Read Novel Full Chapter 229: The Empty Line
Chapter 229: The Empty Line
"Your thing. The opinion's in."
He Xiufen pressed the receiver against her shoulder and glanced back at her.
"Which one."
"That lawyer your firm took on." The voice on the other end had the same tone as last time, reciting slowly. "The forms are complete. Come take a look."
He Xiufen put the lid on her tea mug.
"Change your shoes."
* * *
9:55, first floor of the Municipal Bar Association. The visitor log lay open on the windowsill; the purpose line she wrote still read "Membership Affairs." On her way in she'd glanced toward the stairwell—the directory board hung at the fourth-floor turn, invisible from the first floor.
The same woman sat behind the window. The plastic basket on the desk had been shifted; she pulled a sheet from it and smoothed it flat.
"Lawyer's Change of Practice Institution Registration Form." She read the document title. "The 'Original Practice Institution Opinion' field—they've filled it in."
Two lines in that field, perfectly straight:
Approved for transfer.
Below that, a signature and date. The signature was just a surname with a horizontal dash after it; the date read July 17—today. A round stamp pressed over the name block, its edge brushing through to the back of the page.
"The seal." He Xiufen said.
"It's on the name block, not over the writing." The woman tilted the page. "It's fine."
She opened the blue-covered register, wrote a line, tore off a confirmation slip, stamped the ink pad, and pressed the square seal into the lower right corner.
"Read it."
"Document: Change of Practice Institution Registration, one item. Completion date: July 17. Handling: Membership Affairs Department."
"Next register." He Xiufen said. "I want to hear the roster entry."
"No objections filed during the public notice period." The woman opened another thick ledger, her fingertip pressing on a line. "As of today, his entry reads Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm."
[Thud. One more line in the roster.]
Shen Zhixia copied the confirmation slip's lines into her notebook. At "Completion date," her pen paused on the paper.
"What time did the form come in today."
"8:50." The woman said. "He came himself. Stood outside the counter waiting. I put the form in the basket and he left."
"During the notice period," He Xiufen asked, "did anyone ask about progress."
"Two phone calls. Asking what stage it was at."
"What did you tell them."
"By the book." The woman lifted her hand from the ledger. "I asked if he was an interested party. He said no."
"So nothing filed."
"Nothing."
"One more field." He Xiufen took half a step forward. "The intern at the firm—her supervising lawyer needs changing. Where does that get filed."
"Intern matters are fourth floor. We don't take them separately." She pointed upstairs. "Your firm changes the field on the registration form and submits it with the materials."
"So the change takes effect once it's submitted."
"Once your firm's seal is on it, it takes effect."
Out of the hall, He Xiufen stopped at the bottom of the steps.
"Today he has two names," she said. "One just landed on their roster. The other's still on the sheet in your hand. Someone else filled in the first one. The second one, you write yourself."
"I know how to write it."
"You know the box on the form has borders and lines." He Xiufen's eyes shifted to her face. "You've never weighed how heavy it is."
"How heavy."
"You write his name there, and every piece of paper you produce in this case from now on has him on it. You appear in court, the attending person is him. You submit materials, the signatory is him. You get asked a question on the fourth floor, the person standing next to you is him. The supervising lawyer field—underneath it sits joint liability. The moment he signs, he's wedged himself into this."
"He can choose not to sign."
"Don't say that to me." He Xiufen shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Say it to his face. And if he says he won't sign, then figure out that piece of paper yourself."
"No one else at the firm can sign."
"No one else can sign doesn't mean just anyone can."
* * *
4:30 in the afternoon, footsteps on the stairs.
Lu Jibai came up with his briefcase in his left hand, right hand empty. He scanned the pages on the desk first, then looked at He Xiufen.
"I've read the roster."
"I watched them flip through it on the first floor."
"Then hear this." He Xiufen pushed her tea mug to the corner of the desk and laid it out. "The supervising lawyer field—underneath it sits joint liability. You sign, and anything that happens during her internship falls half on you: court attendance records carry your name, materials are signed by you, fourth-floor questions mean you show up. The day you want out, no one's stopping you, but this page stays in the file where anyone can flip to it. Think it through before you set pen down."
He didn't reach for the pen.
"I've read Clause Three three times," he said. "A practicing lawyer of the law firm accepting the applicant, with no conflict of interest in the case. As of today, I qualify."
"Qualifying is one thing." He Xiufen said. "Being willing to carry it is another."
"I'll carry it."
"Saying 'carry it' is just words." He Xiufen pulled the handwritten statement from the file and spread it in front of him. "The paper needs a date."
She'd marked two places on that page two days ago—a horizontal strike through "conscientious" and through "responsible," the marks still visible. The opening line, "Practicing lawyer of Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm," had stuttered under her pen when written; today it read as fact.
He picked up the pen and signed in the signature block. Straight strokes, no cursive, the last stroke settling inside the box, date written July 17.
Shen Zhixia watched from the other side of the desk. She'd read this page end to end twice—two days ago she'd looked at the heading, today she looked at the name at the bottom.
"Should I recopy it," she asked. "The two strike-throughs..."
"Recopy it and no one can see it was amended." He set the pen down.
"Then it stays." He Xiufen said. "Whoever reads the page will want to see that the writing was corrected."
[Thud. This page now has two names on it.]
"Court attendance record." He Xiufen said. "That can be written today."
"How should I write it." Shen Zhixia smoothed out a blank sheet.
"Two kinds of paperwork: one needs his signature, the other needs his presence. Record clearly which court he appeared in."
"Write 'supervising lawyer in attendance.'"
"No." He Xiufen said. "Write 'attending person.' Both times he sat on the bench across from you. That's checkable. Don't pretty it up."
Shen Zhixia set her pen down:
Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm. Intern Shen Zhixia of this firm participated in handling the following cases and appeared in court twice. Attending person: Lu Jibai.
1. First hearing of the labor dispute case between twenty delivery riders and the platform. Attending person Lu Jibai, serving as opposing counsel in that case.
2. First hearing of the medical damage liability dispute. Attending person Lu Jibai, serving as opposing counsel in that case.
At the end of the second line, she paused.
"That parenthetical reads harsh."
"Harsh is correct." He Xiufen said. "The person who sat across from you knows best whether the other side faked anything. If he wrote a nice word for you, people would call it politeness. He writes this sentence, and people will keep listening."
The last field was left for him. Lu Jibai signed, date again July 17.
"Make three copies." He Xiufen said. "One goes to the fourth floor with the materials, one stays at the firm, one..." She glanced at him.
Shen Zhixia went downstairs to copy. When she came back up, the three pages were still warm. She handed him the top one.
He took it, folded it in half, then in half again, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
She'd seen him handle paper before. Judgments, court letters, cross-examination opinions—all went into the briefcase. This was the first time he put paper against his chest.
"Tomorrow on the fourth floor, one thing's certain to be asked." He Xiufen suddenly said. "Resigned on the 12th, transferred on the 17th. The two dates are too close."
"I've thought about it."
"How do you answer."
"Resignation date, form submission date, completion date. State each one plainly."
"Don't drag anyone else into it."
"I won't."
He Xiufen put the company seal back in the drawer and locked it.
* * *
6:40. The pot downstairs was going full steam. He Xiufen ate half a bowl and went upstairs first, leaving word: no leaving until he'd finished eating.
At the small table against the wall, two bowls of noodles sat side by side. At the next table, two delivery riders in work uniforms were listening to voice messages, group chat notifications dropping one after another: "Don't take tomorrow's order," "Rain's coming, roads are slick."
"This morning." She spoke first.
"Mm."
"How long did you stand outside that counter."
"Twenty minutes or so. They start work at 8:30."
"You stood there, waiting for someone to move your name from one firm to another."
He set his chopsticks on the rim of the bowl.
"Those three pages of the complaint—you knew before I did." She said.
He looked at her.
"About ten days earlier."
"When."
"Before the Bar Association even received it. Next to the copier in the firm's admin office, I saw those three pages."
"You saw them. You didn't say."
"I didn't."
"Why."
"Those ten-odd days, you had materials for two cases piled on your desk." He said. "If those three pages had reached your hands, you'd have had to finish that fight first, then turn around and fight the one in your own hands."
"That's a reason."
"It's a reason."
"You could've said this the day before yesterday too." She pushed her bowl half an inch to the side. "You texted me line after line until 11:30 at night, and not one word about those three pages."
He didn't answer.
"You were afraid I'd fall apart. I know that." She said. "That's not what I need to hear."
He lifted the bowl, took a sip of broth, set it down.
"Those three pages don't have my name on them," he said. "Tomorrow's page does. Until the name goes down, anything I say is just me pleading my own case."
[Thud. That half-sentence, he's saving for tomorrow.]
"After tomorrow, then what about that half-sentence."
"Said in full."
"Which half."
"As much as fits on paper."
She finished her last two bites of noodles but left the broth. On the stairs, she glanced back—he was still sitting there, pulling that folded page from his pocket, reading it once more.
* * *
Home just past nine. Tang Guo's two pages lay spread on the desk, pen resting on top. One side of the folder held three pages of money details, the other Tang Guo's own written statement.
She opened her notebook to the box for the 18th. The two lines were still there—one statement, one court attendance record. The empty line between them was the one she'd left two days ago.
She wrote into that empty line:
Supervising lawyer: Lu Jibai, effective July 17.
She read it over, then added a line below:
On the night of the 17th he said he'd seen those three complaint pages ten-odd days before I did. The rest, he said, tomorrow.
Tang Guo looked up from behind the fill light. "What time tomorrow."
"Nine."
"Are you going to sleep."
"Yes."
The light went dark with a twist. The pot downstairs had gone cold; the smell of scallion oil crept up through the window crack. She closed the notebook and pressed it into the folder—one box, his name on the top line, his unfinished words on the line below.