The second challenge I faced after going solo was figuring out how to deliver exceptional case work. This is a lawyer’s lifeline—much like the quality of construction in an architectural project. Without high-quality case handling, there’s no solid reputation, and certainly no chance of truly achieving fairness or justice.

The main difficulties stem from lacking professional litigation training and having no fundamental practical experience. In terms of judgment, self-control, and case-handling skills, we’re pretty much starting from scratch.

Back then, neither the Bar Association nor law firms had really established structured training systems. As a result, trainee lawyers and newly practicing attorneys often had to navigate their careers by trial and error—lacking even basic opportunities to learn practical skills. Compared to today, when official and grassroots training programs abound both online and offline, it’s clear we’re living in entirely different eras.

When it comes to work processes, there’s also no established system or quality framework to draw from—each lawyer operates in a uniquely distinct style, and case-handling approaches vary dramatically from one attorney to another. For new lawyers joining either large or small teams, they can learn by observing and closely mimicking their mentors as they tackle cases together, which to some extent helps address the challenge of insufficient formal training. However, this traditional mentorship model isn’t without its drawbacks. Will the mentor lean toward a conservative or more progressive approach? Will they follow conventional methods or embrace unconventional, boundary-pushing strategies? Are they stronger in substantive legal areas or better versed in procedural intricacies? And will their emphasis be on leveraging resources—or perhaps prioritizing deep expertise? These factors can all profoundly shape the trajectory of the mentor’s apprentice’s career.

In this situation, once a case is taken on, it’s often fraught with complications—no matter how carefully or diligently you work, mistakes tend to creep in. As a result, the investigation frequently hits unexpected roadblocks, leading to one awkward scene after another.

Once, a few colleagues and I were smoking in the hallway—back when there weren’t yet public smoking bans or anything like that. Just then, the cleaning lady happened to walk by, bending down to sweep up the cigarette butts scattered on the floor. Feeling guilty, we quickly apologized to her. But she smiled warmly and said, "It’s okay! Actually, *I* should be thanking you guys. Without you, I wouldn’t have this job at all."

More than a decade has passed, yet I’ve never forgotten that scene. I believe my older sister’s words weren’t just about tolerance—they embodied a true spirit of dedication. When you love what you do, approach it with gratitude, and commit wholeheartedly to doing your best at the task at hand, without blaming circumstances or shirking responsibility—that’s precisely what makes professional ethics truly invaluable.

I need to find a way to learn how to handle cases and improve my skills. Unfortunately, I don’t have a mentor specifically in litigation—or even one who specializes in criminal defense. But that’s only true when it comes to *certain* mentors. Instead, I’ll treat everyone around me, even those who’ve been working just a few months longer than me, as my teachers. I’ll constantly seek their guidance, whether it’s during work breaks when I “pick their brains,” or after hours when I invite them out for dinner to discuss legal strategies. And whenever I’m handling a case, I’ll draft my legal opinions and ask them to review—making sure they’re sound and well-reasoned.

This way, I ended up with many mentors, allowing me to quietly compare their diverse perspectives and professional approaches—and learn the best from each of them. Surprisingly, this strategy, forced upon me rather than chosen by a single mentor, has proven to help me progress far more quickly than if I’d been "monopolized" by just one teacher.

I also have a small but significant advantage: before entering the legal field, I gained diverse work experiences that give me more hands-on expertise in handling people, managing interactions, and resolving complex situations—skills that are directly applicable to taking on cases and navigating legal matters. By consistently seeking guidance from my mentors and seamlessly integrating their wisdom with my own life experience, I quickly developed my own unique style, established effective habits, and honed my professional strengths. Today, many professionals from public prosecution, law enforcement, and judicial systems are transitioning into law practice. Some even reach out to me for advice, expressing concerns about whether they might lack the necessary legal experience to make a smooth career shift. But I always reassure them based on my own journey: there’s no need to worry. In fact, any prior work experience—even if unrelated to law—can be incredibly beneficial for a lawyer, especially when it comes to legal practice. The real challenge is simply a matter of shifting your mindset.

Of course, embarking on a learning journey entirely through self-discovery—without the guidance of a hands-on mentor—isn’t the right path for everyone, especially in today’s era of knowledge explosion and fierce competition. That said, our definition of a "mentor" should be broad: young lawyers need more comprehensive opportunities for learning and practical experience. Later, as I led increasingly larger criminal defense teams, I made training a top priority. Beyond deliberately incorporating mentorship into individual cases, I also organized diverse forms of collective case discussions, youth lawyer workshops, and regular educational seminars every year. These efforts were designed to ensure that the new generation of lawyers no longer faces the same challenges—or awkwardness—that their predecessors encountered.