Read Novel Full Chapter 236: The Messenger
Chapter 236: The Messenger
That statement took her three drafts.
The first ran four pages. The second, she cut to two. On the third, as she finished, she crossed out the words "in summary" at the top of the final section—once those two words landed, the columns above stopped being boxes on a page and became her own account.
The first line of the statement gave the source: the materials listed here were obtained on July 23, against a case acceptance receipt, from the archives window of the Jiangzhou Municipal Market Regulation Bureau, ten pages in total, each page bearing a perforation seal in the lower right corner.
Below that, three lines. One matter per line.
1. On page five of Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd.'s "Company Registration (Filing) Application" dated June 20, 2026, in the two fields marked "Applicant's Signature" and "Handling Person's Signature," there is one handwritten signature in each field.
2. On page six of the same document, in the "Agent's Signature" field of the "Certificate of Designated Representative or Jointly Entrusted Agent," there is one handwritten signature.
3. The three signatures above are consistent in stroke movement, connecting strokes, and pen pressure.
She read it over after writing. The three lines contained no "therefore," and she did not state who the three names on the page belonged to—the names were on the paper. Let the other side explain them.
The next page was Hao Qiuchi's. Two items: one signature in the lower right corner of Dingchang's quotation sheet, and one signature on Xingyao's 2022 settlement form for the editor. At the bottom of the page she wrote: the two signatures are consistent in form; the appraisal opinion shall prevail.
He Xiufen put on her reading glasses, read both pages through, and tapped the tip of her red pen on the phrase "consistent in form."
"Don't staple the two pages together," she said. "One statement, one matter. Staple them together and he can open his mouth and say: you can't even tell which hand is which, and you're talking about stroke movement?"
"So I file them separately?"
"Two separate sheets." He Xiufen pushed her glasses up. "One for the police station. One for the public security bureau and the procuratorate. The first one covers threats, harassment, and spreading private information. The second covers personal information, forgery, and defamation. Same stack of material, two framings. Both sides have to take it."
[Thud. Paper filed in two places, so people can be questioned in two places.]
Shen Zhixia wrote the checklist at the top of the second sheet. Three new items added: the phone call at 9:17 p.m. on July 20—two recordings, the call detail record, and a one-page account of the call; the letter Jiahong Law Firm delivered on Xingyao's behalf on July 21—two pages, one round seal, one surname; the notarized certificate and lab submission receipt for the deepfake video. Then another line for the existing items: the group chat targeting her door, the print shop inquiries, the reference number on the for-sale sheet, the photo of her door, and the white envelope with no return address.
He Xiufen read it over and capped her red pen.
"One thing missing."
"What?"
"It's not evening yet." She said, "File first. If something else comes tonight, add it then."
At two that afternoon, the steps outside the District Procuratorate were bleached white by the sun.
Zhou Yu spread the two sheets on the desk. He read the first, then the second, then pulled a pen from the holder.
"The public security one goes to the police station," he said. "Repeated messages disrupting another person's normal life, threatening personal safety, spreading private information—none of these require waiting for something big to happen. The station accepts the report, tracks the person down, fines what needs fining, detains what needs detaining."
"What if they can't find him?"
"If they can't find him, the paper stays on file." He drew a check mark in the corner. "This item asks: 'Did he do these things?' Who he is—that's a separate item."
"What about the criminal one?"
"The infringement of citizens' personal information—you have enough for that." His pen tapped the line on the checklist. "The account that sold the list is the key. Whether it clears the filing threshold depends on the number of entries, the number of transactions, how much money he made. The paper isn't lacking. What's lacking is the pair of hands."
"The station is looking into that account."
"Then push them." He squared the two sheets. "And there's another one: defamation. The video of Tang Guo—the usual route is private prosecution. You file at court yourselves, present your own evidence."
"She's already filed."
"I mean the criminal side." Zhou Yu leaned back. "That road is rough. Unless it rises to seriously disrupting social order, the public security bureau won't take it. She's a public account—how many views, how many shares, how many people piled on, how many times she was forced to move. Put all of it on paper, one number at a time. Don't write 'bad influence.' Write numbers."
"I have the numbers."
"Make a table." He said, "Anything that can be filed before trial, file it. Once it's in, he owes the court an explanation."
He turned the first sheet over and read the line on the back: "the three signatures above." Then he looked up.
"This statement—I'll register a copy here." He said, "You wrote the fields and not the conclusion. That's right. Stroke movement—the paper's in your hands, and whether it's recognizable is a matter for handwriting examination. If you jump to the conclusion first, one 'that's not his signature' from him and your whole sentence is hanging in midair."
"The paper only records what's visible."
"As long as you remember that." He slid the papers back. "Give me Guo Jianping's number."
She recited it. He copied it into his notebook and clicked the pen shut.
"If he ever gets too scared to show up, I'll know how to find him."
"He won't."
"That he's willing to come is his own nerve." Zhou Yu said, "What you've prepared for him is paper, not nerve." He paused. "The companies above Hengyue—I can't reach that far. If you're filing upward, file where it belongs. I'll watch the door on the filing route for you. Other routes, I won't open."
[Thud. A report is about the matter. To arrest someone, you need a name first.]
She left the procuratorate at three thirty and turned toward the police station. The officer behind the duty desk flipped through the checklist page by page, ticked the lower right corner when he finished, and pulled out a receipt slip with the acceptance date, number of documents, and recipient written on it. He tore it off and handed it to her.
"We'll verify those two accounts," he said. "Leave the letter. Take the rest back."
"I'll bring another copy of the letter tomorrow."
"Bring the original with it."
At five forty, the noodle shop downstairs opened for dinner. Her phone buzzed—a voice message popped up in the rider group. Ma Jianjun said he'd come early on August 12 and sit in the back row.
She listened and replied: line up for the gallery yourself. If you don't get in, don't blame me.
The reply came back "got it." He Xiufen called up from the stairwell: "Tell them to come half an hour early. Security screening is slow."
A little after six, Guo Jianping came upstairs.
Canvas bag slung cross-body, an envelope in his hand. He stopped at the door without coming in.
"Lawyer Shen, someone came looking for me this morning."
"Where?"
"Near Wenchang Road, where I shoot." He set the envelope on the edge of the desk, his hand still on it. "A guy, around thirty, short-sleeved shirt. He said: put the upcoming schedule on pause for now. He also said: we'll issue you an official copy of that settlement form, and you give us your copy back."
"What did you say?"
"I said that form was my own duplicate." Guo Jianping licked his lips. "He smiled and didn't say anything else. Around four, the gatehouse guy passed this to my wife."
The envelope bore Xingyao's letterhead. No stamp, no postmark, no return address. Inside, one page, two lines. The first line said: upon review, you retained and provided to third parties our company's materials without consent, and this company reserves the right to pursue legal liability. The second line said: effective immediately, this company and its affiliates suspend all cooperation with you.
Guo Jianping pressed the paper flat on the desk, his fingers leaving a white mark.
"My wife asked if this letter means they're suing me."
"They're not." Shen Zhixia said, "If they were, they'd file directly with the court. They wouldn't shove it into a gatehouse."
He Xiufen turned the envelope over, looked at it twice, then checked the back.
"No postmark," she said. "Gatehouse delivery is faster than the post office. And cleaner."
"Director He, my work..." Guo Jianping rubbed his hands on his knees. "Almost half my year's income comes from them."
"Suspending your work—what they fear isn't the paper in your hand." He Xiufen said, "What they fear is you standing in the witness box on trial day saying one sentence: the work was assigned by Xingyao, the money came from Dingchang."
"There's not a word in that letter asking him to change his story." Shen Zhixia said.
"They don't need him to change it." Lu Jibai had appeared beside the desk at some point, the glass in his hand long gone cold. "They just need him to hand the form back. The letter says 'retained and provided without authorization.' It's aimed at the person, not the case."
"So I reply?"
"Don't." He Xiufen said, "Reply once and you've walked across to face him. You do one thing only: show up on trial day."
"I'll be there." Guo Jianping said. He folded the paper back into the envelope, folded the envelope twice more, and tucked it into the deepest layer of his canvas bag.
Shen Zhixia slid a page toward him: "Write down what happened today. What time and where you ran into him, his exact words, unchanged; who took the envelope, what time. Sign your name when you're done."
He wrote slowly, stroke by stroke. When he reached the words "settlement form," he stopped and looked up at her.
"Lawyer Shen, my original..."
"It's locked up." She said, "Bring it on trial day. Hand it over in court."
She logged the letter on a separate line: add to the police station checklist tomorrow. What it proved was a small thing—someone didn't want him talking.
At five past seven, someone downstairs called up asking which floor Zhengping Law Firm was on.
A man around thirty came up, white short-sleeved shirt, both hands empty. He stood at the top of the stairs, didn't approach the desk, didn't sit.
"Which one is Lawyer Shen?"
"That's me." Shen Zhixia didn't get up.
"I'm here to pass along a message from Chairman Qin."
"Which Chairman Qin."
"When you write it down," he said, "write the one you already know."
"Name."
"The name isn't important."
He Xiufen untied her apron and draped it over the chair back, then walked over: "Who are you speaking for?"
"For Chairman Qin." Still smiling. "Chairman Qin says: no paper needed."
He delivered it. Three sentences, no pause between them, his voice never rising.
"The video matter—if Miss Tang withdraws, it never happened."
"Trial's in two weeks."
"If you insist on going to court—Chairman Qin says, there's another account besides this case."
Then he turned and went downstairs. His footsteps faded out after the second floor.
Lu Jibai walked to the window, pulled out his phone, stood behind the glass for a while, then came back and pressed the screen dark.
"A silver minibus is parked downstairs," he said. "I got the plate."
[Thud. A messenger who gives no name—the words are just words.]
"Write it down today." He Xiufen moved the lamp closer across the desk. "Those three sentences you remember—if you write them today, they're a record. Write them tomorrow, they're a memory."
She wrote from memory. Three sentences, all in quotation marks, not a word changed. When she reached the word "withdraws," He Xiufen pointed.
"The original wording stays as it is." She said, "That 'withdraw' is his word. Don't explain it for him, don't amend it."
She started a new line: the visitor claimed to be passing along a message on behalf of "Chairman Qin," left no name, no affiliation, no written material of any kind; remained in the office approximately three minutes; a vehicle arrived with the visitor, plate number recorded separately.
Tang Guo stood up from under the lamp then. She flipped her phone face down on the desk and wiped her palms on her pants.
"If he wants me to withdraw," she said, "he can come upstairs and say it himself."
She grabbed the marker and re-traced the sticky note on the base of the lamp. The paper's edges had yellowed from the bulb's heat. The three characters "I Won't Withdraw" came out thicker than before.
He Xiufen flipped the desk calendar to August and tapped the twelfth with the end of her pen. Written in that box: 9:00 a.m., court hearing.
"'Another account besides this case.'" Tang Guo repeated the line.
Shen Zhixia set down her pen.
"That account," she said, "was already mentioned in the complaint filed at the police station."