Grassroots lawyers also have their day

Pan Ershixiong and Wei Ping, who were standing nearby, also joined the "condemnation army," constantly adding fuel to the fire and acting as a straight man. Zheng, the troll, got angrier and angrier, and almost tore up the indictment he had just written.

If Director Niu hadn't come back from outside, Zheng would probably have been rantting until the end of the afternoon.

Wang Chuan didn't have much work today, and he was thinking about the evening's performance, pondering what songs to sing during his break. He hadn't brought his guitar, but he had previously asked the bar to lend him the guitar he used during his audition, and Sister Hong had agreed.

It takes about half an hour to drive from the law firm to Houhai bar street if there's no traffic. But if you take the subway, it will take almost an hour and twenty to thirty minutes.

After calculating the time, Wang Chuan bought a pancake on the roadside after get off work and headed straight for the subway station. He rushed all the way and arrived at the "Past Days Like Smoke" bar at 8:00 p.m., thirty minutes to eight.

Although it wasn't open yet, the bar was already starting to fill up. Most of the customers at "Past Days Like Smoke" were middle-aged and young adults with a cultured lifestyle. After get off work, they would come to the bar with a few friends to have a drink, chat, and relieve work stress.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today's singer is a newcomer. Please give him your support. Please welcome Wang Chuan!" After introducing him, Sister Hong handed the microphone to Wang Chuan, who was already sitting on the wooden stool in front with a guitar in his hand.

"The night wind howls, and I look back on the past, filled with anger and resentment..."

When the intro to "Silence is Golden" started, the people sitting in the bar drinking and chatting didn't feel anything. But when Wang Chuan started singing after the intro, many people turned to look at him.

His striking resemblance to Leslie Cheung, coupled with his melancholic eyes, standard Cantonese pronunciation, and magnetic voice, caused many customers to involuntarily stop talking and hum along softly.

Wang Chuan's Cantonese is limited to singing; he learned it after studying with tapes for more than half a year.

After the song ended, someone started clapping, and then everyone in the audience generously offered their applause and praise.

Wang Chuan smiled, stood up, and bowed to the audience. He knew he could do this job; his benefactors had approved!

Hong Jie, who was drinking a cocktail alone in the audience, raised her glass to Wang Chuan to congratulate him.

The chubby guy, who had rushed over just as Wang Chuan finished singing the last line, smiled with satisfaction. He wiped the sweat from his brow, waved to Wang Chuan, and found a place to sit down.

Today is my good buddy's first day on stage, so he has to come and support him.

Wang Chuan stepped off the stage, accepted the bottled water handed to him by Sister Hong, and sincerely said, "Thank you, Sister Hong, for giving me this opportunity."

Next, Wang Chuan sang nine more old songs, including Jiang Yuheng's "Looking Back". Most people in the bar were immersed in memories, sipping their drinks and chatting quietly while listening to Wang Chuan's singing, enjoying this wonderful moment.

When the bar closed, Sister Hong treated everyone to a late-night snack, including Wang Chuan and Da Pang. By the end of the meal, the group had gone from being new friends to becoming close buddies.

It was past 3 a.m. when he got home. Wang Chuan didn't even bother to wash up before collapsing into bed. Actually, he didn't have the habit of brushing his teeth or washing his face at night; at most, he would soak his feet.

The next morning, after the alarm on his bedside phone rang twice, Wang Chuan suddenly opened his eyes and grabbed the phone.

"Holy crap! Holy crap!" An eight and two zeros appeared on the Nokia 3210 screen. Wang Chuan's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh no! Oh no!... I'm going to be late!"

He grabbed the cheap trousers, shirt, and sweater from the suitcase next to the bed, put them on as quickly as possible, and without even brushing his teeth, splashed cold water on his face, grabbed his cotton coat and briefcase, and ran out.

The subway in Beijing is at its most crowded around 8 a.m. Wang Chuan, who was going to work at 9 a.m., tried desperately to get onto subway line 10, but there were just too many people in front of him.

After anxiously waiting in line for two subway trains, as soon as the doors of the third train opened, two or three people came out, and seeing a gap to squeeze through, the people waiting in line outside rushed in like a swarm of bees.

"Hey! Slow down! Slow down! I want to get off... let me off..." A strong man in his thirties, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a plastic bag (containing xiaolongbao and Yonghe soy milk) in the other, desperately tried to squeeze off the bus.

When he heard the subway doors closing, the burly man strained with all his might, his face contorted with rage, as he desperately pushed the surging crowd away. Just as the subway doors were closing, he finally made it down.

Behind the burly man was a thin man who had intended to follow him and hitch a ride. However, due to the overwhelming crowd, he was pushed back into the car by the crowd after only a few steps off the bus.

Watching helplessly as the car door closed, leaving him trapped inside, the thin man's eyes were filled with resentment. Sweat streamed down his forehead and into his eyes as he blinked rapidly.

The greatest distance in the world is not being separated by thousands of mountains and rivers, but rather... being able to watch the platform but not be able to get off the subway!

The burly man who struggled to squeeze off the bus wasn't in much better shape; the Yonghe Soy Milk paper cup in his hand was crushed, and the dough and filling of the steamed buns had separated and were mushy together.

"Thank goodness, I was prepared. Otherwise, I wouldn't even have breakfast!" the burly man said, clutching his chest to console himself. He then pulled a box of cookies from his briefcase, but the moment he did, he froze!

To be precise, the biscuits in his hand could no longer be called biscuits; the crowded masses had turned them into biscuit crumbs.

"Give me back my cookies!..." The burly man looked at the crumbs in his hand, tears welling up in his eyes.

Wang Chuan was crammed into the subway like a sardine can. After passing several major stations with huge crowds, the number of people on the subway noticeably decreased. His left foot finally found some space and landed.

One foot on the ground? Standing on one leg? Yes! You got it right, he supported himself on one foot for several stops! And he didn't need to use his hands for support, and his body didn't fall over!

It wasn't that he didn't want to help, there was simply nowhere to hold on! In this carriage where everyone knew what you ate for breakfast just by breathing on you, regardless of gender, there was nowhere to hold on; people were just poking each other like sardines. During the few times the train braked suddenly, his body merely swayed rhythmically with the rows of sardines.

Although it's late March and the heating has only recently been turned off, the recent cold snap has made the weather unusually cold. When Wang Chuan got off the subway and walked out of the station, he suddenly felt a chill all over his body. It turned out that his shirt was soaked with sweat from the jostling on the subway.

It was almost ten o'clock when Wang Chuan walked into the law firm.

"Wang Chuan, come here!" As soon as Wang Chuan peeked into the law firm, he was caught red-handed by Comrade Niu Gongming.