Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 271: I Won't Accept It

October 12, 7:20 p.m.

By the time Lu Jibai came downstairs, someone was already seated at the table by the roll-up shutter door.

Chen Maolin had arrived early, dark gray shirt buttoned to the top. On the table sat a copper-red ink pad box, lid still closed; two bowls of noodles had already been served, steam spreading a thin layer under the light.

"Lawyer Lu." He tore open the paper sleeve on his chopsticks and laid them across the rim of the bowl without touching the food. "I got here twenty minutes early."

"I know." Lu Jibai draped his jacket over the back of the chair.

"The noodles are paid for. I've been through this door a few times now. Accounts should be kept clear."

He Xiufen came over from the stove with a small dish of pickled radish, set it in the middle of the table, slung her rag over her shoulder, and went back to the stove without a word.

Chen Maolin ate two bites, then set his chopsticks down.

"I won't beat around the bush." He pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his shirt, folded in half. He unfolded it, smoothed it flat, and slid it across. "One look and you'll get it. If it's not signed today, you don't have to write a single character."

Lu Jibai didn't reach for it. He loosened the noodles first, letting the steam thin out, then pulled the paper toward him.

A4, Song typeface, wide line spacing. Four clauses at the bottom.

First line: Party B, Shen Zhi'an, voluntarily pleads guilty and expresses remorse, and issues a written apology to Party A for the incident of September 19.

Second line: Party B compensates Party A a total of RMB 50,000, as one-time compensation for medical expenses, nursing care, and other losses.

Third line: Party A, Qin Hao, and his legal representative shall issue a Letter of Forgiveness and no longer pursue criminal liability.

Fourth line: Both parties shall settle all disputes in this case once and for all, with no further claims thereafter.

The signature lines were blank—two ruled lines, one for Party A, one for Party B.

[Thud. Fifty thousand yuan, buying four words: plead guilty, express remorse.]

Lu Jibai read it through twice from start to finish, then pushed the paper back half an inch toward the center of the table.

"There are four words in the first line," he said. "Plead guilty, express remorse. Once that's written down, he's saying it himself: he injured the person."

"If he didn't injure him, who did?" Chen Maolin moved his bowl aside half an inch. "Lawyer Lu, both sides of the nasal bone are fractured. The original is in the case file."

"Injuring someone, and how the injury happened, are two different things."

"By the time it reaches the procuratorate, they're still two different things." Chen Maolin picked up a slice of radish with his chopsticks. "You submitted seven items. I suspect they're not all scrap paper. Seven items are for people to look at. This page is for someone to sign."

"The third clause says 'no longer pursue criminal liability.'"

"Written there for appearance." Chen Maolin said. "You and I both know that clause isn't in his mother's hands, and it isn't in yours or mine."

"Then that clause is empty."

"Empty is better." He smiled, the smile stopping at the corner of his mouth. "The empty space—as long as this page gets signed first, anyone can fill in a line later."

"The fourth clause, 'no further claims thereafter.' Who signs it?"

"His mother signs it. The kid's still in the hospital. He'll need follow-ups after discharge."

"Once this is signed, things go easier on the procuratorate side." Lu Jibai pushed the paper forward slightly. "Pleading guilty and accepting punishment, paying compensation, the forgiveness letter—it all stacks. But no matter how much stacks up, he's still admitting he hit someone. Leniency is leniency, but guilt is guilt."

"I'm not saying no guilt." Chen Maolin said. "I'm saying less suffering."

Lu Jibai pointed to the second line: "Fifty thousand. How is it paid."

"Cash." Chen Maolin said. "Tomorrow morning I'll bring it to your firm. Count it face to face. Once it's counted and confirmed, he writes a receipt."

"What does the receipt say."

"It says 'Received RMB 50,000 in compensation from Qin Hao's family.'"

"The word 'guilt' doesn't appear on the receipt."

"Guilt is in the first clause. The receipt only acknowledges the money." Chen Maolin took a sip of the noodle broth. "Lawyer Lu, after all these years of practice, you're still expecting one piece of paper to say everything?"

"I don't expect one piece of paper to say everything." Lu Jibai said. "I only deal with what's written on it, who signed it, and what day it was delivered."

Chen Maolin lined up his chopsticks and set them on the rim of the bowl.

"The case is about to be transferred." His voice dropped half a degree. "The investigation side can still get things done. Once the file reaches the procuratorate, this number won't be fifty thousand. I'll only say this once—I'm not trying to scare you. Two fracture sites, the kid still in the hospital, his mother sitting in the corridor every day. Once this bowl of noodles is finished, this number goes cold."

"I can't answer for him." Lu Jibai pushed the paper across the table. "I'm his defense counsel. Precisely because of that, I can't make this admission for him."

Chen Maolin looked at the paper. He didn't reach for it.

"You won't even advise him to take it?"

"I'll advise him to be precise with his words."

"Precise."

"Say how that punch happened. Say whether the other side retreated when the punch came down." Lu Jibai said. "Those two sentences, once they're in the file, are worth more than fifty thousand."

"That three-page complaint from September 27." He paused, then asked, "Who wrote it."

"I wrote it." Chen Maolin said. "A complaint counts no matter who writes it, as long as the family signs it."

"When you turned around on the stairs on September 27, you said those three pages weren't written by you." Lu Jibai said. "The person who signed it—were they even present that day?"

Chen Maolin wiped his hands with a napkin, crumpled it, and pressed it under the edge of his bowl.

"Lawyer Lu, you're not eating much of your noodles today."

He stood up, tucked the copper-red ink pad box back into his shirt pocket, and pushed his chair under the table.

"This page stays with you," he said. "If you come around, give me a call before noon tomorrow. If you don't, no need to call. I won't press."

"I'm not keeping this page." Lu Jibai pushed the paper forward half an inch.

"Don't want it, stick it under the vinegar bottle." Chen Maolin had already turned away. "I'm not short on paper."

He walked all the way to the street corner without looking back. A car was waiting under the streetlight, headlights off. They only came on after he got in.

He Xiufen came out from the stove area, cleared the bowls, and pulled the folded sheet from under the vinegar bottle, spreading it flat under the light to read.

"Fifty thousand." She read the number at the end of the second line aloud. "Two fracture sites. As of today, he's been in the hospital over twenty days."

"They're calculating a price, not an account." Lu Jibai said.

"They've done the math." He Xiufen folded the paper back along its original creases, aligning the two corners. "Those twenty-odd days in the hospital don't cost that much. The rest buys those four words."

She folded the paper and held it in her hand, then reached up to switch off the range hood fan. The steam sank a layer.

"I said it before—the first thing he needs to understand is that this matter has other paths." She said. "Those paths have to be walked to the end before it comes to this number. The noodles are cold. Don't eat them. Go upstairs."

The fluorescent tube on the second floor was flickering again.

Shen Zhixia sat by the window, going through the dates on the citation page line by line with a pencil: September 29, October 3, September 27, October 11. Dates were her responsibility. Not a single digit could be wrong.

She had glanced at the two bowls of noodles downstairs. Two tables' width apart, neither man lowering his head, neither leaning toward the other as they talked. She counted to the twentieth minute, and Chen Maolin set his chopsticks down.

Lu Jibai came upstairs and laid the folded sheet flat in the center of the table.

"Read it to him." He Xiufen pulled over a stool and sat down, apron still on.

Zhi'an was doing homework at the other end of the long table, pen wedged between his index and middle fingers, notebook open, not even two lines filled on the page. He looked up.

Lu Jibai read. Four clauses, one by one, slowly, pausing after each. When he reached "RMB 50,000," Zhi'an's pen stopped on the paper, the tip pressing a dark dot.

"I heard it clearly." He didn't wait to be asked.

"There are four words in the first line: plead guilty, express remorse." He Xiufen turned the paper to face him. "Once this line goes down, you're saying you hit him. Not that he grabbed you and lifted you up, not that he kicked you in the stomach—you hit him."

"I did hit him." Zhi'an said.

"Say it word by word. Don't add anything."

"I hit him once with my fist." He laid the pen flat and put both hands under the table. "He grabbed me and lifted me up. I broke free and threw one punch. Just that one."

"The paper isn't written that way." He Xiufen said. "This line on the paper only wants those four words."

Zhi'an lowered his head and looked at the paper for a long moment.

"I won't accept it."

He Xiufen moved the homework notebook half a foot aside, giving him a clearer view of that page.

"Think it through before you say it. If you don't accept it, this path has to be walked to the very end. The file will be transferred. However the procuratorate sees it once it's transferred, that's how it is. Right now, one nod from you might mean you don't have to spend a single day inside."

"I'll wait."

"Waiting is hard."

"I know." He said. "I signed my name on that release-on-guarantee paper."

"Say one thing." He Xiufen said. "Why."

Zhi'an looked at the two blank signature lines.

"If I accept it, then everything before this is my fault." He said. "August 31, he was blocking Xu Qing. September 19, he was still blocking her. If I accept this, those two times just become kids fighting at school—nobody owes anybody anything."

"Go on."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

He Xiufen didn't respond. She pushed the paper half an inch closer to him, right up to those two blank lines.

Zhi'an stared at the empty space, then looked up: "That punch of mine—on those five pages you're writing, what does it count as."

"Written on paper, it's called self-defense." Lu Jibai said.

Zhi'an repeated the two words to himself, very quietly.

"Do you get to decide that?"

"No." Lu Jibai said. "What's written on paper is my opinion. Whether it holds isn't up to me, and it isn't up to you. Someone has to read these five pages and say it applies."

"What if they don't."

"Then there are other paths. You only know a path is closed after you've walked it."

"Enough." He Xiufen took the paper back. "Both paths are in front of you. One is fifty thousand, the other is paper. You make your own choice, and you live with it."

Zhi'an turned to look at Shen Zhixia.

"Sis."

"Yeah."

"You think I'm right, not accepting it, don't you?"

Shen Zhixia closed the notebook on her lap.

"I won't answer that." She said. "If you want to accept it, I'll sign on the guarantor line. If you want to wait, I'll wait with you."

Zhi'an didn't ask again. He pulled the homework notebook back, uncapped the pen, wrote two lines, then stopped.

"I'm going down." He Xiufen said. "I saved your noodles."

Zhi'an walked to the door, then turned back: "When it's written, read it to me."

"When it's written, I'll read it to you." Lu Jibai said.

Only two people were left at the table. Shen Zhixia opened the notebook again. At the bottom of that page, in the last row, the two words she'd written yesterday were still blank: asking price.

She wrote after them: Fifty thousand, cash.

Next line: First clause "plead guilty, express remorse"; third clause signed by his mother; fourth clause "no further claims thereafter."

At the bottom of the page, she added three words: Not signed.

"Who makes the call." She asked.

"No one." He Xiufen wrung out the rag and draped it over the edge of the basin. "It's not a phone call he wants. If there's no call before noon tomorrow, he'll know himself that this page was given away for free."

Lu Jibai folded the sheet back along its original creases, tucked it into the file, and wrote on the cover: October 12, 7:30 p.m., given by him.

"This paper doesn't go on our exhibit list." Shen Zhixia said.

"It can't." He said. "It's something they handed over. We didn't take it, and we didn't sign it. We're keeping it so that later, if someone says 'we never made this offer,' we have it."

He flipped the notebook to the page about the citation and added a fifth line: October 12, 7:30 p.m., first clause "plead guilty, express remorse."

[Thud. Five pages, page two: who struck first.]

Lu Jibai turned the draft back to page one, uncapped the pen, and pressed it to the paper.

"Page one starts with his words—'he was still right in front of me.'" He said. "Five pages, one matter per page. We'll write two pages tonight."

"Before noon tomorrow, no one needs to make any call." He Xiufen said.

Downstairs, someone was clearing the last table. An iron stool leg scraped across the tile floor—a short, sharp sound.