Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 242: Our Company Has Sealed It



Chapter 242: Our Company Has Sealed It



The courtroom was at the east end of the third floor. The door swung open, and cold air carrying the smell of old wood rushed out. Materials lay spread across the long table, their edges worn soft from handling.


Guo Jianping sat on the bench in the corridor, his old jacket folded on his knees. He gave her a nod when he saw her but didn't get up. Witnesses weren't allowed in to hear the proceedings.


Shen Zhixia went in first and placed the "Court" binder on the plaintiff's bench. Seven or eight people sat in the gallery; the first row was empty. He Xiufen sat in the last row against the wall, her red pen resting sideways across her lap.


The court clerk tapped the microphone, and a hiss crackled through the speaker.


"Plaintiff Tang Guo and her authorized representatives."


Shen Zhixia stood.


"Lawyer Shen Zhixia, Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm."


Her voice was steady. She'd practiced these words the night before, and by the third run-through she no longer needed to glance down at the Power of Attorney.


Lu Jibai rose beside her. "Lawyer Lu Jibai, Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm."


The presiding judge was in his fifties and turned pages slowly. He read out the cause of action and the trial format, then asked both sides whether they wished to apply for recusal of the collegial panel or the court clerk. Three people sat on the panel; the other two never spoke throughout, only taking notes.


"No application," Shen Zhixia said.


"No application," Lawyer Zhao said.


Xingyao's side was represented by Lawyer Zhao from Jiahong Law Firm—dark suit, hair neatly combed, papers snapping crisply as he pulled them from his bag. The platform's representative was a man in his early thirties. He stood and stated his name in a low voice, then took the seat on the other side of Lawyer Zhao. A row of colored tabs lined the edge of his notebook.


"Has the plaintiff appeared in person?"


"Yes, I'm here," Tang Guo answered.


Shen Zhixia glanced over. She sat ramrod straight, one hand pressing down on her phone at the table's edge, the other resting on her knee. The pale yellow sticky note on her bag strap faced upward, three words: I didn't withdraw.


"Plaintiff, state your claims."


She picked up the page.


"One: order both defendants to immediately delete the videos in question and cease dissemination. Two: order both defendants to publicly apologize on the relevant platforms and eliminate the impact. Three: order both defendants to compensate the plaintiff for her losses and reasonable expenses incurred in protecting her rights. Four: all litigation costs to be borne by both defendants."


He Xiufen had revised these four items sentence by sentence. "Malicious," "organized," "the mastermind behind it"—all struck through in red ink, leaving only actions and money. She read at a measured pace. Each claim drew a stroke of the panel's pens. When she reached the last item, she heard Tang Guo's breathing slow beside her.


"Defendants, state your defense."


Lawyer Zhao opened his thin briefcase.


"First, the videos in question were neither produced nor published by Xingyao. Second, the materials our company used were acquired from an external source and have no direct connection to the alleged infringement. Third, upon receiving the relevant notice, our company fulfilled its reasonable review obligations." He slid a page back into the stack. "We ask the court to dismiss the plaintiff's claims against Xingyao."


He then produced two more pages and handed them to the clerk: "These are the Supplementary Statement our side submitted this morning, along with a written objection. We ask the court to accept both into the record."


The presiding judge flipped through them and had the clerk file them, then looked up at her. "Any objection from the plaintiff?"


"The Supplementary Statement—the plaintiff will address it during evidence presentation," Shen Zhixia said. "The objection—the plaintiff will respond after evidence presentation."


"Entered into the record."


"Acquired from an external source." She drew a line under those five words in her notebook and said nothing.


The platform's representative spoke for only one passage: the videos in question had already been dealt with after notice was received, the platform had fulfilled its obligations, and it bore no joint liability. He read while looking at his notebook, closed it when he finished, and folded his hands together.


"Does the plaintiff have a response to the platform's defense?" the presiding judge asked.


"Yes," Shen Zhixia said. "The plaintiff will address it during evidence presentation."


"Plaintiff, present your evidence."


She pulled a page from the binder and stood.


"The plaintiff begins with a document written by the defendant itself."


"Which one?"


"The letter issued by the defendant company on July fourteenth."


The presiding judge turned to the defense bench. "Does the defendant authenticate this document?"


Lawyer Zhao answered quickly. "Our company issued it."


"Authenticity accepted?"


"Accepted."


Shen Zhixia laid the page flat in the center of the table, smoothing its corners. In the lower right corner was a small line—the date and time Zhengping Firm had stamped when the document was received. In the second paragraph of the body text, she had made three tiny pencil dots along the margin the night before.


She looked up.


"Presiding Judge, the plaintiff requests to read it aloud in court."


"Proceed."


[Thud. Read it out. What's written down can't be denied.]


She began from the first line. She read slowly, letting each word fall into the record. Midway through, she paused.


"'It was purchased by our company in late May from an individual, Wu Jianchuan.'"


The courtroom went still for half a beat. The clerk's pen scratched across the page.


"'Our company has, in accordance with internal procedures... sealed it.'"


"Slow down," the presiding judge said to the clerk. "Record it verbatim."


She read it again. When she finished, she pushed the page forward half an inch. In the last row of the gallery, He Xiufen's red pen still lay across her knees, cap on. She hadn't written a single word.


"The defendant's defense just now claimed the videos have no direct connection to Xingyao."


Lawyer Zhao watched her.


"But this page was written by the defendant itself. And this morning, the defendant submitted a Supplementary Statement bearing the same name." She said, "For something that has nothing to do with you, you 'sealed it'—which copy was sealed, who sealed it, and where is it."


[Thud. When he said "no connection," the paper was still in his own hands.]


Lawyer Zhao pressed a finger against the edge of his papers.


"Sealing is an internal company matter and irrelevant to whether infringement occurred. That page was merely provided as a supplementary explanation."


"A supplementary explanation." Shen Zhixia repeated it. "Then let the plaintiff ask one more question—when the defendant wrote 'sealed it' in the letter, did it mean sealed away never to be used again, or sealed away for the record?"


"That is irrelevant to this case."


"What the defendant means is: the video had already been posted, and yet the letter still carries the words 'sealed it.'" She said, "So those four words—who were they written for?"


A muscle moved at Lawyer Zhao's temple.


"The issuance date of this document—please confirm it in court."


"July fourteenth. Our company accepts that."


"Good." She turned to the presiding judge. "The plaintiff requests verification against the Proof of Service in the court file."


The presiding judge flipped through the pages, found it, and read aloud: "This court served the complaint and evidence materials upon the defendant, Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd., on July fourteenth. Time of signature: July fourteenth, 9:05 a.m."


"Does the defendant have any objection to the Proof of Service in the file?"


"No objection," Lawyer Zhao said.


"This letter was sent to the plaintiff's representative's email at 10:20 that same morning," Shen Zhixia said. "Zhengping Firm's receipt registry entry has already been submitted as evidence."


Lawyer Zhao flipped a page. "Zhengping Firm's registry is written by the plaintiff's own side. It doesn't prove when our company sent the letter."


"What it proves is when it was received," Shen Zhixia said. "And the date on the letter itself is also July fourteenth. Does the defendant wish to retract its confirmation of the issuance date just now?"


Lawyer Zhao didn't answer that.


When she finished, the presiding judge asked, "What is the plaintiff's purpose in presenting this document?"


"Three points." She said, "One: the defendant acknowledges this page was issued by itself, and the letter states the materials were in its possession and sealed by it. Two: this letter was issued after this court's service. Three: the defendant's defense today contradicts the words it wrote itself."


The presiding judge wrote two lines into the record. The other two panel members wrote as well.


"Service first, letter after," Shen Zhixia said. "A little over an hour in between."


"Which means the words 'sealed it' were only written down after the defendant received the complaint."


This time Lawyer Zhao didn't answer immediately. He turned the page over, then back, scraping a fingernail along its edge.


"The materials were provided by an outside individual, surnamed Wu," he said. "That person is now unreachable. Xingyao is merely the user, and there was no knowing intent."


[Thud. The words "outside individual" have entered the record.]


"An outside individual." Shen Zhixia nodded. "Then let the defendant explain in court—this person's full name, contact information, which account the payment to him went through, where the materials are sealed, who handled the sealing, and on what date."


"These details require post-hearing verification. We will provide them to the court in writing."


"The defendant cannot answer today."


"Evidence must be submitted after verification. The plaintiff cannot use a single unverified inquiry to pressure our company into answering in court."


"The plaintiff is not asking about details," she said. "The defendant itself wrote 'sealed it' in its own letter. Who wrote those four words down, and who handled sealing that batch of materials—the company can find out with one internal question. That requires no verification."


The presiding judge tapped the edge of the bench. "Defendant: if you can answer in court, answer in court. If you cannot, submit a written explanation after the hearing along with your reasons."


"I've answered everything I can answer in court," Lawyer Zhao said.


The courtroom fell quiet. The clerk's pen stopped on the page. At the plaintiff's bench, Tang Guo's hand pressed down on her phone a little harder.


Shen Zhixia didn't push. That was exactly the sentence she wanted—since the night before, that reply letter had been sitting at the very bottom of the binder.


Under the table, Lu Jibai slid over a photocopied page. A pencil line marked the bottom margin, and below it was a line from an analogous case: A document issued by a party itself is that party's own words.


She glanced at it, pressed down the corner, and stood.


"The defendant is willing to verify after the hearing. The plaintiff won't wait."


The presiding judge looked up at her. "What does the plaintiff intend?"


"The plaintiff requests to present a piece of evidence."


"Which one?"


"The reply letter from this court's inquiry, obtained pursuant to the plaintiff's application, to the bank of Jiangzhou Dingchang Culture Media Co., Ltd. The reply is already in the court file."


Lawyer Zhao's hand froze on his briefcase zipper. He half rose from his chair.


"The defendant objects to the relevance of that reply letter," he said. "The dealings between our company and Dingchang have nothing to do with this—"


"Objections may be raised in writing after the hearing," the presiding judge said, setting down his pen. "The plaintiff has applied to present it. Granted. Present it."


Lawyer Zhao straightened up, both hands braced on the table's edge. Someone in the gallery shifted in their chair.


She pulled out the page, face up, and pushed it to the edge of the table.


"This page requires no post-hearing verification," she said. "The person the defendant mentioned—the plaintiff didn't go looking for him by phone."


She paused, aligning the paper.


"The plaintiff went looking at the books."



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