Chapter 367: Read It to You

At ten in the morning on April 7, when the phone on the second floor rang, she was sorting a stack of papers into a bag in the order she'd used them.

"Tomorrow, ten a.m., First Courtroom, sentencing," the court clerk said. "Open sentencing, the gallery will be open. The judgment will be served in court."

"What do I need to bring?"

"Your ID. Nothing else." A pause. "I've notified the supporting prosecutor's side as well."

She took the pen out of her mouth and wrote a line in her notebook: April 8, ten, First Courtroom. After writing it, she looked at it and added "judgment."

She flipped back a page. The box next to page two of the complaint was still empty—"long-term." Song Qiming had asked about it in court, and her answer had been "that page isn't on paper, I don't make things up." Li Huilan had left her two tasks before she went: cross it out, or find the paper. As of today, neither was done.

Downstairs, scallion oil was frying. When Shen Zhixia went down, He Xiufen was working a spatula through the pan, the range hood humming.

"Tomorrow at ten," Shen Zhixia said.

"What time do you finish your noodles?"

"Out the door by eight."

"Then I'll put the noodles in at ten to seven, with an egg." He Xiufen turned off the flame, slid the pan off the burner, and wiped down the stove with a rag. Two swipes in, she stopped. "I'm not going tomorrow. That kind of room makes my back hurt just sitting in it, and once I'm in there I can't hear who's saying what anyway."

"Okay."

"When you get back, read the ruling to me."

"I will."

"Not one word missing."

"If I miss a word, I'll know it myself."

"Teacher Cai called last night. She said she's bringing two people from the Center, those two volunteers." He Xiufen hung the rag back on its hook. "I told her, no signs. She said they won't hold signs."

"Nobody holds signs."

"Whose name goes on the ruling?" she asked suddenly.

"Three judges, four lay assessors. Not mine."

"Then who do these past few months belong to?"

"They belong to Chai Guizhi." She shifted the bag to her other shoulder. "They belong to that ditch."

He Xiufen clapped the pot lid on and didn't press further.

"How long is the appeal period?"

"Fifteen days. Counted from the day after service, so until the twenty-third."

"So in these fifteen days, even if it's ruled, it doesn't count?"

"Doesn't count. Not a cent arrives, and nobody goes to fix the ditch. Have to wait out the fifteen days before the paper means anything."

A customer came in downstairs asking if there was still noodles. He Xiufen answered and went out.

Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. Tang Guo.

"Can I come tomorrow? I'll keep the camera turned away. Won't turn it on."

"Come if it stays off."

"I won't even bring the battery."

She replied "okay." Tang Guo sent another message: "I'll sit in the last row. I won't ask anything."

The call to Cai Qingru took less than two minutes. Cai Qingru only asked two things: what time to arrive, and whether she could bring water in. Shen Zhixia said arrive by eight twenty, finish the water before security. Cai Qingru said, "Then I'll be there at eight."

She called Chai Guizhi twice. The first time it rang until it cut off; the second was "the number you have dialed is temporarily unanswered." She set her phone on the corner of the desk, thought about it, and didn't call again.

Back on the second floor, Lu Jibai sat under the window with the appraisal opinion spread out, copying from the "remediation plan" section. One page, four items, copied slowly, the characters squeezed into the grid.

She sat down and listed what she needed to bring tomorrow: ID. Two notebooks. The two anonymous report slips in the bag—the judge had checked the originals on the day of the hearing and told her to keep them in her bag.

When she got to the third line, a sound rang in her head.

[Thud. The date is set. Once a date is set, all that's left is waiting.]

At three in the afternoon, the group chat buzzed.

Ma Jianjun: "Shen, what time tomorrow? I'll see if I can shuffle my morning orders."

She replied: ten, First Courtroom. Don't miss your orders.

He replied: "Won't miss them. Say something in the group when it's ruled."

Two minutes later, another message: "Does this count as me running to court every day and not properly working."

"It counts," she replied. "Today counts as once."

She flipped to the pages of trial notes she'd written. Wu Zhiqiang's two original lines were recorded in the middle page, the writing pressed harder than elsewhere: Heavy rain, the pool filled up, it went through there; mixed in.

She pressed her finger over those two lines and read them from beginning to end, then read them again, and closed the notebook.

"Stop reading," Lu Jibai said. "It's already on paper."

He slid over the page he'd copied, a horizontal line drawn under each of the four items.

"The day it's ruled, Teacher Cai will take this page to negotiate the construction work," he said.

"So you're acting like she's definitely going to win."

"I'm not acting like she'll definitely win." He capped his pen. "I'm counting the fifteen days as starting the day after tomorrow."

"Fifteen days."

"Until the twenty-third." He folded the paper once and tucked it under the edge of the printer. "In these fifteen days, the defendant can still submit materials, still go to the city to complain, still send people to your door. None of that has to wait for an error in the ruling."

"Then what are we doing tonight."

"Tonight we lay out the four items again. Rank them by whether they'd pass acceptance, not by whether they look good."

At eight in the evening, only the desk lamp was on upstairs. Someone in the alley was packing up their stall, metal frames scraping on the ground.

Her phone rang. Chai Guizhi.

"Shen, it's me." The TV on the other end was very quiet, like someone had pressed the volume down to a sliver, and wind passed across the receiver. "I'm standing in the yard talking to you. Xiaoyu is inside writing."

"Go ahead."

"You said at the hearing that you'd let me know when it's time for the ruling."

"Tomorrow morning at ten."

A pause. A dog barked twice in the distance, then stopped.

"It comes out tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"How will the judge rule?"

"I don't know." She set the bag down. "The ruling is written by the judge. I haven't seen a word of it. Everything that needed saying was said at the hearing, everything that needed submitting was submitted. What's left is out of my hands."

"What if it doesn't go our way?"

"There's still the second instance. The appeal period is fifteen days; if we lose, I appeal."

"Fifteen days." Chai Guizhi repeated the words to herself. "I don't know many characters. Last time you read that agreement to me, line by line."

"Tomorrow I'll read it to you."

"You'll have a lot to read tomorrow."

"Even so, I'll read it."

"When it's ruled, what if they still don't come to fix it."

"The second item in our claims is exactly that: fix it. One hundred eighty days, according to the plan, and after completion there's an on-site acceptance inspection. If they don't fix it by the deadline, they pay—3.12 million yuan, into the court's account, reserved specifically for restoring that ditch."

"What if they don't pay that either?"

"Then compulsory enforcement." She paused. "Step by step. When I read it to you, if any line sounds off to you, ask me."

"I wouldn't know if it sounds off or not." Chai Guizhi said. "I can only listen. Just don't misread it."

"I won't misread it."

"Some people in the village say you few who wouldn't sign are dragging this mess into the city." Her voice dropped a little. "I didn't argue with them. I just said, my grandson's legs, I took him to get checked myself."

"After the ruling, there'll be less talk like that."

"Then tomorrow I'll wear the blue one. Is that all right?"

"It's fine."

"I washed the cloth bag. The pin's still on it." She paused. "Xiaoyu asked me yesterday—Grandma, is our family's name on it?"

"No." Shen Zhixia said. "In this case, no child's name appears anywhere. I said that at the hearing."

"What if he asks again."

"You tell him, this paper is about the ditch and the land. His paper gets written after the fifteen days are up."

"Fifteen days." Chai Guizhi said it again. "Our village has lived with that ditch longer than fifteen days. I can wait."

"Don't bring him tomorrow. He has school."

"I won't. He goes to school, I take the bus." She paused for a beat. "I'll be at the gate by eight thirty. Will you be there?"

"I will."

After hanging up, she wrote a line in her notebook: April 8, read the ruling.

After writing it, the gavel sound knocked in her head again, very soft.

[Thud. Read it slowly.]

At nine, the roll-up shutter downstairs came down with a clatter, hesitated midway, then settled to the ground. He Xiufen slid the bolt inside, and the light above the stove stayed on.

"Ten to seven," she called upstairs. "Don't oversleep."

"I'll remember."

Shen Zhixia carried the bag down to the stairwell. Lu Jibai followed, holding that piece of paper—the four items from the afternoon—and at the page's foot he had added a line: Served April 8, fifteen days, until the 23rd.

"Director He isn't going tomorrow?" he asked.

"She says that kind of room makes her back hurt."

"She sat in that kind of room for twenty years."

"At the hearing," she said, switching the bag to her other hand, "you never once looked at Han Chongli."

"Looking wouldn't have helped."

"I looked three times."

"See anything?"

"He never once looked toward the gallery." She said. "Chai Guizhi was sitting in the first row, off to the side, her cloth bag on her knees. From the moment he walked in to the moment he walked out, he never glanced that way."

"He was looking at the bench," Lu Jibai said. "Four of the seven aren't lawyers. Those are the four he had to persuade."

"Those four never asked him a single question."

"Asked or not, it shows in the ruling."

"His final statement—not one soft word."

"He doesn't need soft words." He said. "Everything he needed to say was already in the defense statement."

The stairwell light was sound-activated; after two minutes of no movement it went out. When it went dark, a car passed at the mouth of the alley and its headlights swept in, whitening the wall for an instant and catching his left forearm—the scab had come off yesterday, leaving a pale red mark, shinier than the surrounding skin.

The car passed. The wall dimmed again.

"Fifteen days," she said.

"Until the twenty-third."

"He'll drag it out to the last day or two."

"Possible." He looked down at the paper. "Or he might do something else tomorrow. Don't treat these fifteen days as if you still have fifteen days."

"Then how many days should I treat them as."

"Zero."

She set the bag down by her feet.

"After the ruling, I'm opening Volume Seven."

He didn't answer right away. The light timed out and went off on its own; this time he didn't stamp his foot.

"When."

"That night."

"Do you want me there."

"I'll look at it myself."

He stood there for a while. She went down two steps.

The light went out. He stamped his foot on the stair and the light came back on.

"All right," he said.