Read Novel Full Chapter 251: She Won't Sign
Chapter 251: She Won't Sign
Chen Maolin climbed the stairs carrying his own document bag. The noodle shop had no elevator, and a layer of dust clung to the tips of his leather shoes. The kraft envelope was unsealed; in his other hand he held a bronze-red ink pad case, its lid cracked open a sliver.
He stood just outside the doorframe, swept his eyes around the room, then settled his gaze on Shen Zhixia.
"Attorney Shen. Three pages. Not much."
Behind him stood another man—dark suit, hair neatly combed, a thin briefcase tucked under one arm. It was the lawyer who had only ever left the single character "Zhao." This time he'd put his full surname on business cards, handing over two. The front read Jiangzhou Jiahong Law Firm; the back carried a line of fine print: Entrusted by Jiangzhou Hengyue Capital Management Co., Ltd.
Shen Zhixia didn't rise. She nudged the case file on her desk an inch aside. "Sit."
He Xiufen came out from the inner room, reading glasses in hand.
Chen Maolin spread the three pages across the desk, edges aligned as neatly as a fanned deck of cards. The first page was the title, in bold Song typeface: Enforcement Settlement and Waiver of Enforcement Declaration. Party A was printed: Jiangzhou Hengyue Capital Management Co., Ltd. (performing on behalf of Jiangzhou Xingyao Culture Media Co., Ltd.). Party B was printed: Tang Guo. The second page held three clauses. The third page bore signature and date lines at the top—the date left blank, the signature line already printed with a name: Tang Guo. Evenly spaced. Typed.
[Thud. They've even typed her name for her, leaving only one blank space for her to put down a pen.]
Shen Zhixia pressed a fingertip to the corner of the page and read line by line. Clause Two, she read twice: From the date of signing, shall not, in any form, publish, upload, or commission others to publish any clarification, explanation, or comment related to this case. Clause Three, she read even more slowly: Within three days, delete all videos related to this case from all accounts under her name, and provide a Deletion Confirmation.
"The money," she said.
"Bottom of page two," Chen Maolin said.
A line of small print: Party A shall, within three days, make a one-time payment to Party B of RMB 155,400, comprising the judgment's awarded compensation of 55,400 and a one-time compensatory payment of 100,000.
"Which account does this money come from?"
"Hengyue Capital."
"The judgment's defendant column doesn't include Hengyue Capital."
Chen Maolin smiled faintly. "That's why it's called a settlement."
"A settlement means both sides give something up." Shen Zhixia pushed the papers back half an inch. "On this page, our side gives up three clauses. Your side gives up one transfer voucher."
"Plus a hundred thousand."
"I saw it." She said, "I also saw the last half of Clause Two—'related to this case.' Who decides that?"
"That depends on who says it first," Chen Maolin said.
He Xiufen put on her reading glasses and took the three pages, turning them one by one. When she reached the third page, she stopped, flipped it over, and laid it face down on the table—gently, like turning a face away.
"The name's already typed," she said.
"Miss Tang's name isn't hard to type," Chen Maolin said.
"Hard or not is another matter. Typing it means they don't intend to let her change it."
Lawyer Zhao spoke then, his voice low: "Director He, Attorney Shen, we're here to deliver papers, not to negotiate terms."
"People who deliver papers don't sign for receipts." Shen Zhixia said, "Attorney Zhao, I'll write the receipt shortly. Also, this document is for the Xingyao case, but the heading is Hengyue Capital. One firm, two principals. Noted."
"Our side has already sent notice."
"Notice or not, it's still two," she said.
The inner room's door opened. Tang Guo came out, no phone, no livestream light. She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, reached over, and flipped that third page back over, facing herself.
She read more slowly than Shen Zhixia. When she finished, she pushed the page forward half an inch.
"Clause Three says I delete everything. What guarantee do you give that those accounts won't keep spreading it?"
Chen Maolin rested both hands on the table's edge. "Attorney Shen should have taught you—that kind of guarantee can't be written onto paper."
"Then who is this paper for?"
"You." Chen Maolin said. "155,400, in your account within three days. That's more than you'd save filming videos for three months."
Tang Guo raised her eyes. "Then I'll film for a fourth month."
The room went quiet for a beat. He Xiufen pressed her hand flat on the table and said nothing.
Chen Maolin shifted his posture, lowering his voice a notch: "Miss Tang, Chairman Qin's meaning is that this matter ends here. The judgment money will be paid, plus an extra sum. And regarding your brother's schooling—don't make your family worry about that too."
"I'm writing that down." Shen Zhixia's hand was already on the case file. "Verbatim."
"Write it down. I didn't say anything."
[Thud. Judgment not yet in effect. This entry remains temporarily uncounted.]
"I won't sign." Tang Guo said, her voice quiet, not raised. "I don't want a cent. The videos get deleted properly, and the name gets returned."
"Miss Tang, think it over." Chen Maolin squared the three pages and pushed them forward. "Before September 10th, this paper remains valid."
"Mr. Chen." He Xiufen removed her reading glasses, folded the arms, and set them on the corner of the desk. "We'll accept these three pages."
"Acceptance is a statement in itself."
"Accepting is accepting. Signing is signing." She stacked the three pages and tapped the edges square against the desk. "We've always kept those two things separate."
"Then I'd ask Director He for a written reply."
"You'll get one." He Xiufen said. "Stating clearly what was received and what wasn't signed. Mailed to you."
Shen Zhixia wrote the receipt on the spot, a single line: Received three pages of the Enforcement Settlement and Waiver of Enforcement Declaration, delivered in person by Mr. Chen Maolin, time of delivery 10:07 a.m., August 31st. She wrote no "agree," no "negotiate," no "reply after receipt." When done, she pushed the paper across.
Chen Maolin glanced at it and didn't take it. "Keep that."
"Then I'll keep the original and log the reference number."
Lawyer Zhao snapped his briefcase shut, the clasp clicking once. Before leaving, he still left one business card on the corner of the desk: "If you have any thoughts, we can communicate at any time."
"Communication goes on paper," Shen Zhixia said.
Chen Maolin reached the doorway and stuffed the ink pad case into his pocket. Left on the desk was a blank sheet of paper—his test stamp from when he'd entered: a round seal, the red circle complete, a small section missing from the lower right.
He Xiufen pinched the paper's corner between two fingers and turned it against the window light. "The gap is clean—not chipped." She set it down. "A test impression is still paper. Keep it."
The blank sheet went between the three pages, and all of it went into the metal cabinet in the inner room.
The moment the cabinet door opened, cold air mixed with the smell of old paper rushed out. Two rows of clips inside; on the left, a stack of photocopies was pressed flat—the settlement statement left by that Xingyao editing girl from two years ago, the paper edges already curling. He Xiufen used a pencil to write in the lower right corner of the back of the three pages: 0831-01, received, unsigned. She added another line: Two deliverers, one a practicing lawyer from Jiahong Firm.
"Sooner or later, every sheet in this cabinet comes out together." She pushed the door shut; the lock catch clicked.
Back at the desk, Shen Zhixia pulled out a blank sheet and did the math for Tang Guo. The judgment awarded 55,400 in compensation; the platform bore 10,000 within joint liability. The additional 100,000 fine against Xingyao went to the court's account and had nothing to do with Tang Guo's passbook. The other side was offering 155,400—100,000 above the judgment. She drew a line after that "100,000," and below the line wrote only five words: In exchange for three no's.
"A hundred thousand to shut me up for life?" Tang Guo leaned in.
"Until after September 10th, when all you'd have left in hand is a receipt you wrote yourself." Shen Zhixia folded the paper twice and slipped it into the back of the case file. "Sign it, and the enforcement case never gets off the ground. Those words in the judgment—'from the date of effectiveness'—would have nowhere to bite."
Tang Guo took the pencil, drew an X over that "100,000," and wrote two words beside it: Not selling.
That evening they went downstairs for noodles. The scallion oil hit first. Lu Jibai was already seated at the wall table, two bowls of noodles before him, one untouched. He pushed the vinegar toward her before speaking. "Two things to check on the 5th—remember?"
"Whether the administrative review was filed, whether the money came in."
"Right. The fine can't go into Tang Guo's account, but it's a timer." He pushed the untouched bowl aside, the noodles already congealed. "Those three pages today—did Tang Guo come out and say it herself?"
"She came out on her own."
"Good."
"Good how?"
"The name is hers, so the refusal has to be hers too." He looked up at her. "You didn't say one extra soft word today. That's enough."
On the inner corner of the table, a palm-sized smear of ink paste remained. He pressed a napkin over it twice; it didn't lift. He folded the napkin and set it down, didn't press again.
Tang Guo called from upstairs: "Attorney Lu, draft six of my script—do you want to see it?"
"I'll look at draft seven." He replied. "That video is the one thing in this case no one else can post for her."
At 9:40, her phone buzzed on the desk. The caller ID was a number from the school.
"Sis."
Shen Zhi'an's voice was kept very low, as if afraid someone nearby might hear.
"Before evening study hall today, Qin Hao and two others cornered Xu Qing at the stairwell on the east end of the third floor. One of them was holding up—"
"Slow down. Holding up what?"
"A phone, recording. Qin Hao told her to say one line—'I spread rumors in class, I apologize to Qin Hao'—fifteen seconds. After recording, he also wanted her to delete that voice memo from her phone on the spot." He took a breath. "Last week Xu Qing gave the homeroom teacher his abusive voice memo. He had to stand in the office for a whole period."
"Did she say it?"
"She didn't. Qin Hao said they'd do it again tomorrow at noon, outside the cafeteria." Shen Zhi'an paused. "I pulled her away. He shoved me once. I didn't hit back. Sis, I held it in."
"You did the right thing." Shen Zhixia pushed the case file aside. "Now, a few things—listen carefully. First thing tomorrow, go to the homeroom teacher, write up today's incident as a written statement for the school, have the teacher sign for receipt, and keep a photo of your own copy. Store that voice memo in two places—only give the teacher a copy. Keep the original. That camera at the east stairwell on the third floor—photograph it tomorrow during the day. Frame it together with the class placard on the wall and the hallway clock."
"Should we call the police?"
"Tomorrow, when school staff are present. You go with Xu Qing and both of you speak. If they corner anyone again, dial 110 on the spot." She paused half a second. "Don't lift a single finger. Don't cuss in any group chat. Don't let Xu Qing walk alone after dark."
"Got it." He hesitated. "Sis, is Qin Hao... from that family?"
"Write down his name and class. Send them to me."
"Okay."
After the call, Tang Guo looked up from the glow of her screen: "They're even using high schoolers now."
Shen Zhixia opened the police report notebook, started a fresh page, and wrote at the top: August 31st, school corridor. Flipping back one page was the August 30th address change slip; one page before that, three photos of a car with plates ending 731. With the three pages spread open, she slid her finger from the far-left page to the far-right.
[Thud. Same surname, two doorways.]
"Two threads," Tang Guo said.
"One downstairs, one in the school."
She picked up her phone and sent Zhou Yu two lines: Someone got cornered in the corridor and filmed. Name's Qin Hao, Zhi'an's school. Sent. The screen showed three words—Sent.
Past ten, the roll-up shutter downstairs was half lowered. The car across the street was still parked there, plates ending 731, no lights inside, only the faint glow of a phone screen behind the glass.