He walked through Middle Temple Lane at ten o'clock the next morning, and the architecture of London shifted around him like a stage set. One moment he was on Fleet Street — traffic, noise, the hum of the twentieth century. The next he was in another world: black-and-white timbered buildings, gas lamps, cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The Temple was a village within the city, a walled enclave where the law had been practised since the reign of Edward I. Barristers had walked these lanes before the printing press, before the steam engine, before anyone had imagined that a machine could think.

He found Fountain Court — a narrow building wedged between two larger ones, its entrance marked by a heavy oak door and a brass plate: *Fountain Court Chambers.* He rang the bell.

The door was opened by a man in his sixties, dressed in a cardigan and carrying a cup of tea. 'Mr. Xu? Mr. Mortimer is expecting you. Second floor, room six. Mind the stairs — they're older than me, and I'm older than I look.'

The stairs creaked. The walls were lined with framed photographs — chambers dinners, cricket matches, a group of barristers in formal dress standing outside the Royal Courts of Justice. The dates on the photographs spanned decades: 1978, 1985, 1992, 2004. The faces changed. The building did not.

Room six was at the end of a narrow corridor. The door was open. Xu knocked on the frame.

'Come in, come in.' The voice was rich, resonant, the voice of a man who had spent forty years being listened to. 'I was just making tea. You're Chinese, so tea is not a question. Of course tea.'

Henry Mortimer, QC, was taller than Xu had expected — six feet three, broad-shouldered, with silver hair that had once been fair and a face that had been shaped by decades of argument. His suit was dark, his shirt was white, his tie was the sort of striped silk that belonged to a club or a regiment or a university college. He moved behind his desk with the ease of a man who had been in this room for so long that the furniture had moulded itself to his habits.

The room was lined with law reports — bound volumes in red and black and green, their titles stamped in gold, their spines cracked from years of use. A portrait hung above the fireplace: a man in judicial robes, his face stern, his eyes knowing. Lord Denning, the most famous English judge of the twentieth century. Mortimer caught Xu looking at it.

'He was a great judge,' Mortimer said, pouring water into a china teapot. 'And a terrible politician. The two are not incompatible. He understood that the law is a human institution — that justice is not a formula, but a judgement. That's what I'm counting on the Supreme Court to understand about your case.'

'You haven't told me what the case is.'

'No. I wanted to see you first. To see if you were the man I've been reading about.' Mortimer set the teapot on a tray with two cups. 'You are. Please, sit.'

Xu sat in the chair across from the desk. It was leather, worn, the kind of chair that had held the weight of a thousand conversations. Mortimer sat opposite him. He poured the tea with the precision of a man who had performed this ritual so many times that he no longer thought about it.

'Sugar? Milk?'

'Neither.'

'Good. Tea should be drunk as it is.' He slid a cup across the desk. 'Now. Let me tell you what I have in mind, and you can tell me whether I am wasting both of our time.'

He leaned back. He held his tea with both hands, the way a man holds warmth.

'The Bar Council has been looking for a test case on artificial intelligence and legal services for two years. The Legal Services Act 2007 defines "reserved legal activities" — things that only qualified lawyers can do. The line between legal advice and legal information has never been properly tested in the courts. Technology has moved faster than the law. That happens. The law is always catching up.'

'And where does LexBot fit in?'

'LexBot is the best example we have of the technology pushing against the boundary. It provides legal information to consumers. It organises, prioritises, and presents legal content based on user queries. It does not — you would argue — provide legal advice. The question is whether the courts agree.'

Xu set his tea down. 'You want to take LexBot to the Supreme Court.'

'I want to take the issue to the Supreme Court. Your technology is the vehicle.'

'Why pro bono?'

Mortimer smiled. It was a warm smile, the smile of a man who had been asked the same question many times and had never tired of answering it. 'Because I am sixty-five years old, Mr. Xu. I have more money than I will ever spend. I have a house in the country, a flat in London, a retirement fund that will outlast me. What I do not have is one more case that matters. This case matters.'

'To whom?'

'To the future of legal services in this country. To everyone who cannot afford a solicitor but can afford an internet connection. To the idea that the law should be accessible to ordinary people, not just those who can pay five hundred pounds an hour for the privilege.' His voice changed — less warm, more precise. 'You understand this. You built LexMind on the same principle. That is why I approached you. Not because you are the biggest, or the richest, or the most famous. Because you are the one who believed in it before it was profitable.'

Xu watched him. The room was quiet. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. The portrait of Lord Denning looked down with eyes that had seen every argument and judged them all.

'Who is representing the other side?'

Mortimer's pause was a fraction of a second. 'Katherine Shaw, QC. Of Essex Court Chambers. She is very good.'

'Do you know her?'

'I know of her.' The words came out smoothly, but there was a slight shift in Mortimer's posture — a settling back, a physical buffer. 'She is what we call a modern silk. Very capable. Very ambitious. She has built a reputation for taking on complex commercial cases and winning them. She will be formidable.'

'You've met her.'

'I have appeared against her twice. She won both times.' Mortimer smiled again, but the smile was thinner now. 'I am not too proud to admit when I have been outmatched. She is younger, sharper, more attuned to the way the law is moving. I am older, slower, but I know the landscape better. It will be a fair fight.'

Xu picked up his tea. He drank. He set the cup down. 'You're not telling me everything.'

Mortimer's eyes held steady. 'I am telling you what you need to know to make a decision. The rest can wait.'

'It can't wait. Not if I'm the one who will be in the witness box.'

'You won't be in the witness box. You will be giving evidence as the founder of the company. There is a difference.'

'In American courts, maybe. In English courts, I'm the witness either way.'

Mortimer nodded. 'You've done your research.'

'I always do my research. It's what I do. It's what LexBot does. We find the information that matters and we present it in a way that can be used.' Xu leaned forward. 'So tell me, Mr. Mortimer — what information are you not presenting to me?'

The silence stretched. Mortimer looked at the portrait of Lord Denning. He looked at the law reports. He looked at his tea.

'There is a personal dimension to this case that I did not create,' he said slowly. 'Katherine Shaw's father, Timothy Cole, was the solicitor who set up a trust that may be connected to your family history. I became aware of this after I offered you the case. I did not know it when I contacted you. I discovered it when I began preparing the brief.'

'And you didn't think it was relevant to mention?'

'I thought it was relevant to mention when we had established a working relationship. When you trusted me enough to know that I am acting in your interest, not against it.'

'And do you know what's in the trust?'

Mortimer's eyes met his. They did not move. 'No. I know it exists. I know it was set up in 2003. I know Timothy Cole was the solicitor. I know his daughter is opposing counsel. I do not know who the beneficiary is. And I do not want to know, because that knowledge would complicate my ability to represent you.'

'Complicate it how?'

'If the trust is connected to the case, and if I know the details, I could be called as a witness. I cannot be both advocate and witness. The rules of professional conduct forbid it.' He set his tea down. 'I am telling you this because you asked. I would have told you eventually. But I wanted you to accept the case on its merits, not on its entanglements.'

Xu sat back. He looked at the portrait of Lord Denning. He looked at the law reports. He looked at the man across the desk — this silver-haired barrister who had spent forty years learning the craft of persuasion, who had chosen him for reasons that were partly noble and partly self-interested, who was holding back information because holding back information was what lawyers did.

'I'll think about it,' Xu said.

'You have until tomorrow morning. The SRA has already filed the application. The court will set the hearing date within the week.'

Xu stood. He walked to the door. He turned.

'One more thing, Mr. Mortimer.'

'Yes?'

'If you find out what's in that trust, tell me. Before the hearing. Not after.'

He walked out. He descended the stairs. He passed the clerk, who was making tea in a small kitchen. He stepped onto Middle Temple Lane, into the cold London air.

He walked through the Temple gardens. The grass was wet. The trees were bare. He sat on a bench and called Shen Yan.

'Mortimer offered me the case. Pro bono. Supreme Court.'

'What's the catch?'

'I don't know yet. But there's one. There's always one.'

He told her about Mortimer's hesitation. About Katherine Shaw. About the trust.

She was quiet for a moment. 'He knew. He knew her father set it up. He knew before he offered you the case.'

'I think so. But I can't prove it.'

'And you're going to take the case anyway.'

'I'm going to think about it. Then I'm going to take it.' He watched a group of law students walk past, their gowns flapping in the wind. 'The Supreme Court case gives me a reason to be in London. It gives me access to documents. It gives me a shield. I need all three.'

'And if the shield turns out to be a cage?'

'Then I'll break the cage.'

He hung up. He sat on the bench for a long time. The students disappeared into a building. The garden emptied. The bells of Temple Church rang noon.

Mortimer had been waiting for this case for ten years. Not for Xu. For the issue. Xu was the vehicle, not the destination.

He called Mortimer that evening.

'I accept,' he said. 'But I have conditions.'

'Name them.'

'I want full access to the case documents. I want to be involved in the strategy. And I want to know the moment you learn anything about the trust.'

'Agreed.' Mortimer paused. 'There is one thing I should tell you. The SRA has moved fast. The hearing is set for six weeks from today. We have forty-two days to prepare.'

'Then we'd better start tomorrow.'

'My clerk will expect you at seven.'

Xu hung up. He looked out the hotel window at the London skyline. The buildings were lit against the grey sky. Somewhere in this city was the answer to a question he had been asking for twenty years. And somewhere in this city was a woman — a Queen's Counsel, the daughter of the man who had set it all in motion — who had been keeping the secret for longer than he had known the question existed.

He opened his laptop. He searched *Katherine Shaw, QC.*

Her chambers photograph showed a woman in her forties, dark hair, dark suit, no smile. Her eyes were direct, unflinching, the eyes of someone who had spent a lifetime looking at the truth and had learned to meet it without blinking.

He stared at the photograph. He had seen those eyes before. In his father's old photographs. The same look. The look of someone keeping a secret.

He closed the laptop. He did not sleep well.

[~5,175 words — Chapter 4]