Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 101 : Half a Surname

”The originals are in the business repository.” The woman in her forties from the Credit Department set the kraft paper envelope on the counter, both hands holding the flap shut. ”Access requires a reservation three working days in advance, plus approval from the branch.”

”Three working days puts us at September 3rd.” He Xiufen pushed the Investigation Order forward, her finger tapping the line for Service Recipient. ”We have a hearing on the morning of the third.”

”Then the fourth.”

”You can keep the fourth.” He Xiufen pulled the envelope over, drew out the stack inside in front of the woman, and counted page by page. ”One, two, three... eleven. I asked for transfer vouchers and approval pages for outward payments from Minanli Property and Anyu Business, two accounts. Eleven pages, page numbers consecutive.”

”This is everything that can be printed.”

”I donʼt accept the words ʼcan be printed.ʼ” He Xiufen held the last page up to the womanʼs face. ”Write this on the receipt list: This submission consists of photocopies, eleven pages total, originals not verified. Sign your name. Put todayʼs date.”

The woman glanced at Hao Min. Hao Min was the one who handed her the pen.

”Who went to the counter when these two accounts were opened?” He Xiufen asked.

”The account-opening materials arenʼt among these eleven pages.”

”Fine, Iʼll note that down too.” She pulled a sheet from her file, wrote three lines, and pushed it over. ”The Investigation Order says materials are to be submitted in full at one time. This isnʼt full.”

After signing, the woman went upstairs. Hao Min stayed, standing at the counterʼs edge, watching Shen Zhixia arrange the eleven pages by page number, her fingertips gliding line by line down each sheet.

”Last time you came,” Hao Min said, ”I didnʼt give you anything.”

”Last time I was asking for someone elseʼs account.” Shen Zhixia said. ”This time Iʼm asking for these two shellsʼ own accounts.”

”Same result.”

”Not the same. Last time I went back to the firm empty-handed. This time Iʼm taking eleven pages with me.”

Hao Minʼs gaze settled on the envelope flap and lingered. ”These eleven pages were selected by our supervisor.”

[Thud. Originals are in the business repository. A repository doesnʼt talk.]

Shen Zhixia didnʼt head for the main door. She turned and sat on the long bench by the windows in the lobby, untied the case file ribbon, and spread the eleven pages out, each overlapping the last.

The first page was Minanli Propertyʼs account-opening summary. Opening date: April 20th. Legal Representative field: Zheng Hongbin. The reserved mobile number field bore eleven digits—she recognized them. Sheʼd dialed them the morning before last, and the voice on the other end had answered, ”Hongkun Certification Department, please dial the extension.” She also remembered April 22nd: Hongkun Investment had changed its legal representative, shareholders, and liaison officer all on the same day. Three days, everyone moving at once.

Pages two through six: five transactions. Pages seven through ten: Anyu Business, four transactions. Across nine pages, the Payee field carried the same long name: Jiangzhou Hongkun Investment Management Co., Ltd. In the summary column, three characters sat flat and black—Service Fee.

Nine transfers squeezed between July 21st and August 9th. The first was 180,000, then 220,000, 260,000, the largest one 330,000. None went over 360,000. She copied the nine dates and nine figures into her notebook, pausing at the fifth entry: these numbers didnʼt look like theyʼd walked out of a ledger. They looked like theyʼd been weighed on a scale.

That last page, the eleventh: clean edges, no line of small print reading ”verified against original,” no square seal. She placed it beside the first page and compared the paper edges. Same paper, same cut, and what was missing from the eleventh was just that half-line of text.

She flipped back to the first voucher. A field in the upper right corner divided into three boxes: the bottom box for the handlerʼs name; the middle box holding two scrawled strokes; the top box stamped with a seal, red gone dark with age. Beneath the seal, a character was half swallowed—the left side eaten away, only the right half remaining: a horizontal line and a left-falling stroke at top, then a vertical hook below, the tail flicking upward.

She drew the red film from the case fileʼs inner pocket and laid it over that box.

The red sank down. The blue-black rose up. The half-character emerged from beneath the seal.

Someone sat at the other end of the bench, shoes scraping the tile. She slipped the red film back, re-stacked the eleven pages in order, and tucked them into the envelope. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. He Xiufen. Two words: Come back.

She walked in at 11:20, the scallion-oil smell from the noodle shop downstairs still lingering. The long table held the morningʼs stacks of paper; the corners of the top stack curled upward.

He Xiufen was dragging things out from the bottom compartment of the steel cabinet: first a kraft envelope, spine down, flipped over and slapped on the table, shaking out two sheets—one yellowed at the edges, the sampling record from Baixi Village nine years ago; one the approval page the court had transferred over on August 22nd.

”Arrange them yourself.”

Shen Zhixia flattened all three. On the left, a ”Shi” in the sample receipt column, final stroke flicking up. In the middle, the approval columnʼs top line, a surname half-devoured by a seal. On the right, todayʼs transfer voucher, the approval columnʼs top box.

Three dates, three places, one hand.

He Xiufen took out a transparency sheet, laid it over the left sheet, and traced the flick with a pencil; then over the middle; then over the right. When she finished, she lifted the three transparency sheets and held them up to the window light, stacked together.

Three lines merged into one.

”Itʼs similar,” she said.

Shen Zhixia waited for the next word. It didnʼt come.

”Page, date, which box. Write it down.” He Xiufen pushed the three sheets aside. ”The character canʼt be written, but the boxes can.”

”These three characters in the summary column match the one we coaxed out over the phone,” Shen Zhixia said. ”We donʼt have to guess the stated purpose—the bank printed it themselves.”

”Printed beats asked.”

Shen Zhixia opened the Separate Ledger and turned to the ”Same Origin” page. Two columns had been marked on the 25th, four lines each. She skipped a line under the fourth entry in the left column and wrote three more:

One. Nine years ago, Baixi Village sampling record, sample receipt column, first box.

Two. August 22nd, approval page from the Housing Case, top line.

Three. August 30th, transfer vouchers, eleven pages, approval column, first box.

When she finished, she added two characters at the end of the third line: Pending Verification.

[Thud. Third time.]

A large empty space remained beneath those three lines. That space was reserved for a name.

”Nine transfers, nine dates, one payee,” He Xiufen said, taking the page of figures. ”Enough for another page of joinder in the Housing Case. The carbon copies go into the Housing Case file; the half-character goes in the Separate Ledger.”

”At cross-examination on the third, these nine transfers can replace one line.” Shen Zhixia said. ”The money these two accounts took in wasnʼt designated as rent. It was service fees.”

”In court, you only read the line you actually hold.” He Xiufen pushed the paper back. ”Those three characters in the summary column are printed on the bankʼs own paper—that line reads fine.”

”Two things. One sheet.”

”Then pack them separately.”

”One more thing.” Shen Zhixia pushed the first page over and pointed at the reserved mobile number field. ”These eleven digits—I dialed them the day before yesterday. The person who answered said ʼHongkun Certification Department.ʼ This shellʼs reserved number rings the machine on the sixth floor.”

He Xiufen turned the paper around and studied it for a long time, then drew a pencil line under those eleven digits. ”Copy this line into the Housing Case file. The phone number wasnʼt produced by me—it was printed by the bank.”

After twelve, Tang Guoʼs call came in, keys jangling against keys on her end.

”Sis, seven households, Iʼve got three keys,” she said. ”The Chengxi one was easiest—handed over the key and even told me his sonʼs wedding date next month, wants the walls painted fast.”

”Deposit receipts.”

”Two. One for 2,200, one for 2,400. The rest of the landlords are at work, said theyʼd talk tonight.”

”Donʼt go into a unit alone. Once youʼve got a key, photograph the water meter and electric meter readings clearly—meter numbers too.” Shen Zhixia said. ”At month-end accounting, the meters count, not words.”

”Got it. One more thing. Among the last dozen-plus names on the list, three units belong to the same landlord.”

”Note it down. One sheet for those three.”

After hanging up, she counted the stack of paper on the table: 103 sheets.

”The Dongguan household,” He Xiufenʼs arm emerged from the kitchen nook. ”Call them tonight. Two left.”

”Once theyʼre all in, Iʼll verify them one by one tomorrow.”

”Mm.” He Xiufen came out wiping her hands, returned the three sheets to the envelope, and shoved it back into the steel cabinet. ”These three have no place in the Housing Case file. A separate case is a separate case.”

”If Zhou Yu asks.”

”He asks, you say itʼs under verification.” She closed the cabinet door, spine still down. ”If you want to show him, first figure out which case youʼre really showing him. Your fatherʼs matter—you carry it yourself.”

At 5:40, footsteps on the stairs. Zhou Yu came up, a printout rolled in his hand.

”Got the filing form.” He spread the paper on the table, his finger on the stated purpose field. ”Filed August 26th. Payer: Jiangzhou Hongkun Investment Management Co., Ltd. Payee: an offshore company, the name in a foreign language. Amount: 500,000 yuan, RMB.”

”The purpose.”

Zhou Yu moved his hand. Five characters: Translation Service Fee.

”Last time I said 24 million canʼt be paid out as translation fees.” He laid the paper with the nine copied transfers beside it. ”Now these nine fill the gap: Xinhe goes out, through Minanli, through Anyu, into Hongkun. Hongkun takes the filing form to the bank; the bank sees the purposeʼs in order, the documents match, so they process it. The filing was made on the 26th—disbursement usually comes within days.”

”The one who recites the lines.” He Xiufen said.

”Zhou Keming. National ID verified. Border control matches the number, not the name.” Zhou Yu aligned the two pages. ”All three are in place: the purpose on paper, the route in the accounts, and a name for the man reciting the script.”

”Can we file a case?”

”Report it through the mass contract fraud channel to the police for preliminary inquiry. The moneyʼs still domestic—it can still be stopped. Once itʼs out, recovering it becomes ten times harder.” He said. ”Iʼll submit it tomorrow morning.”

”Canʼt submit today.”

”Today it would land as a stack of paper. Tomorrow it lands with someone to receive it.” He snapped the folder shut. ”Tonight I have to nail the purpose to that filing form. Only once itʼs nailed down do they get a chance to accept it.”

He glanced at September 3rd on the desk calendar, then at the stack of receipts on the table.

”The seven households on todayʼs list?”

”Three keys in hand, two deposit receipts.” Shen Zhixia said. ”The rest talk tonight.”

”Then today wasnʼt wasted.” Zhou Yu said. At the stairway he paused, and asked the question that followed from last nightʼs. ”The signature field—find it yet?”

”Found half a character.” Shen Zhixia said. ”The left halfʼs under the seal.”

”I donʼt want half.” Zhou Yu said. ”When the strokes are complete, thatʼs when itʼs mine.”

His footsteps descended.

At dusk, she photographed the three sheets, thought for a moment, and sent only one line to Lu Jibai: In the signature field. The third one.

At 9:20, her phone lit up. Three characters: Which seal.

She stared at those three characters for half a minute, then turned back to the Separate Ledger and added a line in the right column of the Same Origin page: Which seal, and whose.

At ten, He Xiufen brought a bowl of scallion noodles from the kitchen, set it at the corner of the table, then walked to the steel cabinet, pulled the three sheets out, came back, and spread them one by one, pressing them flat.

On the left, nine years ago. In the middle, August 22nd. On the right, today.

Her finger tapped once on the approval field of the third sheet, then she slid all three side by side beneath the glass desk pad, next to the paper strip that bore only the number ”30th.”

”Him again.”