Chapter 2 | Choosing the Right Law Firm-Starrise Law Firm

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Climbing off the crowded bus, I found myself right next to the office building where I’d soon be working. Dressed in a suit I’d bought during my master’s program for just a few hundred yuan, paired with a matching tie and carrying a briefcase that had also cost me only a few hundred yuan, I stepped into the law firm housed within this sleek, modern building.

This is the Beijing branch of a Guangdong-based law firm, specializing in legal services for securities listings. The office isn’t very large—there are only five or six people working there. The branch director is a remarkably mature young professional, whom I’ve already met before; he was introduced by my graduate-school classmate. When I arrived at work as scheduled, he warmly welcomed me, introduced me to my colleagues, and even helped me find an available desk. After that, I settled into my seat, patiently waiting for specific tasks to be assigned.

This one-month-plus stint has passed with no specific tasks assigned. My colleagues have been rarely around, leaving few opportunities for interaction. It’s far from the lively, collaborative atmosphere I’d hoped to find—where everyone gathers to discuss cases together. As a result, I’m feeling completely lost about how to start learning the practical skills of legal practice or how to get started with professional training.

Why choose this very small law firm?

When I was still firmly entrenched in the system, what terrified me most was the fear of running out of food—literally. At the time, I took a hard look at my own strengths: I’d earned an undergraduate degree in science and engineering, pursued a master’s in criminal law, and landed a job specifically in the criminal justice field. This unique combination of skills made criminal defense lawyer the perfect career path for me—especially since it aligned perfectly with my naturally passionate, fiery style and, more importantly, the subject I’ve genuinely loved deep down. Plus, the sense of justice and righteousness that had been ingrained in me since childhood could only truly thrive within the realm of criminal defense. The thought of spending my days cooped up in an office, stuck in that monotonous routine, would have left me feeling restless, anxious, and utterly uncomfortable.

But I don’t have any cases, and I’m also unfamiliar with the practical aspects of criminal defense. After asking around for quite some time, I learned that earning from criminal defense work is simply too low—nowhere near as lucrative as handling non-litigation matters. So, what should I do? It’s a really tough question that’s been keeping me up at night. I’ve already consulted several classmates, but most of them are just starting out in their careers, so their advice doesn’t carry much weight. Amidst this growing anxiety, I’ve decided it’s best to set aside my ideals and preferences for now. Stability comes first—right now, securing a steady income is my top priority. And honestly, that meal had better taste even better than before I left my previous, more secure position. Otherwise, why would I have ever taken the leap into this uncertain path in the first place?

The only force I could rally was my classmates, and after a limited comparison, I decided to join the Beijing branch of this Guangdong-based law firm.

The reason is simple—they can offer me a monthly salary of 6,000 yuan, exactly the figure I requested from my previous supervisor but which he couldn’t accommodate.

Arriving at the new position I’d been dreaming of night and day, I’ve ended up facing long, idle days instead. My sense of confusion grows stronger each day—there’s nothing to learn, no meaningful interaction with the outside world, and certainly no professional training as I’d imagined. Now, I’m left wondering where my true abilities and worth even lie. It feels like I’ve been turned into a pampered panda, leisurely munching on bamboo while quietly waiting for the perfect moment when an opportunity finally emerges—only then will I get to step into the spotlight.

When I received my first month’s paycheck, I felt a mix of excitement—it was my very first income since going independent, and it was significantly higher than my previous salary. But more than anything, I felt a sense of emptiness and loss. Did these 6,000 yuan really matter to me that much?

I want to learn, grow, and find a more suitable platform for my future development.

A month into my new job, my anxiousness pushed me to embark on a fresh journey of exploration. Yes, I need to switch law firms—preferably to one with a larger team, where I’ll have more opportunities to seek advice and guidance.

I made appointments by phone to visit several well-known law firms. Some of them specialize primarily in comprehensive litigation services, while others focus mainly on criminal defense. Fortunately, I was personally greeted by the managing partners of each firm—perhaps because, at that time, there were still relatively few Peking University law masters choosing to leave the government sector and become private practitioners. As a result, competition among these firms wasn’t yet particularly fierce, and they were all eager to welcome young professionals with both academic qualifications and relevant work experience.

During the job negotiation process, for someone like me—someone with an educational background and passion for the field but lacking resources and practical experience—the law firms have adopted several recruitment models: One is a "freelance" model, offering no base salary. Instead, lawyers are expected to generate their own cases and operate on a commission-based system, with significantly high commission rates. After deducting taxes and other expenses, they’d only need to pay the firm a modest resource fee of around 10,000 to 20,000 yuan annually. The upside? Complete freedom and minimal risk of being "exploited." However, the downside is that the firm resembles more of a bustling marketplace, where lawyers are essentially just one vendor among many—left entirely to fend for themselves. Another option is a "base salary plus case commission" model. Here, the base salary is symbolic and barely enough to cover basic living expenses, so lawyers still need to rely on their own case-generating abilities. Yet, the commission rate for securing cases is considerably lower compared to the first model—where there’s no base salary at all. Finally, there’s the "purely salaried" model, which offers a steady paycheck and provides ample opportunities to learn and grow. While this approach ensures financial stability, the salary isn’t particularly high; it’s enough to keep you afloat but not luxurious. In essence, working under this model feels much like being employed in a traditional corporate setting.

Which one is suitable for a novice like me?

Painful as it was, I resolved that as long as I could keep myself alive, my priority would be to focus on learning—after all, if I ended up just collecting a salary in a few years without making significant progress, I’d only be drifting farther away from my true aspirations. Learning, after all, is like a fresh apprentice finding a great mentor: as long as you have enough to eat, the future will still hold promise—and that, in itself, makes it all worthwhile.

Under this guiding principle, I ultimately decided to choose DC Law Firm. It was also a recommendation from a classmate. The main reasons for selecting DC were several key factors:

This is a medium-sized firm—neither too big nor too small—that has earned numerous accolades and enjoys a decent level of recognition. It’s staffed by around 50 to 60 people, organized into several distinct teams, each free to pursue its own unique business areas, though there’s significant overlap and cross-pollination across teams, making it functionally similar to an "in-house" operation within a larger organization. The boss’s team, which consists of more than ten members, is open to hiring me and offers a competitive salary of 3,000 yuan per month. As part of this team, I’ll have ample opportunities to dive deep into the business, gaining hands-on experience while assisting with my core responsibilities. Plus, if I manage to bring in my own cases, I can hand them over to the team for handling—and even pocket a share of the resulting rewards. While the team wears many hats, my specific role is as a securities law assistant, meaning my primary focus will remain on providing top-notch legal services related to securities law. This aligns perfectly with the booming state of the securities market during that period. Beyond my main duties, I’ll also get the chance to learn litigation skills directly from the lawyers, helping out with ongoing cases along the way. Admittedly, the pay cut from 6,000 yuan to 3,000 yuan might feel steep at first, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice because investing in learning is always worth it. After all, nurturing my dream of becoming a full-fledged lawyer—particularly one skilled in litigation—is far more valuable than the financial trade-off. Here, I hope to steadily inch closer to turning that dream into reality, armed with the knowledge and expertise I gain every day.

After receiving my first law firm’s salary of 9,000 yuan for a month and a half, I bought a new suit and headed to my second law firm—DC Office, located in the bustling Wantong Building in Xicheng District.

Chapter 9 | Should We Defend "Bad Guys"?

Chapter 13 | From Criminal Defense to Criminal Compliance