Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 512: Seeking Justice

The noodles in the bowl had gone soft and clumped together, the oil on the surface of the soup congealed. She laid her chopsticks across the rim of the bowl and didn't touch it again.

Two rounds of dishes had been cleared from the long table, leaving a few small plates with bits of red and white clinging to the bottoms. Half a piece of cream remained on one plate, melted into water with oil floating on top, and no one had come to collect it. The red-covered sign-in book lay open on the counter, a pen tied to the iron corner with red string, the string hanging down and swaying slightly from someone brushing against it. He Xiufen's old wooden chair still sat by the stove, its cushion askew. Outside in the alley, someone passed below, footsteps descending step by step.

Lu Jibai followed the direction of her gaze.

Beyond the glass door, the man still stood on the steps. The stone steps had been washed with water that morning, and a patch of dampness remained on the top step. He stood at the edge of the wet part, his soles on the dry section, unmoving the whole time. The lamp by the door burned even in daylight, its shade filmed with cooking grease, light slanting down from the top of the doorframe and brightening a strip of floor just inside the threshold. He stood outside that line of light.

"How long has he been standing there?" she asked.

"Since you picked up your first chopstick," Lu Jibai said.

"You didn't say anything."

"I was waiting for you to."

The exhaust fan hummed in the kitchen. He Xiufen came out carrying an empty basin, walked along the long table toward the door, paused halfway to glance outside, kept going without stopping, set the basin back in the kitchen, and wiped her hands on her apron as she returned.

"He's not from this alley," she said.

"You know everyone here?" Li Huilan asked from the other end of the counter.

"People from this alley push the door open and poke their heads in first," He Xiufen said. "He stands straight."

"Maybe waiting for someone."

"People waiting lean against the wall," He Xiufen said. "He doesn't."

"That roll of paper in his hand," Li Huilan said.

"Rolled like that." He Xiufen said. "Rolled and re-rolled who knows how many times. He didn't just bring it today."

Li Huilan said nothing more. She pushed the sign-in book further back on the counter, pressing down the page that had lifted up.

On the bench against the wall, Lin Qi was still asleep, her face turned toward the light, chin tilted up. Tang Guo pulled the coat draped over the chair back up over her shoulders, then rubbed her own arm.

At the table by the door, Cen Hong took Wang Yi's jacket off the chair back and shook it out. "Mom, sit a little longer and we'll go. I'll call a car."

"Sit a little longer," Wang Yi said. "I'll finish this cup."

Lao Kan said from the side, "When you're done, I'll walk you to the mouth of the alley."

"Your leg isn't good either."

"It's just to the alley mouth."

Luo Cheng was also by the door. His phone buzzed once in his hand. He covered the speaker with his palm, glanced at it, and silenced it. He didn't leave. The phone buzzed again. He didn't even look this time, just slipped it back into his pocket.

Cai Qingru stacked the plates on the table into a pile, stopped at the third one, and looked up toward the door. Peng Weidong rearranged the bowl in front of him again, holding it steady with both hands. Guo Jianping squatted against the wall, twisting the camera bag strap around his fingers. Kang Wenying folded a handkerchief into a square, unfolded it, and folded it again.

Tang Guo carried two empty bowls toward the kitchen, stopped halfway, glanced at the door, then continued on in.

Ma Jianjun sat on another stool by the door, turned to look outside for a while, and didn't get up. Shi Lei started to rise from the far end of the long table, but Ma Jianjun put a hand out in front of him and shook his head. Shi Lei looked at him, sat back down, and the stool leg scraped against the floor.

"The one outside," Lao Kan said in a low voice.

"I see him," He Xiufen said.

"Should someone go out and ask?"

"No need." He Xiufen said. "If he wants to come in, he'll push the door himself."

Wang Changshun leaned out from the far end of the long table, squinting. "He's been standing there a while now."

"Mm," He Xiufen said.

"Should I go out and say something to him?"

"You stay seated." She said. "He's standing there for his own reasons."

Wang Changshun pulled back, rested both hands on his knees, and kept his face turned toward the door.

Zhou Yu drained the plain water from his cup and set it on the counter.

"I'm heading out first," he said.

"Leave the cup," Li Huilan said.

"Leaving it." He pushed the cup back a little, walked around the end of the long table to the door, slipped out sideways past the doorframe, went down two steps, and turned back. "Call if anything comes up."

The man outside the glass door stepped half a pace aside to let him pass, without looking up. Zhou Yu went past him, down the stairs, out of the alley. A tricycle passed through the alley, its cargo bed empty, the sheet metal rattling. A quilt airing on a second-floor balcony stirred.

The space inside the threshold opened up. The people in the room shifted slowly; someone moved a stool aside, someone collected a bowl, more eyes turned toward the door, but no one went out.

Beyond the glass door, the man stepped back to his original position, both hands gripping the roll of paper tighter. The roll was uneven, one end showing a white edge, the paper's edge worn and frayed. He held it, veins standing out on the backs of his hands. Wind from the mouth of the alley lifted the hem of his coat, and he didn't press it down, only drew the roll of paper closer to his chest. Once, he raised his hand to the door handle, then let it fall back to his side.

At 2:10 p.m., one panel of the glass door was pushed open.

The hinge made a sound. The talking in the room broke off exactly on that sound, cut clean, stopping in one place after another, until finally even the plates stopped clinking.

He stood outside the threshold, first turning his head to look at the two plaques beside the door, from left to right. The one on the right had been wiped twice that morning, and the watermark still showed. Sunlight fell on it, a bright square corner.

He was around forty, his dark coat washed gray, zipper pulled halfway up, one corner of his shirt collar sticking up. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, two faded old marks across the back of his hand, a bit of dust on his elbow. His shoes were coated with a layer of dust, one lace tied, the other tucked into the shoe. His hair was blown flat to one side, uncombed. He stood there, shoulders tense, his eyes not on the bowls and plates on the tables, but only on her.

"Lawyer Shen," he said. "I want to seek justice."

The words weren't loud, spoken slowly, the final note falling away. One foot was still on the stone step; he didn't step inside. When he finished, he closed his mouth, didn't continue, didn't retreat.

At the table by the window, Pang Chunlai set both hands on the table's edge and shifted forward half an inch. The bottle of soda in Ge Xiaoyu's hand stopped at her lips and didn't come down. Feng Xiaotian crouched by the table, her eyes following the roll of paper in his hand. Chai Guizhi pressed a hand to Xiaoyu's shoulder. Wang Yi held her cup, forgetting to drink.

Behind the counter, Zhi'an was opening a bottle of soda, the opener stopped on the cap, not twisted down. His other hand gripped the bottle, not letting go.

She lifted the chopsticks from the rim of the bowl, laid them across the tabletop, and stood up. The chair pushed back two finger-widths, then stopped. The eyes in the room followed her, then swung back to the door.

No sound came from the tabletop. No line of text floated up from anywhere. She reached into her pocket and took out her notebook.

The notebook was thick, the edges of the pages curled, the corners damp. She held it and flipped to the end. In the previous page was tucked the slip of paper from noon, folded into quarters, a corner sticking out; when she turned the page, the corner folded under.

"Zhixia." He Xiufen called from the kitchen doorway, her voice low. "Upstairs is empty."

"There's room here," she said.

Lu Jibai came over from the far end of the long table, a bowl in each hand, stacked the empty plates on top, and carried them into the kitchen. When he came out his hands were empty. He wiped the tabletop again with a rag, then draped the rag over his shoulder and retreated to the counter, standing, not sitting.

She glanced over at him. His hand rested on the counter's edge, motionless.

Li Huilan found a cup from under the counter, poured half a cup of hot water, and set it on the end of the long table nearest the door. She set it down and stepped back. Back at the counter, she asked in a low voice, "Should I take notes?"

"I'll take them," she said.

Zhi'an put down the bottle opener, walked over, and moved the stool by the door back a little, clearing the path from the door to the long table.

She pushed the bowl two finger-widths aside, clearing a space on the table. A ring of water was left behind. She spread the notebook over that space, its edge touching the watermark. She lowered her head and wrote at the top of the page: April 9th, 2:10 p.m. When she finished, the pen point stopped after "2:10," leaving the line below empty. The slip from noon slid halfway out of the previous page; she pushed it back with a finger.

No one in the outer room spoke. The exhaust fan over the stove still hummed.

She looked up.

"Please, sit," she said. "Start from the beginning."

The man stood outside the threshold for a moment. He switched the roll of paper to his left hand, wiped his right hand on his pants, and only then stepped inside. His shoe knocked against the threshold, dislodging the remaining half-layer of dust. He steadied himself, then took a second step.

He dragged a chair over from the far end of the long table. The chair legs scraped a long sound across the floor. Dragging it up, he first straightened it, adjusted it once, then adjusted it again, before sitting down. Before sitting, he pressed both hands on his knees.

After sitting, he laid the roll of paper on his lap, one palm pressing down on it, not putting it on the table.

She didn't ask about the roll of paper either.

At the table by the window, Pang Chunlai's son leaned over to whisper something, and the old man waved him off, moved his cup to the inner side of the table, sat up straighter, and spoke, his voice not loud: "My first time here, I stood out front three times before I came in."

He Xiufen answered from the kitchen: "Mm."

Pang Chunlai moved his chair back half a foot, making more room on that side. He Lan pulled Feng Xiaotian closer to her; the child took two steps and looked back. Shi Lei and Jiang Bo stepped back against the wall. Ma Jianjun picked up the helmet from the stool and held it in his arms, retreated to the door, eased it open a finger's width, then gently closed it again.

Wang Changshun murmured from the far end of the long table, "He's got paper with him." No one responded. He nudged the bag of freshly cracked cornmeal at his feet further under the table, clearing a space.

Tang Guo rested her hand on the counter and didn't reach into her pocket a second time.

At the stove, He Xiufen turned the flame down half a notch, tilted the pot lid half an inch to let the steam escape. The gurgling in the pot loosened, the exhaust fan's hum dropped, and the remaining sounds in the room fell away one by one.

The lamp by the door still burned. Its line of light fell inside the threshold, fell on the open page of her notebook.

He raised his head, his throat moving once. The roll of paper lay on his lap under his hand, its end curling up a finger's width.

Twenty-some people in the room. No one rushed him.

She lowered her head, the pen point dropping to the first line below the page heading. The words he had said at the door, she wrote down exactly as spoken, nothing added, nothing removed.

Lawyer Shen, I want to seek justice.

The End.