Read Novel Full Chapter 223: Two Missing Characters
Chapter 223: Two Missing Characters
At 8:40 in the morning, He Xiufen laid three sheets of paper in a row on the desk, edges aligned.
"Count. How many names?"
Shen Zhixia read them left to right. The first page was the photocopy of the Wenchang Road Subdistrict's official letter, signed with two lines: "Organizer: Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd." and "Contracted Videographer: Guo Jianping." The second page was a printout of the platform's verification page, two small lines under the blue badge: "Operating Entity: Jiangzhou Xingyao Media Co., Ltd." The third page was the basic business information she'd printed that morning from the public registry—under the name field: "Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd."
"Three pages, two spellings." She pushed all three forward. "The second page is missing two characters."
"Missing which two?"
"After Xingyao: Culture."
"Which page were you copying from?"
"The registry page."
"Right." He Xiufen's finger landed on the second page. "It put up that verification itself. It left characters out, so it can explain it however it likes—entered an abbreviation, had someone fill it in on its behalf, all of that becomes its story. But you left them out, and the court serves the wrong name at the wrong door. How do you explain that?"
"I'll reprint."
"Check character by character. Whatever's on the business license, that's what you write."
She pulled the registry page in front of her and started copying the name first, then the string of characters beneath it. Letters and numbers, a long sequence. She copied it twice, and the second time she used a ruler to check it block by block. The registered address read: Room A, No. 11 Chuangxin Road, Chengdong Xingang Industrial Park. She also copied the establishment date and the first several lines of business scope word for word. When she reached the legal representative field, she paused—three characters she didn't recognize. The shareholder section listed one company and one natural person; neither name contained "Hengyue," and neither was surnamed Qin.
She copied those three characters into the notes column of her little book and wrote nothing in the application itself.
"Why write it down but not use it?" Tang Guo leaned out from the inner room, pen still in hand.
"Write it, and their first question is what you are to him." He Xiufen moved her tea mug to the corner of the desk. "Copy what needs copying first. What you can't reach, keep in your own notebook."
[Thud. Leave two characters out of a name and the court can't serve it at the door.]
She was on her fourth draft of the new complaint. The defendant column now had three rows: Defendant One, the platform's full name, copied exactly from the user agreement and filing records; Defendant Two, that string of eleven digits, followed by the homepage link, posting time, and video ID—identity pending; Defendant Three, Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd., followed by its Unified Social Credit Code and registered address.
The four claims remained untouched: remove the video, eliminate the impact, offer a public apology, and pay the notarization fees.
"Don't add to the claims." She asked anyway.
"No." He Xiufen said. "Those four apply to anyone. Add one more line and everything has to be reserved again—another delay for the other side. Today's goal is getting people pulled into the case, not saying everything you could say."
The second page was the Application to Add Defendant. She drafted two clauses: one, that all original footage shot on the day of the May 20th event had been collected and stored by the organizing unit after it ended (per Clause Three and the signature block of the Wenchang Road Subdistrict's explanatory statement); two, that the visual material in the twenty-one-second audio-visual content in question pointed to said original footage stored by that unit. The final line she wrote as protocol required: the above two clauses are subject to investigative findings and appraisal results.
After finishing, she added half a sentence: "this unit is connected to the production of the video in question." He Xiufen looked at it for two seconds and struck out the word "connected."
"Change it to what?"
"Change it to: whether there is a relationship shall be determined by investigative findings."
"That's the same line I wrote at the end."
"That line at the end covers the whole page." He Xiufen handed the pen back to her. "This line in the middle is your judgment. Judgment has only one place it can go—when a judge can't see judgment on the page, he's willing to take the next step himself."
The third page was the Application for Evidence Collection, two items. First: request the platform to produce registration information, login and posting records, and upload device and time for the two accounts "Jiangzhou Kuaikan" and "Jiangzhou Sukan." Second: order Defendant Three to submit the original footage from May 20th now in its custody, along with related handover records.
"The second item is mine." Shen Zhixia said.
"I can tell." He Xiufen stood behind her, holding her tea mug. "If he can't produce it, that's an answer too. When it comes to court, you won't have to say anything—he'll have to explain where it got stuck."
At 1:20 PM, she carried the materials into the court's Litigation Service Center. Four copies of the complaint, two copies of the Application to Add Defendant, two copies of the Application for Evidence Collection, all followed by three attachments: the subdistrict office's letter photocopy, the registry report printout, and the platform verification page printout.
The woman at the window counted the pages of each item and looked up. "Addition of defendants isn't reviewed at this window. I only receive and forward. The assigned judge will review it."
"How long?"
"Three to five days, someone will call you." She typed a few lines into a list, pulled a Receipt of Filing from the printer. "You have a receipt. Copy the number."
The receipt paper was still warm. She folded it twice, copied the number into her little book, and checked it once more.
At 2:40 PM, the office landline rang. It was the assigned judge's clerk, voice soft, with the rustle of papers in the background.
"Subject materials are complete. Let's confirm the service address."
"No. 11 Chuangxin Road, Block A, Chengdong Xingang Industrial Park—the registered address—and the registered contact numbers after it."
"Electronic service requires the defendant's consent. Without it, we send by mail. Three to five days." A pause. "The hearing date may have to be postponed."
"Postponed to when?"
"We'll know once it's scheduled."
After hanging up, she opened her notebook and added a line: July 11, 2:40 PM, call from the court; subject materials complete; materials to be served on the new defendant together; service by mail in three to five days. Xingyao doesn't know it's now a defendant.
At 3:20, He Xiufen dictated a lawyer's letter from the other side of the desk.
"Three items. One: your company has been added as a defendant in this case with court approval. With respect to the source and production of the twenty-one-second audio-visual content in question, please provide a written explanation within three days of receiving this letter. Two: cease dissemination; delete what has been posted. Three: seal all original footage shot on May 20th and related handover records, and confirm the sealing in writing within three days."
Shen Zhixia typed. Her fingers stopped at the four characters for "suspected of producing."
"I want to write 'suspected of producing and publishing forged audio-visual content.'"
"Don't." He Xiufen set down her tea mug. "The moment the word 'suspected' goes on paper, he has something to argue with—on what basis do you suspect, show me the evidence. Write 'please explain,' 'seal,' 'cease dissemination.' Those words he can't pick at, and he can't dodge."
"One look and he'll know what we have."
"One look and he'll know what we have—that's enough. A letter isn't for winning. A letter is for making him answer. The moment he answers, the paper is ours."
With the letter finished, the signature block printed three lines: Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm, He Xiufen, followed by her practice certificate number. She looked at those three lines for half a second.
"The eighteenth is when your name goes on." He Xiufen said.
She filled out the courier waybill with the registered address. She noted the waybill number and copied it into her book. She also photographed the letter and sent it to the business email listed in the public information.
"Two routes."
"The courier is for whoever reads this later—the waybill has the date on it." He Xiufen put the lid on her tea mug. "The email is for him to read today."
At 4:50, she sent a second email to the platform's legal department: the receipt of filing for the added defendant and a copy of the lawyer's letter. At 6 PM, the platform replied with a short official message—institutional verification for six linked accounts had all been taken down; the backend data involved had been preserved and fixed until August 10th; the relevant information had been communicated to the verified entities.
"It moved faster than our letter." She read the short message through a second time.
"The moment it took those down, Xingyao knew this afternoon who's moving against it." He Xiufen said.
She took out her phone and sent a line to the unsaved number: Xingyao is in the defendant column now. Letter sent out this afternoon.
Ten minutes later, a reply came: Wait for its people. The first one through the door will be a shell.
At 6:20, the landline rang.
A man's voice, around forty, very clear articulation. He first stated that he was authorized by Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd.—the full name, not one word dropped. Then three sentences: one, the email had been received; two, the company's position was that the video was not made by them and the material had been sourced externally; three, we're all in the same profession, why not sit down and talk instead of pushing this higher.
He Xiufen asked only three questions.
"Report your practice certificate number."
He reported it.
"The party authorizing you—which entity it is—will be determined by the written power of attorney. Send a copy."
"Director He—"
"Of our three items, which one are you responding to?"
There was a pause on the other end. He said the authorization letter and reply would be sent shortly. Before hanging up, he added one more line: "Director He, your client is a young woman. Some things, once they're in court, can't be pulled back."
"Put it in writing." He Xiufen set the receiver down.
[Thud. The name he gives you is a sheet of paper laid beneath the real one.]
"It's a shell." She wrote the call duration on a sticky note. "Did you catch it? He recited that name more completely than we did. All he has in his hand is one letter—not a single other piece of paper."
"Sourced externally." Shen Zhixia said. "He wants us to chase 'external.'"
"Who that 'external' is, he didn't say a word." He Xiufen stuck the sticky note onto the desk calendar. "That's his whole reason for calling: to get us moving in that direction for him."
Tang Guo came out of the inner room and stood by the doorframe. "Who called?"
"A lawyer." He Xiufen said. "Everything he said could be written down."
At 7:40, water in the pot on the stove started to churn. He Xiufen went to cook noodles. The water had just come to a boil when the landline rang again.
Shen Zhixia answered. A younger man's voice, unhurried, not reading from a script.
"We've read the letter."
She looked back toward the stove. He Xiufen set down the noodles in her hand, walked over, and took the receiver.
"Who is this?"
"Director He." A soft laugh on the other end. "I saw the line where Xingyao got written into the defendant column. You want a source—I can give you a source."
"Write it down."
"Would you dare use something written down?"
"Whether we dare is our business." He Xiufen said. "If you dare write it, I dare submit it."
Silence for a beat. The oil pot in the kitchen was crackling; Tang Guo turned the flame down half a notch.
"Tell her to think about it first—" the voice said. "Does she still want her license?"
The call ended.
He Xiufen set the receiver back on the phone and stood still. She didn't recognize the voice, but she recognized this approach—that call on Tang Guo's new number, which Shen Zhixia had read back to her line by line, was the same: no hedging, no script.
"Which license?" Shen Zhixia asked.
"He didn't say." He Xiufen nudged the desk calendar forward and pointed at the box circled for the eighteenth. "He never mentioned the eighteenth, but he's got the date worked out better than we do."
Shen Zhixia opened her notebook and recorded that evening's call: time, 7:42; incoming call, office landline; caller did not give a name; every word verbatim, even the pause in the middle marked in parentheses.
When she finished, she drew a horizontal line beneath it. Under the line, she wrote out once more the name she'd put in the defendant column today: Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd.
Twelve characters. She counted them one by one. Not one was missing.