Read Novel Full Chapter 217: Two Legs
Chapter 217: Two Legs
The Bar Association's email came in at 9:10. Shen Zhixia was coming up the stairs with a mug of hot water when the old computer let out its little "ding."
He Xiufen was steeping her second mug of tea. The smell of scallion oil from the noodle shop below climbed up through the cracks in the building, mixing with the faint plastic scent of the warming printer.
"From the Bar Association." She didn't turn around. "Read it yourself."
The subject line was long: Notice on Supplementary Review of Intern Assessment Materials. The body wasn't. At 23:29 on July 4, this Association received one item of anonymous reporting material: one page of complaint letter, one video file, and three pages of printed screenshots. Upon preliminary review, it has been decided to convene a separate review meeting to reassess the internship assessment materials of Shen Zhixia, an intern at Zhengping Law Firm. Please submit supplementary explanation and relevant materials before the meeting.
She read to the last line and stopped.
"Keep reading." He Xiufen set her mug down on the corner of the desk.
"Meeting time: to be announced separately."
"Read the receipt time again."
"July 4, 23:29."
"And the time those two lines of text hit your phone yesterday?"
"10:40."
"Forty-nine minutes," He Xiufen said. "The material was finished long before. He just needed to hit send."
[Thud. Last time the name didn't exist. This time there's no name at all.]
She scrolled down. Below the attachment list was one more line in small print: Reporter, anonymous.
"I can't see the three pages of screenshots."
"Of course you can't," He Xiufen said, circling to the other side of the table. "Think about who those three pages are for. Half the people in that meeting won't click the video; they'll only flip through paper. The video's the weight on the scale. The three pages are the bottom line for the people who won't click."
"So what could be written on that complaint letter?"
"You can guess," He Xiufen said. "You took money in the name of a lawyer. The video's just an attachment."
At 9:20, the phone rang. He Xiufen answered without speakerphone, but the voice still leaked out half a sentence: Office of the Intern Assessment Committee, a man in his forties, speaking fast.
"Director He, that Shen Zhixia from your firm—"
"She's here."
"The material submitted last night has been received. I just have one question: the person in that video—is it her?"
He Xiufen took off her glasses and wiped them on her apron.
"The words on the paper aren't mine to confirm, and the video isn't mine to assess. Whatever you want to ask, put it on paper, and I'll answer according to the paper."
There was a pause on the other end. Then the second question: "That supplement submitted June 25, the column about the supervising lawyer's court appearance—"
"The answer to that column is on the paper," He Xiufen said. "Look at the paper."
After hanging up, she put her glasses back on.
"Both questions have to be answered on paper," she said. "He has nothing new in hand. One video, three pages of screenshots."
"Can they suppress my certificate with that?"
"Suppress it, yes. Settle it, no." He Xiufen sat down. "Do you remember what those three complaints from last time were missing?"
"Evidence."
"Evidence. The attachment bore Chengbei Hospital's seal—imprint, no content." She paused. "This time they've filled in the evidence. First the badge came off, then the attachments showed up—all one hand doing the work. Don't write that on paper. Keep it in mind."
"What door are they coming through this time?"
"Not the discipline door anymore." He Xiufen said. "Last time, a complaint meant filing, hearings, scheduling dates for him. This time the material went straight to the Assessment Committee. Every extra page in the Committee's pile is another month you wait."
She opened a new document and typed three lines:
1. On July 4, I sent a letter to the publishing platform regarding the video in question, requesting preservation of the original upload file, upload time, publishing account information, and relevant operation records. (One printed page of correspondence attached.)
2. Please present the original video attached to the reporting material during the review, to allow me to verify it.
3. Please notify me in writing of the review matters and the basis for any conclusions. I request to appear and make a statement before the Committee.
After typing the three lines, her fingers hovered, then added half a sentence: "The person in the video is not me—"
He Xiufen's hand pressed against the screen.
"Delete it."
"Why?"
"You can't write that either."
"Not yet," He Xiufen said. "The moment you write 'not me,' the paper becomes a mouth. What you want them to look at is which papers you have in your hand."
She hit backspace twice.
"What about attachments?"
"One printed page of the letter." He Xiufen said. "And three more pages—pull together whatever Tang Guo has. Paper doesn't fear being plentiful. Paper fears being scattered."
* * *
1:40 p.m., first floor of the Bar Association.
A woman in her forties sat behind the glass, an ID badge hanging over her sweater.
"Submitting materials."
"What materials?"
"Supplementary explanation. For the Assessment Committee."
She flipped through two pages, saw the recipient field blank, and pushed the papers back half an inch.
"Write the recipient clearly."
She picked up the pen, paused. "Should I write the department or a person?"
"Write the department, anyone can take it." The woman looked up. "Write a person, whoever looks at it signs."
Last time, those three complaints had carried a name that belonged to no one. She put the pen down and wrote the institutional name: Intern Assessment Committee, Jiangzhou Municipal Bar Association.
"Fine." The woman began counting pages—one page of main text, four pages of attachments: one printed page of correspondence, two pages of backend data, one page of screen-recording records. "Five pages."
She tore off a receipt stub, wrote a "5" in the page count field, and opened a thick register.
"Submitter."
"Shen Zhixia."
"In person?"
"In person."
A line went down in the book: Shen Zhixia (in person).
She folded the receipt and tucked it into her bag. On her way out, she glanced back. The register was lying open on the counter, a brass-colored clip pressing down the page corner.
* * *
Back at the office after three, she laid the receipt on He Xiufen's desk.
He Xiufen picked it up and held it to the light, examining the "5" in the page count box.
"You went yourself."
"Myself."
"The register says 'in person'?"
"Says 'in person.'"
He Xiufen gave a small "Mm" and set the receipt flat.
"Now there are two things pressing at once." She pushed her mug farther aside. "Tang Guo's case is one leg. Your certificate is another. Two legs walking—neither waits for the other."
"Which steps first?"
"Both together." He Xiufen said. "The video is fake, so someone has to issue paper saying it's fake—that's the first leg. But for a piece of paper like that, an institution has to issue it and a person has to sign it. And before that, you need the material to examine. All you have is a screen recording. A screen recording can prove something was posted online. It can't prove who posted it."
"Who posted it is in the platform's backend."
"In the machines in someone's server room," she said. "So that letter you sent yesterday wasn't courtesy. That letter is the road for the first leg. If the road's blocked, the appraisal can't produce an opinion. If the appraisal can't produce an opinion, all you have left at that meeting is 'not me.'"
"And the second leg is the name."
"The second leg is the name." He Xiufen said. "Should someone who took money in the name of a lawyer still be called a lawyer—half the people in that room will be turning that question over. If the certificate doesn't come through, your words carry no weight. And the more you talk, the more pages they add."
[Thud. Two legs. One needs paper. The other needs the original.]
She sat for a while, then pulled out the draft of the letter to the platform and added one line next to it:
Upon receipt of this letter, please notify me in writing of the status of actions taken on the July 4 correspondence, and confirm that the above materials will continue to be retained during the period of investigation and litigation.
"Just this one line?"
"Just this one line." He Xiufen said. "A letter written short still looks like a hand."
"I'll go ask about the appraisal."
"I'll ask." He Xiufen took off her glasses to wipe them. "Three things first: which institutions have electronic data qualifications, how the material gets submitted for examination, and whether a screen recording counts. Get clear answers before spending money—an appraisal starts in the four digits. You don't scatter the accounts before you know."
* * *
Home at 7:40. Tang Guo sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop open on the coffee table, the livestream light set up beside her, its cord still coiled and unplugged.
"Seven more came in," she said. "Three accounts—the same three that got throttled yesterday."
"Same material?"
"Same clip. Twenty-one seconds." Tang Guo turned the screen toward her. "By 4:00 p.m., 31,400 plays, 623 comments, 1,007 shares."
"Can you export it?"
"Account name, posting time, plays, comments, shares—column by column." She tapped a few times. "Two pages."
"Export it. I'll print at the office tomorrow."
Tang Guo stopped and looked at her. "Where were you today?"
"The Bar Association. Submitted papers."
"Did they watch the video?"
"They'll watch it at a meeting." She propped her phone on the coffee table, angled at the laptop screen: the "Jiangzhou Kuaikan" page was open, the posting line bright. She framed her phone's clock together with that line and recorded for one minute, then spoke aloud: "July 5, 19:50. The page remains. Plays: 32,100."
Saved. The filename followed her usual format: 0705-1950-page-still-live.
"Anyone defending me?" she asked.
"There were three." Tang Guo said. "One said the face doesn't look like you. One said she got money back for delivery riders. And one—" She trailed off. "That one got cussed out and pinned to the top."
"Those three were the ones getting attacked."
"Yeah. Underneath, people were replying to them: 'You're getting paid too.'"
She turned her phone off and set it back on the table.
"I'll post something tomorrow," Tang Guo said. "Not anything else—just that this clip is fake, and I have evidence."
"Don't yet."
"Why?"
"He Xiufen's orders."
"He Xiufen's orders." She nudged the light's cord closer to the wall. "The moment you respond, that meeting gets another page of paper. What they're waiting for is me speaking through your mouth."
Tang Guo looked at her for a long moment, then dragged the laptop back in front of herself.
"Then what do I do?"
"Take those twenty-one seconds apart, frame by frame." She said. "Look at the room. Look at the clothes. Whoever shot it and wherever it was shot, there's a source somewhere."
"That I can do." Tang Guo dragged the progress bar back to the beginning.
[Thud. As long as the frames remain, the source remains.]
* * *
9:40 p.m., her phone rang. He Xiufen, three words only: "Check your email."
A Notice from the Bar Association, PDF, a red seal stamp in the lower right. She opened it while He Xiufen listened on the other end, waiting for her to read.
"Upon preliminary review, the internship assessment materials of Shen Zhixia, an intern at your firm, contain matters requiring further verification. Before the review meeting reaches its conclusion, this Association will not issue the internship assessment certificate of completion, and the application for her lawyer's practice certificate is deferred."
"The line below that."
"Review meeting time to be announced separately."
"Save it. Don't delete it." He Xiufen said. "Print three copies at the office tomorrow."
"Director He, does deferred count as no?"
"Doesn't count as no. Doesn't count as yes either." A bowl and chopsticks clinked on He Xiufen's end. "It isn't a judgment. It's just dragging."
"For how long?"
"Not knowing how long—that's what makes it dragging."
The call ended. She scrolled back up through the email. The final line of small print: This Association has received the supplementary explanation and materials you submitted on the same day, totaling five pages, and they have been entered into the review file.
[Thud. The certificate didn't come through. The name gets written down first.]
Tang Guo leaned over from the floor, reading for a long while.
"Did they give a date?"
"No." She said. "A notice without a date is harder than one with."
"How so?"
"The case keeps moving." She took the new folder out of her bag and opened it, smoothing the sticky note that read "July 4, deepfake video, one clip, 21 seconds" flat again. "My name stays put."
Tang Guo pulled the laptop back onto her lap. "Then I'll finish breaking down the frames before I sleep."