Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 108 : Read the Operative Part First

The front steps of the courthouse had just been watered down. Her soles stuck to the stone with every step. He Xiufen shifted the cloth bag from her right hand to her left. ”No reading it out when we collect it. Read it, and the crowd downstairs will riot first.”

”We wonʼt read it.”

Nine oʼclock sharp. Outside the Civil Division. The court clerk pulled three copies of the judgment from a case file folder and slid them across the counter. The main text wasnʼt thick. Stapled behind it was a stack of schedules, three times thicker than the main text.

”Attorney Shen, sign here.” The clerk handed her a pen. ”Three copies: one for the agent, one for the representative, one for your firmʼs records. The defendants get theirs by mail today.”

”How does mailing affect the deadline?” He Xiufen asked.

”Each party runs its own clock.” The clerk said. ”Fifteen days from the day they sign for it.”

”The bank gets the same fifteen days.”

”It does.” The clerk pressed the cap onto the pen. ”Their fifteen days start from the date on their proof of service.”

She gathered the three copies to her chest and walked to a bench along the wall of the main hall. He Xiufen didnʼt sit. She stood with her hands buried in the cloth bag.

”Open it.”

The cover bore the cause of action: Housing Lease Contract Dispute. In the plaintiff column it read Tang Guo and 1,042 households, followed by a parenthesis: names and amounts detailed in the roster and schedules. Six defendants, from the three companies down to Chengdong Branch. In the third-party column, one name: Yin Jianping, followed by three characters: Failed to Appear. The date at the bottom was September 9 — four days earlier than the circled 13th.

”This number.” She pressed her finger over ”1,042 households.” ”I counted the roster three times.”

”The court counted too.” He Xiufen said. ”One wrong count, and the whole line after it has to be scrapped.”

Her finger slid down the page margin, past the plaintiffʼs claims, the defendantʼs arguments, the Courtʼs findings, flipping straight to the last page. The rule was half a sentence long — when a judgment lands, read the operative part first.

Below ”The judgment is as follows,” four items sat in tidy rows.

She read aloud: ”One: Defendants Jiangzhou Youzhu Information Technology Co., Ltd., Jiangzhou Youjia Business Services Co., Ltd., and Jiangzhou Xinhe Trading Co., Ltd., shall, within ten days from the effective date of this judgment, jointly and severally return to plaintiffs Tang Guo and 1,042 households their deposits and prepaid rent, with confirmed amounts set out in Schedule 1.”

He Xiufenʼs finger pressed over the back of her hand. Together they looked at the second item.

”Two: Defendants Jiangzhou Minanli Property Co., Ltd., and Jiangzhou Anyu Business Consulting Co., Ltd., shall bear joint and several liability for the portion of the foregoing debts collected through their accounts.”

”Three: Defendant Jiangzhou Bank Co., Ltd. Chengdong Branch shall bear liability for damages within the scope of its fault for the funds disbursed through entrusted payment under the foregoing debts.”

”Four: All other claims of the plaintiffs are dismissed.”

She stopped. At the other end of the bench, someone was turning newspaper pages, one rasp at a time.

”The last few words of item three.” He Xiufen said.

”Within the scope of its fault.”

”The number.”

”Thereʼs no number in the operative part.”

”Item one doesnʼt have one either.” He Xiufen said. ”The numbers are in the schedules.”

She opened the stack behind. Schedule 1, one hundred and five lines, one household per line: unit number, name, amount. She counted from the first line down to the last: Building 5, Minsheng Road, Unit 502, Tang Guo. The schedule followed their submission order. Tang Guo had put her own unit on the final line.

She paused over the three characters of Tang Guoʼs name.

”She put herself last.” He Xiufen said.

”That line from the hearing.” She said. ”Whose account the money went out of, and the payee printed on which line.”

He Xiufen nodded. ”Itʼs printed right in item two.”

”Within ten days.” She flipped back to the operative part. ”When do the ten days start.”

”From the effective date.” He Xiufen said. ”The moment it takes effect, you can file the application on day eleven.”

There was a passage in the middle of the judgment. She turned back to find it, written at the end of the Courtʼs reasoning: Defendant Chengdong Branch, despite being ordered by this Court, failed to submit the original approval records by the time this judgment was rendered, and failed to provide a written explanation regarding the name of the approving signatory. This Court therefore does not accept its defense that it had fulfilled its duty of review as agreed.

The five words ”name of the approving signatory” — exactly the five words she had asked the clerk to write down in full that day in court, not one character different.

She read it aloud to He Xiufen. When she finished, He Xiufen took the cloth bag off her shoulder and set it on her knees. ”Whatʼs asked in court follows onto the page.”

[Thud. The operative part is born. The money is still on paper.]

”That part dismissed in item four.” She said.

”The part where you asked the bank to refund each household directly — dismissed.” He Xiufen said. ”The bank doesnʼt owe rent. Its fault was in disbursing the loan. What it owes is damages, not restitution.”

”So do we appeal.”

”No.” He Xiufen said. ”The money is sitting in item three. Itʼs reachable. Drag it into an appeal and fifteen days become another half year.”

She read the last two lines of the judgment again: case acceptance fees to be borne by the defendants; failure to perform the payment obligation within the period specified in this judgment shall incur doubled interest on the debt for the period of delay.

”These two lines,” He Xiufen said, ”are worth more than the operative part when it comes to enforcement.”

Back in the old town at eleven-thirty. The smell of scallion oil was just rising from downstairs. Tang Guo propped her phone upright on the long table; hundreds of voice messages were jammed on the group chat screen.

”What do I read them.”

”Read the operative part.” He Xiufen draped her coat over the chair back. ”Four items, one sentence each, then stop.”

”What if someone asks when the money arrives.”

”Answer with one word: wait.”

”Should I mention item four.” Tang Guo asked. ”If the group canʼt understand ʼdismissed,ʼ theyʼll say we lost half the case.”

”Say one line: the request to have the bank refund money directly was not granted; the claim for the bankʼs liability was granted.” He Xiufen said. ”Not one word more.”

Tang Guo read slowly, letting each word out one by one. When she reached item three — ”shall bear liability for damages within the scope of its fault” — a string of voice messages jumped up in the group, one after another. No one said a word; all were just red dots. After she finished item four, she laid the phone flat, pulled a notebook from the drawer, and copied the last line of the schedule: Building 5, Minsheng Road, Unit 502, followed by a number.

”Why are you copying that.”

”Just keeping it.” She said.

Jiang Bo posted a line in the group: Eight households over in Chengxi, all heard. Then eight unit numbers, and no one added a single word more.

Shi Lei called first.

”Sis, what line am I on.”

”What do you mean, what line.”

”The schedule.” He said. ”My twenty-four thousand — what line is it on in the schedule.”

Tang Guo flipped the schedule to that page and ran her finger down the unit numbers. ”Building 1, Minʼan Li, Room 202... line eighty-seven.”

There was the sound of work gloves scraping paper on the other end. ”Line eighty-seven.” He repeated it. ”Iʼll remember that number.”

Kong Xiulan called next, asking a different question: ”Who pays me — the bank or the three companies.”

He Xiufen took the receiver. ”Item one: go after the three companies. Item two: Minanli and Anyu. Item three: the bank. Whichever has money in hand, take it first.”

”None of them have money in hand.”

”Thereʼs a little in the three frozen accounts. And the Hongyi account sits with that bank.” He Xiufen said. ”Deduct layer by layer.”

After hanging up, He Xiufen spread a blank enforcement application form across the long table, then traced the September 10 circle on the desk calendar again. The pen tip stopped at the edge of the 13th circle but didnʼt connect them.

”File the moment it takes effect.” She said. ”The application has to specify which account to deduct. The account name, the stated purpose, the signature on the paperwork — we have the first two; the third is still on its way.”

”The two numbers in item three.”

”The word ʼfaultʼ — the court wrote that for us. The numbers we have to draw ourselves.” He Xiufen hoisted the rag onto her shoulder. ”Draw them on those eleven pages the bank submitted.”

Before she finished speaking, Tang Guoʼs phone went off again. Two photos forwarded from Shi Lei: Old Cao had photographed that monthʼs counter receipts. One finger pressed the edge of the paper. In the payer column, two characters: Hongyi. The transfer date was the 23rd of last month.

”The lease on that sixth-floor unit, the name on the certification, three months of rent,” He Xiufen studied the photos twice, ”all fall under the same name. The more they line up, the less that third thing can be missing.”

She opened the back of the receipt book and below the seven lines and half-sentence added one more: Operative item three, within the scope of fault; another line: Hongyi — lease, certification, rent.

[Thud. 1,042 households. 105 lines of numbers. Only counted lines can find the door the money walks through.]

Four-thirty in the afternoon. The office landline rang. He Xiufen listened for two sentences, then passed the receiver over. ”Itʼs Lawyer Luo.”

”Attorney Shen.” Luoʼs voice sounded a little unsteady. ”The judgment arrived at our firm today. I read the operative part first.”

”You did.”

”The firm told us to read the operative part first.” He said. ”The branch held a meeting this afternoon. The word ʼappealʼ has been put on the table.”

She held the receiver and said nothing. A car passed the lane entrance and the window glass rattled.

”What does the firm want.”

”Theyʼll decide tomorrow.” He said. ”Whose name goes in the handler column — thatʼll be decided tomorrow.”

”Will you put your name in.”

Two seconds of silence on the other end. ”I was the one in court.” He said. ”The words on the brief and the words in court were different.”

”Which words were different.”

”In court I pushed upward. On the brief I pulled back and conceded.” He said, then hung up.

He Xiufen turned from the stove. ”Of the six defendants, only the bank will go up. The three companies didnʼt even show, and their total balance adds up to thirty-one yuan and forty-six cents. The bank wonʼt accept this first-instance judgment.”

”An appeal notice has to bear a lawyerʼs name.”

”It has to.” He Xiufen said. ”Once a name is on it, that lawyer has to stand in second instance for this debt. The day itʼs filed, the first-instance judgment stops being effective. The money for a thousand households lies on paper for another half year.”

[Thud. File the appeal, and the judgment doesnʼt take effect. The money waits six more months.]

Two circles on the desk calendar: September 10, September 13, two days apart. He Xiufen moved the pen tip to the September 25 square and drew a third circle. Inside it she wrote two words: Takes Effect. When she finished, she set the pen down. ”This circle depends on the bankʼs proof of service. The later they sign, the further back this circle moves.”

The judgment lay open on the long table. Printed on the last page was the line — if dissatisfied with this judgment, an appeal may be filed within fifteen days from the date of service. Her fifteen days ran from today. The bankʼs fifteen days ran from the date on their proof of service. No filing, and the judgment took effect on the 25th. File, and the 25th was just a date on a piece of paper.

She sent Lu Jibai a line: Read the operative part. Item three, the word ”fault.”

Nine oʼclock. The screen didnʼt light up. Ten oʼclock. She tapped it once; still a few old messages. She turned the phone over, screen up, beside her hand. With the paper cutter she cut a strip of paper, wrote three characters on it, and slid it under the glass desk pad. Next to the four slips of paper, a fifth appeared: Notice of Appeal.

Ten-thirty. The screen was still dark.