Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 49 : The Ten-Yuan Door

On the morning of March 2, downstairs at the noodle shop. Water droplets hung on the plastic door curtain, a line of them trailing down along a crease.

He Xiufen laid two sheets of paper side by side on the worktable. The one on the left was frayed at the edges—the Notice of Appeal copy Lu Jibai had pulled out of a brown paper envelope on the night of the 24th. The one on the right was smooth—yesterday afternoon the court had called and told her to bring her ID to the Litigation Service Center today to sign a Proof of Service.

”Both of these are for you.” He Xiufen laid a rolling pin across the edge of the papers. ”Look for yourself. Whatʼs different?”

”One was given to me by him, the other by the court.”

”Right. The one he gave you is so you can read it and understand it first. The one the court gives you is for you to sign. When you get there, see clearly—youʼre signing that you ʼreceivedʼ it, not that you ʼhave no objection.ʼ”

”Is there a difference?”

”There is.” He Xiufen lifted a corner of the curtain and looked out, then dropped it back down. ”ʼReceivedʼ is a date. Lawsuits are fought over dates.”

She flipped through the Notice of Appeal copy from start to finish again. Last night, the settlement proposal Ma Jianjun had pushed back had been on the table, and she had only skimmed the first line of this copy.

”Have you counted yet?” He Xiufen asked. ”Its appeal—where does it hit you?”

”One point.”

”Say it.”

”The trial court shouldnʼt have believed me.” She closed the paper. ”Three sections of reasoning, and itʼs just that one sentence said different ways.”

”One point is all it needs.” He Xiufen pressed her hand into the dough. ”The second instance only reviews the one point it appealed. Your fatal weak spot is also just that one point.”

”Iʼm going today. Iʼll also ask clearly about the fee.”

”Now youʼre talking.” He Xiufen said. ”If it wants to appeal, it has to pay first. If the money doesnʼt go into the courtʼs account, a Notice of Appeal is just paper.”

At quarter past nine, second floor of the Litigation Service Center.

She had only one person ahead of her in line. At the window was the same person again, the enamel mugʼs lid screwed on, steam rising from the rim.

She pushed her ID and the reference number sheʼd noted from the phone call across the counter. He pulled out a stack of papers, found her name on the Proof of Service, and set a pen on the window ledge.

”Sign here.”

The Proof of Service was folded in half, two sections. The first section already had writing: Defendant Oneʼs representative, Lu Jibai, February 24. She wrote her name on the line below his, filled in todayʼs date, and pushed the pen back. The pen barrel still held a trace of warmth.

”Duplicate is two and a half pages.” He pushed the paper half an inch through the glass. ”Both sides. Count them.”

She walked to the row of hard chairs in the hall, sat down, and read page by page.

In the appellant section, it said Defendant One. In the appellee section, twenty names were listed in order; the first was Ma Jianjun. In the original defendant section: Sutong, Jianhua, and Hengtong—three names, all with the spaces after them left blank.

There were two requests on appeal: vacate the first and second items of the trial courtʼs judgment; amend the judgment to dismiss all the appelleesʼ first-instance litigation claims, or remand for a new trial.

Facts and reasons took up three sections. The first sentence of the first section: ”The first-instance judgment found the facts unclear and applied the law erroneously.”

Further down, the three sections said the same thing—that the trial courtʼs finding that the appellant ”failed to submit and could not reasonably explain” did not match the case file; the appellant had, in accordance with the peopleʼs courtʼs order, submitted a search summary within the designated period; the trial court, without any direct evidence, relied only on the allocation of burden of proof to directly determine the existence of an employment relationship, which constituted an error in allocating the burden of proof.

After reading the three sections, she went back and read them a second time.

From the first word to the last, it did not mention Xiao Duanʼs screen recording—the entrance in the Help Center that couldnʼt be reached; it did not mention the December 10 cleanup work order from the East Suburb server room; it did not mention Sutongʼs four empty accounts; and it did not mention Hengtongʼs legal representative who was replaced on February 3.

It only bit down on one sentence: the trial court shouldnʼt have believed her.

She took a pen from her hardcover notebook and wrote two lines on a blank page. First line: It only attacks one point. Second line: The two things it doesnʼt mention are the two things itʼs afraid of.

She took another number and used the window as a place to ask questions.

”How is the appeal fee paid?”

The man tapped the keyboard twice. ”Labor dispute case. Ten yuan per case.”

She paused. ”Ten yuan.”

”The ten yuan from the first instance—the judgment says the four defendants bear it.” He said. ”These ten yuan for the second instance, it has to advance itself. The notice went out last week. Within seven days—by March 9.”

”What if it doesnʼt pay?”

”Overdue payment is treated as an automatic withdrawal of the appeal.” He twisted the mug lid. ”The judgment takes effect.”

”So it could choose not to pay.”

”It could also choose to pay.” He said. ”It has another route: apply for deferred, reduced, or waived payment. Submit a written request, and then itʼs up to the court.”

”Itʼs not short ten yuan.”

The man looked up at her and pulled back the papers heʼd pushed out. ”Whether itʼs short of money doesnʼt depend on what it says; it depends on what materials it submits. Thatʼs not my business.”

”What about the defense statement?”

”The one in your hand is a copy, for you to sign and acknowledge receipt. If you want to write a defense, wait until it steps through the door of the second instance. If it never even steps through the door, those pages you write will be wasted.”

That evening, at the long table in Zhengping Firm.

He Xiufen pulled that same sheet of graph paper out from under the glass top. The five-step schedule was still there; the horizontal line ran to the last square: ”Past deadline, apply for enforcement.” Below it, she added more.

March 2—received copy, signed Proof of Service.

Second-instance filing fee ten yuan—within seven days, March 9.

Failure to pay—treated as automatic withdrawal of appeal, judgment takes effect.

After writing, she held the pen down and looked at it for a while.

”The Notice of Appeal is paper.” She said. ”The fee is the door. If it doesnʼt pay, the judgment takes effect. So go watch, and see whether it pays.”

”It will pay.” Shen Zhixia said.

”Explain.”

”Pay the ten yuan, and the second instance takes three months—plus service of process, plus the time the case file spends in transit—half a year.” She set her finger on the March 9 square. ”In that half year, it can move things, swap people, and ride out the public notice period for the general deregistration. Itʼs buying half a year with ten yuan.”

He Xiufen wiped the moisture from the mug lid. ”Buying half a year with ten yuan. Thatʼs a deal it can afford.”

”I wonʼt just be waiting those seven days.” Shen Zhixia said.

”Right. Put together a packet of what the second instance will need.”

”Xiao Duanʼs screen recording, the Yunfan work order, the first-instance hearing record, the record from the day of evidence exchange, and the pronouncement record.”

”Add one more.” He Xiufen said. ”That written opinion where it said it ʼdid not submitʼ—the stack of five-page summaries. You have copies.”

”I do.”

”Put them in.” He Xiufen said. ”In the second instance, it will still make that same argument. You should take out and lay on the table whatever youʼll use to block that argument. Not for tomorrow, but so you donʼt panic during those seven days.”

That night she packed the bag and set it on the corner of the long table. It was a brown paper bag, heavy in the hand. On the outside she wrote a line: Second Instance—the two things itʼs afraid of.

Her phone buzzed on the table. A voice message came in the rider group: Deng Weiʼs voice, someone honking behind him.

”Hey, has the second-instance date come down yet?”

She held the voice-record button: ”Thereʼs no second instance yet. Whether it goes to second instance depends on whether it pays. If it pays, a date gets set. If it doesnʼt, the judgment takes effect, and I go to enforcement.”

Two seconds after sending, another message came into the group. This time it was Ma Jianjun, speaking slowly, pausing in the middle.

”Then letʼs hope it canʼt bear to part with that ten yuan.”

He Xiufenʼs hand paused on the mug lid. ”What it canʼt bear to part with isnʼt money.”

”Then what?”

”Time. What it wants to trade that ten yuan for is the days to hold the door open.”

At ten twenty, a text from Luo Cheng came in: March 20. She replied two words: Got it.

She picked up a pencil and drew a circle around the March 9 square on the graph paper, then traced the edge of the circle once more.

On the afternoon of March 9, she went back to the Litigation Service Center.

That day, she had only intended to ask whether the judgment had taken effect. When her number was called, that same enamel mug was still there.

”Iʼm here to ask about Defendant Oneʼs appeal.” She passed in her ID. ”Has it paid the fee?”

He typed. Halfway through, his fingers stopped. He stared at the screen for two seconds and leaned back slightly.

”It hasnʼt paid.”

She didnʼt answer.

”It submitted something this morning.” He turned the screen slightly toward her. ”Application for Deferred Payment of Case Acceptance Fee.”

Two pages were attached below the title. She looked through the glass. The first page was an account inquiry record; the account-name column read Defendant One, and below it was a row of account numbers. In the balance column, one after another, all zeros.

The second page she recognized. It was the half-page ”Notice of Property Investigation Results” from February 18—Defendant Two, Defendant Three, six accounts, total zero yuan—from the scope of her preservation application. The last page still bore the line she had signed on February 8.

The reason for the application was written very briefly: The companyʼs account funds have already been frozen, operations are difficult, and it is temporarily unable to pay.

In the lower right corner of the last attachment page, in the representative section: Lu Jibai.

Back at Zhengping Firm, the noodle shop downstairs was closing up. She spread the hardcover notebook open on the worktable: the title line, the row of zeros on the first page, the lines of the half page on the second page, the three characters of the name on the last page—she copied them down line by line from the screen.

He Xiufen wiped her hands on her apron and read page by page. When she reached the half page, she studied it for a long time.

”This page of zeros—youʼre the one who submitted it.”

”I did.”

”That half page of zeros—you counted them out one by one yourself.” He Xiufen set the notebook back down. ”Today itʼs using your half page to prove itʼs broke.”

”Itʼs not short ten yuan.”

”What itʼs short of is those days to hold the door open.” He Xiufen pressed the notebook back onto the worktable. ”Submit this paper, and the court has to review it. During the days under review, it isnʼt overdue.”

”Then when does it count?”

”When the court rejects it.” He Xiufen said. ”Once rejected, if it drags it out even one more day, itʼs overdue. Once overdue, itʼs treated as automatic withdrawal of the appeal, and the judgment takes effect.”

She set down the pencil. ”Iʼll go again tomorrow.”

”To do what?”

”To explain those two pages clearly.” She said. ”Those six accounts are zero, but I didnʼt freeze them into zero. When I filed for preservation on February 8, it had already moved things out. I want to submit that. In writing.”

”Write it on one page. Donʼt go explain it to the counter staff.”

”Iʼll write it on one page.”

[Thud. Its appeal only has one accusation: the trial court shouldnʼt have believed you.]

[Thud. The two things it doesnʼt mention are the two things itʼs afraid of.]

[Thud. You hope it doesnʼt pay. It knows you hope.]

[Thud. It doesnʼt step through the door, and it doesnʼt close it. It holds the ten yuan up for the judge to see.]

She turned her phone over and opened the chat with Lu Jibai. The last message was still the ”Iʼm here” from the 24th.

She typed: That deferred payment application—you signed it.

He replied without much delay: I signed it.

She: Ten yuan. Itʼs using my one page of zeros to prove itʼs broke.

He: That page was one you submitted yourself.

She: The day you donʼt want to keep filing these, let me know.

After a while, he replied with two words: Iʼll remember.

The lights in the noodle shop went out.

She folded the two pages she had copied into a strip an inch wide and tucked it into the back of the hardcover notebook. The last square on the graph paper was still empty, with nothing written in it. On the last day of the payment period, the judgment had not taken effect.