Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 30

3:00 PM, Sicheng Law Firm.

The spacious, impeccably tidy office had chairs arranged on both sides, but the nearly fifty-year-old man with a darker complexion couldn’t sit still. He stood anxiously, wringing his hands, his clothes visibly disheveled. Upon closer inspection, there were even faint traces of bloodstains—as if he’d rushed over in a panic.

Xu Xing studied him, his tone measured and calm: “So, early this morning, your men arrived at the docks and got into a dispute with the Qingshan Society over shipping fees. They assaulted your workers and seized an entire shipment of your goods—is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” the middle-aged man, Huo Shangkun, replied. “Lawyer Xu, why don’t you come with me? I’ve asked around—no one in all of Shanghai carries as much weight with the Qingshan Society as you do. I can’t think of anyone else who could resolve this. If we delay any longer, my business is ruined, and I’ll be stuck paying a fortune in breach penalties.”

“Did you report it to the police?”

Huo Shangkun’s face twisted with frustration. “Of course I did! But the police refused to intervene. They called it a ‘normal business dispute’ and told us to handle it privately. As long as no foreigners are involved, they won’t lift a damn finger!”

Realizing he’d raised his voice, he quickly lowered it. “If Lawyer Xu can help me settle this, I won’t let your efforts go unrewarded. On top of the firm’s fee…” He glanced around, confirming they were alone, then flashed a hand signal. “I can give you this much personally.”

The amount he quoted was enough to buy an upscale apartment in Shanghai without batting an eye.

Yet Huo Shangkun felt uneasy. Was it his imagination, or had Xu Xing’s brow furrowed for a split second, as if the sum meant nothing to him? But the next moment, his expression was unreadable again.

After a long pause, Xu Xing finally spoke. “This evening, then. I still have some work to wrap up.”

Huo Shangkun nodded eagerly. “Of course, of course! Take your time. I’ll wait outside.”

The firm had a small reception area for clients, and Huo Shangkun sat there for over two hours, downing cup after cup of tea until the sky darkened. Just as his patience was wearing thin, Xu Xing emerged.

Without even wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Huo Shangkun hurried over, bowing slightly as he spoke, then personally opened the car door for Xu Xing when they headed downstairs.

Upstairs, Hang Zhihui and lawyer Li Qingxu watched the car disappear down the street, exchanging stunned glances.

“Lawyer Xu is on another level,” Hang Zhihui muttered. “Most tycoons who come here act like they own the place. Even Lawyer Chai, after decades in the field, gets treated like an errand boy—clients drop him whenever they please. But Xu? He’s only had his license for what, two years?”

Li Qingxu sighed. “One year and seven months, to be exact. Don’t forget, his first case was the divorce lawsuit for Young Marshal Mu’s ex-wife. Who else would’ve dared take that? You think he could’ve pulled it off without serious connections?”

“…” Hang Zhihui nodded. “Good point. So… you think Xu’s actually the Qingshan Society boss’s secret love child?”

Li Qingxu’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t I think of that—”

***

The sunset’s last glow faded as the car cut through the dim light toward the docks. At first, clusters of shirtless laborers hauling cargo were visible, but the crowds thinned until only the distant blare of ship horns broke the silence.

Huo Shangkun kept his gaze fixed outside until the car stopped beside towering stacks of shipping containers. He turned back with an apologetic smile. “We’re here. The Qingshan Society contact said to meet him here if we want the goods back. Lawyer Xu, I’ll be relying on you.”

In the shadowy light, Xu Xing’s expression remained polite and composed. He didn’t question why the meeting was set here, nor did he show any displeasure.

“Mm.” He reached for the door.

But in that instant, Huo Shangkun—humble and deferential the entire ride—suddenly lunged with a knife aimed straight at Xu Xing’s abdomen.

A single strike, even if not fatal, would’ve crippled him. Yet Xu Xing reacted faster than expected, seizing the wrist holding the blade and forcing it toward Huo Shangkun’s own throat.

Locked in the struggle, Huo Shangkun’s face flushed crimson. “How did you know?” he gritted out.

“Your accent,” Xu Xing said coolly. “You speak pure local dialect, but you claimed to be from Guangdong. And these muscles?” His gaze flicked to the man’s sun-darkened arms. “Not exactly a pampered businessman’s physique.”

The man—who likely wasn’t even named Huo Shangkun—let out a cold laugh. “I thought my act was flawless. Seems you’re just sharper.”

With a grunt, he tried to break free, but Xu Xing abruptly kicked him square in the chest. Even in the cramped car, the force was brutal—sending him flying out the door.

The vehicle rocked violently.

The driver, seizing his chance, swung a baton at Xu Xing’s head. But Xu Xing dodged, twisted his arm with lightning speed, snatched the fallen weapon, and cracked it against the man’s skull with ruthless precision.

A shrill scream filled the car.

Xu Xing stepped out, his dress shirt and slacks immaculate, his silhouette sharp against the dying light. His expression hadn’t changed—as if nothing had happened at all.

And ahead of him, a swarm of men surged forward, armed with bats and knives, circling him with wary hostility.