Chapter 479: Qin So-and-so

"Lawyer Shen, the mountain case—it was filed today."

Traffic noise came through Cai Qingru's end, her voice fading for a second before she repeated herself.

"Two men came this morning and sat right at that long table. Hengyue New Materials—environmental pollution. Filed. They said this was referred to the police long ago and only got to the filing stage today."

"Which department?"

"Plainclothes. They wouldn't say which department. First thing through the door, they asked who the plaintiff is on this one." Cai Qingru said. "I told them the court already ruled—the Center is the plaintiff."

"What did they want to see?"

"The judgment, Appraiser Rui's expert opinion, and the remediation plan. Those three things from the file. I copied them and gave them the copies. The originals are in the court's volume—I didn't touch those."

"What did they ask you?"

"Just one thing: what exactly did the court find in this case." She said. "I answered from those lines in the judgment: the water overflowed from Pond No. 3, ran down the ditch, and the sediment in the ditch bed, the land along the ditch, the village primary school playground—all tested positive. I didn't say one word beyond that."

"But not one extra word."

"I don't embellish." Cai Qingru said. "In court, the Center speaks. Whatever they ask, I answer from the file. If it's not in the file, I don't fill it in for anyone."

"That's right."

"There's one thing I need to ask you first." Cai Qingru lowered her voice. "If their side says this one was wrongly decided and drags their feet on signing off on the acceptance inspection—what do we do."

"The judgment took effect on April twenty-fourth. No one appealed within the appeal period." She said. "Whether they drag their feet isn't up to them. The line they need to sign is on a date set by the court, not by them."

"Then I'm at ease." Cai Qingru said. "One more thing—the office phone at the plant. I called twice this morning, no one picked up. On seedling-planting day we agreed that once the Intermediate Court sets the inspection date, I have to check with their side who'll be sent to sign. Today no one answered."

"That line will be signed by someone." She said. "If it's a different person, it's the same."

"Then I'll wait for the Intermediate Court to set the date. Once it's set, I'll call you first."

After hanging up, she pulled out the firm's copy of the Qingshi Village judgment. Printed in April. She'd read the operative provisions so many times the edges of the paper had gone soft and fuzzy.

At the hearing on the thirteenth, the labor contractor had brought his work-hours logbook after all, but those three dates still didn't match up. The court gave him seven days to produce the original attendance records. The supplementary notice spread open on the desk now fluttered at one corner from the breeze through the window crack.

Beneath the window, He Xiufen sat in that old wooden chair, sorting a stack of receipts by date, bundling them with one rubber band after another.

"Who called?"

"Qinghe. The plant up the mountain—case filed today. Environmental pollution."

He Xiufen's hands kept moving. "What did they take?"

"Judgment, expert opinion, plan."

"Which one is new?"

"None of them are new." She said. "All of it was written down on paper back in April."

"Then that's right." He Xiufen tapped a bundle of receipts against the newspaper. "What they want isn't what anyone said—it's those few lines the court recognized."

"Now that the criminal case is filed, do the civil provisions stop?"

"No. One is compensation, one is punishment—two separate tracks." He Xiufen said. "The compensation side has already taken effect. The court-organized acceptance inspection still hasn't finished. The punishment side is their own business—it doesn't touch the ditch."

"The 460,000 is sitting in the court's account."

"Sitting in the court's account is steadier than in either of our hands." He Xiufen pulled the rubber band tight. "The fact that they waited until today to come get this judgment means they trust it too."

She flipped the judgment to the last page and looked at the seal, then back to the first page. In April she'd underlined the operative provisions line by line, closed it when she was done, never imagining it would be pulled out of a file, copied page by page, and placed into another file.

"This judgment has become someone else's evidence now." She said.

"It's always been evidence." He Xiufen said. "Just depends on who goes looking."

He Xiufen set the last bundle of receipts down on the newspaper and added, "Give Cai Qingru a word too. Whatever they came to take, whatever they asked—don't go repeating it outside. That's their file's business."

"She won't. With me she only repeated those lines from the judgment."

"Good."

She looked down and wrote in her notebook: November 15, 11:00, call from Qinghe. The mountain case—environmental pollution. Filed. They took the judgment, expert opinion, and plan.

When she finished, she circled that line, slower than usual.

At 2:00 p.m., the phone on the corner of the desk buzzed. Tang Guo sent a screenshot with a line underneath: "Second one."

She opened the screenshot.

The text was denser than the last one: Jiangzhou Hengyue New Materials Co., Ltd. is suspected of the crime of environmental pollution and has been placed on file for investigation. Qin So-and-so, Chen So-and-so, and others have been lawfully detained under criminal detention. Chen So-and-so is additionally implicated in the crime of obstructing witness testimony. The case is under further investigation.

She read it once, then read it again.

The paper said "crime of environmental pollution," not the ditch, not the water coming down from Baixi Village, not the village primary school playground, not the children. All of that was in the judgment, in the appraisal, on the paper sitting on Auntie Chai's rice jar. The bulletin didn't say who anyone was either—just a surname.

Of the three people arrested and approved back in March, one was the Qin family's son. Today, on this piece of paper, it was his father. Father and son, two times, half a year apart, each written on a separate piece of paper.

The inner room door was half open. He came out to refill his water and saw her holding up her phone.

"The mountain case."

"Mm."

"That 'Chen So-and-so' one—additionally implicated in obstructing witness testimony."

"Mm."

"Before anyone's even questioned him, the paper carries that line." He said. "Then that's the car from the night of August tenth."

"Yes." She said. "The manager was taken away on November second. Today's paper just added one row above."

He stood with his cup for a moment. "There's a Chen in the file."

"The bulletin only gives a surname." She said. "Jiangzhou has more than one person with the same surname."

"That 'obstructing witness testimony' line—what it wants isn't for the witness to say it again." He poured his water, speaking slowly. "The witness already spoke. What it wants is for the person who paid the money to open his mouth."

"I know."

He said nothing more and went back into the inner room, leaving the door cracked.

She flipped the notebook to the November 11 page, where she'd copied those three charges for Han So-and-so. Today's paper—Qin So-and-so, Chen So-and-so, and one line of obstructing witness testimony. The same charge, four days apart, landing on two pieces of paper.

That charge was meant for people who stopped witnesses from speaking. It was also the one written on her father's indictment all those years ago.

Tang Guo sent another message: "I turned off comments. Someone DMed asking if it's the plant up the mountain. I didn't reply."

She replied: Don't reply. The moment you say anything, people will assume you're speaking for someone.

Tang Guo: I know. I just wanted you to see it. Both screenshots are saved on my computer, not in my photo album.

Tang Guo: Under the April video people are still asking—how's the child doing now. I didn't reply either.

She replied: The child's affairs—wait for the child's family to speak for themselves.

She set the phone face-down on the desk. She wouldn't print this one—same as the last, it stayed on the phone.

At 4:00 p.m., the phone rang again. Chai Guizhi's name lit up the screen.

"Little Shen."

"Auntie Chai."

"There are several cars parked outside the factory gate." Chai Guizhi's voice was loud, wind on her end. "Police cars. They came this morning—four of them—and they haven't left. The workshop let everyone off for half the day. People are standing at the gate watching, and nobody's saying a word."

"People—have they gone home?"

"No, they're all standing at the gate." Chai Guizhi said. "I'm home. Xiaoyu came back from school, saw it on the road, came in and asked me—is it because someone saw the bad things they did."

"What did you tell him?"

"I said how should I know." Chai Guizhi paused. "He stood at the door, wouldn't leave, and asked again."

"What did he see?"

"He said the lights on top of the police cars weren't on—just sitting there, four of them parked in a row at the factory gate. An officer in uniform standing by the door with a notebook, writing down each person as they came out." Chai Guizhi said. "He stood across the street for a long time. Didn't even put his schoolbag down."

She switched the phone to her other hand. "Tell him this: it's because someone recognized them."

The other end went quiet for a while. The wind was still there.

"Someone recognized them." Chai Guizhi repeated it, very slowly. "Then that's what I'll say."

"That's what you say. Anything else—wait until he's grown and reads the paper himself."

"What if he asks again—who recognized them?"

"You tell him those things were written on paper long ago." She said. "The people handling this came looking, guided by the paper."

"He's got a good memory." Chai Guizhi said. "He remembers more numbers than I do."

"People in the village are asking me—if the factory shuts down, where do we go for work?"

"Whether the factory shuts down isn't for this piece of paper to decide." She said. "The paper names people, not the factory."

"Then the half-day off—do we still get paid?"

"The factory told them to off, so it's not an unexcused absence." She said. "If they really dock pay, tell them to come ask themselves—one or two at a time, not a crowd shouting at the gate. Once it turns into a shouting match, no one's looking at what's on the paper anymore."

"What if someone comes to our door to ask?" Chai Guizhi asked. "About that day, about those families' children."

"If they ask, answer. What you saw yourself, the slips in your own hand—tell it straight." She said. "Don't pass along what other people said. How many children in whose family—if they didn't say it, you don't say it either. The things on paper—they'll go read those themselves."

Chai Guizhi answered from the other end, very softly, "I understand. I won't speak for anyone."

A voice from the other end called "Grandma," young and bright, across the yard. Chai Guizhi turned and shouted "Coming," then said into the phone, "No more for now—he's calling me."

"Tell him to put his schoolbag down."

After hanging up, she turned the notebook to the Qingshi Village page.

That page started from April. She'd circled the thirty-day line once; beneath it, the 180-day line, three circles pressed over October. Outside the circles, added notes ran down line by line—all about other matters.

At the very bottom she added one more line: November 15—the men from the factory have gone inside.

When she finished, she capped her pen and set the notebook beneath that teacup. Downstairs the exhaust fan started up. Someone in the alley was on the phone, voice raised, sentence after sentence, talking about the factory.