Zhou Hao met An Shuyao at the entrance of the office building.

It was the plum rain season recently, and Jiang City was shrouded in continuous rain with thunder rumbling. The low-lying areas were flooded up to the thighs. An Shuyao held an umbrella, but she was still drenched like a wet cat; the strong wind turned her umbrella inside out, breaking several spokes. She crouched by the glass door, silent and still, and even the security guards couldn't bear to drive her away.

Zhou Hao merely glanced over as he hurried past, not expecting the young girl to follow him, specifically naming him, saying she had a case and wanted to hire him as her lawyer, but was turned away by his assistant.

Zhou Hao didn't take it seriously. He had plenty of clients seeking him out by reputation, mostly turned away by his assistant. Occasionally, some persistent clients would block his way downstairs, begging for his help—he was an elite lawyer, and he generally didn't take ordinary cases.

"Not taking it, find someone else."

Zhou Hao flatly refused, displaying the demeanor of an unscrupulous elite lawyer, not even bothering to hear the young girl's case details, and hurriedly got into his car to leave.

Upon returning to his apartment, he took a shower, opened a bottle of red wine, browsed through his case files, pondering who to take on tonight, when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Zhou Hao saw the young girl standing outside through the entryway monitor screen.

He frowned, pressed the intercom button, and his first words weren't ones of concern, but a question about how she found his address.

She didn't answer, just kept pressing the doorbell, with an attitude suggesting she'd keep pressing until the end of time if Zhou Hao didn't open the door.

Zhou Hao didn't indulge her and directly called security to chase her away.

Unexpectedly, half an hour later, she was back ringing the doorbell again. Zhou Hao had to call security again and instructed the gate downstairs not to let people in easily, after which she quieted down for a while.

It wasn't until two in the morning that the doorbell rang again.

Zhou Hao was furious, threatening to call the police, but she still kept pressing the doorbell, showing no sense of legal boundaries, persistently shameless.

The elite lawyer had no way of dealing with a little rogue, especially since the other party was an eight-year-old child with legal immunity. He could only bring the little girl inside, intending to reason with her, hoping she'd completely give up.

The little girl was very polite, saying 'sorry to bother' as soon as she walked in, and bowed slightly, much like a Japanese person.

Zhou Hao poured her a cup of tea and listened to her recount the entire case—the story was that her mother was hit and killed. The other party was powerful and wealthy, constantly pressuring the girl to sign a letter of forgiveness, intending to settle with compensation and avoid jail time.

Actually, Zhou Hao could see that the defendant's sincerity was ample. The compensation had been increased from 500,000 to 5 million, more than tenfold, truly a significant loss willingly borne just for the girl's letter of forgiveness.

As long as there was a letter of forgiveness, everything would be negotiable.

As a criminal defense lawyer, Zhou Hao was well aware of the monetary value placed on human life.

Everyone claims that life is priceless, whether in an earthquake or a fire, the consensus is to prioritize saving lives. This is the absolutely correct value in this country—life should not be measured in material terms; respecting human rights is likewise the foundation of the law and the country.

But in reality, life does have a price.

Take construction sites, for example; if a worker dies from a work-related injury, how much should the contractor compensate? If life were truly priceless, compensation of any amount, even the entire multi-billion investment, would be justified.

The slogan "life is priceless" is too empty, somewhat ethereal, and lacks grounding.

In the real world, let alone billions, even tens of thousands is a sum that some are willing to gain. "Work injury compensation" slowly becomes a tacit, transactional rule: someone from the same village dies at a construction site, the entire village goes there to make a fuss, regardless of the compensatory amount, splitting it in half with the family.

A village has geographical and blood relations, banding together in the face of disasters. The contractor fears large disturbances but can't let the other party demand exorbitantly, and so both sides bicker and haggle, finally reaching a compromise with human life priced at roughly two to three million.

If no one makes a fuss, then the insurance steps in, with a maximum of 500,000, sometimes even just ten or twenty thousand.

In the past, village clans bonded to fend off risks. Now, with the rural population migrating to cities, these clan and blood ties are weakening. Most people who run into trouble in the city don't even have anyone to cry out for them...much like this little girl in front of him, whose mother died, and she didn't even have an elder to turn to, forced to run through the cold wind and rain looking for a lawyer.

Besides construction sites, there are many places that engage with the "trade of life", and Zhou Hao had seen many similar cases, gradually becoming numb to the value of human life. After hearing out An Shuyao's statement, he even thought this compensation was already quite generous.

But An Shuyao didn't see it that way; she was determined to see the other party punished.

Zhou Hao had encountered these kind of stubborn people before, such as cases where a daughter was raped and murdered, and the parents demanded nothing but the perpetrator's life... these cases are somewhat easier to handle because connections don't help the perpetrator regardless.

Yet An Shuyao's situation was different. The opposing party knew the law, didn't flee the scene, called the police and emergency services right away, showed a sincere attitude of admitting fault, and it was an "accidental manslaughter". The party claimed brake failure and provided a third-party assessment report proving the brakes were indeed faulty at the time. And that road segment happened to have no surveillance cameras, meaning the chances of a verdict of not guilty or a suspended sentence were high.

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