Read Novel Full Chapter 190 : Not Accepted by This Court
Chapter 190 : Not Accepted by This Court
May 15, 9:35 a.m. The door to the Seventh Courtroom was still locked.
Song Qiming arrived first, shirt collar buttoned to the top, a hard-shell folder held upright against his chest. Peng Weidong came up the stairs, switched the plastic bag to his other hand, and came to stand beside Shen Zhixia.
"Do I need to talk today?" he asked.
"No. Just sit and listen."
"I washed that shirt from last time," he said. "Used too much detergent. The collar's stiff."
At 9:50, the court clerk came to unlock the door. At 9:55, the presiding judge entered and took his seat. He first verified who was present: Plaintiff Peng Weidong, legal guardian of the plaintiff Peng Nianman, and the defendant Chengbei Hospital's authorized agent Song Qiming. The man surnamed Xu who had sat next to Song Qiming last time didn't come today.
The presiding judge read the judgment.
He didn't read it fast. After "The Court Holds," he first read three errors: failure to fulfill the autopsy notification obligation; non-standard medical record writing and management; incomplete procurement acceptance and receiving procedures for carbetocin, with no written basis at the usage stage. After those three sentences, he paused, then read the causal contribution as "Equal Degree."
Peng Weidong's hand on the table — his knuckles twitched once, then flattened.
The operative part.
"One: Defendant Chengbei Hospital shall, within ten days of this judgment taking effect, compensate Plaintiffs Peng Weidong and Peng Nianman as follows: medical expenses of 11,320 yuan, death compensation of 512,000 yuan, funeral expenses of 36,000 yuan, living expenses for dependents of 75,000 yuan, and mental distress compensation of 50,000 yuan, totaling 684,320 yuan. Two: The plaintiffs' remaining litigation claims are dismissed. Court costs are to be borne by the defendant."
"If dissatisfied with this judgment, an appeal may be filed with this Court within fifteen days from the date the judgment is served."
The gavel came down once, brief.
The court clerk handed over the judgment — one copy to the plaintiffs, one to the defendant — with a proof of service form attached. Shen Zhixia flipped to the page listing the parties. The two plaintiffs' names sat side by side: Peng Weidong, Peng Nianman. She handed the pen to the person beside her.
"The signature on the service form — you write it yourself."
Peng Weidong gripped the pen and wrote his name slower than usual, dragging the vertical hook long. When he finished, he tried to cap the pen. It took him two tries.
* * *
There was a half-circle concrete ledge around the flowerbed outside the courthouse. The two of them sat down there.
Shen Zhixia paged through from the front, one page at a time, pressing a light mark into the paper's edge with her fingernail wherever there was text. Peng Weidong asked her to read the three errors and the "Equal Degree" passage again. She did.
"So this is..." he searched for words, "this is how she left?"
"This is what the court found — the places where the hospital failed to do what it should have," she said. "The part about her hemorrhage is written later, based on the appraisal opinion. You heard it at the hearing."
"I remember," he said. "I can't read, but I remember."
She turned the page toward him and pointed at the string of figures after the operative part: "These amounts have already been calculated by the 'Equal Degree.' Equal Degree means half — each item, split in half."
Peng Weidong took the judgment and spread it across his knees, running his index finger along the words. It stopped at "684,320," and he read the figures one by one. When he reached the final "twenty," his lips moved but no sound came out. When he finished, he didn't fold it shut. He left it lying open like that.
Further back, there were several passages of response. The defendant had argued that the drug passed inspection and that the purchase-sale price difference was the enterprise's independent pricing decision. The judgment answered with one line: whether the drug's quality was qualified and whether the procurement, acceptance, and usage-stage records were complete are two different matters. The defendant had argued that the medical record flaws had no necessary connection to the death; the judgment cited the appraisal opinion's phrase on causal contribution: "Equal Degree." Of the line of argument she'd laid out in argument, one section hadn't been included — near the end of the judgment was a sentence: the plaintiff's claims about the defendant's conduct during the dispute-resolution process do not fall within the scope of the medical damage liability determination in this case.
Her finger stopped on that sentence for a moment. She didn't read it aloud.
"What if they sue again?" Peng Weidong asked.
"Then it goes up a level," she said. "The three errors, the 'Equal Degree' — they're all in one file. Second instance looks at the same paper."
He nodded and pulled the plastic bag's opening tight again.
Her phone rang. He Xiufen.
"Verdict's in?"
"It's in."
"Read me the operative part."
She read it. The other end went quiet for two or three seconds.
"Fifteen days. Tomorrow counts as day one." He Xiufen's pace was slower than usual. "If they appeal, we wait for second instance. If not, once the fifteen days are up, the judgment takes effect, and they get ten more days as the payment period. If there's no payment after ten days, you draft the enforcement application and I sign it. Fastest it gets done is a month."
"I know."
"During this month, don't promise him any dates," He Xiufen said. "Winning on paper isn't winning money. If someone from the hospital comes with a message, don't bring a single word of it back."
"Mm."
"Also," she said, "with 'Equal Degree' sitting there, the odds of them appealing aren't small. Don't guess. Wait for paper."
After she hung up, Song Qiming was coming down the steps, the hard-shell folder switched to his other hand. He walked to the flowerbed and slowed by half a step.
"I've received the judgment and I'm taking it back to the firm," he said. "Whether we appeal or not isn't my call."
"Fifteen days," she said. "Whatever your side files in those fifteen days, I'll be here waiting to receive the duplicate."
Song Qiming looked at her for a second, as if half a sentence was turning in his mouth, then said, "Those three evidence collection applications — written pretty narrow." He left.
Shen Zhixia pressed the judgment flat against her knee, took out her phone, and sent a photo to that unsaved number: the page with the operative part, the line reading 684,320.
The reply came fast.
"Song Qiming posted the judgment in the firm's group chat."
Two minutes later, another message.
"To show Lin Qi, the number isn't the point. Flip to the last paragraph of 'The Court Holds.'"
She flipped back, page by page, and stopped at the second-to-last paragraph.
"The defendant's claim that the alterations to the medical records in question were the sole act of the duty physician, who should bear the corresponding responsibility personally: This Court does not adopt that claim."
She read it twice, pressed a mark under it with her fingernail — deeper than the others.
She opened the chat, typed two characters, stared at them for two seconds, deleted them, and sent only one sentence: "I saw it."
The reply came back: "Mm."
[Thud. Peng Weidong, Peng Nianman v. Chengbei Hospital medical damage liability dispute — judgment has been served.]
[Thud. Three errors — confirmed as established.]
[Thud. Judgment not yet effective — this portion of Justice Points is temporarily not counted.]
She stared at the words "temporarily not counted" for a while. Tomorrow was only day one of fifteen. This paper wasn't settled yet.
Peng Weidong folded the judgment and started to shove it into the plastic bag. She reached over and stopped his hand.
"Don't fold it. Once something's been judged and gets creased, you'll still need the original later. When it takes effect, you'll need it to verify the dates."
He pulled his hand back, laid the judgment flat into the bag, and pulled the opening shut twice.
[Thud. Once effective, half will be recorded; the remainder hangs in the "Enforcement Completed" column.]
[Thud. What this column has always been anxious about is never the paper.]
"I'll take it back and tell her," he said. She didn't ask what place he meant.
* * *
The noodle shop was loudest after six. The smell of scallion oil from downstairs climbed the stairs, step by step, until the whole hallway was hot with it. He Xiufen set the noodles on the long table — one bowl pushed to Lin Qi, two more in front of Shen Zhixia and Peng Weidong — then dragged a chair over and sat down.
Lin Qi was still wearing the gray top from that morning, the cuffs washed to fuzz. Both hands rested on her knees; the marks on the backs of them had faded, leaving only faint edges. She held the chopsticks in her hand, unmoving.
"Read it," He Xiufen said.
Shen Zhixia spread the judgment open and read the three errors first, then "Equal Degree," then the final figure. When she finished, she turned the paper around and pushed it in front of Lin Qi, her finger resting on the second-to-last paragraph.
"This sentence. You read it yourself."
Lin Qi lowered her head, pressed her finger on the words, and moved line by line. She stumbled once, then started over from the beginning.
"The defendant's claim that the alterations to the medical records in question were the sole act of the duty physician, who should bear the corresponding responsibility personally: This Court does not adopt that claim."
When she finished, she didn't look up. Her fingertip stayed pressed on that line.
"Your name isn't in the judgment," He Xiufen said. "Only this sentence."
"Mm."
"The hospital's internal disposition decision is still there. It says to suspend your practice and report to the Health Commission." He Xiufen set her chopsticks down. "The judgment can't revoke it. The Commission has to write a paper first, and then the hospital has to revoke it itself."
"Tomorrow we go to the Commission," Shen Zhixia said, tapping her chopstick tips on the bowl's rim. "The judgment, the receipt for that Written Reply, the drug-line pages from the Drug Regulator Inspection Record, and the hospital's supplemental sheet saying 'no written record found upon review.' Four items, laid on their desk."
"I didn't write that sheet," Lin Qi said.
"I know. You wrote two — one's with the Commission, one's with me." Shen Zhixia said. "Tomorrow you don't need to go. What's going is paper."
Lin Qi picked up her chopsticks, then set them down again.
"Your mother," He Xiufen said. "You didn't tell her."
"I did tell her," Lin Qi said. "April ninth. I called her for forty-seven seconds. I said the department was busy."
Peng Weidong had finished half his bowl. He lifted his head and glanced at Lin Qi, then lowered it again and ate the last few mouthfuls, wiped his mouth.
"Doctor Lin." He spoke her name. "What happened to my wife that night — from start to finish, you didn't do a single thing wrong."
Lin Qi's shoulders stirred. She didn't answer.
Shen Zhixia's phone buzzed at the corner of the table. A voice message in the rider group — Ma Jianjun asking if the verdict was in. She replied with two characters: It's in. A string of voice messages followed in the group, each longer than the last. She didn't open a single one.
[Thud. The Unsettled Ledger stirred. The characters haven't appeared yet.]
She lifted the bowl and drank a mouthful of soup. It was a bit salty — He Xiufen's old habit of a heavy hand.
Lin Qi closed the judgment and pushed it back to her, both hands returning to her knees.
"Lawyer Shen." She called the name, her voice quiet.
"This — can I tell my mother now?"
Shen Zhixia's hand brushed the name badge in her pocket. All four corners were worn round. That small square of a lighter patch on the left chest of the white coat — still printed there.