Read Novel Full Chapter 260: The Guarantor Line
Chapter 260: The Guarantor Line
At three in the afternoon, the door on the second floor of Chengdong Police Station opened a crack from the inside.
A police officer stuck half his face out and checked the hallway first. "Three of you?"
"Three." Lu Jibai stood up from the bench by the window.
"Defense counsel waits outside." The officer pushed the door open half a foot. "The guardian comes in for this part."
Shen Zhixia tucked the file envelope under her arm and followed Zhi'an inside. The room was the same one from that morning. The stack of papers on the desk had been tidied, clearing space. The printer sat in the corner, the smell of warm toner still hanging in the air.
"Have a seat." The officer grabbed a binder and headed out. "The forms just printed. Another page is still coming."
At 3:20, the officer returned with two sheets, still warm to the touch. He smoothed out the top one, running his finger along the crease twice.
"Shen Zhi'an. Decision on Release on Guarantee Pending Trial. I'll read it aloud. You listen."
Zhi'an placed both hands on his knees.
"Suspect Shen Zhi'an, suspected of intentional injury. The branch has decided on release on guarantee pending trial, with a guarantor, for a period of twelve months, commencing September 23, 2026."
"What does twelve months mean?" Zhi'an asked.
"It means you stay in this city for twelve months. When you're called in, you show up. If the case isn't wrapped up by then, the handling unit either files another order or withdraws this page."
"And after that?"
"What comes after isn't for this room." The officer set down his pen. "Listen to the second one."
He flipped to the page underneath and read it more slowly than the first.
"The decision also orders the released person not to meet or communicate with the following individuals: Qin Hao. Xu Qing."
Zhi'an's hands went still on his knees. He pulled the page closer, his eyes moving back and forth across those two lines.
"Just two."
"The list travels with the case file." The officer laid the paper flat. "Additions later get a new page. You'll be notified if that happens."
"Xu Qing counts?"
"She's a witness in this case."
"She's my classmate."
"The word 'witness' doesn't care if you're classmates." The officer looked at him. "She was there that day. She saw what happened. She's a witness."
"So I can't even talk to her."
"Not about this matter. No calls, no messages, no passing word through someone else. If you cross paths at school, a nod and keep walking. Don't stand around. Don't ask her what she told the police station."
"What if she asks me something in class?"
"Then you answer: 'I can't talk about this.'"
Zhi'an shut his mouth.
Shen Zhixia's fingernail pressed a white groove into the edge of the file envelope. She sat without a word. He Xiufen's three rules had pressed for four days. Today they pressed a different way—onto paper.
"Now the guarantor." The officer turned to her. "Four conditions. Answer them one by one. First: did you participate in any part of this matter?"
"No."
"Second: do you have the ability to fulfill the role? Where do you live, what do you do?"
"I live in Jiangzhou. I practice at Zhengping Law Firm. I have a salary."
"Third: have you ever been stripped of political rights? Is your personal freedom restricted in any way?"
"No."
"Fourth: are you connected to this case?"
"I'm his older sister."
"I'm not asking what your relationship is." The officer raised his eyes. "I'm asking whether you were involved in this."
She exhaled. "No."
"Good. A close relative serving as guarantor isn't prohibited. As guardian, you're all the more suitable."
He pulled a page from the bottom of the stack—one line of blanks on it, with three characters printed above the line: Guarantor.
"Read it over. Ask if anything's unclear."
She picked it up and read aloud, line by line. At the third line, she stopped.
"If the released person violates any condition, and the guarantor fails to report it in a timely manner, the guarantor may be fined; if the failure constitutes a crime, criminal liability shall be pursued according to law."
She read that line again, quieter than before.
"How much is the fine?" Zhi'an asked.
"There are rules. If your sister wants to calculate it, she can." The officer capped his pen. "I'll say one thing: the name on this line isn't his."
The room went still for two seconds.
"I'll sign," she said.
The officer slid the pen over.
She wrote her name. The first character came down fast. The second slowed by half a beat. On the final stroke of the third, the pen tip hesitated on the paper, leaving a small dot darker than the rest. Then the date: September 23, 2026.
"Thumbprint."
She pressed her thumb into the ink pad and set it beside her name, holding it for two seconds before lifting.
The paper was drawn from her hand, its edge brushing her fingertip.
"The original guarantor statement goes into the case file." The officer squared the page. "If you want a copy, I'll make one."
"I do."
"Fine." He slid the decision over to Zhi'an. "This copy is for you. Does the guardian want one?"
"Yes."
"I'll copy them together."
Then he placed the last sheet in front of Zhi'an.
"Notice of Obligations for Person Released on Guarantee. Keep this page. Don't fold it. Read it."
Zhi'an read slowly, line by line.
"One: shall not leave the city or county of residence without approval from the enforcement organ."
"School's within the city. Attending school isn't leaving. Going outside the city requires approval first." The officer added, "If your number changes or you move, report within twenty-four hours."
Zhi'an finished the second item. The officer nodded, no further comment.
"Three: appear promptly when summoned."
"Come when you're called. Whatever time you're called, you come."
"Even in the middle of the night?"
"Even in the middle of the night."
Zhi'an lifted the paper slightly.
"Four: shall not interfere with witness testimony in any form. Shall not meet or communicate with the victim or witnesses in this case."
"That's the two names from before."
"Five: shall not destroy or fabricate evidence or collude on testimony."
"The papers in this room—don't touch a single word." The officer pressed his palm flat on the desk. "What's on your phone: no deleting, no adding."
"I haven't deleted anything."
"Then keep it that way."
Zhi'an signed his name at the bottom, wrote the date, and pressed his thumb beside it.
[Thud. Two names on the list. The back of the page is still blank.]
At 3:52, in the hallway.
The officer fed the pages into the copier. The machine rumbled and spat out a warm sheet.
"Decision: one for the subject, one for the guardian. Guarantor statement: one retained copy for you." He flattened each one. "As defense counsel, you're entitled to know the charge and the compulsory measures. I'll make you a copy too. Sign the register."
Lu Jibai wrote his name, his firm, and the date in the logbook at the duty desk.
At the bottom of the copy, the officer jotted: September 23, 15:20, signed and received by Shen Zhi'an, Shen Zhixia. Then he signed.
"One thing missing," Lu Jibai said.
"What's that?"
"The exact time this page takes effect. Write it on the paper, and I won't have to keep track myself."
The officer glanced at him, then added three more characters: read aloud in person. That done, he tucked the folder under his arm and headed upstairs.
Lu Jibai stood by the window at the end of the hallway, reading line by line down to the bottom, pausing at those two names.
"The list can still grow," he said.
"Until it does, those other two don't exist on paper." He flipped the page over, back side up. "You need a sheet with four names on it."
"Four days." She switched the envelope to her other hand. "On the night of the nineteenth, you asked for three things here. The third was a written notice for the guardian. He only said he'd remember."
"Four days." He folded the paper in half.
"Is this page useful now?"
"Not now." He made the second fold, perfectly even. "The day they want to lock him up, they'll have to flip this page over first. What's written here is that release on guarantee presents no social danger. They wrote it."
"What if they find another reason?"
"Another reason still means flipping this page first." He slid the folded paper into the innermost pocket of his folder. "This copy doesn't go in your envelope."
"Why not?"
"Two envelopes. Lose one, one remains."
Shen Zhixia looked down and opened the mouth of her file envelope. Four new documents today. She ordered them by date, at the back. On the copy of the guarantor statement, the signature line was pale gray, the strokes lighter than the original. In "Shen Zhixia," the heavy dot at the end of the last stroke had reproduced too.
She turned the page over and tucked it at the very bottom.
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
"No."
"Seven o'clock, upstairs. Director He's making noodles."
"Seven. I'll be there."
At seven, second floor of the Zhengping Firm.
The exhaust fan hummed downstairs, and the smell of scallion oil drifted up the stairwell. He Xiufen brought up four bowls of noodles: one with an extra poached egg, placed in front of Zhi'an; one without cilantro, placed in Lu Jibai's hands; her own bowl went at the corner of the table, chopsticks stuck in, untouched.
"Where's the paperwork?" she asked.
Shen Zhixia spread three pages on the table: the decision, the copy of the guarantor statement, and the notice of obligations.
He Xiufen wiped her hands first, then picked up the pages and held them to the light, reading from the top. At the third item, she paused. At the fourth, she read it twice.
The red pen came down on the paper, circle after circle. Around the fourth item, she drew two circles, the second heavier than the first, half-covering the characters.
"Item one: leaving Jiangzhou requires approval first. If it's not approved, you don't go. ID card stays on you. Don't stuff it at the bottom of your backpack."
"Item three: come when you're called. If the phone rings in the middle of the night, you go downstairs in the middle of the night. From today, your phone never goes on silent. Keep it by your pillow at night."
The red pen stopped on the fourth line.
"Shall not interfere with witness testimony in any form. Shall not meet or communicate with the victim or witnesses in this case."
She pulled the decision over and touched the red pen to the final two lines.
"This item doesn't name names on paper. It says 'victim, witnesses in this case.' The names are on a separate line. Two of them."
"There were two more in the alley," Zhi'an said.
"What are their names?"
Zhi'an paused. "I don't know. One grabbed my arms from behind and lifted. I couldn't see his face. The other stood to the side with his phone up covering his face, filming the whole time. I didn't get a clear look."
"Lawyer Lu says you need a paper with four on it," Shen Zhixia said.
"Then he shouldn't have just said it." He Xiufen bit the cap off the pen. "Don't know the names, saw what they looked like—then write down what they looked like."
She flipped the decision copy over and wrote, line by line in red: one who grabbed from behind and lifted. One who stood to the side filming with a phone. When she finished, she turned the page around.
"The official paper has two names. I'm adding two descriptions. Four total, and not one of them is to be contacted. The two without names—it doesn't mean they don't exist." She capped the pen and pressed the two pages together, square. "From today, these two pages are the papers we hold."
"I wasn't planning to look for them anyway."
"Plans or not, your sister's heard you." She slid the papers to Shen Zhixia. "You keep them."
Shen Zhixia pulled out the file envelope and flipped to the cover. Below the line reading "Shen Zhi'an — September 20, 2026," she added: September 23: Decision on Release on Guarantee (one, kept by subject); Guarantor Statement (one, signed by Shen Zhixia); Notice of Obligations (one, kept by Zhi'an).
At the very end, her pen hung.
He Xiufen leaned over. "Twelve months starts when?"
"Today."
"Then add one more line. Write that down."
She wrote: Term: twelve months, from September 23.
"What if it's not done by then?" Zhi'an asked.
"If it's not done, then they owe us an answer." He Xiufen pointed at the line. "This line isn't for you to remember. It's for me to hold up and ask about when the day comes. Either they issue another page, or they give the person back."
"But what if they—"
"Eat your noodles." He Xiufen pushed the bowl half an inch toward him. "They're getting cold. Counting days on an empty stomach only makes a mess."
Zhi'an took a few bites. The egg was still pushed to the side.
Lu Jibai looked up. "From today on, you carry three things when you leave the house: ID, the decision copy, and the firm's phone number."
"One more thing." He set down his chopsticks. "Right now there's a piece of paper with your name on it in someone else's hands. In these twelve months, if you fail at even one thing, they don't need to find anything new. This page is enough."
"I know."
"Knowing and doing aren't the same thing," Shen Zhixia added.
Zhi'an looked at her. She didn't continue, just took a sip of soup.
[Thud. The line is filled. Her signature. Her guarantee. For him.]
He Xiufen stood to clear the bowls. Zhi'an finished the last of his soup, laid his chopsticks across the bowl, and stayed in his seat.
"Jie."
"Hm."
"What if she talks?"
The bowl in Shen Zhixia's hand stopped in midair.
"Talks about what?" He Xiufen turned around.
"Those few things. What she saw." Zhi'an spoke slowly. "If she doesn't talk, then on paper my punch has no witness. If she does—what does that make this?"
Lu Jibai stacked the bowls together, silent.
Shen Zhixia set the bowl down. "I don't know."
"You don't know, or you can't say?"
"I can't ask her." She paused. "Even one question is still asking. That fourth line on his paper—I have to keep it too."
Zhi'an looked at her for two seconds, then lowered his eyes.
"Then the day I go back to school—"
"The day you go back to school."
"If she asks me that question, I'll say, 'I can't talk about this.'"
"Right."
He Xiufen stacked the bowls onto the tray and freed a hand, pressing it lightly on top of Zhi'an's head. Very gentle.
"Auntie He."
"Hm?"
"I don't blame her."
"That's good." He Xiufen carried the tray toward the stairs, stopping halfway. "You don't blame her. But whether she talks—that's not entirely up to her, either."
Two bowls clinked on the tray, and the sound carried downstairs.
Shen Zhixia gathered the three pages into the file envelope, one pressed on top of the other. The guarantor statement with her signature—she left it at the top, thumbprint facing up.
[Thud. Tomorrow's page. Nothing written on it yet.]