Chapter Six: The Standoff

The next morning, as soon as Yin Nian arrived at the company, the general manager summoned her to his office.

He wasted no time and said, “The chairman has used his connections to reach an intermediary and arranged an opportunity for both parties to sit down and talk. The hope is that this can be resolved peacefully. The meeting is set for noon today at Tongwei Hotel—I’ve already booked a private room. The other side and their lawyer will be there, so bring your lawyer as well. Let’s all have an open conversation.”

Yin Nian agreed. She hadn’t planned on negotiating, but since the recording had been deleted by her husband, she’d lost her best leverage. Sitting down for a talk wasn’t such a bad idea now; at the very least, it might calm the opposition for a while.

Leaving the office, Yin Nian informed Yan Ming and asked him to join her at noon.

At eleven-thirty, Yin Nian, Yan Ming, and the general manager, Hu Xuan, headed to Tongwei Hotel together.

They had barely settled into the private room when the intermediary arrived. Hu Xuan introduced everyone: the intermediary was Deputy Director Deng from the Wugang District police station, a close friend of the chairman and an acquaintance of Hu Xuan’s as well—everyone called him Old Deng.

At exactly noon, the door opened and a woman in a blue suit strode in. She was tall, with short hair, understated makeup, and a sharp, cold demeanor. Her frosty gaze swept the room and finally settled on Yin Nian.

Following her were a man and a woman, both in formal suits with briefcases. After they entered, Yang Po’s three children came in—Yang Yongli led the way, followed by Yang Yongfang and Yang Yonggui.

Once everyone was seated, Old Deng introduced the parties. The short-haired woman was the lawyer representing Yang Po’s side, named Yu Weiran, and the man and woman flanking her were her assistants. Yang Po’s three children, clearly coached by their lawyer, remained silent throughout, staring daggers at Yin Nian, their eyes full of hatred and anger.

Observing the tension from the outset, Old Deng tried to defuse it with some pleasantries, encouraging everyone to eat and talk. But other than Hu Xuan’s polite responses, no one paid him any mind.

“Let’s get to the point—what do you want?” Yin Nian took the initiative. She knew they must have investigated her thoroughly, so rather than wasting time in a silent standoff, it was better to be direct.

Yu Weiran gestured behind her, and the male assistant placed a folder on the table.

“Given Yang Po’s current condition and the impact this incident has had on her life, our comprehensive evaluation has led us to this conclusion.” Yu Weiran’s voice was as cold and detached as her expression. Twirling a pen in her hand, she said with a half-smile, “If I were you, I’d find a solution to this before Yang Po’s condition worsens.”

Yan Ming jotted down “condition worsens” in his notebook. As an experienced lawyer, he immediately recognized that they were using Yang Po’s life as a key bargaining chip—a highly significant one at that. If this card was played, Yin Nian would be put at a distinct disadvantage.

He showed the note to Yin Nian and whispered an explanation, but Yin Nian seemed unbothered. After all, she hadn’t been the one who hit the person; whether Yang Po’s condition worsened or not was not her concern.

Yin Nian opened the folder. There were three documents inside, which she and Yan Ming began to read.

The first was a summary of Yang Po’s injuries, including medical assessments, post-recovery therapy, psychological impact, and anything else that could possibly be added.

The second document detailed the accident as recounted by Yang Po: she’d been gathering herbs in the mountains and, while crossing the road, was struck by a white Mercedes with the license ending in 08. Through her daze, she vaguely saw a woman in white stepping out of the car, and then she remembered nothing more.

The third document was a legal analysis of the case: the likelihood of success in court, potential compensation, possible jail time, and how much those would increase should Yang Po’s condition deteriorate.

It was in this third document that Yin Nian finally saw a concrete compensation figure: 1.2 million yuan.

“You’re blackmailing me,” Yin Nian said, struggling to keep her anger in check.

Yu Weiran’s lips curled in a faint smile, her two assistants looking on with scorn.

“The number is high, but it doesn’t constitute blackmail,” Yan Ming whispered to Yin Nian. “Still, we can add this to our evidence bank to show they’re seeking illicit gain out of self-interest.”

Yu Weiran tapped the table and said coldly, “1.2 million. That’s what you’d owe if we win the lawsuit. Not only would you have to pay, you’d face jail time. Most people would rather pay up than carry a criminal record for life. Money can be earned again, but that stain never goes away.”

She glanced around the room. “But, since we have this chance to resolve things peacefully, without litigation, you only need to pay 800,000 now.”

She signaled, and her male assistant produced another folder, sliding it over. “We’ve already drafted a settlement agreement. If there are no issues, you pay, we sign, and this is over. Whatever happens to Yang Po after this will have nothing to do with you. And, without altering the facts, we’ll do our best to reshape public opinion so that you’re no longer troubled by this incident.”

Yin Nian’s mouth twitched; the woman before her spoke as if everything was a matter of course. Her tone, her words, her demeanor all implied that asking for 800,000 was an act of mercy and generosity toward Yin Nian. How could Yin Nian possibly accept that?

Without even glancing at the agreement, she tore it to shreds and flung the pieces at Yu Weiran and her assistants—paper fluttered down on them like flakes of snow.

Planting both hands on the table, Yin Nian stared at Yu Weiran and said slowly, “Twisting the facts, ignoring the truth, all for money—you’re lawyers, but you have no conscience!”

The male assistant shot to his feet, but Yu Weiran stilled him with a raised finger. After he sat, she sneered, “Yin Nian, this is your best, and last, chance. You’ll regret your behavior today soon enough.”

Yin Nian leaned in, matching her cold smile. “Let me predict your future too—one day, when you’re dying, you’ll regret the filthy things you did today, betraying your conscience!”

Without heeding Yan Ming’s silent signals, Yin Nian strode out. She knew there was no point staying; mediation was impossible. The only way forward was a legal counterattack.

“Wait.” Yu Weiran called out, her voice slow and tinged with pride.

Yin Nian didn’t turn, but her steps slowed.

“Take a look at this,” Yu Weiran said.

Yin Nian turned and, to her shock, saw Yu Weiran holding an enlarged photograph. In it was a white towel, stained with blood, and in the center a faint line of poetry: “Gentle Yin and Liang, may you always remember.”

Yin Nian recognized it instantly. The towel was a birthday gift from Han Duoduo last year—handmade over two months, with that very poem embroidered as a blessing for Yin Nian and Liang Zhicheng. Yin Nian loved it and always kept it in her car, sometimes using it on runs.

“Familiar?” Yu Weiran’s gaze was mocking. “Judging by your face, I’d say it is.”

“Where did you steal that photo?” Yin Nian demanded.

“Steal?” Yu Weiran shook her head. “We found it fair and square.”

At her signal, the female assistant took out a transparent bag containing a white towel, stained just like the one in the picture.

Yu Weiran pointed at the bag. “We found this towel at the bottom of a slope near the accident scene. The blood on it, which has dried over three days, matches Yang Po’s. That means it was thrown there the day of the accident. In addition, we found traces of car paint on it—paint that matches your white Mercedes.”

Yin Nian suddenly felt lightheaded. Steadying herself, she bit her lip. “Impossible…absolutely impossible. You’re framing me with fabricated evidence…”

Yu Weiran smirked. “Please, we’re lawyers. No one knows better than we do the consequences of fabricating evidence. And if we wanted to fake something, do you think we’d do it so clumsily? Don’t underestimate us. Ms. Yin, tell me, what does ‘Gentle Yin and Liang, may you always remember’ mean?”

Yin Nian approached the table, trying to grab the towel, but the female assistant blocked her.

Yu Weiran’s expression darkened. “What, planning to destroy evidence?”

Yan Ming stepped up. “At least let us examine it.”

Yu Weiran eyed him, then signaled. The female assistant held the bag out, about a meter away. The male assistant stood ready for any trouble. Leaning in, Yin Nian inspected the towel closely. She saw the eight embroidered characters, a tiny “heart” stitched beneath the character for “Nian”—Han Duoduo’s special design. She also noticed several thick threads at the edge, remnants from her recent mending.

These details confirmed it was indeed Han Duoduo’s gift.

After she’d finished, the assistant carefully put the towel back in the briefcase.

Yu Weiran tapped the table lightly. “Now, you have a chance to take this towel, settle the matter, and be done with it. Otherwise, tomorrow we’ll submit this and the other evidence to the court and file a suit. There will be no turning back.”

Yin Nian glanced at Yan Ming, whose brow was tightly furrowed. He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes about the seriousness of the situation.

Taking a deep breath, Yin Nian made up her mind. “In that case, see you in court!” With that, she strode out without a backward glance, Yan Ming following close behind.

A moment later, Yu Weiran stood, smoothing a crease from her sleeve, and nodded slightly to Old Deng. “Sorry, Director Deng. We did our best, but she’s stubborn. There’s nothing more we can do.”

She turned and left, her two assistants in tow, followed by Yang Po’s three children.

After everyone had gone, only Hu Xuan and Old Deng remained in the room. They exchanged glances and shook their heads with wry smiles. Their frustration was not only about the failed mediation, but also about what to do with the untouched dishes on the table.