyue wanted to divide the assets of the Zheng family. She was the daughter of the Zheng family head, Zheng Yuanhe—not an illegitimate daughter. Her mother, Han Xuan, and Zheng Yuanhe dated in high school. After high school graduation, Zheng Yuanhe was to go abroad, and the two had sex.

Han Xuan hadn’t expected to get pregnant and was unable to attend school, so she took a leave of absence and brought Han Chengyue to the Mainland. When Zheng Yuanhe returned to the country and couldn’t find Han Xuan, he married someone else under family arrangement.

Despite this, Zheng Yuanhe never gave up investigating Han Xuan’s whereabouts. He finally found news of them the year Han Xuan brought her daughter back home. After the two met and he learned she had a family, Han Xuan had no intention of interfering.

Besides, after so many years, she was used to living alone. Did she still love him? Naturally, she did, but she had to find a reason for herself to stay away from a married man.

Who knew Zheng Yuanhe would be persistent, and with Han Chengyue needing educational funds, the two never broke off contact. After all, the child needed child support.

Unexpectedly, Zheng Yuanhe died young. He had left a will early on, in which one-third of the assets were left to Han Chengyue. Zheng Yuanhe’s wife and other children were naturally unwilling, so they filed a lawsuit and denied the authenticity of the will.

Initially, Han Chengyue wanted to give up the inheritance, but those people wouldn’t stop pestering her and even caused her mother’s death. Even for the sake of revenge, she would fight them to the end.

“Zheng Jiaxin?” Ming Sian saw a familiar name.

He Yining nodded. “Zheng Yuanhe’s youngest daughter.”

“Aren’t you friends?”

“I forgot to tell you.” He Yining tilted her head. “The Royal Bar has been sold.”

It was actually sold? She thought He Yining would have some affection for the bar.

“Why?”

“Because Youngest Aunt wanted it.”

Ming Sian: “?” She couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He Jin was a member of the second generation after all; even if she wasn’t in that circle, suppressing those juniors was easy. Furthermore, He Jin had turned the bar into a female-only space—only female Omegas could enter. This would earn less money but save a lot of trouble.

But why would He Jin want a bar? Many things spun in her mind, yet she couldn’t catch a lead.

Beside her, He Yining watched Ming Sian in thought and placed the materials in her arms. “Get to work.”

With this much material, He Yining certainly couldn’t finish it alone. She brought it back because she wanted to read it with Ming Sian.

Ming Sian looked up, her gaze passing over He Yining’s lips, nose, and eyes. At this moment, she really wanted to give He Yining’s lip a bite as punishment. Treating her like free labor, was she?

“What are you looking at?” He Yining sat on the sofa, looking up, her foot deliberately placed on Ming Sian’s instep—not with force, but more like a flirtation.

Normally, the two would have already been like “dry wood and a blazing fire” (rolling together). But today there was work to do; twenty pounds of materials were weighing on their backs. If they messed around further, they definitely wouldn’t finish.