Chapter 381: I'm Not Leaving

Tang Guo carried the loquats up herself. A paper bag, wrapped in newspaper, the newspaper dated last month.

"There's a new stall downstairs. Fifteen a pound, I talked her down to twelve." She set the bag on the table. The paper folded open and two rolled out; one bumped against the notebook and stopped. "Eat the sour ones first, save the sweet ones."

She closed the notebook in her hands and pushed it over toward the stack of files.

Zhi'an came out from the inner room, glanced at the bag of loquats, picked out the biggest one, and went back in, door half-shut.

"He always picks the good ones." Tang Guo pulled a chair over and sat, peeling one, yellow staining her fingers. "I ran three errands outside today. Shoes soaked through."

"Rain?"

"Street sweeper truck." Tang Guo flipped her phone over and set it on the table. "Look at this."

The screen showed the ditch at the village entrance. The camera didn't move; grass grew to ankle height, the water still the same color. She swiped. Same ditch, grass now taller by an inch.

"Guo Jianping shot it. Same position, four times. The seventeenth, the eighteenth, the twentieth, and today." Tang Guo nudged the phone forward an inch. "He didn't charge a cent extra, daily settlement, raw footage untouched. He said this batch doesn't need editing. Auntie Chai—I asked before I went to shoot. She said filming the ditch is fine, just don't film people."

She watched it twice. Halfway through the second viewing, she straightened the phone.

"Date's stamped in the lower left corner. Small font, no need for caption work."

"Huh?"

"Stamp it on every segment." She pushed the phone back. "No music, no filters. That ditch is going to get repaired eventually, and when it is, they'll have to come back and film it once more. These four segments are from before the repair. Which segment is which day has to be readable from the frame itself."

Tang Guo typed it into her phone's notes, read it back aloud, then looked up. "Anything else?"

"The children can't appear at all. No backs, no blurring."

"Guo Jianping wanted to pixelate them and put them in. I told him no. Said we'd wait for the lawyer's approval."

"Even with approval, we're not publishing." Tang Guo laughed at herself, passed the peeled loquat over. "I'll hold the draft. Wait for the twenty-fourth."

"Takes effect on the twenty-fourth. Show me before you post."

"Full company name, quote the judgment verbatim, no 'we won.'" Tang Guo spat a seed onto the newspaper. "I've got it memorized."

She bit into one. Sour.

On the table lay a page she'd written during the day. Tang Guo had sharp eyes. She craned her neck. "What's this? Envi... ronmental supervision?"

"A company in this city. Last year they did a round of environmental supervision for the Baixi plant. Qinghe's remediation plan needs a third-party assessor, and this company's on the list."

"Then you can't use them."

"Just saying we can't use them won't hold up." She pulled the page toward herself. "You have to write down why they can't be used: which year the tender went out, who ran it, who signed the acceptance column. I pulled the public notices and tender announcement this afternoon. The acceptance column was signed by someone from the plant."

"You spent all day on one page?"

"One page. It goes in front of the plan, filed with the Intermediate Court. The defendant gets a copy too."

Tang Guo reached over. "Can I photograph it?"

"No. It hasn't been filed yet."

"Fine." She pulled her hand back faster than she'd reached out. "I said I wouldn't push."

Three peeled loquats sat on the table, seeds lined up on the newspaper corner, none of them eaten. Tang Guo called toward the inner room: "Zhi'an, come out and eat some loquats." The reply came back: "Doing homework." She lowered her voice. "Look at your brother. More sensible than you."

"He has an assignment due tomorrow."

"Your face is all hollowed out." Tang Guo leaned back in her chair, not looking at anyone. "My account's been restless these two days, losing followers. Someone in the comments wrote, 'This woman switched careers to shilling for a law firm.'"

"Did you reply?"

"One reply." Tang Guo lifted her eyes to her. "I said I don't shill. I film what I've seen with my own eyes."

She didn't respond, just pushed the stack of files at the corner of the desk further in. At the very bottom was the blue cloth-covered one, half an inch of its edge showing. She moved a notebook on top of it, covering it exactly.

Tang Guo's gaze paused on that half inch, then withdrew.

"It's nine." She stood, wrapped the remaining loquats back in the newspaper, and pressed the bundle into her hands. "Sour ones on this side, sweet ones underneath. When you can't tell the difference, take a bite first."

She walked her to the door. Tang Guo put on her shoes, hand on the doorknob, and turned back.

"That printer at your firm still working? Mine's jamming again. Took me half an hour to print a draft today."

"It works."

"Your firm—" The sentence broke off. Tang Guo swallowed it. "Never mind. I'll take mine in for repair tomorrow."

The door opened a crack. A little wind came in.

"I won't ask," Tang Guo said. "Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."

Then she was out, footsteps descending the stairwell, the sound-activated lights going on floor by floor.

At 7:40 in the morning on April 22nd, her phone rang. The first thing she heard was a hospital announcement.

"Lawyer Shen, we're here." Chai Guizhi switched hands holding the phone. "At the registration window. I put my name down, and in the relationship column I wrote grandmother."

"Mm."

"She asked where the child's parents are."

"What did you tell her?"

"Working in Guangdong." She lowered her voice slightly. "She didn't press. She asked if the child had eaten anything."

"Had he?"

"Two eggs. Normally he can't even get one down." Chai Guizhi laughed once, then stopped herself. "There are six people in line at the blood draw window."

"Wait in line. Photograph the results the moment they come out, keep the original safe, don't fold it."

"I brought a metal box."

"Only put it in once the results are out."

At ten, Li Huilan called from outside. "The consumption restriction application's been filed. The window accepted it, stamped with the receipt seal."

"The receipt?"

"I made a copy and filed it in the case file."

"Did he ask again today?"

"Asked once." Li Huilan paused. "I told him the application's been submitted, waiting for the court to schedule it."

"Next time he asks, same answer."

"Got it."

At noon, He Xiufen carried a bowl of noodles upstairs and set it at the edge of her desk. "Leave the bowl by the door when you're done. I'll come up and get it." Then she went back down, the exhaust fan humming below.

At 3:10 in the afternoon, the phone rang again.

"Lawyer Shen, the results are out." The paper rustled close to the receiver. "I'll read it to you. Don't rush me."

"Go ahead."

"One, four, seven."

Her pen stopped on the paper.

"One hundred forty-seven." Chai Guizhi finished, paused. "Last time was two hundred six, right?"

"Right."

"So that means..."

"It's down." She wrote the number into the Qingshi Village page. "Still above the reference range. We'll have to keep watching."

Silence on the other end for two beats.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Come back in six months." Chai Guizhi turned the sheet over. "He did ask one more thing. Asked who else in the family has been tested."

"How did you answer?"

"The child's the patient, I don't know anything else." She recited it steadily. "He didn't ask again."

"Did you photograph it?"

"Took two. One of the whole sheet, one just the numbers. I held the phone up to the window, good light."

"If anyone comes asking, you say the child's being treated, you don't know anything else."

"Got it." She acknowledged, then remembered something. "Lawyer Shen, the little card the doctor gave him last time—he brought it himself today. Held it in his hand during the blood draw, never let go."

"After the draw, put it back for him."

"Put it back." Chai Guizhi said. "He asked me when that thing gets filed."

"The judgment takes effect on the twenty-fourth. Once I have the certificate, I'll file it."

"The twenty-fourth." She repeated it to herself.

After hanging up, she recorded it in her notebook: April 22nd, 7:30 a.m., follow-up test, 147; retest in six months. Below that, another line: He brought the card. Held it during the blood draw.

[Thud. Appeal period expires tomorrow. The Qingshi Village case still doesn't count.]

19:50. Her home.

Zhi'an came out of the inner room to pour water, stopped at the window.

"Sis, someone's downstairs."

"Who?"

"Him."

Her hand turning the page didn't stop. "Go do your homework."

Zhi'an stood there for two seconds, set down the cup, grabbed the bag of trash by the door. "I'm going down for a minute."

"Put on a coat."

The door banged once downstairs.

Lu Jibai stood outside the building entrance, three paces from the door, in a spot the sound-activated light didn't reach. Coat buttoned, both hands empty, hanging at his sides.

Zhi'an tossed the trash into the bin. The lid clattered, the hallway light came on, lighting up half his face.

"What are you standing here for?"

"Just standing for a while."

"How long is a while?"

He didn't answer.

Zhi'an came down the steps and stood beside him, two paces of distance between them.

"My sister's not coming down."

"I know."

"Then who's going to see you standing here?"

"Whether anyone sees or not, I'm here."

Zhi'an fell silent. The light went out. The two of them stood in the dark. After a moment, he stamped his foot; the light came back on, showing the same three paces of ground.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"The firm."

"There's no stove at the firm." Zhi'an pulled his collar up. "I've got eggs in my room. I'll get you two."

"No need."

"Fine, don't take them." He took the offer back himself. "Then keep standing."

Wind came from the alley, slapping the dumpster lid.

"The night of the eighteenth, she sat up till midnight," Zhi'an said. "I got up to get water. Her room was still lit."

Lu Jibai didn't respond right away.

"Is she eating these past couple days?"

"Not much. Half a bowl of noodles at noon."

"Mm."

"Step in a little closer," Zhi'an said suddenly. "How that car showed up last time—you know better than me."

"I'll stand here. I can see the alley entrance."

Zhi'an glanced at him. Didn't push it.

"Zhi'an."

"Yeah."

"Go up and tell her three things."

"Which three."

"I'm not leaving." He paused. "What the firm needs done, I'll do it. Whatever she wants from me, she says."

Zhi'an turned the three lines over in his mouth.

"Just those three?"

"Just those three."

"I won't add anything."

"Don't."

Zhi'an walked toward the building door, stopped after two steps, looked back. "How long are you going to stand here?"

"Until I decide it's time to go."

He frowned, as if he hadn't understood, and didn't ask again. He pushed open the metal door, went in, stamped his foot in the stairwell, the light flaring on.

At 20:50, the door opened.

Zhi'an came in, draped his coat over the chair back, and stood by the doorway without sitting.

"Sis."

"Mm."

"He says he's not leaving."

Her pen stopped on the paper.

"He says the firm's business, he'll handle it." Zhi'an watched her profile. "He says, whatever you want him to do, say it."

She set the pen on the paper. It rolled half an inch and hit the edge of the notebook.

"Got it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"What do I tell him?"

"Nothing."

Zhi'an didn't leave. One hand braced against the doorframe, the light behind him, his shadow falling on the corner of her desk.

"Sis, he's been standing down there for almost an hour."

"Go do your homework."

The door closed, leaving a crack.

She closed the notebook, then opened it again, pen resting on the paper.

Not a single line came out.