Read Novel Full Chapter 69 : Bottom of the Pool
Chapter 69 : Bottom of the Pool
June 18, 8:40 a.m. It had rained overnight; the steps outside the noodle shop were still wet, and the smell of scallion oil drifted up through the window cracks. The old desktop at Zhengping Firm whirred for two minutes before the fan finally quieted down.
Shen Zhixia flipped her notebook to the last page and spread it open on the counter. Under the line "Tomorrow morning, check the business registry," there was nothing.
In the search box, she first typed four characters: Youyu Apartments.
A string of results came up, none of them housing-related—a renovation company, a tea shop. She deleted those four characters and typed two new ones: Youzhu.
The first result jumped out.
Jiangzhou Youzhu Information Technology Co., Ltd. Legal Representative: Zhou Keming. Registered Capital: 5 million. Registration Status: Active. For the address line, she read every character aloud—No. 412, Wanshun Building, 188 Wenchang Road.
"Same address as the paper on the door," she said to the screen.
She scrolled down. Shareholder information listed only one entity: Jiangzhou Youjia Business Services Co., Ltd., with a 100% stake. She clicked through. This company's legal representative was also Zhou Keming; date of establishment was November of last year; registered capital, 100,000.
"One hundred thousand." Someone picked up the tail end of the sentence from the doorway.
He Xiufen came in carrying her enamel mug, half a flatbread perched on the lid. She set the mug on the corner of the counter and leaned over Shen Zhixia's shoulder for a look.
"Found the person?"
"Found three names." Shen Zhixia kept scrolling. "In the change records—April 21, registered capital reduced from 5 million to 500,000."
"Keep going."
"Added to the Abnormal Operation Directory: June 15. Reason column says—unable to be contacted at registered address or business premises."
[Thud. Three names, one legal representative.]
[Thud. Capital reduction in April. June 15, added to the Abnormal Operation Directory.]
He Xiufen broke the flatbread in two, set half on the paper, bit into the other half, and stood there chewing. When she finished, she traced a line on the countertop with her fingernail: April, the landlord got nothing; April 21, ninety percent of the capital pulled out; June 12, a paper appeared on the door saying intake was suspended; June 15, listed in the directory.
"Clearing the table after the banquet," she said. "Cleared it thoroughly."
"The capital reduction step—they had to publish a notice first." Shen Zhixia went back over the dates twice. "During the notice period, anyone with unsettled claims can file an objection. By that calculation, the notice ran in March, in the newspaper's classified column. Those days, the landlords were on the phone asking customer service why the 2,200 was late."
"Did you see it then?"
"I didn't." She said, "I'm not reducing capital. I wouldn't flip through half a page of the newspaper for that."
"The rules about reading notices are written on paper for everyone." He Xiufen said, "But they pick the page you'd never turn to in your life."
"This Zhou Keming—"
"The registry lists a name, not the money." He Xiufen said, "First figure out whether the person behind that name is the one collecting the money, or the one paid to put his name on the paperwork."
Just last week she'd met an old man whose name was on a shell company—illiterate, missing the tip of his right thumb, couldn't even say how many companies were registered under him. Shen Zhixia turned the name over in her mind, then looked back at the screen.
She clicked open the annual report tab. Last year's report had one line: Number of Employees, 117.
She looked at it for an extra second but didn't ask.
"See where the money went." He Xiufen tapped the counter. "The incoming end, the outgoing end—both are on paper. The middle stretch, that's where it's hidden."
Shen Zhixia pressed her phone to her ear and dialed Zhao Guangtian.
First try, no answer. Second try, fifth ring—he picked up, a drill running in the background.
"Hello."
"Uncle Zhao, it's me—the one who talked to you upstairs yesterday." She said, "That bank statement of yours. Do you still have the original?"
"I do." He said, "Didn't you already take pictures?"
"I shot the edges. The print's too small." She said, "Take it out. I'll read the line, you read the account name. Whether I misread or they really switched it—today we settle it."
There was silence on the other end, then the sound of a drawer opening.
"Go ahead."
"January 10, that line."
"Jiangzhou Youzhu Information Technology… Co., Ltd."
"February 9."
"Same."
"March 19."
This time there was no answer. The drill stopped too. She pressed the phone closer and heard pages turning.
"Jiangzhou Xinhe Trading Co., Ltd."
"Read it again."
"Already read it twice." Zhao Guangtian said, "I saw 2,200 come in and didn't care who sent it. Money arrived, that's all."
"Why was March's payment nine days late?"
"Didn't their customer service say system upgrade, three days to process?"
"It wasn't a system upgrade." She said, "Between March 10 and March 19—those ten days—they switched accounts."
"What does switching accounts mean?"
"Still 2,200. Just a different pipe." She said, "Uncle Zhao, give me the numbers for the landlords on the sixth and eleventh floors."
"You want their statements."
"I want to see who sent their last payment."
"What's this Xinhe thing?"
"A building materials and hardware trading company."
The other end paused for two seconds: "A hardware company paid my rent?"
"That's exactly why I don't believe it." She said.
Zhao Guangtian gave her the sixth-floor number, then scrolled through his phone and gave her the eleventh-floor one. Before hanging up, he asked:
"Those two pieces of paper—when are you coming to get them?"
"Morning of the twentieth." She said, "The deposit receipt and the contract. I'll bring a box."
"Fine." He paused. "Then who do I go to for my three months?"
"Them." She said, "I want to find them too."
Less than ten minutes after hanging up, a voice message popped up in the tenants' group chat. Jiang Bo was in there, workshop behind him, voice kept low: he'd asked the two landlords from Xincheng Garden, and they were willing to send photos of their bank statements, but needed to know who to send them to. Shen Zhixia replied in the group with three words: Send them to Tang Guo.
"You see." He Xiufen snapped the lid back on her mug. "People are already moving."
Shen Zhixia propped her phone on the desk and typed two characters into the search box: Xinhe.
Jiangzhou Xinhe Trading Co., Ltd. Legal Representative: Zhou Keming. Established two years earlier than Youzhu. Registered capital: 500,000. Address: sixth floor of an office building on Guangyuan Road, Chengxi. Business scope went on for lines: building materials, hardware, household goods.
She circled "Zhou Keming" in pencil and wrote four characters beside it: All three are him.
[Thud. The March 19 remittance—the sender's name wasn't this one.]
She copied the seventeen households' figures onto a fresh sheet of paper and added them twice: just over 410,000. She looked up and counted the complexes again—eleven complexes, twelve landlords.
Outgoing: 2,200 a month, 26,400 a year per unit. She wrote a line along the edge of the paper in pencil: Each unit loses 2,400 a year. She'd already calculated this line last week, in the crease between the three sheets of paper. No need to run it again.
Incoming was one lump sum per year. Outgoing was a small amount every month. The middle stretch—yesterday it was still just empty countertop between three sheets of paper. Today it had a name, a legal representative, and one extra entry: a March 19 payment sent out under a building materials and hardware company.
"Eleven complexes, and you were only out for one afternoon." He Xiufen flicked the flatbread crumbs off the paper.
"Tomorrow I'm getting the second batch of landlord statements from those eleven buildings."
"Once is coincidence. Twice is a crack." He Xiufen said, "Bring back that second batch, and you'll know how many times they've switched."
Six in the evening, the pot downstairs was still out. Tang Guo came out from the back room, hair tied up, carrying the livestream light, its casing still dusty from the hallway the day before.
"Your lines," she said. "You promised me a segment I actually match with."
Shen Zhixia pulled a sheet of scrap paper from under the counter, flipped it to the blank side, and wrote. When she finished, she slid it over.
Tang Guo read it through, then looked up. "This short?"
"This short." She said, "Your own numbers—don't change a single one: twenty-four thousand, two thousand, every month on the twentieth."
The script read:
My name is Tang Guo. I make legal education videos. I rent in a complex on Minsheng Road in Chengdong. I moved in on May 10, and the rent is 24,000 for the year. I didn't pay a cent of it—a bank loaned it to me and sent it straight to Youyu Apartments. On the night of the 16th this month, I came home and the locks had been changed. My landlord never received a cent of my money. He hasn't been paid since April. The three months the landlord is waiting for and the one year I now owe—they all land in the same place. I'm not here to curse anyone out. Just one sentence: whoever collected this 24,000, come forward and say something. And for those of you who signed the same paper I did—don't rush to sign anything these next few days. Don't rush to press your thumbprint.
"The landlord's face and phone number—blur them out." Shen Zhixia said, "Don't list the unit number, just the complex. Post it under your own name."
"I only have about thirty thousand followers."
"Thirty thousand is enough for them to see it."
Tang Guo took the paper into the back room to record. She came out after five takes, propped her phone against a noodle bowl, and they watched the preview together. At 8:05, she hit send.
At 9:20, 800 shares. At 10:40, 13,000.
The comment section rolled past three hundred entries. The top one was cursing out the landlord. Tang Guo asked if she should respond.
"Reply once." Shen Zhixia said, "Say it clearly—don't go blocking the landlord's door. The landlord's on the losing end too."
Tang Guo pinned the reply to the top. She flipped her phone face-down on the table, then turned it back every few minutes. The private message count climbed from a dozen to several hundred, the red badge refusing to stop.
[Thud. First private message, from ten kilometers away.]
"They're all asking…" Tang Guo read aloud, "'Did you also rent from Youyu?' This one's from Xinghua, this one's from Min'an Lane, this one's from Jinqiao Apartments in Chengbei."
"Write down the building names."
"I am." She kept tapping as she spoke. "Sis, there are more than I can finish reading."
After eleven, a private message came in—the profile picture was a swatch of dark blue cloth. One sentence only: Our landlord said the April payment he received didn't come from a company called Youyu either.
Shen Zhixia took the phone and replied with one line: What day did it arrive, and the sender's full name.
The other side took a few minutes. Then another line came in: Jiangzhou Xinhe Trading Co., Ltd. April 19.
She copied the line into her notebook. When she finished, she set the pen down on the paper.
March 19, April 19. Two sheets side by side under the lamp—one household in Chengdong, one in Chengbei, half the city between them, and the payer was the same building materials and hardware company.
"Who is this?" Tang Guo leaned over to look at the new line.
"I don't know." She closed the notebook. "Last year's annual report listed 117 employees."
"What 117?"
"People on paper." She said, "A company can move out and leave nothing. But 117 people can't move so easily. They have to get paid somewhere."