Chapter 449: The Returned Notice

The desk phone rang twice before Li Huilan looked up from her stack of papers. "Phone."

Shen Zhixia laid the document envelope flat on the corner of her desk and went around to answer. The desk calendar showed the twenty-third; the clock hand had just passed nine forty.

"Attorney Shen, Criminal Division, Chengdong District Court." It was the court clerk on the line, keyboard sounds and paper shuffling in the background. "That notice sent to Baixi Village came back. Nobody signed for it."

"Came back yesterday?"

"Reached the window yesterday afternoon. The courier tried twice. The door was locked from the outside." The clerk paused. "I've noted it in the file and reported it to the presiding judge. The judge has issued a letter asking the town police station to help locate the person and effect service."

"The letter goes out today?"

"Before close of business today." More paper rustling on the other end. "Do you have any new contact for him on your side? Cell phone, landline, a relative's number—anything."

"No." She said. "The senior phone's off. I already reported his son's number; it's off too."

"Then we'll keep the same numbers." The clerk's voice stayed level. "I'm not withdrawing the return note; it stays in the file. If anything new comes up, you can still call this number."

"The hearing date—"

"Still not set." The clerk said. "If the witnesses aren't settled, the date can't be settled either. We wait."

"Fine."

She set the receiver back in the cradle, pressing twice before it seated. Li Huilan had already lowered her head; her pen moved two strokes across the paper, then stopped. "Returned?"

"Returned. The door was locked; they tried twice."

"Didn't the town police say they wouldn't open a missing-person case?"

"They said they'd follow the letter." She sat back down at her desk and pinched the envelope's opening flat. "With a letter in hand, they have to knock on that door again."

She pulled a sheet from the envelope—the line she'd copied down on August thirteenth, the day she reported the witness: name, the string of cell-phone digits, which row and which house. Her own handwriting, the address transcribed from the first line of the interview record. She folded it back up, crease lined up with crease.

Li Huilan turned the page, twirling her pen between her fingers. "I've seen this happen twice in all my years. The person's not missing—someone else has taken charge of his affairs for him." She pressed the nib down. "Call the police station and they won't argue with you. They just say they'll follow the letter. The letter is hard. The people are hard too."

"Hard against hard." She said.

"Hard against hard, and the soft ones lose." Li Huilan said nothing more, just lowered her head and kept writing.

She stood and walked over to the window. The old wooden chair beneath it sat empty, the cloth cushion askew by half a palm's width—He Xiufen had come up in the morning and sat there; when she went downstairs she hadn't straightened it. She reached over and smoothed the cushion level, then casually realigned the desk calendar. There was an ink dot on the box for the twenty-sixth, made with her pen last night, placed a little left of center, directly over the number. After making that dot, she hadn't written a single word.

At eleven fifty, sounds started from downstairs. The range hood kicked on first, then bowls and plates clinking, chair legs scraping the floor. He Xiufen called from the doorway: "Squeeze in, two to a table, don't stand around."

She went down at exactly noon. Four small tables pushed together into two long ones. The wall-facing spot at the inner table was empty, so she sat and rested her folder on her knees. Someone up front called for extra noodles; someone scanned a QR code, then slapped their phone face-down on the table, saying the payment wouldn't go through. He Xiufen called back across two tables: "If it won't scan, just tell me the order number; settle up later."

She ordered a bowl of plain noodles with a boiled egg. He Xiufen came over carrying two bowls, set one in front of her, kept the other, and sat down across from her, tucking the apron behind her back.

"Director He, one more portion!" someone called from up front.

He Xiufen tilted her chin toward the stove. "Serve yourself. The pot's already going."

Laughter from that direction. She lowered her head and picked up two chopsticks' worth of noodles. A few specks of oil floated on the broth.

"Director He."

"Eat."

"My father's case. The defense counsel slot. I want you."

The chopsticks stilled against the rim of the bowl. He Xiufen looked up at her with little surprise in her eyes. "Go on."

"Attorney Lu is a witness. The witness stand and the defense bench aren't on the same side—he said that himself. He submitted his nine pages of interview notes back in July. If he sits in the defense seat, the other side doesn't have to ask anything else. One question—'Who are you speaking for?'—is enough."

"What about you? Legally, can you sit in that seat?"

"I can. Close relatives, guardians, and friends can all serve as defense counsel. I'm his daughter; no one could call it improper." She set her chopsticks down. "But on the day of the hearing, I want to sit in the family seat. For my father's case, someone from the family has to sit there and speak for him. One person shouldn't speak for the family and also defend my father at the same time."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid that whoever sits down there will first worry about whether they're standing steady." She said. "If I sit there, I won't stand steady."

He Xiufen pushed her bowl aside and moved the vinegar cruet too, clearing a patch of tabletop. Both hands came to rest on the edge of the table. That posture—she only did it when reviewing contracts at the firm.

"I've handled cases for over twenty years." He Xiufen said. "Later on, when I took a case, I looked at two things first: was the money enough, and could we win. These past couple of years, the small cases here—handle one, count one; after finishing one, I wanted a day to rest."

"I know."

"Your father copied materials for me for three years." He Xiufen's hand tapped once on the table's edge. "I know his handwriting. On the character 'qian,' the last vertical stroke ends quick—he never drags it. The things he copied for me, I've kept them to this day."

She didn't answer.

"Zhixia." He Xiufen pulled her bowl back. "I'm retired from all that. But this one, I'll take."

The steam from the noodle broth rose up, blurring the other side of the table. He Xiufen continued: "On that day, you sit in the family seat and speak for your father's family. The defense seat—I'll take it."

She lowered her head and took two bites, her throat tight. She didn't look up. He Xiufen didn't wait for her to either; she lifted a mouthful of noodles for herself and asked offhandedly, "At the hearing, from the family seat, what are you going to say?"

"I'll talk about my father's hands. He wrote legal documents his whole life, and in the end, the characters on his final pages were taken and used as forgeries." She put her chopsticks down. "When the paper's laid out in court, I'll finish saying it. If I say it now, it's just empty words."

"Empty words shouldn't be spoken." He Xiufen nodded. "That day, after you speak, sit down, don't cry."

"I'll do my best."

"Not your best." He Xiufen drank down half the broth. "From the family seat, after the tears, someone still has to keep talking. If you fall apart crying, there's no one behind you."

"The police station's letter—does it go out today?"

"Before close of business today."

"They're sending the letter for the record." He Xiufen said. "The man was taken away by his son in the middle of the night. When the letter gets to the door, the same lock will still be on it."

"The lock's still in the village."

"The lock's still in the village." He Xiufen set her bowl down on the table. "You have the household register?"

"At home. I'll bring it tomorrow morning."

"Come up at eight thirty tomorrow morning. Sign, stamp the firm letter, photocopy that register." He Xiufen stood and stacked her bowl on top of another. "At the court by ten thirty, get the paperwork filed before they break for lunch."

"At eight thirty, will he be there?"

"He will. He's there every day." He Xiufen said. "Tell him beforehand. The firm letter needs the firm seal; can't avoid him."

"Director He." She looked up. "Does this count as you reopening for business?"

"The license is in the drawer. It's idle anyway." He Xiufen picked up the bowls and headed toward the back. Two steps in, she turned. "His stack of defense statements due on the twenty-sixth—are you submitting them?"

"Yes. He says he'll finish."

"If he finishes, submit." He Xiufen said. "What he submits on his end is his business. What I take on at my end is my business. Two separate matters; don't stir them into one bowl."

At three in the afternoon, He Xiufen came upstairs to fetch an old case file. Pushing the outer door open, she didn't glance inside but went straight to the row of metal cabinets against the wall, opened the upper level, pulled out two volumes, and carried them to the old wooden chair by the window. She straightened the cloth cushion before sitting.

Li Huilan half-turned from her desk. "Director He, the second volume is on the lower shelf."

"I know." He Xiufen flipped a page. "Attorney Li, a question. Why does he stay in the inner room all the time?"

"He swapped with me back in July. On his own."

"Swapped?" He Xiufen laid the file across her lap.

"The day after he filed his statement with the intermediate court, he came in early the next morning." Li Huilan set her pen down. "He said, Attorney Li, your legal-aid files are thick; the outer room is wider. Let me swap with you. I said the inner room is smaller, it's deeper inside, and the printer is loud. He said one thing—the papers on the witness's desk and the papers on the petitioner's desk should be separated by a door. That's what he said."

"Who moved the desks?"

"He did it himself. I came in the next day and the desks were swapped, the printer carried in too—he managed all the cables one by one. He didn't call anyone." Li Huilan capped her pen. "Director He, a man like him—if he wants to move a desk, who can stop him?"

He Xiufen gave a small grunt, her eyes resting on that half-open door.

Inside, against the window: one desk, a stack of green-grid manuscript paper flipped over halfway. The finished pages were stacked at his left hand, the crossed-out ones recopied and pressed underneath. The desk lamp was off; the light on the paper came in through the window. The pen tip moved a stretch, paused, moved again.

Inside, no one looked out.

Shen Zhixia sat at her own desk, both hands pressed to the document envelope's opening. The papers on the witness's desk and the papers on the petitioner's desk, separated by a door. He had put up a door between them. After all these days, no one had ever heard him say why.

"Has he told you?" He Xiufen didn't turn around.

"No."

"He doesn't say." He Xiufen opened the file on her lap a page, then closed it. "What he wants to say is all in that stack of paper. Once he finishes and submits it, it becomes someone else's business."

Li Huilan lowered her head to keep writing. After two lines, she said, "Director He, about my legal-aid files—the outer room is spacious. I'm happy with it too."

"Happy is good." He Xiufen stood, tucked both volumes under her arm, and walked to the stairs. Then she turned back, pushed the chair by the window against the wall, looked at that half-open door, and said half a sentence: "He shut that door himself."

She didn't finish the rest. Holding the files, she went downstairs.

At five, she gathered the items on her desk into the document envelope, then casually straightened the desk calendar again. Footsteps on the stairs. He Xiufen came up, apron untied, hair pressed flat at the sides.

She went to the desk under the window and pulled open the first drawer on the right. Inside: an old seal box, a stack of receipts, a few pens. She reached all the way to the back and pulled out a certificate—blue cover, four corners worn white.

"Director He, your certificate still valid?"

"It hasn't expired. Annual assessments every year, stamps all there." He Xiufen opened the certificate, thumb pressed to the edge of the photo page. The person in the photo was younger than her now, black hair, shirt buttoned to the top button, face set tight.

She flipped a page over, then back, pressing her thumb on the corner of the photo for a moment before closing it and returning it to the drawer. The drawer slid back with a soft knock of wood.

"Bring it tomorrow."

"All right."

He Xiufen walked to the top of the stairs and turned back: "Don't forget the household register." The stair light flicked on, and she was gone.

She picked up the document envelope and passed the inner room's half-open door. Inside, the pen was still moving.