Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 509: I'll Do It Myself

Shi Lei climbed down from the stool, stepped back two paces, and looked up at the wall.

Two plaques hung side by side. The left one had been there for over twenty years, a corner of its paint chipped away. The right one was new, its lettering a size smaller, the glass face not yet pitted with rain marks. He wiped the lower edge of the right plaque once more, flipped the cloth over, and pressed with the dry side to check for any water streaks.

April 9th, 9:40 a.m.

The grain and oil shop people were carrying rice sacks into the storeroom, hoisting them onto their shoulders one after another. The noodle shop's glass door had been wiped twice from the inside. The closure notice was taped to the inside of the door: April 9th — closed for one day. The three stone steps had been hosed down but not yet dry. Shi Lei planted his foot on the top step twice, testing for slipperiness.

Zhi'an stood at the doorway, the cuffs of his blue shirt let out an extra length, the two white stitches he had sewn himself still hidden on the inside. He held a dry cloth, ready to wipe anyone's hands as they came in.

Lu Jibai came downstairs with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He pressed down on the two chairs at either end of the long table, then crouched to check if the legs still wobbled. The cardboard scrap wedged under the table leg against the wall had soaked through with moisture overnight; he pulled it out and replaced it with a fresh one.

"Director He." He paused at the kitchen doorway. "The water's boiling."

"If it's boiling, brew." He Xiufen had her back to him, her apron tied higher than usual. "The bowls are in the third compartment. Keep your hands busy today."

Shen Zhixia came downstairs carrying two thermoses and stopped at the kitchen door.

"Set them there." He Xiufen didn't turn around.

"Let me help you carry a couple of rounds."

"Keep your hands out of water today." He Xiufen knocked the spatula against the rim of the wok. "Go out and stand. Stand by the door."

She withdrew and stood at one end of the long table for half a minute, then wiped her hand on her apron, only then remembering she'd turned the apron in yesterday. There was nothing on her now. She let her hands fall.

The two long tables had been pushed together, with just enough of a seam between them to slide in a sheet of paper. The spot where old adhesive had been scraped away was a shade lighter; it had been oiled, so it showed. About twenty seats were arranged, stools of uneven heights. The few polished to a shine had been borrowed from the grain and oil shop next door; the other two had been carried down from upstairs.

The red notebook stood in the corner of the counter, the pen tied to it with a red string, hanging down past the iron corner.

Tang Guo opened the notebook to the first page. The paper was blank. She looked up. "I'm putting this here."

"Okay."

"Whoever comes in writes their name." She straightened the pen. "If they can't write, I'll write it and they'll press a thumbprint."

"You press one too."

"I'll go last." Tang Guo said. "My hand isn't holding a camera today."

At exactly ten o'clock, the first group arrived.

Ma Jianjun was in his work uniform, helmet in hand, followed by Deng Wei and Xiao Duan. The three of them scraped their shoe soles on the steps. Zhi'an offered the cloth, but Ma Jianjun waved it off, saying, "I'm clean." He took it anyway in the end, wiped twice, and then came in.

"Lawyer Shen." He looked around as he entered. "Are there enough seats?"

"Enough."

"If not, I'll haul a couple more over." He set his helmet on the stool by the door, reconsidered, and tucked it under his arm. "I have to head out at 11:50. Luo Cheng's running the Chengbei route; the orders are in his car, and he's meeting me at the lane entrance."

"No moving things upstairs."

"Just one thing," he said. "You keep it for me."

Deng Wei had already lined up the stools one by one against the table edge. When he finished, he wiped the seats with his sleeve. "Lawyer Shen, I'll sit furthest inside. I've got another shift this afternoon."

"Sit."

"I can sit on the floor too."

"Sit on a stool," she said.

Wang Changshun arrived early, hugging a sack of cornmeal in his arms, the opening tied shut. It was freshly ground; the smell of cornmeal had followed him all the way in. He stopped at the doorway and looked around the room before stepping inside.

"Director He." He called toward the kitchen.

"Coming." He Xiufen poked her head out. "Set it on the stove."

"I'll set it myself." He carried the sack into the kitchen and came back out rubbing his hands on his trousers. "This year's fresh grind. You make porridge with it."

"I'll save it and make it for myself tonight."

"Put a handful in tonight too."

The sign-in book was on the counter. He walked over, and Tang Guo placed the pen in his hand. He gripped it, the tip hovering over the paper, not touching down.

"I don't know how to write."

"I'll write it." Tang Guo said. "You're Wang Changshun, right?"

"Wang Changshun." He said it slowly. "Chang for everlasting. Shun for smooth."

Tang Guo wrote it out stroke by stroke, then turned the book around for him to see. He bent down and looked at it for a long while before saying, "That's it."

"Press a thumbprint." She pushed the ink pad toward him.

He pressed his right thumb firmly into the red ink, pressed down hard, and when he lifted it there was still a bit of red clinging to the fingertip. He chose the blank space below his name and pressed down. A round red print landed on the page, a ring of fingerprint ridges around its edge. He straightened up and blew gently on the red mark.

"That does it?"

"That does it."

"I don't read words." Wang Changshun said. "I read paper."

Chai Guizhi arrived at a quarter past ten, leading Ge Xiaoyu by the hand. Cai Qingru parked the van at the lane entrance and followed them in, carrying two plastic bags, one of which held snacks for Xiaoyu for the road.

"Auntie Chai." Shen Zhixia went out to greet her.

"I'm not sitting inside." Chai Guizhi smoothed her blue cloth jacket at the door and buttoned it all the way to the top button. "Sitting by the door is fine for me."

"There's a seat for you inside."

"I'll sit here." She sat down near the door and nudged Xiaoyu forward. "Go on. Write your name."

Ge Xiaoyu stood still, staring at the red notebook on the counter.

"He writes slowly." Chai Guizhi said.

"Slow is fine." Shen Zhixia said.

Tang Guo squared the book and held the pen out. The child used both hands — left hand steadying the paper, right hand writing. The first stroke landed very lightly. Halfway through, he stopped and glanced up once, then continued. Writing his name took a while.

When he finished, he set the pen down, lifted his head, and looked over at Shen Zhixia.

"Good." She said. "You wrote it straight."

He pushed the book back and retreated to his grandmother's side.

"The water in the ditch is clear now." Chai Guizhi said. "It cleared up last winter. The child walks that way after school now. He doesn't take the long way around anymore."

"Does Xiaoyu still get tested?"

"Twice a year. Last time it was ninety-six. He wrote it on the cover of his notebook himself."

Cai Qingru set the plastic bags on the table. "Two more from the town are coming by bus. They'll be here in a bit."

Chai Guizhi took her phone out of her pocket and looked up at Tang Guo. "Can you take a photo of the three of us?"

"Sure." Tang Guo moved the book aside and took the phone. "Stand by the door. The light's good there."

She positioned Chai Guizhi in the middle, Xiaoyu in front, Shen Zhixia on the right, then stepped back two paces, crouched a little lower, and raised her hand. "Look here."

After taking the photo, she handed the phone back. Chai Guizhi leaned close to the screen. "It's straight."

At 10:20, He Lan came in with Feng Xiaotian. Xiaotian had grown; the first thing she saw after entering was the red notebook on the counter, and she ran over to look. Kang Wenying came alone, pausing at the door to announce, "I'm here. I'm not bringing gifts; I'm bringing people." Only then did she come in. Peng Weidong wore his factory uniform. He said he'd worked the late shift last night, slept a while, and came straight over. The first thing he asked was how much longer until the noodles were ready. Old Kan came in behind him and stood in the room, casting his eyes around once before finding a spot where he wouldn't be in anyone's way. Lin Qi stepped through the door last, dark circles under his eyes. After sitting down, he folded his hands on his knees.

"Had the night shift?" Shen Zhixia asked.

"Night shift." Lin Qi said. "Don't talk to me. If I start talking, I'll fall asleep."

At 10:25, Shi Lei brought Jiang Bo and two stools in from the van.

"Got two more from the grain shop." He set the stools by the table.

Li Huilan counted heads near the counter, then looked up. "Not enough. Two short."

"I'll go get them." Shi Lei turned and headed out again.

The old wooden chair by the stove sat empty. People coming in walked around it, turning sideways as they passed.

At 10:30, Shen Zhixia stood at the door. Sunlight slanted in from the lane entrance, falling on the top stone step. She clasped her hands in front of her, then let them fall.

He Xiufen came out of the kitchen and stood beside her, also looking out.

"The old lady who sells vegetables — you didn't invite her?"

"No." Shen Zhixia said. "That one isn't settled yet."

"After it's settled, then." He Xiufen turned to go back, stopped after two steps. "That one of hers — can it be settled this year?"

"It can."

Lu Jibai came out from inside holding a bowl of water.

"Why are you standing here?"

"Seeing who hasn't arrived yet."

"You count them as they come in one by one. You'll never finish counting standing out here." He handed her the bowl. "Drink some water. You didn't drink any this morning."

She took it. The bowl was warm.

At 10:35, Cen Hong arrived at the lane entrance supporting Auntie Wang, the sunlight striking them directly. Auntie Wang wore a thin cap and walked slowly, pausing on every step.

"Auntie Wang." Shen Zhixia went down to meet her.

"I can walk." Auntie Wang took her hand, climbed one step, rested, climbed another.

Old Kan came out from inside and moved his stool to her feet. "Sit."

"You sit."

"I'm used to standing." Old Kan said.

Auntie Wang sat down, took off her cap and laid it on her lap, and looked up toward the stairs. The light at the stairway was on; the banister went up and out of sight.

"Zhi'an." She called.

Zhi'an came over and crouched down a little.

"That room upstairs — is it his?"

"Yes." Zhi'an said. "The bronze plaque is on the wall. It's been polished bright."

Auntie Wang nodded, turning the cap in her hands. "I won't go up," she said. "The stairs are narrow. If I go up, I'll only have to come back down."

At 10:40, Zhou Yu arrived. He stood outside the door for a while before entering, and once inside he looked at no one first, going straight up to Shen Zhixia.

"I'm here in the name of my senior schoolmate," he said.

"Being here is enough."

"I didn't bring anything." He said. "You said that day — no gifts."

"I did say that."

"I remembered." Zhou Yu smiled slightly and found himself a stool by the wall.

Guo Jianping didn't come in. He stood outside leaning against the doorframe, holding an empty cardboard box.

"Jianping, come sit." Tang Guo called.

"I won't sit." He said. "I'm used to standing. If anyone needs something carried, just holler."

At 10:50, Wang Changshun stood up, walked two steps toward the stairway, then came back and stood before Zhi'an.

"That room upstairs — can I go up and have a look?"

"Yes. I'll take you."

The two went up one after the other, feet clunking on the wooden stairs. The door above was open. Inside stood a desk and two chairs, the bronze plaque nailed to the wall directly across from the door.

Wang Changshun stopped in the doorway and didn't go any further in. He looked at the plaque.

"What's it say up there?"

"Shen Qian." Zhi'an said.

Wang Changshun stood there, arms hanging at his sides.

"I don't read words," he said. "I read paper."

"Mm."

"As long as the plaque's hanging, that's enough." He turned and went down the stairs, one step at a time. "If it's hanging, people have a place to find him."

At eleven o'clock, a car stopped at the lane entrance.

Pang Chunlai's son got out first and came around to open the door on the other side. The old man stepped out, stood for a moment pressing his hands against the seams of his trousers, then looked up at the building. The two plaques by the door hung side by side just above his head. He looked from the one on the left to the one on the right, and back again.

"Dad." His son reached out to steady him.

Shen Zhixia came out from the door and stood on the top step.

The old man looked up at her. He wore reading glasses, one temple wrapped in a strip of tape.

"Lawyer Shen."

"You made it."

"I did the math," he said. "Left at six. Arrive at eleven."

He raised his foot to the first step. His son went to support his elbow; he pulled his hand away.

"I'll do it myself."

He went up step by step. On the second step he paused half a beat, then climbed to the top. Standing firm, he removed his cap and looked inside. The two long tables were packed with people. Someone was shifting a stool, someone turned to look back, and the murmur of voices dropped a level.

"Sister He." He called toward the kitchen.

"Coming." He Xiufen came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "By the window — the seat's saved for you."

"Make my noodles soft."

"I'll make them soft."

"No chili."

"None."

Lu Jibai moved the stool by the door out of the way, clearing the aisle. Shen Zhixia took the old man's arm and guided him in, all the way to the table by the window, pulling the chair out half a foot for him.

The room was full. More than twenty people crowded around the two long tables, and the talk, the scraping of stools, the wind sweeping in through the door all gathered beneath the lamp in the center of the room. Heat surged out of the kitchen. He Xiufen walked back to the stove, lifted the pot lid, and white steam shot upward, dispersing beneath the lampshade. The pull chain swayed.

No one left.