Read Novel Full Chapter 261: I Want to Speak
Chapter 261: I Want to Speak
September 24th, 9:50 a.m. The steps of Chengdong Police Station still held last night's water, a long puddle pooled against the wall on the lowest level.
Xu Qing's mother stood below the third step, a white plastic bag in her hand. Half a blue-and-white school uniform spilled from the opening, the collar torn half an inch.
"I'll wait outside," she said.
Xu Qing took the bag from her, carried it herself toward the door, then stopped and turned back.
"Mom."
"Yeah."
"I want to speak."
Her mother's hand lifted half an inch, caught nothing, fell back to her trouser seam. She followed, climbing the steps one at a time, gripping the railing.
The officer behind the duty desk looked up. Xu Qing set the plastic bag on the counter. "I'm here to give a statement. September 19th, the alley behind the school's back gate." The officer flipped through a logbook, took her name, her school, made a call upstairs. "Minor. Guardian needs to be present."
A female officer came down from the second floor, dark blue uniform, a stack of forms in her hand. She glanced out the door—the mother still hadn't climbed that last stretch of steps—then looked back. "You're her mother? Come in. For questioning a minor witness, the guardian stays in the room. You sit beside her."
The mother nodded. Walking down the corridor, she stayed behind her daughter, pausing every two steps, letting her hand slide along the railing before moving forward.
The interview room was at the east end of the second floor. A table, two chairs facing it, an old paper pad, a printer in the corner with a crack running up its body.
The female officer spread the forms out, chewing a pen cap. "Three things first. You're here today to provide evidence. Say what you saw. Deliberate false testimony or concealing evidence carries legal liability. If you understand, say 'I understand.'"
"I understand."
"Name, age, school."
Xu Qing answered one by one, slowly.
"August 31st, before evening study hall." The officer's pen paused over the paper. "You can start wherever you want. Speak slowly. I'll keep up."
Xu Qing's hands rested on her knees, a gap between each sentence. When the officer looked up at her, she didn't fill it, just waited for the next word to come on its own.
"Third floor, east end, top of the stairs. He had two people with him. He held up his phone and told me to say one sentence—that I'd spread rumors in class, that I apologized to him. Fifteen seconds. Not one word less."
"He also told me to delete the recording I'd given our homeroom teacher."
"I said I wouldn't delete it."
"Shen Zhi'an came up the stairs and pulled me away. Qin Hao shoved him."
The pen moved across the paper, writing, stopping, writing. The officer asked, "What was that recording?"
"Him swearing at me. I gave it to the homeroom teacher the week before. For that, he had to stand in the office for a whole class period."
"September 19th." The officer turned a page. "Start from after school."
"After school I went out the back gate. I wanted to buy fried skewers. Three of them were standing at the mouth of the alley."
"Who."
"Qin Hao. Meng Yang, from our class. And one more I didn't recognize, wearing a blue work uniform, early twenties, carrying one of those black delivery bags."
The officer finished writing "Meng Yang," looked up. "Which Meng, which Yang."
Xu Qing traced the characters on her palm. The officer copied them down.
"Qin Hao held up his phone and told me to say that sentence from August 31st again, word for word."
"Who threw the first punch."
Xu Qing paused. "I didn't see who reached first. What I saw was—the one in the work uniform grabbed Shen Zhi'an from behind and lifted him. Qin Hao kicked him in the stomach. He broke free and swung back."
"How many times."
"One punch. Whether there was more after that, I didn't see."
"What was your classmate doing."
"He was holding up another phone the whole time, filming."
"Another one." The officer's pen stopped. "The phone in Qin Hao's hand and the one in his hand—two phones."
"Two. Qin Hao's was pointed at me. His was pointed at Shen Zhi'an and the others."
"Where is that phone now."
"I don't know."
The mother's hand moved from her knee, covering her daughter's hand. Xu Qing didn't pull away.
The officer continued, question and answer, running through the alley again, asking about positions: which side the fried skewer stall was on, who stood by the wall, who had their back to the alley entrance. Xu Qing answered what she could, said "I didn't see" for the rest. It wasn't until the seventh pass that she fixed the line: "I was by the wall. Qin Hao stood half a meter in front of me."
"Push your sleeve up," the officer said.
Xu Qing pushed it up. A ring of purple bruising circled her right wrist, already fading to yellow-green, with a small crescent-shaped nail mark at one edge.
"Who did that."
"He grabbed my arm."
The officer wrote "circular bruising visible on inner right wrist" on the paper, then looked up. "Do you need to go to the hospital."
"No. It doesn't hurt anymore."
Beside her, the mother pressed her lips together, withdrew her hand from her daughter's, and closed it into a fist on her own knee.
The printer whirred, spitting out pages. The officer pulled them free and pressed them onto the table. "Read it yourself. If any word isn't what you said, say 'this line's wrong' and I'll fix it."
Xu Qing read slower than she'd spoken. Midway through the third page, she stopped, finger pressed to the paper. "This line is wrong."
"Which line."
"'Quarreled with Qin Hao over a trivial matter.'" She moved her finger up. "I didn't quarrel with him. I only said three words."
"Which three."
"I won't delete."
The officer crossed out the line and wrote her exact words beside it, then pushed the paper over. "Fingerprint the correction."
Xu Qing pressed her thumb to the ink pad and stamped it beside the crossed-out line—red, held for two full seconds before lifting.
The mother signed at the bottom, then tried to cap the pen. It took two attempts before it clicked.
A little after eleven, the officer gathered the papers into a folder. "We'll need to ask others about what you've said. The statement isn't yours to keep, and they won't see it either."
Xu Qing stood and asked the only unnecessary question of the day. "Will he know I came today?"
"We won't tell him." The officer closed the folder. "Go back to school. If anyone asks you about this, say one thing: 'I've already talked to the police.' Nothing else. And don't tell anyone what you said in here."
Outside the station, sunlight fell on the water stain on the steps, already dry. Her mother took the plastic bag and carried it herself.
"Mom," Xu Qing said. "I won't delete."
"I know," her mother said. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
7:40 p.m., the noodle shop.
The exhaust fan whirred. A pot of noodles came off the stove, scallions scattered, white steam rising past the light bulb. Shen Zhi'an was clearing bowls from the table by the door when it opened. He looked up.
Shen Zhixia came out of the kitchen. "Go upstairs."
"Who is it."
"Don't come down."
Zhi'an stacked the bowls into a tray and went up the narrow back stairs.
Xu Qing's mother stood in the doorway, not stepping inside, still holding the white plastic bag. "I'm looking for Lawyer Shen."
"Sit." Shen Zhixia pulled a chair out half a foot.
She sat, set the bag against the chair leg, rested both hands on the table's edge. He Xiufen brought out a bowl of noodles and slid it toward her. "Eat first. No point talking on an empty stomach."
She took out money—eight yuan—set it on the table, smoothing each bill flat. He Xiufen took it and tucked it into her apron pocket. "Noodles are paid for."
She ate two bites, set down the chopsticks.
"She went today."
"Mm."
"She said everything."
"Mm." Shen Zhixia acknowledged it and nudged the vinegar dish half an inch closer to her hand.
Xu Qing's mother looked at her, waiting for her to ask. When no question came, she added, on her own: "I sat beside her. I didn't say a word."
He Xiufen came over, the rag slung over her shoulder. "Did you wash her uniform?"
"No. Haven't even soaked it."
"Don't wash it," He Xiufen said. "Hang it up and keep it. If it ever needs to be shown, it'll look just like it did that day."
Xu Qing's mother nodded and shifted the bag further in beside the chair leg.
"Those lines she said—" Shen Zhixia started, but He Xiufen dropped the rag on the table's corner.
"The noodles are going soggy," He Xiufen said. "What she said is written on their paper. You heard the words 'she said everything.' That's enough."
Shen Zhixia swallowed the rest of the sentence and picked up her own bowl of noodles.
Halfway through her bowl, Xu Qing's mother stood and tied the bag closed once. "Then I'll be going."
At the door, she stopped and turned back.
"There's one more thing. I need to say it."
Shen Zhixia set down her chopsticks. "Say it."
"They didn't come for me. They came for the school." Her hand tightened on the bag's opening. "This afternoon they called me over. The teacher from the Academic Affairs Office said someone from Qin Hao's family had come by. They wanted the school to keep their kids in line, to stay out of it."
The exhaust fan seemed suddenly loud. Shen Zhixia stood, pulled a notebook from the drawer, took a pen, and sat down across from her.
"Sit. Talk. I'll keep my own notes."
So she talked, and Shen Zhixia wrote it down line by line.
September 24th, 3 p.m., the school's Academic Affairs Office. A male teacher called her in. Someone claiming to have come on behalf of Qin Hao's family sat in the office for fifteen minutes. They asked whether Xu Qing had said anything to the police in the past few days, and told the school to stay out of the matter between the two kids.
"Did this person give a name?" Shen Zhixia asked.
"No. The teacher didn't say one either."
"Did he leave a phone number?"
"No."
"What exactly did the teacher say?"
She thought, then repeated it back word for word: "He said, 'Don't go spreading this around yet. The school can keep a lid on it.'"
Shen Zhixia wrote four lines and did not turn the notebook around.
He Xiufen spoke from behind. "That page is yours. Don't ask her to sign it, and don't make her go to the school. She came today because she chose to come."
Xu Qing's mother braced her hands on the table's edge and stood, tied the bag closed a second time, and nodded once.
She picked up the bag and walked into the alley, the torn collar swaying outside the opening with every step.
[Thud. The witness's page—she walked in and wrote it herself.]
[Thud. Someone got there before her. They knocked on the school's door first.]
Shen Zhixia closed the notebook and glanced toward the stairs. Zhi'an stood on the fifth step of the narrow staircase, dish rag still draped over his hand.
"I heard," he said.
"Good." She slipped the notebook into a file envelope. "I'm not taking this page to anyone. You don't need to ask either."
"I didn't ask."
"You stood there listening for three minutes. That's not asking." She locked the envelope in the drawer, turning the key once. "Finish your homework sheets tomorrow."