Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 227: The Signature Column

July 15th, 8:30 a.m., Chengnan Notary Office.

The meeting room was on the second floor, curtains drawn halfway. A sheet of white paper lay on the table, iron binder clips pressing down its corners. Hu Yongnian held the kraft paper envelope in both hands, examining the signature across the fold first.

"The flap hasn't been opened."

"It hasn't," He Xiufen said.

"The tape runs horizontally across the signature." He raised his camera. "I'll take two shots of this position."

The shutter clicked twice. He took a paper cutter and sliced along the edge of the tape, then removed the card box and the single handwritten page, laying each item out on the paper.

"One memory card, one handwritten explanation." He finished writing and looked up. "Matches what's on your list."

"Teacher Hu, take two shots of the card," He Xiufen said. "One of the front, one of the back."

"There's writing on the back."

"The back has the serial number. We'll need it later to confirm it's the same card."

Hu Yongnian didn't ask further. He photographed the front, then used tweezers to flip it over, took one shot against the light, then leaned in for another. When the card turned over, Guo Jianping wiped both hands against his trouser seams.

"Three letters at the front, ten numbers after." Hu Yongnian set the card under the lamp, reading each aloud as he copied it down. When he finished, he read the whole string again from the start. "Confirmed by the deliverer, no objection?"

"I never flipped the card over," Guo Jianping said. "I can't vouch for that number. But this is the card I used on May 20th—that much I recognize."

"Then I'll record 'identification without objection.'" He wrote the date, time, and operator into the work record, then tapped the last column with his pen tip. "Come sign. In the box after your name."

Guo Jianping walked over and gripped the pen like it was a screwdriver.

When resealing, they used a new envelope. The seal strip was applied flush to the opening, with two people's signatures across the seam.

"The notarial certificate for extraction and sealing: three business days."

"Thank you."

"No trouble." Hu Yongnian returned the camera to the cabinet. "The item stays with me. Until the certificate is issued, anyone who wants to access it needs proper procedure."

On the way downstairs, Shen Zhixia copied the serial number into her notebook.

"Why are you copying that?"

"Just in case."

"Copying it doesn't mean you can verify it," He Xiufen said. "Once you can, then we'll talk."

Guo Jianping ran the camera bag's strap over his shoulder again.

"I'm not taking any jobs these next couple days."

"Why?"

"Been shooting for over ten years. First time I've ever handed something over with sweaty palms." He pressed the bag against his chest. "I'll take their work again once this case is decided."

He Xiufen didn't try to persuade him.

"If the phone rings again, same three lines," she said.

* * *

9:10 a.m., first floor of the Municipal Bar Association.

The visitor log lay open on the windowsill. The last time she'd written two characters here, they meant "hearing." Today's entry, in this column, was four characters: Membership Affairs.

Behind the window sat a woman in her fifties, a stapler, scissors, and a blue-covered register on her desk. She opened the envelope, smoothed out the letter of intent to accept, and read it aloud line by line.

"This firm accepts Lawyer Lu Jibai; verifies his legal practice qualification; bears management responsibility in accordance with law."

When she finished, she examined the seal.

"Pressed over the date, not over the text. Good." She wrote a line in the register, tore off a receipt slip, pressed it against an ink pad, and slid it through. "The receiving firm's opinion column is filled. We'll proceed from here."

"What comes next?"

"Acceptance, then posted online. If anyone raises an objection, they submit it in writing. If nobody does, we follow procedure."

He Xiufen handed the receipt to Shen Zhixia.

"Read it."

"Item: One letter from Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm. Date received: July 15. Handler: Membership Affairs Department." Below it was stamped a square seal.

"Record that number in the notebook," He Xiufen said. "Once the letter is logged in, it has a number."

"What about the change-of-registration form?"

"The form goes into the file with the letter." The woman behind the window pointed at the four columns on the page. "The 'opinion of original practice institution' column—needs the old firm's seal."

"That column is currently blank."

"Blank means waiting." She placed the envelope into a plastic basket. "We don't chase anyone on our end."

"The supplementary materials for the fourth floor," He Xiufen asked. "Submitting them on the morning of the 18th—will that be in time?"

"Internship matters are on the fourth floor. First floor handles membership, fourth floor handles assessment. Separate divisions." The woman at the window flipped through the register beside her, then looked up. "The fourth floor sent out a registered letter this morning. Has your firm received it?"

"Not yet."

"Then it's on its way."

Leaving the hall, she paused at the foot of the stairs. The staircase turned at the fourth floor, with the directory sign hanging on the corner, invisible from the ground floor. He Xiufen walked past her.

"Going up won't change the answer," she said. "They only look at paper."

* * *

3:10 p.m. The scallion-oil smell had just begun rising from downstairs when the mail carrier shouted up from the stairwell.

One kraft envelope, one signature slip. He Xiufen wrote her name and the date, then opened the envelope in front of him. A single page, headed: Jiangzhou Municipal Bar Association, Intern Assessment Committee.

She read the second clause aloud.

"Please submit the following materials before the meeting: (1) One conduct statement, issued by a practicing lawyer, stating the circumstances under which said lawyer jointly handled cases and appeared in court opposite the applicant; (2) One court attendance record of the lawyer who issued the aforementioned statement."

She paused, then read the third clause.

"The person issuing the materials listed in the preceding clause must be a practicing lawyer of the law firm receiving the applicant, and must have no interest in the case."

"Three items," Shen Zhixia said.

"Look at the third clause." He Xiufen pushed the paper toward her. "Count up everyone in the firm who can sign."

"You."

"My name on this case is listed as nominal lead." He Xiufen tapped her pen against the words "must have no interest in the case" at the end of the third clause. "Anyone with an agency relationship to this case fails that requirement."

"Other lawyers at the firm."

"You've never faced any of them in court. This clause asks who has 'sat opposite you,' not who has seniority." The pen moved to the first half of the clause. "The person who sat opposite you—as of today, he doesn't count as a member of this firm."

A little past six, footsteps came up the stairs.

Lu Jibai came in, bracing one hand against the doorframe before picking up the notice. He read slowly, from top to bottom, then went back and reread the third clause.

"'A practicing lawyer of the law firm receiving the applicant.'" He set the paper down. "As of today, I'm not."

"And the form?"

"I delivered it to their administration yesterday afternoon," he said. "The handler glanced at the 'destination' column, said nothing, wrote in a date. From the tone, it sounds like several columns get consolidated before they issue an opinion."

"What did you write in the destination column?"

"Zhengping."

He Xiufen tapped those two characters on the paper with her pen but said nothing.

"When does the consolidation finish?" she asked.

"No date given."

He Xiufen pulled a blank sheet of paper from the drawer, slid it in front of him, and laid her pen beside it.

"You're writing something today."

"Write what?"

"Three things. First, your name and status. Second, which hearings you sat opposite her in. Third, what you saw."

"What about the words 'of good moral character'?"

"Don't put them down. 'Fair,' 'upright,' 'reliable'—write none of it."

"Then what do I write?"

"Write what people can verify."

He picked up the pen. The header line came quickly, but when he reached "practicing lawyer of Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm," the pen stopped.

"This column—does writing the firm name now still count?"

"Write it first," He Xiufen said. "If your name isn't on the roster, this page never goes out."

He continued writing. The paper lay at an angle, tilted toward her, and as each character took shape, she could read every one.

"1. I, the undersigned, appeared opposite Shen Zhixia as opposing counsel in two cases: the labor dispute involving twenty delivery riders and the platform, and the medical damage liability dispute. I appeared at trial in both cases."

"2. She works conscientiously and is responsible toward her clients."

His pen had barely left the paper when He Xiufen reached over and struck a line through "conscientiously" and "responsible."

"Crossed out."

"'Conscientious' is also a compliment."

"Complimentary words can be written by anyone." She said, "Write what no one else can write: where the materials she submitted came from, whether the numbers she stated in court matched the file."

He rewrote the crossed-out half-line.

"2. Every material she submitted is sourced within the case file; the times, page numbers, and counts she stated in court matched the file. After the first hearing of the medical damage liability dispute, I withdrew as counsel in that case."

At this point, the pen hovered over the paper.

"Why write that last sentence?" He Xiufen asked.

"Because it's verifiable." He said, "It's preserved in the judgment and the appearance letters. What I put on paper has to be checkable."

"Write it." He Xiufen pressed down the corner of the page. "I cross out evaluations. You keep facts."

"3. All of the above is personally witnessed. If any statement is untrue, I am willing to bear corresponding responsibility."

He set the pen down and tapped twice on the desk edge with his fingers.

"Do I need to add a line saying I have no interest in this case?"

"That's for others to verify. Don't write it for yourself." He Xiufen said, "The signature column stays blank until your name is on the roster."

Shen Zhixia looked at the last line. The characters were small, pressed tight row after row—the same look as his cross-examination opinions in court. She reached out and slid the paper half an inch toward herself.

"This page is about me."

"I know who I'm writing about."

"If trouble comes later, they'll come for you first."

"Then they'll find me."

Beside her, He Xiufen put the lid on her tea mug.

"That's just words," she said. "The sentence on the paper says 'willing to bear corresponding responsibility.'"

[Thud. This page doesn't sing your praises. What he wrote is what he saw.]

* * *

He Xiufen pulled out the registered letter and flipped to the second clause, second item.

"This one—can't be written today."

"Court attendance record." Shen Zhixia read the four characters. "It records whether he appears on the 18th."

"Right." He Xiufen said, "When an intern appears in court, the supervising lawyer must be present—that's the column on the registration form. If you're changing supervising lawyers, you have to file notice first."

"The person filing notice has to be a practicing lawyer at this firm."

"Two pieces of paper. One requires same-firm membership. One requires court attendance. Both fall on the same person." He Xiufen smoothed the page flat. "Membership comes first, then court attendance. Until the membership is settled, that column stays blank. Nine a.m. on the 18th, fourth-floor hearing room, both papers must be on the table together. Not one can be missing."

"Today's the 15th."

"Three days."

He picked up the notice and read it through once more. When he finished, he set it back on the table but didn't leave.

She copied the notice into the notebook and wrote two lines beneath the box marked the 18th:

One conduct statement. One court attendance record.

Between the two lines, she left one blank.

That blank line was waiting for one person's name to appear on the firm's roster first.