Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 145 : The Night Bus

The landlord hauled a stack of plastic-sleeved documents off the shoe cabinet and flipped through them one by one. On the third one, she pulled out a page and slid it across to her.

"Lease contract. When I signed with her, I asked for an emergency contact. She thought about it, then said to write down her mother."

Inside that box was a line of small, tightly written characters: Mom, followed by a string of numbers. She copied the number into her notebook.

"That half-month's rent of hers," the landlord said, "was in an envelope. Counted out bill by bill, not a cent short."

"She's fine. She just ran into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Trouble at the hospital."

* * *

January 28th, a Thursday. Chengbei District, Youfang Lane. The apartment felt smaller by day than it did at night; every watermark on the wall stood out clear.

Tucked inside the contract was a courier waybill. The shipping address read "Hewan Village, Chengguan Town, Tongling County." The sender's line held only the surname "Lin."

"What did she send?"

"Back when it got cold, a small box. Said it was padded shoes for her mother." The landlord said, "She sends money home around the middle of every month, at the post office. I've run into her twice. She doesn't talk much; we just nodded at each other."

She dialed that number. It rang three times, then the other end hung up. She redialed. Busy.

The two pages in the drawer were still where they'd been, the corner of the first one curled, the signature line blank. She lifted the pages and found a dark blue booklet underneath, the cover stamped with gold lettering. She pulled it out and opened to the first page: name, practice registration number, and practitioner affiliation listed as Chengbei Hospital.

She took a photo, put the booklet back exactly as it had been, under the two pages. This detail went into the notebook too.

The apartment across the hall opened. An old woman came out carrying a trash bag, studied her face for a moment.

"Aren't you the one who came downstairs with her last time?" the old woman said. "When is Doctor Lin coming back?"

"She went back to her hometown."

"I've got high blood pressure. Last month she came up and took it for me once." The old woman switched the trash bag to her other hand. "Tell me when she's back."

"Okay."

On her way down, she paused at the landing. The row of steel mailboxes at the top had one marked "402." The lock was intact; the slot was empty. She noted that, too.

"I'm not renting the place out yet," the landlord said behind her.

"Don't touch those two pages. And don't let anyone take them, no matter who asks."

"Who else would come for them?"

"I don't know."

* * *

At noon, the Old Town Noodle House hadn't filled yet. He Xiufen sat at the table by the window, peeling garlic, the skins piling into a small mound at the edge of the plate. The radio on the windowsill was giving the weather: sleet expected tonight through tomorrow.

The phone rang once. She tucked the receiver against her shoulder and listened. "About the deposit—come tomorrow morning, bring your ID and the contract, and don't bring anyone. ...Right, just you." She hung up and pressed the last clove into the plate.

Shen Zhixia recounted the morning's events. He Xiufen listened, then looked up at her.

"As long as she's safe. Did the call go through?"

"First ring, they hung up. Second time, busy."

"Hanging up means the phone's in her hand." He Xiufen said, "Don't push. Try again tonight."

"The hospital document went out on Wednesday." Shen Zhixia flipped to page three of the Disposition Decision Lin Qi had given her and slid it across.

He Xiufen read it end to end. "Page three says 'submitted together,' recommending disciplinary action under the Physicians Law. A hospital won't sit on that." She pushed the paper back. "Three steps from here. The Health Commission investigates first. Then they hand you a written notice—facts, grounds, legal basis, and what they plan to do to her. Only once that paper is delivered does she get a right to respond. It's called a statement and defense hearing, three to five days. If it reaches actual revocation of her license, there's a hearing, but she has to request it herself. No request, no hearing."

"Three to five days."

"Counted from the day of service." He Xiufen rotated her tea mug half a turn on the table. "Whoever receives that document is the one whose clock starts. Her registration is with Chengbei Hospital, and the address they have is that building. It gets mailed to the department, someone signs for it, drops it in a drawer—and you can't even figure out when the countdown began."

"I'll go check on service."

"To check on service, you need a power of attorney." He Xiufen said, "She signs one herself. I can go, or you can go. Without her signature, the Health Commission won't even open the door for you."

"There's still the thirtieth," Shen Zhixia said. "The draw list was supposed to be served within three days. It didn't come today."

"The list can wait. The draw doesn't wait for her." He Xiufen gathered the garlic skins into her palm, rubbed them together, and scattered them into a bamboo basket by her feet. "Right now you've got two dates in your hands. One's hanging over at the court, the other's sitting in some department's drawer."

"Are you going to her hometown?" she asked.

"I'll call first."

"Before you do, let me put this out there." He Xiufen said, "When you find her, talk about two separate papers: one, the authorization. Two, the testimony. Keep them separate. Don't bundle them together into one. You bundle them, she won't sign either."

"I wasn't going to bundle."

"I know you weren't. I'm just saying it first." He Xiufen said, "When you get through, don't rush to persuade her. Listen first. If she starts with 'leave me alone,' then just tell her the number of days and let her do the math herself."

"And if she can't do the math?"

"Then the time hasn't come."

[Thud. The signature she needs to give—you can't do it for her.]

* * *

At 7:20 that evening, she sat at the desk above the noodle house and dialed the Tongling number.

The ringback tone was the old county telephone office jingle. After four rings, a woman's voice answered: "Hello?"

"Auntie, I'm looking for Lin Qi."

"Who is this?"

"My surname is Shen. I'm her colleague."

"She just washed her hair. She's sitting in her room." The voice said, "Hold on."

Through the receiver: the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, a door hinge turning, slippers scuffing across concrete. After a moment, someone picked up the phone and said nothing.

She heard it first—a soft, wet sound, like someone drawing breath through a runny nose.

"You're home," Shen Zhixia said.

"Yeah."

"When did you get in?"

"Last night." Lin Qi said, "The 10:20 from Chengbei bus station, got to Tongling at four. I sat in the waiting room until five-thirty, took the first bus into the village."

"Does your mother know?"

"I told her the hospital rearranged my leave." A pause. "She's hard of hearing. She'll believe whatever I say."

"Why are you crying?"

"It's windy," Lin Qi said.

Shen Zhixia let that go.

"My mother asked me this morning why I dragged my suitcase back," Lin Qi said. "I told her work gave us stuff."

"She believed you."

"She's sixty-nine this year." After a moment, Lin Qi said, "She's spent her whole life in this village, never given anyone a reason to point fingers. If this business gets put on paper and mailed to the village, she won't even go to the market anymore."

"Whatever the hospital submitted, the Health Commission has it." Shen Zhixia said, "Next comes the investigation, then they give you a written notice. You'll have a few days for statement and defense. The clock starts the day it's delivered to you."

"Delivered to me." Lin Qi repeated the words.

"The address you left is the hospital building."

Silence on the other end. A faint hiss of line static.

"The baby's still in the incubator," Lin Qi said suddenly. "Has the cremation date been set?"

"No. We don't move until the report comes out." Shen Zhixia said, "Forensic Examiner Zhong says the autopsy report will be marked pending."

"Pending." Lin Qi echoed the word.

The phone changed hands. The old woman had taken it.

"Are you still there, city girl?"

"I'm here, Auntie."

"She ate half her noodles and left the rest on the stove." The old woman said, "Keep an eye on her. She's so busy in the city, she can't even remember to make a phone call."

"Okay."

[Thud. That "okay"—who was she saying it for?]

The receiver shifted. Lin Qi had taken the phone back.

"What do you want to do?" Shen Zhixia asked.

"I want this to end here."

"End how?"

"That paper from the medical affairs office." Lin Qi said, "I signed it, they said, and that's that."

"It's already been submitted." Shen Zhixia said, "Signing something today won't pull it back. You can do two things. Come back here. Or give me your name on paper."

"I can't do either."

"The two pages in the drawer are unsigned, and your practice certificate is still in there too."

A pause on the other end. "Let the certificate sit for now."

"Why can't you?"

"Saturday, I'm taking my mother to town for a checkup. I have to be with her." Lin Qi said, "Besides, if I show my face, this thing has to be explained. I worked night shifts in obstetrics for years. I could write those delivery records with my eyes closed. If people point at me from now on and say, 'That's the doctor who altered the records,' who's going to let me deliver a baby again?"

"The transcribed copies and that logbook are with the court now." Shen Zhixia said, "You didn't write those entries. If you don't stand up, those papers stay in the file as nothing but records. If you do, they become a statement."

"Records are enough."

"The authorization doesn't require you to appear in court." She said, "One line, the firm's name, Director He's signature. I only need one thing: your name on paper."

No answer.

"I'll wait three days for your answer on the defense." She said, "After three days, that stack the hospital submitted becomes final. You can hide from the gossip in the village, but you can't hide from that paper."

"Doctor Lin."

"Finish Chen Xiaoman's case," Lin Qi said. "The draw is on the thirtieth. After that comes the appraisal, and after that, trial. The time you've got on your hands—it's enough for one case, at best."

"These are two separate things," Shen Zhixia said. "The authorization is me speaking for you. The testimony is you speaking for Chen Xiaoman. Two papers, each signed on its own."

"To me, it's the same thing."

"Doctor Lin—"

"Finish Chen Xiaoman's case." She said, "Anything else—leave me alone."

The receiver was set down. Not slammed—just placed gently on the tabletop, so gently that Shen Zhixia could still hear a dog barking at the village edge. Then the long tone of a disconnected call.

She called back. It rang through, all the way to the tenth ring. No one answered.

She copied the Tongling number onto the last page of her notebook, writing it beneath that blank line. That space had been meant for a name.

When she finished, she didn't close the book. She pulled out her phone and opened the Chengbei bus station schedule. The 10:20 night bus to Tongling—still running. She stared at it for two seconds, then pressed the screen dark.

Downstairs, the shop was closing up. The roll-up shutter hit the ground, sheet metal dragging a long scrape across the concrete.

[Thud. The notice won't wait. And neither will the name.]