Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 173 : Two Supply Slips

On the morning of the twenty-ninth, in the file reading room, the other bag had two rubber bands wrapped around it. Director Xu pushed it toward the middle of the long table; his fingers hadnʼt even left the mouth of the bag before Shen Zhixia had lined up three record sheets at the edge of the table.

”Open it,” the court clerk said.

The bag was opened, numbered, noted on the inventory. The contents tipped out: three items.

One VAT general invoice: seller ”Jiangzhou Hengkang Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.,” buyer ”Chengbei Hospital, Jiangzhou,” goods ”Carbetocin Injection, 100 mcg per vial,” quantity one, amount 186 yuan, invoice date December 26.

And two supply slips.

The first: seller ”Jiangzhou Hengyue Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.,” buyer ”Jiangzhou Hengkang Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.,” same specification, quantity one, unit price 61.20 yuan. One signature in the handler column: two characters.

The second, same format, seller changed to ”Jiangzhou Hengkang Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.,” buyer ”Chengbei Hospital, Jiangzhou.” Same specification, same quantity, unit price 186 yuan. A different name in the handler column: three characters.

Both slips carried the same date: December 26.

Shen Zhixia set the two pages side by side, lining up the center seam. She didnʼt speak; her finger moved from the seller column on the left-hand slip, sliding right, stopped on the buyer column of the right-hand slip.

”Director Xu,” she looked up, ”this is one vial of medicine, two legs of a journey.”

Director Xu stepped closer, sleeves rolled to his forearms, both hands clasped behind his back, and looked down.

”Out of Hengyue Pharmaceutical, one leg, into Hengkang Pharmaceutical; out of Hengkang, another leg, into your hospital.” She read the two prices aloud. ”Sixty-one yuan twenty. One hundred eighty-six. Same day out, same day in.”

”The materials have all been submitted.”

”I can see they have.” She tapped the buyer column of the first slip. ”The buyer on this one is Hengkang, not the hospital. Youʼve also submitted the upstream supplierʼs slip.”

Director Xuʼs eyelids dropped a fraction. ”The pharmacy reported it. The Medical Affairs Office only forwards.”

”When they reported it, did anyone look at whose name is in the buyer column on this slip?”

”The pharmacyʼs accounts arenʼt something I handle.”

”Then what about the accompanying shipment document?” She aligned the two slips. ”This batch went from Hengyue out, into Hengkang, then to the hospital. Whereʼs the document that travels with the shipment?”

”That item isnʼt on the inventory list,” Director Xu said.

”Then letʼs put it on the record.” She turned to the clerk. ”The plaintiff requests the defendant to explain: whether an accompanying shipment document for the drug in this case was prepared, who holds it, and where it is currently stored.”

The clerk paused his pen until she finished, entered that sentence into the transcript, then added another: The defendantʼs supplementary materials include one upstream supplier slip; supplying entity Jiangzhou Hengyue Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd., buyer Jiangzhou Hengkang Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.; the defendant provided no explanation for submitting this material.

At the other end of the table, Song Qiming gathered the originals back into the bag, moving slowly. His collar was buttoned to the top.

”Everything on the inventory, I submitted,” he said.

”Both of these were on the inventory?”

”They were.” He wound the rubber band back on. ”Both are listed there. I didnʼt pick and choose, didnʼt add anything.”

”Same vial, same day—why did it pass through two companiesʼ hands?”

”I wonʼt answer that for anyone.” He pulled the bag half an inch toward himself. ”Whatʼs in the records, I report. What isnʼt, I donʼt invent. If you want to know why two companies, ask the hands that wrote the slips.”

”The accompanying shipment document—do you have it?”

”What isnʼt in the records, I wonʼt invent an answer for.” Song Qiming pressed the bag mouth flat. ”If you want that item, file an application with the court.”

Shen Zhixia didnʼt press him. She requested copies; three pages printed out. On the back of the copies she noted details the photographs wouldnʼt capture: both slips had the same paper weight, the same crease mark at the corner—pressed by the same machine; on the upstream slip, the unit price column had only ”61.2” written, no ”yuan” after it; on the downstream slip, the quantity column was filled out fully, no blank space left. And something more substantial—the handlers on the two slips were in different handwriting: one in fountain pen, one in blue ballpoint.

She placed the invoice between the two supply slips, stacked the three, and held them up to the window light.

The System chimed in her ear.

[Thud. Same vial of medicine, three hands in one day.]

She didnʼt respond. In her notebook she wrote one line: Three items of material. No accompanying shipment document.

* * *

Back at the office at noon, she opened her computer first.

National Enterprise Credit Information Publicity System. She entered ”Jiangzhou Hengkang Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.”

Date of establishment: March 2021. Registered capital: two million. First line of business scope: pharmaceutical wholesale.

Shareholder column, only one entry: Jiangzhou Hengyue Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd., 100% capital contribution.

Registered address: Plant No. 3, Second Floor, No. 17 Hengyue Road, High-tech Zone, Jiangzhou.

She went back to the homepage, entered a different name: Jiangzhou Hengyue Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd. Registered address: Plant No. 3, Second Floor, No. 17 Hengyue Road, High-tech Zone, Jiangzhou.

Same building number, same floor.

[Thud. Go up one layer on the corporate chart, still the same address.]

She took screenshots of both pages, printed them, placed them on the desk, then pulled out the papers sheʼd accumulated over the past half month from her hard-shell folder: the ”Place of Origin: Hengyue Pharmaceutical” copied from the pharmacy window, the ”Supplier: Hengyue Pharmaceutical” from the purchasing ledger, the ”Supplier: Hengyue Pharmaceutical” from the procurement and acceptance record, and the two fresh sheets from this morning, not even half a day old. She laid them out one by one.

Once they were arranged in a row, the thing settled into place by itself.

Hengkang Pharmaceutical was a wholly-owned subsidiary of Hengyue Pharmaceutical, sharing the same address and the same floor as its parent company. The hospital bought medicine from Hengkang; Hengkang bought from Hengyue. The money went around in half a circle within the same address and came out with an extra 124.80 yuan.

She looked at the establishment date again: March 2021. A company only a few years old, two million in registered capital, wedged between Hengyue Pharmaceutical and Chengbei Hospital, a gate separating the two buildings—and that extra 124.80 landed in its account.

There was one more thing she only recognized after reading it twice: that road was actually called Hengyue Road.

And even clearer was something else. The ledgers and acceptance records listed the supplier as Hengyue Pharmaceutical. By the rules, the acceptance should have been recorded under Hengkang, per the downstream slip. The hospital had taken the upstream slip as its own purchase voucher and copied it into the books. Either someone grabbed the wrong paper when copying, or the two sheets were never distinguishable in the first place—no one could tell which one was supposed to be shown to whom.

She drew a horizontal line on a sheet of plain paper. Left end: ”Hengyue Pharmaceutical.” Middle: ”Hengkang Pharmaceutical.” Right end: ”Chengbei Hospital.” Then from the Hengyue end she pulled a line up one box and wrote ”Jiangzhou Hengyue Group Co., Ltd.”—the shareholder of Hengyue Pharmaceutical, also wholly owned.

The pen stopped on that box.

* * *

He Xiufen came upstairs while the desk was still covered with that chain.

”How far have you gotten?” She set a bowl of noodles at the desk corner. ”Eat first.”

”To the second hand.” Shen Zhixia pushed the two supply slips over. ”Director He, one slip two names, two companies... same address.”

He Xiufen read slowly, slower than she read judgments. She pressed her finger on the four characters for ”Hengyue Pharmaceutical,” then moved it to ”Hengkang Pharmaceutical.”

”The seals?”

”Thereʼs no invoice special seal on the supply slips.”

”Then it doesnʼt count.” He Xiufen set down her chopsticks. ”On a supply chain, every seal has to be there. One slip only proves one leg of the journey. You have to get the whole section, then the chain connects. Missing one seal, the chain breaks at that link, and with one sentence they push it back to ʼpharmacyʼs problem.ʼ”

”Iʼll write applications. Ask for each item.”

”Ask separately.” He Xiufen took the chain diagram and tapped the first box. ”The shipping seal, the acceptance seal, the receiving signature—theyʼre not all on one sheet. Match each one to its own. Whichever one is missing, thatʼs the link nobody will claim.”

Shen Zhixia copied these two sentences into her notebook.

”One more thing.” He Xiufen looked at her. ”Donʼt first ask whether this drug was expensive. Ask which hand it passed from, and to which hand. Money is about the cost. Passing is about the hands.”

Her phone buzzed at the desk corner. She turned it over—a text message, no greeting, no signature:

”Check the accompanying shipment document, donʼt just check the invoice.”

She stared at that line for a while.

”Who is it?” He Xiufen asked, her eyes still on the chain diagram.

”Someone who knows how the goods move.” Shen Zhixia put the phone face down. ”Heʼs saying the same thing you just said.”

He Xiufen didnʼt ask further. She flicked the last bit of broth from her chopsticks back into the bowl and gave her three words: ”A clear-sighted man.”

Shen Zhixia turned her notebook to a fresh page and wrote five characters: accompanying shipment document.

Where the goods go, it follows. A supply slip only proves someone wrote an order and someone received the goods; the accompanying document travels with the crate, bearing the shipping seal and the signature of the person who received it—whose seal, whose hand, one sheet can match both to the chain. Under each segment of the chain diagram she traced a small square, left for the seals.

”Lin Qi called this morning,” He Xiufen added as she rose with her bowl. ”Asked how far the drug investigation has gotten.”

”Is she scared?”

”What sheʼs scared of isnʼt the drug.” He Xiufen walked toward the stairs. ”She has to submit her statement of defense next week. What sheʼs afraid of is not being able to explain her own part.”

”The statement has to include the course of medication use, right?”

”What to write, she hasnʼt figured out yet.” He Xiufen looked back at her. ”For now, keep her hand separate from this vial. The drug was handed to her by someone else. Sheʼs only responsible for that one line of the medical order.”

* * *

At eight that night, she finished typing the Supplementary Evidence Collection Application: to obtain the accompanying shipment document between Hengyue Pharmaceutical and Hengkang Pharmaceutical, both companiesʼ drug distribution qualifications, and the invoices for both purchases. The reason remained the same: to ascertain the source and qualification of the drug involved in this case.

At the last line, she deleted the word ”price difference” and replaced it with ”two supply transactions.”

”Ask about the goods, ask about the batch number, ask about the seals,” she read aloud to the screen.

The System chimed.

[Thud. Whose pocket the markup went into—look at the address and youʼll know.]

Downstairs, scallions sizzled in the wok, the smell climbing the stairs. Before turning off the lamp, she aligned the two supply slips and pressed them under the chain diagram. The seller on the left slip was Hengyue Pharmaceutical, the seller on the right was Hengkang Pharmaceutical, and between them lay 124.80 yuan—while both names lived at one address.

She murmured softly:

”Hengyue.”

He Xiufen was just standing at the top of the stairs, about to go down and mind the stove. She didnʼt answer the two syllables. Her hand paused briefly over the last dial in the row of knobs before the stove, then turned the flame all the way off.