Read Novel Full Chapter 105 : Who Is the Approving Signatory
Chapter 105 : Who Is the Approving Signatory
September 3rd, 7:40 a.m. The smell of scallion oil drifted up the stairwell. Three things sat on the long table: the bank's eleven pages in a kraft paper envelope, three bundles of receipts bound with rubber bands, and the twenty-seven-square roster sandwiched between two pieces of stiff cardboard.
She checked the counts against the cover sheet one more time. Eleven pages, one hundred and five receipts, twenty-seven squares. Everything matched. She set the cover sheet on top.
"What about the bank's Document Receipt List?" He Xiufen came over from the stove holding a tea mug.
"It's under the first of the eleven pages." She opened the mouth of the canvas bag. "The list is in front. Their signature is on it, noting the originals were not verified."
"Right." He Xiufen said. "The originals are still sitting in their business repository. Those eleven pages in your hand are the record."
"I'm bringing the separate ledger."
"What do you need to bring that in for?"
"There'll be a lot said in court. I'm afraid I won't remember everything afterward."
He Xiufen set the tea mug on the corner of the table. "He won't give you a name today. What you want is the square—which page, which column, which date. When a square lands in the hearing record, it holds up better than anything you jot down at home."
She closed the separate ledger, walked to the metal cabinet, and pulled open the bottom drawer. The notebook lay on top of a kraft envelope, its spine facing down.
"This one stays here."
"It belongs to the other case." He Xiufen said.
[Thud. Today only one task: put one sentence into the record.]
7:50, downstairs. Tang Guo stood at the noodle shop entrance in a dark jacket with no pilling, her phone in her bag, the mount not clipped to the strap. Behind her, twenty people held ID cards in their hands, lined up like they were waiting to collect something.
"First three rows." He Xiufen said. "Once you're inside, phones off, hats off. If they ask which unit you're from, give your door number. Nothing else."
Kong Xiulan stood in the second row, a crease in her sleeve she hadn't ironed flat. She pulled out a folded piece of paper, glanced at it, and stuffed it back into her pocket.
"You don't need paper to say a door number." Shen Zhixia said.
"I'm afraid my mind will go blank."
"Then just say two things: the signature isn't yours, and on April 19th you worked a full-day shift."
Shi Lei didn't come. He Xiufen had told him to stay away from this building for the next two days. The Dongguan tenant who'd arrived at 4 a.m. stood at the back of the line, a plastic bag tied to his backpack with two steamed buns inside. He Xiufen told him to leave the buns on the noodle shop counter and pick them up on the way out.
9:00 sharp, Courtroom No. 3.
The presiding judge was in his fifties. Three judges on the panel, files stacked on the bench. The court clerk read the courtroom rules and verified appearances. On the plaintiff's side: her and He Xiufen. Two people sat on the defendant's bench: one from bank legal affairs, and one young lawyer sent by Hengzheng, who introduced himself by saying, "Hengzheng Law Firm is handling this case; I am appearing today." His surname was Luo.
That face was not behind the defendant's bench. She drew her gaze back and pushed the file envelope to the edge of the table.
Third Party Yin Jianping, duly summoned, did not appear.
"Today we conduct evidence exchange and cross-examination." The presiding judge said. "The plaintiffs present evidence first."
She stood and opened the cover sheet, reading item by item: First, the eleven pages of transfer vouchers and approval sheets submitted by the defendant, including nine transfers with "service fee" in the summary column. Second, three bundles of receipts from 105 households, totaling 2.52 million yuan. Third, the twenty-seven-household key handover roster, twenty-five squares with physical evidence. She sat back down.
Lawyer Luo's cross-examination was brisk: "Items two and three concern dealings between tenants and companies outside this case, of no relevance to whether the defendant breached its entrusted payment obligations. Item one concerns account transactions between the defendant and outside companies. What the summary column says does not determine the nature of the transaction. When a bank processes entrusted payments, it conducts a formal review of the documents submitted by the client and has fulfilled its duty of review per contract."
"One more word on the relevance of items two and three to this action." The presiding judge said.
"The receipts are back-ends for tenants paying a full year's rent in one go, and the money went into the outside company's account. The roster is the list of houses they're set to get back at month's end." She said. "The money can't be recovered and the houses can't be recovered. They're two ends of the same chain."
"The plaintiff's side is mixing losses and liability into one sentence." Lawyer Luo said.
"Mixed or not, this court will sort it out itself." The presiding judge said. "Plaintiff's counsel, on page eleven—what exactly are you trying to prove? Be clear."
She stood again: "Those nine transfers on this page, July 21st through August 9th, went from two accounts—Minanli Property and Anyu Business—to Hongkun Investment, with three characters in the summary column: service fee. Those two account names appear in the payee column of the loan contracts of the eleven tenant plaintiffs in the first filing, and on the two lines of the defendant's self-inspection details. Same branch. Tenants' money came in by contract, and a month later it went out as a service fee. And one more line on this page: the reserved phone number from page one—when you dial it, the answer at the other end is Hongkun Certification Department, please dial an extension."
"Phone numbers are entered by the client at account opening." Lawyer Luo said. "The plaintiff's side is turning a phone number into speculation, then treating speculation as evidence."
"The last page is clean too." She said. "Other pages have that half-line 'verified against original' and a square seal. The last page has neither."
Lawyer Luo turned both pages over, then set them down: "This copy was submitted by our side at the court's request. If pages are missing seals or characters, the plaintiff's side may apply to access the originals."
"Defense counsel." The presiding judge looked up. "This court has one question: are these two names the lessors for the eleven tenant plaintiffs in the first filing?"
Lawyer Luo paused: "That depends on each household's contract. It requires verification."
"The verification result shall be submitted to this court in writing after the hearing."
"Then a question for the defendant." She looked at the defendant's bench. "Whose account did the money go out of, and what line is the payee printed on?"
Lawyer Luo flipped through the stack in his hand and read out two account names and two account numbers: Minanli Property, Anyu Business. Payee: Jiangzhou Hongkun Investment Management Co., Ltd.
[Thud. One question, finished.]
He Xiufen's finger pressed her knee under the table. She sat down.
"Does the plaintiff's side have anything to add?" The presiding judge asked.
"One more date." She said. "The tax registration filing form was submitted on August 26th. These nine transfers—the earliest was July 21st."
Lawyer Luo shifted: "The filing form is the client's own declaration and has nothing to do with the defendant's payment obligations."
"Defense counsel." The presiding judge said. "When these nine transfers went out, which transaction document did your side review, and who was the counterparty on that document?"
Lawyer Luo paused for two seconds: "That requires going back to verify."
"Verify." The presiding judge said. "Record those words as well."
[Thud. Not being able to answer is also an answer.]
The defendant's turn to present evidence. Lawyer Luo submitted eleven pages of original entrusted payment agreements, plus one approval record for entrusted payments—nine pages, submitted as photocopies—"the originals are bound into volumes in the business repository, and only one volume can be retrieved at a time."
"If the defendant wants to check those 105 households' receipts, apply anytime." He Xiufen spoke up, her voice low. "We'll go house to house with you. Match every single one."
Lawyer Luo glanced her way but didn't respond.
The presiding judge flipped to page three of the approval record and pointed at a column: "Who is the handler?"
"Yin Jianping. He's been transferred off the relationship manager post."
"The top square—who is the approving signatory?"
"The branch's business seal is stamped over that square. Per our procedures, the responsible division head signs off." Lawyer Luo said. "The specific name requires verification."
The presiding judge turned the page, then turned it back: "This page is a photocopy. Does this square on the original look the same as this one?"
"The same."
"That is to say, the original also doesn't show who signed this square." The presiding judge said. "This court orders your side to submit the original approval record within ten days. If the original truly cannot be submitted, provide a written statement on the name of the approving signatory and the time of approval, stamped with the unit's seal. If either is missing, it won't count as submitted."
"Originals are bound in the business repository. Retrieving them requires reporting to the branch—the timing may be—"
"Retrieval is your side's job." The presiding judge said. "The deadline is ten days."
[Thud. Ten days. September 13th.]
Someone in the first three rows let out a breath and was elbowed by the person next to them. The clerk looked up: "No noise from the gallery."
"Now statements from the plaintiff's side." The presiding judge said. "Kong Xiulan—the three characters 'Kong Xiulan' on the loan contract. Did you sign them?"
Kong Xiulan stood, gripping the edge of the table: "I didn't sign them."
"Where were you on April 19th?"
"Chengbei fresh produce store. Full-day shift. Clocked in at 7:40 a.m."
After answering, she tilted her head toward Shen Zhixia. Shen Zhixia nodded. She sat down, both hands on her knees.
Record review. She walked to the clerk's side and lowered her voice: "That last part, please write it in full: the defendant shall submit the original approval record within ten days, plus a written statement of the approving signatory's name and approval time. The words 'approving signatory's name'—those five characters need to be in there."
The clerk typed it: "It's in."
10:40, court adjourned.
People hadn't dispersed in the hallway. Kong Xiulan's hands were shaking; it took her two tries to pull the paper from her pocket—the one with her door number on it. The Dongguan tenant adjusted his backpack and said he'd take the evening bus back so he could make the night shift. Jiang Bo squeezed up to He Xiufen: "Director He, will they actually give a name in ten days?"
"Whether they give it is their business." He Xiufen said. "Asking is ours."
At the stairway corner, she heard the legal affairs officer beside Lawyer Luo murmur under his breath: "That square on the original—we'll need to check with the division head first."
She didn't look back.
At the elevator, Lawyer Luo stood with his briefcase waiting. When he saw her, he switched the bag to his other hand: "Shen, that sentence going into the record is still just one sentence."
"Going in is enough." She said. "If anyone later says nobody ever asked, the record is there."
Lawyer Luo nodded and stepped into the elevator.
Back in Old Town after one. Tang Guo waited at the noodle shop entrance. She'd been off livestream for three days. She said people were still asking in the back when the judgment would come. She answered the way the group said to: the money's frozen in the account. Distribution only happens after judgment.
Upstairs, He Xiufen flipped the desk calendar and circled September 13th.
"Things in the record can't be overturned on appeal." She said. "In ten days he either submits the original or submits a piece of paper stating clearly who signed and on what day. If he dodges both, that sentence becomes his own words."
"What if the judgment comes before the ten days are up?"
"Then it's still in the record." He Xiufen flipped the calendar back to the 3rd. "Whatever day it lands on, we'll see."
She sat at the long table, typing into her phone. The screen scrolled up to last night's line. Her question still sat there, the space below it empty.
She sent a line: "Approving signatory's name. Ten days."
Eight minutes later, a reply: "Once it's on the record in court, there's no taking it back."
She copied that line onto the back of the receipt book, beneath the six characters: Money doesn't know roads; it knows people. After copying it, she cut a paper strip, wrote the 13th on it, and slipped it under the glass desk pad, next to "Next Shift."
Two strips of paper under the glass, corners pressed flat.
Ten days from now was September 13th. What day the judgment would come—no one had given a date yet.