Read Novel Full Chapter 287: The Child Is Nine
Chapter 287: The Child Is Nine
At 8:20, she stopped on the steps outside the east gate of the Chengdong District People's Court and rubbed her hands together for a moment.
The wind came from the parking lot. The steps were cold. She went in only after her fingers stopped being stiff. The file folder was tucked under her left arm, two things pressed beneath the rubber band: three pages of agent's opinion, plus a single handwritten page folded in half.
That page had been opened at 7:20, after she washed her face. He Xiufen's handwriting filled four horizontal rows, one thing per row: four police call records, three pages of outpatient medical records, nine injury photos, one protection order ruling. Each of the four items had a line drawn before it. The lines were drawn slowly.
Beneath the four rows she had written:
"These are all from yesterday.
He can block the paper. The child's words, those he can't block."
And underneath that, in smaller characters: "First sentence: say how old the child is. Everything else comes later."
She folded the page back in half and slipped it under the rubber band again.
Security check, stairs, hallway. At 8:24, He Lan was already sitting on the long bench at the east end of the corridor, gray coat, hair pulled back tight, the summons folded into quarters and squeezed in her hand—there was a white crease from the pressure.
"What time is it?" He Lan stood up.
"Eight thirty." She set the file folder on her knee. "Where's the child?"
"Her aunt took her upstairs. She's washing her hands."
"Sit down. For this next hour, don't say anything. I won't either."
At 8:27, Su Hongmei came up the stairs with Feng Xiaotian. The child wore her school uniform, one side of her collar flipped up, her hair combed tight with a comb-tooth mark still visible on her forehead. He Lan reached out to fix the collar but stopped halfway and pulled her hand back. At the far end of the corridor, a dining hall cart rattled by. The child edged half a step toward her mother, then straightened up again.
At exactly 8:30, the door to the interview room opened a crack. A woman in her thirties leaned halfway out, a record book in her hand. "Feng Xiaotian?"
The child looked up at her mother.
"Mommy's sitting outside," He Lan said.
The child walked in, turned back to look at the door once, and went inside. The door shut tight, and the line of light under it was cut short.
In the corridor, all that remained was the intermittent gurgle of the heating pipes. At 8:37, He Lan unfolded the summons and folded it back up. At 8:43, two people came up the stairs.
Feng Guoming wore a dark gray jacket, his hair looking freshly washed. He headed straight for the interview room. The court clerk with an armful of case files stepped sideways to block him. "Parents wait outside during the interview."
"I'm her father."
"Wait outside. It says so on the notice."
He stood there for two seconds, then retreated to the other end of the corridor and leaned against the wall. After a moment, he said across the fifteen meters or so: "What did you teach her to say?"
Shen Zhixia looked at him. "No one asked her anything."
"She's nine years old. What does she understand?"
She didn't answer. Her hands pressed down on the file folder.
At 8:52, the interview room door opened.
Feng Xiaotian came out first, clutching a piece of candy in her right hand—orange flavored, the cellophane wrapper already crumpled into a ball. She walked over to her mother and dropped it into her palm. "The judge gave it to me. You eat it."
He Lan's hand closed around it. "Mm."
Su Hongmei rose from the bench and took the child's hand. "Come on, Auntie'll take you downstairs to wait."
The child was led a few steps away, then looked back at her mother without saying anything.
[Thud. That page isn't in this case file.]
Nine o'clock. Family Court.
The table was round, not the tall kind used for trials. Judge Qiao sat directly across, uniform sleeves rolled to the wrist, a nameplate on the table, a stack of files, a pen. The clerk took a seat to her right.
"Plaintiff He Lan, defendant Feng Guoming, divorce dispute." Judge Qiao verified both parties' identities. "Plaintiff present in person, authorized agent Shen Zhixia, lawyer at Jiangzhou Zhengping Law Firm. Defendant present in person, with an authorized agent. Any objections from either side to the other side's court personnel?"
"No."
"The plaintiff has requested a closed hearing. Pursuant to the Civil Procedure Law's provisions allowing parties to divorce cases to request closed hearings, this court grants the request." She nodded to the clerk. "Non-parties, please exit."
The door opened a crack. The bailiff went out. The door shut. The bolt clicked. Recusal rights—not asked. Rights and obligations—read aloud.
"Divorce cases go through preliminary mediation first," Judge Qiao said. "He Lan, your position."
"Divorce. The child stays with me."
"Feng Guoming."
"I don't agree to the divorce." He laid both hands flat on the table. "I got rough once. I admit it. I apologize to her. The child's surname is Feng. If she wants a divorce and the court grants it, I can't stop that. But the child can't go with her."
"Is there any possibility of reconciliation?"
"None," He Lan said.
"Mediation unsuccessful, noted in the record. Court is now in session. Plaintiff presents evidence."
Shen Zhixia divided the papers in the file folder into three stacks and laid them on the table one by one.
"Group one: who takes care of the child. One page of shift-change certification from the supermarket, one page of the November shift schedule, six pages of wage statements from May through October, one page of written explanation from the breakfast stall, one page of leave request from Liuhe Primary School."
Lawyer Fu flipped through the wage statements and pointed at a row. "This month is three hundred twenty less."
"Night shift subsidy. It stopped once she switched to day shift." She pushed the paper forward. "Her lowest month in those six was five thousand seven hundred twenty. Subtract three twenty, she's still at five thousand four. She switched to day shift so she could walk the child to school at 6:40 in the morning and pick her up at 4:30 in the afternoon."
"The witness hasn't appeared in court." Lawyer Fu's finger landed on the written explanation. "The person who wrote this statement is not present in court today."
Judge Qiao flipped to that page and glanced at it. "The witness has not appeared for questioning. This court does not accept this written statement as evidence."
"No objection," she said. She didn't argue the point. The stall owner could read half the characters, signed her own name and pressed a fingerprint, but today she was at the lane entrance working her stall and couldn't come.
"The reason listed on the leave request is 'family matters,'" Lawyer Fu added.
"The school wrote the reason. What I'm establishing is that on that day, the school has a record—the child was absent with a formal leave."
"Accepted," Judge Qiao said.
"Group two: where the child was." She pushed forward the four police call records, the warning notice, the protection order ruling, and the admonishment and fine decision.
"Irrelevant to the disputed issues in this case," Lawyer Fu said. "Laying this out again only harms the child."
"This group doesn't prove he hit anyone. This group establishes one single fact: where the child was. August 3rd, October 12th—two police call records, the reporting party column reads Feng Xiaotian, age nine. Address: the third-floor apartment left by her father in Chengdong District. The defendant's answer states 'both parents are in good health and can help care for the child.' The two elderly people live on the fifth floor."
"Portions relevant to child custody will be considered together with other evidence," Judge Qiao said. "Clerk, note that."
"Group three: the child's own opinion. The plaintiff has applied for the court to hear the child separately, which this court did this morning at 8:30. The plaintiff's side did not participate, was not present, and is not asking for the result today."
Judge Qiao raised her eyes to look at her for a moment and said nothing.
"Defendant, do you have any response to the plaintiff's claim that the child should live with the mother?"
"The child should be with me," Feng Guoming said. "She works night shifts. I come home three times a week. The child has always been raised by our Feng family."
"Right now, who takes the child to and from school?"
"My mother."
"How old is your mother?"
"Sixty-seven."
"When your mother is caring for the child, who else is in the house?"
"My father. His back is bad, but he can sit and keep an eye on her."
Judge Qiao wrote two lines on her paper. "Call the witness."
The door opened. Teacher Yang came in and stood at one end of the round table, hands clasped in front of her.
"Name, age, occupation."
"Yang Xiulan, fifty-four, teacher at Liuhe Primary School."
"The witness must testify truthfully. False testimony carries legal liability."
"I understand."
"On the afternoon of October 21st, after school let out, where were you and what did you see?" Shen Zhixia asked.
"I was leading my class out of the building. The iron gate was closed. Outside the gate, next to the utility pole, stood a man in a dark jacket." Teacher Yang's voice shook slightly, sentence by sentence. "Feng Xiaotian came out with her backpack on. She stopped as soon as she stepped out of the building. The backpack strap slipped off her shoulder. She backed up two steps. The man called through the gate, 'Xiaotian, come home with Dad.' She didn't answer. I pulled her back into the building, then led her into the gatehouse. She cried the whole way—all the way to the gatehouse. Only when her mother came in did she say, 'Teacher, I don't want to go to his place.'"
"October 31st."
"That day at noon she came to my office to turn in her homework notebook. She stood there and didn't leave. She said, 'Teacher, I want to live with my mom.' I didn't ask anything further. She straightened the notebook and left."
"Late September. The child had a bruise on the right side of her face."
"I saw it. I asked twice. She said she bumped into the door frame. I didn't ask again."
"The defense may question," Judge Qiao said.
Lawyer Fu stood and pushed his glasses up. "Teacher Yang, you don't actually know who caused that bruise."
"I don't know."
"Has the child ever said at school that her mother doesn't want her?"
"Never heard that."
"Has she said her father hits her?"
"Never heard that."
"Have you ever heard the child say she refuses to go back to that home in Chengdong?"
"No. She only said she wants to live with her mother."
Lawyer Fu sat down and turned a page.
"Teacher Yang," Judge Qiao said, "over these years in your class, who do you think the child is better off with?"
Teacher Yang glanced at the plaintiff's bench, then at the defendant's bench. She twisted her hands together in front of her. "I can't say."
"That's all. After the hearing, review the record and sign it."
"The defendant has submitted a handwritten note, one page, attached to the back of the answer. Source?"
"Turned over by my client," Lawyer Fu said. "Written by an acquaintance of the family."
"Name of the writer?"
"My client didn't say."
"Time of writing?"
"Not written."
"Place of writing?"
"Also not written."
"This court does not accept this piece of evidence." Judge Qiao said. "Note it in the record."
"Page five of the defendant's answer states that the plaintiff is 'emotionally unstable and once cried and made a scene at the hospital.'" Shen Zhixia said. "Please have the defendant point out: on which page of this file is there a diagnosis regarding the plaintiff's emotional issues?"
"That's a rhetorical question," Lawyer Fu said.
"The defendant shall answer."
Feng Guoming shifted forward in his seat. "I don't need a diagnosis. I saw it with my own eyes."
"On October 17th, were you at the hospital?"
"I wasn't. My mother went."
"Does your mother have a statement in the file?"
"No."
"On October 17th, did you cry at the hospital?" Judge Qiao asked the plaintiff's bench.
"I cried," He Lan said.
"Why were you crying?"
"It hurt. And I was scared."
The clerk's hands paused over the keyboard, then went on typing. Shen Zhixia didn't move, didn't add a single word for her.
"Plaintiff's agent will present closing arguments."
She laid the three pages out on the table, glanced once at the first page, and looked up.
"The child is nine years old."
"On August 3rd and October 12th of this year—two separate nights—she called the police twice. On the police call records, the reporting party column bears her own name. On the afternoon of October 21st after school, she saw her father standing outside the school gate, backed up two steps, and cried all the way to the gatehouse. On October 31st, she said to her teacher, in her own words: 'I want to live with my mom.' On November 11th, the school approved a day of leave for her, the reason column reading 'family matters.'"
She paused there, picked up the water cup, and took a sip. It was cold boiled water, filled from the courthouse corridor. Only when she began reading from the second page did her voice steady.
"Who the child has been living with these days, who changed their shift so they could walk her to school in the mornings, whose wage slip is missing those three hundred twenty yuan—it's all in these three stacks of paper. I am not asking the court to erase the word 'father' from her life. I am asking the court to consider one thing: tomorrow at 6:40 in the morning, who will be waiting for her at the end of the lane."
"On October 17th, the plaintiff cried in the hospital corridor. How long she cried, she doesn't remember. Crying is crying. I won't explain that page for her."
"For child support, the plaintiff requests one thousand five hundred yuan per month, paid until the child turns eighteen."
"The defense will respond."
"The defendant requests that the plaintiff's divorce claim be dismissed," Lawyer Fu said. "If the court grants the divorce, we request the child be directly raised by the defendant. One thousand five hundred is too high."
"Child support will be determined by this court based on both parties' income and local living standards," Judge Qiao said.
"I can give her a home," Feng Guoming said suddenly. "Her mother's home—that's someone else's home."
He Lan lowered her head, both hands below the table. The piece of candy stayed in her palm the whole time, the wrapper pressed flat.
"Final statements."
"I only want the child," He Lan said.
"This case is scheduled for judgment on November 13th at 10 a.m. Both parties are to appear." Judge Qiao struck the gavel once. "Court is adjourned."
12:10.
[Thud. Everything said today went into the record. Awaiting the 13th.]
In the corridor, Feng Guoming walked out ahead. He stopped at the stairwell and turned back to Lawyer Fu: "Appeal. Write it up this afternoon."
His voice wasn't quiet. Lawyer Fu murmured something in response. Feng Guoming didn't listen. He turned his head and looked at He Lan. "The child's surname is Feng."
His leather shoes went down the stairs step by step.
He Lan stood where she was. "If he appeals—what happens?"
"The judgment hasn't come down yet. Appeal period is fifteen days, counted from the day the judgment is served on him."
"Then in these fifteen days, the child..."
"The child stays with you in Chengbei. In these fifteen days, whatever he does, it all gets written on his own piece of paper."
In the lobby, Su Hongmei sat on the bench, the child beside her, feet together, toes lined up with the cracks in the floor tiles. When she saw her mother, she stood up. "Mom, am I going to school tomorrow?"
"Yes."
Su Hongmei tucked the thermos into her cloth bag. "Let's go. The rice is keeping warm in the pot."
The child held her mother's hand and walked out, then turned back after a few steps to glance at the building, then turned forward again.
He Lan never unwrapped the candy in her hand. By then the cellophane was creased beyond smoothing.