Rift

The pressure from Country A soon manifested in reality.

The very next day, the prosecutors of Country J issued a formal summons, demanding that Mo Qingli undergo a decisive interrogation within forty-eight hours.

Security around the hotel noticeably tightened.

The plainclothes officers no longer merely watched—their gazes now carried the cold detachment of jailers.

The air was thick with the tension of an impending storm.

Lou Mengling sensed something amiss. She looked at her son with concern and asked softly,

"Chenyuan, has something happened?"

"Mom, it's nothing," Lu Chenyuan replied, his tone still gentle.

"A minor issue. It’ll be resolved soon."

The calmer he appeared, the more worried Lou Mengling became.

Mo Qingli took her hand.

"Mom, trust Chenyuan," she said with a smile.

"There isn’t a problem in this world he can’t solve."

Her composure offered Lou Mengling some comfort.

That evening, the narrative of Country J’s mainstream media took a sharp turn.

Prime-time news programs on major networks devoted extensive coverage to the Country A memorandum incident.

The tone of the reports was strikingly uniform—all emphasizing Country J’s duty, as a responsible nation, to uphold international norms.

They insinuated that Mo Qingli’s case had severely strained the alliance between Country J and Country A.

A powerful wave of public pressure descended, as if determined to nail them to the pillory of disgrace.

...

Just as Country J’s ruling party thought they could ride this momentum to appease Country A’s anger, they hadn’t anticipated the seeds Lu Chenyuan had planted earlier would sprout in ways they never foresaw.

The following morning, Country J’s largest traditional media giant, The Country J News Agency, published a front-page editorial by Old Piero, leader of the Liberal Party.

The title was razor-sharp:

"The Spine of Country J Must Not Bend for Others."

In the article, Old Piero challenged the ruling party:

"Should our judiciary serve the laws of Country J or the hegemony of Country A?"

"Are we an independent sovereign state, or merely a province of Country A?"

He devoted considerable space to praising the contributions of Living Water Laboratories to Country J’s agriculture and the cultural exchange brought by the Eastern Elegance art exhibition.

He concluded:

"We have a friend who treats us with goodwill and respect, yet we push them toward becoming an enemy."

"We have an ally who bullies and threatens us, yet we grovel before them."

"This isn’t politics—it’s disgrace."

The article detonated like a bomb, sending shockwaves through Country J’s political landscape.

Soon after, Professor Liu Jiuwen of Godu University, along with dozens of prominent figures from Country J’s Chinese diaspora, released an open letter.

The letter didn’t mention the case directly.

Instead, it recounted the century-long struggle of the Chinese community in Country J and their immense contributions to the nation.

It ended with a single line:

"We love this land. We do not wish to see it tarnished by cowardice."

Almost overnight, public opinion in Country J erupted.

For the first time, voices supporting the government clashed openly with those questioning it.

An unprecedented crack had formed in Country J’s political sphere.

Even within the ruling party, dissent emerged.

Pragmatic, centrist lawmakers began to waver.

They realized that sacrificing Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli to placate Country A might come at the cost of national division.

What was meant to be a siege against Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli had spiraled into a nationwide debate about Country J’s dignity and future.

...

On the day of the interrogation, a crowd gathered outside the Royal Grand Hotel—reporters and ordinary citizens alike.

They held signs:

"Judicial independence must not be compromised."

"Welcome benevolent investors; reject arrogant bullies."

Hand in hand, Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli stepped out of the hotel.

He wore a dark suit, his posture upright, his expression composed.

She was draped in a loose beige trench coat, her slight baby bump visible, her face serene with a quiet, confident smile.

Camera flashes rained down like a storm.

Neither flinched nor showed a trace of fear.

They walked calmly through the crowd and into the black prosecutor’s car.

It didn’t feel like they were heading toward a trial that would decide their fate.

It was more like keeping a long-anticipated appointment.

...

The interrogation room was icy.

The chief prosecutor’s face was grim.

"Ms. Mo, we have new evidence proving your company stole proprietary technology from Country A’s corporations through illicit means."

He slid a stack of documents toward her.

Mo Qingli didn’t glance at them.

She simply met his gaze, unflinching.

"Prosecutor," she said,

"My legal team has already submitted over five thousand pages of documentation proving that every one of our technologies was independently developed."

"You chose to ignore it."

"Now, you present so-called 'evidence' provided unilaterally by my competitors."

She smiled faintly, a trace of mockery in her voice.

"Let’s be honest—this isn’t an interrogation. It’s a frame-up."

The chief prosecutor’s face darkened.

He hadn’t expected this seemingly gentle woman to be so sharp-tongued.

For the next two hours, no matter how cunning the prosecutor’s questions or how vicious his traps, Mo Qingli countered flawlessly—calm, methodical, unshaken.

Behind her, Lu Jinlin and his legal team stood like an impenetrable wall of jurisprudence.

Lu Chenyuan remained by her side the entire time.

He never spoke.

But the quiet strength in his eyes was her greatest anchor.

In the end, the chief prosecutor had no choice but to hastily adjourn the session.

The verdict? "To be continued at a later date."

It was a signal.

Country J’s judicial scales were caught in a painful sway—torn between external pressure and internal backlash.

Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli had bought themselves precious time.

...

By the time they returned to the hotel, dusk had settled.

The sunset painted Godu’s skyline in hues of gold.

The couple made their way to the rooftop terrace.

The autumn breeze carried a slight chill.

Lu Chenyuan fetched a soft cashmere throw and draped it gently over Mo Qingli’s shoulders.

They sat side by side on the wicker chairs, watching as the city’s lights flickered to life below.

The world churned beneath them.

On Country J’s television screens, pundits still argued fiercely about the day’s events.

Politicians in Country A were likely fuming.

Yet here, in the eye of the storm, they were an oasis of calm.

"Chenyuan," Mo Qingli murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Earlier, in the car, I saw a girl holding up a painting."

"The painting depicts a well, beside which stands a smiling doctor from Xia Country."

"Beneath the painting, a line reads: 'Kindness deserves to be treated kindly.'"

A trace of tenderness flickered in Lu Chenyuan's eyes.

"I see it."

"Tell me," Mo Qingli lifted her head to look at him,

"will any of what we're doing truly change anything?"

Lu Chenyuan didn’t answer immediately.

He reached out and gently placed his hand over her abdomen.

"Qingli, we can’t change the entire world."

He spoke softly,

"But we can ensure our child grows up in a world where justice still exists."

"We can plant a tree for them. By the time they grow up, that tree will shelter them from unnecessary storms."

"That’s enough."

Mo Qingli smiled.

Yes, that was enough.

She buried her face deeper into his chest,

feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from his palm.

"Chenyuan, what color should we paint An’an’s room?" she suddenly asked.

"Hmm… how about a light blue? Like the sky."

"No, too cold. I think a warm beige would be better."

"Beige it is. We’ll pair it with a natural wood crib and dresser, and lay a soft rug on the floor. An’an will love it."

"What about the crib? Should we buy one here in J Country or wait until we return home?"

"Either way. We can get one in both places and compare…"

…

They talked about these ordinary, trivial little things,

as if they weren’t the ones shaking the world.

They were just an ordinary couple, awaiting the arrival of their child.

Another maple leaf drifted down onto the balcony,

spinning at their feet.

The storm had yet to subside.

But in their world, there was only peace.