On the day he returned to China, Lou Ye went to the cemetery first. It was raining heavily and she didn't hold an umbrella.
Seven years later, he stood in front of Wei Yan again, in court. She is the plaintiff's attorney and he is the defendant's counsel. Separated by a long table two meters apart, the two people acted as if they had never known each other before, polite, calm and unyielding.
But he remembered the pen she had used for seven years, the circle of friends she deleted, and the moment she looked back at the airport. She also finally knew that those anonymous packages, that letter of recommendation, and that "happening to be empty" office all these years were all him.
But seven years is too long, and they have all changed. Is he looking for the seventeen-year-old Lou Ye, or the current her?
A lawsuit, two Lingmei pens, and an umbrella engraved on the pen body. The best cross-examination is the one that never needs to happen.
