Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 45 : Five Pages with No Source

Five sheets of paper lay spread across the long table, weighed down under an enamel mug so the draft from the kitchen couldnʼt flip them up.

Shen Zhixia copied the last square into the checklist. On the left, twenty rows, from the first account to the last; on the right, three columns with three dates: July 18, October 16, December 9 through 11.

[Thud. Twenty accounts, three dates. Today they have to go into the machines and bring out the half that matches.]

”Answer whatever they ask.” He Xiufen set a bowl of noodles beside her, the chopsticks laid across the rim.

”I can answer.”

”Thatʼs not what I asked.” He Xiufen unscrewed the mug lid, the steam hitting her in the face. ”Iʼm asking about that last sentence of yours. After they finish handing over those papers, open your mouth and say something even the person sweeping downstairs can understand—who sent the work, and who paid the money.”

”They can understand legal language too.”

”They can understand it, but they wonʼt remember it.” He Xiufen dotted two drops of vinegar into the bowl. ”Plain words, people remember.”

She set the bottom of the mug on the five pages. These were the copies collected yesterday afternoon from the Litigation Service Center: a Statement on Submission of Documentary Evidence, with five attached pages from the Search Summary of Operation Records for Involved Accounts. Last night, she and He Xiufen had spread them out under the light and read through them once. When she turned to the third page, He Xiufen only said one thing: ”The records a machine spits out each have their own source, line by line. These five pages have no source from beginning to end.”

”It submitted these five pages to the court on the twenty-fourth, two days before today.” Shen Zhixia closed the chart. ”It didnʼt wait.”

”It couldnʼt wait.” He Xiufen lifted the mug. ”If it can hand over a full set, you use that. If it canʼt, itʼs gone and settled the argument for you. Either way, both roads lead straight to that table of yours.”

At eight forty, she carried the case file downstairs. The shopʼs rolling shutter was only raised halfway, and the smell of scallion oil drifted out with the cold air.

Lao Song was still sitting on the edge of the flowerbed west of the District Peopleʼs Court gate, his little notebook open on his knee, a pencil between his fingers.

”Go on in.” He lifted the notebook. ”Nine oʼclock. Iʼll put nine.”

The door of the Second Courtroom stood open, and the radiators were just beginning to warm. At the plaintiffsʼ table, Deng Wei had squared the edges of his stack of papers three times. Ma Jianjun kept both hands outside the tableʼs edge, and the four-folded thing inside his padded jacket made a bulge. He Xiufen and Luo Cheng sat in the gallery, a cloth bag resting in He Xiufenʼs lap.

There were three chairs on the bench, Judge Cheng in the middle.

”Court is in session.”

She handed up the chart first. ”Presiding Judge, this is the list of involved accounts and time periods that the court required the plaintiffs to submit: twenty accounts, three dates, in duplicate.”

Judge Cheng flipped through two pages and handed them to the clerk. ”Defendants Two, Three, and Four, having been duly summoned by this court, have failed to appear without justifiable cause. Trial will proceed in absentia, and this shall be noted in the record. Defendant One, the documentary evidence this court ordered you to produce on January 22 is due today.”

”On the twenty-fourth of this month, the respondent submitted to this court a Statement on Submission of Documentary Evidence and five pages of search summary.” Lü Hang stood and handed up a kraft paper envelope. ”Today I have brought the originals to court for the courtʼs review.”

The clerk passed the five pages to her.

The first line of the first page read: ”After searching, the relevant operation records in the system are as follows.”

Below that were nine rows. The first column was the date, the second was ”Operation Type,” and the third was ”Result.” There were only three dates: July 18, October 16, and December 10.

Across those nine rows, six accounts appeared.

Not one row listed the operator. Not one row listed an approver. Not one row carried a timestamp, only a date. The last line read: ”As for the remaining records, the respondent is objectively unable to provide them.”

[Thud. Nine lines of text, and not a single line says who.]

She flipped the five pages from front to back, then from back to front again.

”Presiding Judge, I will raise three points.”

”Proceed.”

”First, substance. The order required backend access records, operation records, and backup generation records, including timestamps, operating entities, and approval information, as well as the application, approval, and execution records for the December 10 data purge. What arrived in court today is one statement and five pages of summary. In the summary, there are no timestamps, no operating entities, no approvers. Of twenty accounts, it wrote down six. For that December 10 purge, there is only one word: ʼResult.ʼ”

She turned the paper to the last page.

”Second, source. Exported records each carry their own timestamp and show whose account was operating on them. These five pages have none of that. They were written by a person on the twenty-fourth—and who wrote them is not written anywhere on this page.”

”Third, timing. The deadline in the order was today. It did not wait until today. It submitted early because these five pages are all it had: out of twenty accounts, it picked six to write down, and for the remaining fourteen, there isnʼt a single figure.”

She set the paper down.

”Presiding Judge, what it has submitted is its own description of these records. The order required the half that lives in the machines. What it gave is the half that comes out of a personʼs mouth.”

Judge Cheng pushed his glasses up. ”Defendant One, this courtʼs January 22 order required original records, including timestamps, operating entities, and approval information. What you submitted is a summary.”

”Yes.”

”Why?”

”The original records are objectively unavailable. The respondent has already explained this in its written opinion dated January 13.” Lu Jibai said. ”The summary was retrieved and compiled by the respondentʼs technical personnel from the system within the time range specified by this court, for the purpose of explaining the system operations during the relevant periods. The respondent has fulfilled its duty to cooperate.”

”Technical personnel.” Judge Cheng repeated the phrase. ”Which day, which machine, who retrieved it.”

”On the twenty-fourth of this month, after retrieval from the system, it was compiled by the respondentʼs technical personnel.”

”This page itself does not say that.” She held the paper up. ”Who retrieved it, on which machine, at what time—not one word is written.”

”Regarding the form of the summary, the respondent can supplement its explanation within three days.” Lu Jibai said.

”Another page of explanation would still just be an explanation.” she said.

Judge Cheng lowered his head and wrote two lines, then looked up.

”Defendant One, on the twenty-second, this court explained to you the consequences of refusing to produce documents. Today you have handed in five pages. Not one of the three items listed in the order appears on paper. You say the records are objectively unavailable, and this court has no way to verify that. You say technical personnel retrieved them, and this court also has no way to verify that.”

He set down his pen.

”This tribunal now finds in open court. One, Defendant One failed to produce the involved documentary evidence as required by this courtʼs documentary evidence production order, and the explanation provided cannot reasonably account for that failure. Two, pursuant to the Supreme Peopleʼs Court Provisions on Evidence in Civil Procedure concerning documentary evidence production orders and the consequences of obstruction of evidence production, this tribunal finds that the following facts asserted by the plaintiffs are established: the dispatch, pricing, overtime deductions, and account bans and unbans for the twenty involved accounts were all carried out through the backend system operated by Defendant One; the relevant operation records were generated and stored on servers under Defendant Oneʼs control. If Defendant One has any objection, it shall submit it in writing within three days.”

”Let it be entered into the record.” Lu Jibai said. ”The respondent reserves its position.”

[Thud. They wrote it all down, so they might as well have handed over nothing.]

”The court investigation is concluded.” Judge Cheng said. ”We will now proceed to courtroom debate. The plaintiffs will present their argument.”

She stood. The outline in her hand had been written the night before, three lines long. At this point, she turned the paper face down on the table.

”Presiding Judge, members of the tribunal.”

”This case has been heard all the way to today, and only one question remains: whose worker is he.”

”From the very beginning, the other side has split him into two hands. The one that dispatches work is the Platform. The one that pays out money is Sutong. Two hands, two names—and that is why today it can stand here and say I sued the wrong person.”

”I am putting those two hands onto a single piece of paper.”

”July 18, heavy rain, six forty. Its system dispatched an order to his phone. That same day, he was hit with an overtime penalty, and its system deducted thirty yuan from that dayʼs pay. After October 16, it was its system that banned the account. Two days later, it was also its system that unbanned it. It banned twenty accounts and wrote the same one-line reason for each. It unbanned two and did not write a single word. It has the authority to ban his account. Its rules are written by itself. Where an appeal goes is written in the third sentence of its own statement. Put those three sentences together, and they carry the tone of an employer speaking to its own people.”

”It says the money didnʼt come from it. But the account that paid his wages is registered under a company, and in that companyʼs annual report, the column for insured employees reads zero. That company has the same street number as it does. On that door, four nameplates have hung altogether, and standing behind those four nameplates is one bossʼs name. On December 10, on the Work Order that touched its backend data, the approver column also carries that same name.”

”The hand that dispatches the work and the hand that pays out the money are the same hand.”

”It cut itself into four names just so that today it could point at one severed corner and say: this is him, and only that, over there, is me.”

”Presiding Judge. Who dispatched the work, who set the rate, who took the deduction, who banned the account—whoever holds him holds his labor. We ask the court to find, in accordance with law, that an employment relationship exists between the twenty plaintiffs and Defendant One, and to order the four defendants to jointly pay the remuneration and overtime deductions listed in the schedule to the Arbitration Award.”

”Defendant One will present its argument.”

Lu Jibai stood. He did not look at the five pages, nor at the outline turned face down on her table. He stood for two seconds.

”The respondent has nothing further to add on the facts.”

”Its position on the application of law is consistent with its Defense Statement.”

He sat back down. The lay assessorʼs pen cap was still on; he had not pulled it off.

[Thud. Four nameplates, one hand.]

”Do both parties agree to mediation?” Judge Cheng asked.

”Agreed.” she said. ”The four defendants will jointly bear responsibility and pay in full within ten days.”

”The respondent needs to return to the firm to seek instructions.” Lu Jibai said.

”So noted in the record.” Judge Cheng said. ”The facts of this case have been established. This tribunal will schedule a judgment. That is all for today. Court is adjourned.”

There was no heat in the corridor. He Xiufen shifted the cloth bag to her other hand.

”He didnʼt push back on you once today.” she said.

”He left the legal application part alone.”

”That part is his arena.” He Xiufen walked toward the stairway. ”On the facts, he didnʼt reach in today.”

The wind was strong on the steps. Lao Song stood up, flipped his notebook open, and wrote: 11:05, court recessed. When he finished, he clipped the pen back into the spine of the notebook.

Deng Wei was still clutching the stack of papers. ”Thatʼs it?”

”Now we wait for him to rule.”

”What about the money?”

”A judgment is just paper.” she said. ”Paper still needs someone to turn it into cash.”

Ma Jianjun pressed the four-folded thing inside his padded jacket but did not take it out. ”When the ruling comes, Iʼll be here.”

”Be here.”

Lu Jibai came out through the side door, the case file tucked under his arm. Lü Hang was a half step behind him, on the phone. He went down two steps and stopped.

She was just about to walk toward the flowerbed.

”Plaintiff.”

”Yeah.”

He did not look at her. He looked at the delivery scooter boxes across the street, where the wind made the plastic sheeting rattle.

”Those lines today.”

”Which lines.”

”Your last few lines.” The wind lifted the corner of the top page of his case file, and he pressed it down. ”They sounded like him.”

She stopped. The strap of the case file slipped an inch through her fingers and landed on the steps.

”Who.”

He did not answer. He shifted the case file under his left arm, walked to the curb, and waited for the light.

The pedestrian light turned green. He crossed the crosswalk and did not look back.

Across the street, an electric scooter pulled to the side. The delivery rider pulled a plastic bag from the box and ran toward the building. The wind on the steps made the strap sway. She bent down to pick it up, and only when her fingers touched the strap did she realize that she had never let out the breath sheʼd been holding.