Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 292: He Came At Me Again

At 12:20, the pot downstairs at the noodle shop was coming to its third boil. He Xiufen lifted the noodles, shook off the water, drizzled scallion oil over them, pushed the bowl in front of Zhi'an, and added half a ladle of broth.

"Finish this bowl, and then you answer this afternoon's questions yourself."

Zhi'an didn't pick up his chopsticks. "What if I don't remember?"

"Then you say you don't remember." She pushed the vinegar bottle to the center of the table. "Three rules. Answer only what's asked; when you've answered, don't add anything; and sit with your hands out of your pockets."

"What if I say something wrong?"

"Then you correct it on the spot. Any change gets a fingerprint, and a paper you've corrected is still paper." She hung the rag back over her shoulder. "Your sister sits next to you. She's not allowed to say a single word for you."

Upstairs, Shen Zhixia placed the ID card, household register, and the November notebook into a canvas bag, one item at a time. Lu Jibai spread out and then folded away the three-page filed copy of the defense opinion, the excerpt notebook, and the sheet with the three gaps written on it—ultimately bringing only the notebook and a pencil.

Coming downstairs, he stopped at the landing and said to Zhi'an, "Once inside, I'll be out in the hall. If you need to look at someone, look at your sister. Don't look at me."

"You can't go in?" Zhi'an asked.

"No."

"Then what are you sitting out there for?"

"To wait."

At 14:10, the west end of the first floor of the District Procuratorate. The corridor had terrazzo flooring, with a row of iron-framed wooden benches along the wall. On the radiator by the window sat a single dropped glove. The door to the questioning room stood open: inside was a long table, a laptop, a stack of record sheets, and a white porcelain cup.

Zhou Yu came out, a file sleeve tucked under his arm, and looked them over.

"Shen Zhi'an."

"Yeah."

"Come in. Let me see the ID card and household register."

He took both, checked them page by page, and when he returned them said, "You're his sister, legal guardian. Sit to his right. Today you only sit. If he has something to say, he says it himself. If you have something to say, wait until the record is signed."

"I know."

"Good." He walked in first and nudged the cup aside. "Sit."

The clerk had already typed out the header on the first page, the time field reading "November 18, 14:30." Zhou Yu sat down, opened the file sleeve, and laid both hands on the paper.

"Shen Zhi'an, this case is now under review for prosecution by this office. Case type: intentional injury. Today the questioning will be conducted by myself and the clerk. Your legal guardian is present. Your defense counsel, Lu Jibai, is waiting outside. You have the right not to answer questions unrelated to this case. Everything you say will be entered into the record. Afterward, it will be read back to you. You may make changes, and any changes get a fingerprint. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"The three-page opinion and the evidence application your counsel submitted were entered into the file yesterday." He looked up. "I'm telling you this so you know where things stand. We'll begin now."

"On the afternoon of August 31, just before school let out, where were you?"

"Third floor, east end. The stairwell."

"When you got there, what were they doing?"

"Qin Hao was holding up his phone and telling her to say a sentence."

"What sentence?"

Zhi'an's hand pressed against his uniform pants. "'I spread rumors in class, and I apologize to Qin Hao.' He wanted her to say it word for word, for fifteen seconds."

"What did you do?"

"I pulled her away."

"Pulled who?"

"Xu Qing."

"Did you touch Qin Hao?"

"No. He shoved me. I didn't hit back."

"He shoved you, and you didn't hit back. Why?"

"Once it becomes a fight, you can't explain it anymore."

"Who told you that?"

"...My sister."

Zhou Yu's pen didn't stop. "Your sister is a lawyer."

"Yes."

"Did she teach you what to say here?"

"She said don't add anything on my own." Zhi'an glanced up. "That's all."

Shen Zhixia's hands rested on her knees, her fingers pressing the edge of her notebook. Zhou Yu didn't look at her. He waited for the clerk to finish those two lines before asking the next question.

"Later, you wrote a one-page statement and gave it to your homeroom teacher."

"Yeah. The teacher signed 'received and reviewed.' I took a photo."

"That recording of Xu Qing—do you have a copy?"

"I have one."

"How many copies?"

"Two. What I gave the teacher was a copy."

"Who taught you that?"

"My sister."

"On the morning of September 1, you called the police."

"I called the police station myself. My sister told me to. Someone from the school's security office was there."

Zhou Yu read back those five lines and had the clerk fix two punctuation marks. He looked up. "September 19, after school."

"I went to the back gate to find Xu Qing. She said they were there again."

"What's the first thing you saw?"

"Qin Hao holding up his phone, same sentence. Xu Qing standing against the wall."

"Did you say anything to Qin Hao?"

"I said, 'Stop filming her.'"

"Did he say anything?"

"He said something. I don't remember what."

"Then what?"

"Someone grabbed me from behind and lifted me. My feet left the ground."

"When he grabbed you, what were you doing?"

"I struggled. I grabbed at his arm."

"Could you see who it was?"

"Didn't see his face. Blue clothes, gray on the cuffs."

"Where did he kick you?"

"Stomach. Right side."

"How many times?"

"Once. I broke free."

"In that second when you broke free, what was he doing?"

Zhi'an swallowed. "He came at me again. Hands raised."

"Who?"

"Qin Hao."

"Which hand did he raise?"

"I couldn't see clearly. It was raised, and he was coming."

"Why didn't you run?"

"Xu Qing was behind me."

"How many hits did you land?"

"One."

"Why didn't you keep hitting him?"

"He fell backward and sat on the ground. So I backed off."

"Backed off to where?"

"Back in front of Xu Qing. Hands down."

[Thud. The same sentence. This is the fourth time.]

Zhou Yu flipped back a page in the record. "Did you know that punch would hurt someone that badly?"

"No."

"What were you thinking at that moment?"

"To make him stop coming."

"Had you and Qin Hao had any other conflict before?"

"He kept going after Xu Qing."

"On September 19, besides the phone in Qin Hao's hand, were there any other phones?"

"I don't know."

"Was anyone filming?"

"I didn't see."

"You didn't see, or you didn't look that way?"

Zhi'an paused. "I didn't look around. I was looking at her."

Zhou Yu read that line aloud, then asked, "The phone in his hand—where did it end up?"

"I don't know." Zhi'an looked up. "It's not with me."

"Do you know that phone was smashed and thrown away?"

"No."

The clerk finished typing the last line and pulled the paper from the machine. Zhou Yu signaled him to read it back.

Three pages, read at an unhurried pace. When they reached a certain sentence on page two, Zhi'an suddenly held up a hand. "That sentence."

"Which one?"

"'I pulled her away.'" He pointed at the line. "I didn't pull her away. I pulled her behind me."

Zhou Yu studied him for a moment. "Those two things aren't far apart."

"They're not the same," Zhi'an said. "Pulling her away means taking her somewhere. I put myself in front of her."

"Change it." Zhou Yu said to the clerk, "Record: pulled Xu Qing behind himself."

The clerk made the correction and passed over the pen. Zhi'an pressed his right index finger to the modified line, the red print landing over the two characters, a little off-center.

"Sign at the bottom of each page and write the date," Zhou Yu said.

Zhi'an signed page by page. Shen Zhixia wrote "Legal Guardian Shen Zhixia" on the line beside his, signed as well, and dated it November 18.

"One more matter." Zhou Yu spread out two sheets. "After the case was transferred to this office, release on guarantee pending trial has to be re-processed. This office has decided that you will remain released on guarantee. This is the decision. This copy is for you."

"Where do I sign?" Shen Zhixia asked.

"The guarantor column." He slid the pen over. "You are the guarantor: supervise him while he complies with the conditions, and report promptly if he violates them. If he runs or something happens, that column of yours will be the one questions come to."

She picked up the pen and saw the column was identical to the one she'd signed at the police station on September 23: space for three characters, a line, and a parenthesis after it. She signed and pressed her thumbprint.

"Read it aloud," Zhou Yu said. "Read it to him."

So she did: may not leave Jiangzhou City without approval; must report any change of residence or school within twenty-four hours; must appear when summoned, whenever summoned; may not contact, disturb, or approach Qin Hao or anyone present that day in any form, and may not send others to speak on his behalf.

"Got it," Zhi'an said.

"It's not about remembering. It's about doing." Zhou Yu pushed Zhi'an's copy over and gathered the procuratorate's stack into the file sleeve. "Questioning is over. You're free to go."

Shen Zhixia stood before asking, "Prosecutor Zhou."

"Go ahead."

"The three pages his counsel submitted—are they in the file?"

"They're in the file."

"Everything he said today was his own. I didn't say a word for him."

"I have you on the record as present." Zhou Yu closed the file sleeve. "The victim's side comes tomorrow morning. I won't say anything more today."

By 16:10, half the benches in the corridor were empty. Lu Jibai sat at the window end, notebook open on his lap, pencil tucked between pages—clearly he hadn't written much.

"It's done," Zhi'an said.

He stood and looked at Shen Zhixia first. "Did they ask about the phone?"

"Twice," she said. "The second time, he circled back to it himself—'The phone in his hand, where did it end up?'"

Lu Jibai closed the notebook. "The phone in evidence was never extracted. In black and white, one of the three gaps."

"His asking means he wants to fill it in?"

"Asking a second time means he wants to fill it in." He started toward the stairs. "If he can't fill it in, he'll still have to write a line saying 'could not be located'—that's a sentence too."

"He asked more than the police station did," Zhi'an said from behind.

"He's asking about seconds."

"What if I'd gotten one word wrong?"

"He'd tell you to correct it, and you would." Lu Jibai said. "That one correction you made today—you made the right call."

"So he's seen the three pages too?"

"They're in the file."

"In the file means he's seen them?"

Lu Jibai didn't answer that one. He tucked the notebook under his arm. "Tomorrow morning, they come. Tomorrow, we don't."

The wind in the courtyard was harsher than in the corridor. A few leaves lay curled on the asphalt of the parking lot. Zhi'an zipped his uniform to the top; the patched cuff hung outside, the white stitches standing up in the wind.

At the gate, he asked, "How much longer?"

She opened her mouth, but no date came out.

She took out her notebook and flipped to the page dated November 17. Three lines were copied there—the three gaps: the original page of the emergency registration book, the two hundred yuan with no transfer record, and Qin Hao's phone never extracted.

At the bottom she added a fourth line, just two characters: phone. After it, blank space.