Chapter 363: One Page of the Implementation Report

On the morning of April 1, the long table was spread with seven or eight kinds of paper.

She sorted them into separate piles, each weighted down with a sticky note: loading and dispatch records in one pile, evidence room handover registers in another, the Ningchuan handover forms, temperature logger export sheets, and that disc-burning note in a third. Hu Yongnian's notarial certificate attachments lay spread out at the far end, arranged by date. On each sticky note she wrote only one line—which question this paper would answer when it reached the courtroom on the sixth.

At the fourth note, her pen stopped. The papers were all in order, but she thought of one more thing: the 2023 notice ordering rectification and its receipt. They had already been filed back on February 3. That one didn't need chasing.

At ten o'clock, her phone buzzed at the corner of the desk. Prosecutor Qi.

He spoke in short, direct sentences, no hedging.

"April 6, morning, the Procuratorate appears in court to support the prosecution. Two people. Me, and one more to take notes. The Procuratorial Support Opinion is already in the file. I'll read it in court."

"One more thing. The materials we obtained from the Municipal Ecology and Environment Bureau will be delivered to the court clerk on the morning of the second. One set is the supervisory monitoring data from 2025 onward. The other is the enforcement file from that penalty case that year. Originals, copies, the procedural documents for the retrieval—everything has a source."

She took notes, her pen hovering over the word "source."

"In court, can we read from them?"

"If it's in the file, anyone can read from it. When you read, state the source: these pages were lawfully obtained by the Procuratorate, not dug up by the plaintiff on their own."

"Will you question the witnesses?"

"No." He said, "I will only speak to the materials we retrieved. Nothing beyond my opinion, no claims on behalf of the plaintiff, no argument. Your side—I stay out of it."

She thanked him.

"The case is already on file with the Procuratorate. I'm appearing because it exists, not because anyone made a phone call." He paused. "One more thing. The child's test results—bring the original on the day of the hearing. After the judge verifies it, let it go back into your own bag."

The call ended, and the room went quiet for a moment.

[Thud. He stands beside you, not in front of you.]

Lu Jibai turned from the metal cabinet. He was counting the copies to be delivered tomorrow, checking them off one by one, marking a line on paper after each.

"The second's delivery, the Procuratorate's set is now in the file too." He said, "Let me add one more thing for you to verify: who retrieved it, under what authority, and whether the plaintiff was ever in contact with them."

"He just said he won't make claims for the plaintiff."

"He said that about himself. What the defendant will question is us." He squared the stack in his hands and knocked it against the table. "Their line is clean, so ours holds up. One vague answer in court, and that first door gets pushed open."

She bowed her head and added a line to the sticky note. She wrote "source," then left a finger's width of blank space beneath it.

April 2, two in the afternoon.

The printer at her left hand was spitting out pages one after another. On the National Pollution Discharge Permit Management Information Platform, she had gone through the page for the Baixi plant of Jiangzhou Hengyue New Materials Co., Ltd. four times: basic information, permit matters, implementation reports, information disclosure. The implementation reports were filed year by year, one volume per year, the most recent three years all present. She hit print.

The machine wasn't fast. Half a ream of paper later, the output was thicker than she expected. Each year had a cover page bearing the company name, permit number, and reporting period. Inside, column after column—basic information on the polluting unit, production and pollution control facilities, self-monitoring, actual discharge volumes, unusual conditions. The type was small, with the URL and print time in the footer.

She leafed through page by page. Most pages read "normal operation," "up to standard," "no anomalies." Three years of what this factory had reported about itself, clean as if freshly wiped.

Halfway through the second volume, she stopped.

That page was the explanatory column for pollution control facilities, the type a size smaller than the table. One short line: Sedimentation Tank No. 3 has an overflow outlet; overflow connects to the emergency accident pool.

Her finger pressed against the edge of the page. She read the line twice.

Tank No. 3. On February 25, the inspection team had stood by the pool. That white ring along the wall where the pool met it, and a pipe angling out from the bottom, running toward the stormwater ditch. Someone had said at the time it was for maintenance access. Judge Luo on the spot had ordered the defendant to produce a diagram of the pipe's route.

She got up and went through her document envelopes. The pages she had photocopied during the mid-March file review were at the bottom, the inspection record followed by photographs. She pulled out the photo page and laid it beside this one.

One page bore the words the factory had reported about itself. The other showed what the court had photographed. Both concerned the same tank: one said the overflow connected to the emergency pool, the other showed that pipe running from the bottom of the tank toward the stormwater ditch.

She set the two pages side by side and looked at them for a while. She could see there was something here, but what that something was—she couldn't name it yet.

[Thud. This page, he filled it in himself.]

Lu Jibai came back before three, carrying a stack of bound papers. He set them on the far end of the long table first, then noticed the printed pages spread out in front of her.

"What's all this."

"Three years of implementation reports he filed with the platform."

"Why print them."

"The defense statement says zero discharge." She pressed her hand against the edge of the paper. "I want to see what he filled in on the platform himself."

He came over, flipped through a couple of pages slowly. "What did he fill in."

"All normal operation, up to standard, no anomalies." She pushed the two pages she'd been examining toward him and placed the photo page on top. "This page, and this photo—they match."

He finished reading and said nothing. After a moment he asked, "Submitting them?"

"No."

"Why."

"I don't know what it proves." She said, "If I submit it now, it's just a page. He can explain it away in one sentence: we installed an overflow outlet, and it connects to the emergency pool—which actually shows how strictly we manage things."

Lu Jibai pressed the two pages back into place, straightened them, tapped a finger on the edge. "Then don't submit it. What's on a public platform can be checked against anytime. A couple days later won't matter." He picked up the stack. "I'm delivering these at four thirty. By close of business on the second, everything that needs filing gets filed." He locked the cabinet, turned the key all the way. "The third through the fifth, the court's closed."

At seven in the evening, He Xiufen brought the noodles up. Three bowls, the one with the egg placed at Lu Jibai's right hand, the other two pushed to the middle of the table.

"Your court sessions—I don't listen in," she said. She went down two steps, then turned back. "Where's Lawyer Li?"

"Parking downstairs."

"Oh." He Xiufen stood thinking for a moment. "Then I'll hold hers under a lid for now."

She went downstairs. Li Huilan came up at ten past seven, draped her coat over the back of a chair, sat down and started on the noodles.

"Meeting ran until five." She said, "People talk better in person than on paper." She took two bites, then pushed the bowl aside. "Begin."

"Read the litigation claims first." Li Huilan said, "You read. I'll be the seven down below."

Shen Zhixia stood up.

"Claim one: order the defendant to immediately cease discharging lead-containing wastewater beyond the plant boundaries through the stormwater outlet and related plant facilities—"

"Stop."

She looked up.

"Who are you reading to?"

"Seven people."

"Of those seven, four didn't study law." Li Huilan pushed the tea mug forward. "Read me the claim about interim loss of ecosystem service function. Let's see if they have any idea what money you're asking for."

She read it from the complaint, not changing a word.

"I understood it," Lu Jibai said from the other end of the table.

"If you didn't, you'd be faking." Li Huilan didn't look at him. "Your four non-law people heard a string of words with nowhere to land. On the day of the hearing, after you finish reading, they'll nod once and ask nothing—because they don't know what to ask."

Shen Zhixia turned the complaint over and wrote two lines on the back. She looked up and said: "Let me change it. From the day this ditch first exceeded the limit to the day it's restored to what it was, here's what the villagers lost during that time: the water couldn't be used on their fields, they didn't dare eat their vegetables, their kids played in dirt on the school field. All of that, converted—460,000."

Li Huilan didn't respond immediately. After a moment she nodded. "Keep that. On the hearing day, that's how you say it the first time. The words in the complaint stay in the complaint. Your mouth needs to speak human."

"The witness." She rolled her sleeves up a notch. "I'll play him. You question."

"Name, employer, what you do at the plant."

"Wu Zhiqiang. Jiangzhou Hengyue New Materials Baixi plant. I handle the equipment."

"Is water treatment your responsibility?"

"I manage the equipment. Water treatment is equipment too."

"In September 2025, the lead exceedance at the stormwater outfall—were you at the plant."

"Something from that long ago, I don't remember clearly."

"What exactly don't you remember? The exceedance, or whether you were at the plant?"

Li Huilan's hand pressed down on the table and she smiled. "That question has some bite. But he can still answer 'I don't remember either.'" She withdrew her hand. "You ask about what he doesn't remember, he'll keep not remembering. You ask about dates, about times, about where his own hands went. Actions, he can't dodge."

"On the afternoon of February 25, the court conducted an inspection at the plant. You were present."

"I was."

"That day, walking from the pool to the ditch—you led or followed?"

"I led them."

"That pipe by the pool, when you pointed it out to them—how did you point?"

"Just pointed." Li Huilan lifted her chin. "This line of questioning—he can answer it. But after he answers, nothing lands on the record."

"After he answers, I ask the clerk to note one thing."

"Note what."

"That he acknowledged leading people to that pipe."

Li Huilan picked up the tea mug, took a sip, set it down. "That line can go into the record."

Shen Zhixia wrote it down on her paper. When she finished, she looked up waiting for the next question, but Li Huilan pushed the mug aside and sat straighter.

"My turn." She said, "I'm Han Chongli."

Her voice dropped. Slow, each word bitten clear.

"Plaintiff's agent. Page two of your complaint states the defendant discharged over a long period. How long is long? Give me a date."

"September 2025, the Municipal Ecology and Environment Bureau issued a penalty for the lead exceedance at the stormwater outfall."

"That's not the day I asked about. I asked: starting from when."

She flipped through the papers. The complaint, the evidence list, the comparison table—all within reach. She went through them once, then again.

"Before that, we had no paper."

"So, before that date, whether the defendant discharged or not—you don't know." Li Huilan didn't let up. "You don't know, yet you wrote 'long-term' in the complaint. On the hearing day, any one of those seven who can read will ask you that question—what do you have to hold it up?"

She pressed her hand onto the paper.

"I don't know."

The room went still. Down in the alley someone wheeled a cart past, the iron gate clanging once.

"In court, would you dare say that." Li Huilan asked.

"I would."

"Say it, and he'll be back that afternoon. He won't ask what you don't know. He'll pick the questions you can answer and keep asking until you can't."

"I know."

"You don't know." Li Huilan said, "You think being in court is reading papers aloud. Being in court is seven people watching you, picking at every sentence."

She glanced at the pile on the table, at the clock, then said: "Before tomorrow, either strike 'long-term' from the complaint or find a piece of paper for it. Either is fine. Striking it isn't embarrassing. Writing it and having nothing to show—that's what's embarrassing."

[Thud. You couldn't answer because the page isn't in your hand yet.]

The folder was right beside her. She put her hand on it but didn't open it.

"Your turn." Li Huilan gestured with her chin at Lu Jibai. "The argument. That one line."

Lu Jibai stood. No notes. "In environmental pollution cases, the burden of proof isn't on us. The defendant needs to establish two things: it didn't discharge, or what it discharged has nothing to do with what's in that ditch. Both of those, it has to prove with its own paper." He paused. "It hasn't proven them."

"It says zero discharge."

"If it says zero discharge, then it has to explain where the lead in the bottom sediment of the ditch outside the stormwater outfall came from." His voice was level. "If it doesn't explain, we don't explain for it."

Li Huilan nodded, then shook her head. "The words are right. But in court you say it once. Say it twice, and you're treating seven people's ears like paper."

"Once," he said.

At nine, the roll-up door rattled downstairs, all the way down. He Xiufen came up once, stood at the doorway without entering. "I've locked the door. Leaving the lights on." She looked at the table. "Bring the bowls down when you're done."

"Got it," Shen Zhixia said.

On her way out, He Xiufen nudged Li Huilan's coat, draped on the chair back, further onto the chair.

At ten, Li Huilan zipped her bag and stood.

"Once you're in court, he'll be more polite than me and more ruthless."

With that she went downstairs, her heels striking step by step all the way to the ground floor.

Lu Jibai stacked the three bowls, carried them to the stairway, then set them down and turned back. "Those two pages—bring them on the day of the hearing?"

"Yes."

"Keep them safe. Don't mix them in with other papers."

She pulled the two pages out and placed them in an empty kraft paper envelope. On the face she wrote their provenance: printed from the public platform on April 2, print time in the footer; the photograph copied from the court file in mid-March. She sealed the envelope and pressed it beneath the stack of filed-document copies.