Disciplinary Code

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In the end, Li Linghua couldn’t resist and sought the help of public opinion through the media, causing the matter to be covered by local news.

Fortunately, she followed Jiang Heng’s advice and didn’t mention the doctor’s involvement.
Instead, she focused on the aspect of “suspicion of a third party plotting harm to the legitimate son.”

In this fast-paced modern life, where stress is abundant, people often rely on these morally corrupt criminals to entertain themselves day and night.
By the time the medical accident case went to trial, this matter had already become the number one trending topic in local news.

On the day of the trial, the weather in Shanghai wasn’t great.
It had been misty since early morning, with occasional drizzles that were both irritating and inconspicuous.

The trial was scheduled for 2:30 PM, and Li Linghua arrived an hour early.
She had carefully done her makeup that day, attempting to boost her confidence, but the swollen redness of her eyes still revealed her exhaustion.

Liu Qiang had come with her.
He sat restlessly in the car, constantly glancing around.

Jiang Heng was waiting in the parking lot in advance.
Seeing them, he opened an umbrella and walked over to the car, helping Li Linghua out.

Li Linghua had stayed up all night, her eyes bloodshot.
She looked tired and disheartened, as if she were holding on by sheer willpower.

She held a small box tightly in her hands, cradling it in her arms.

“Inside is a model that Xiaowen loved the most,” Li Nan whispered to Jiang Heng as he closed the car door, “It was a gift from his mother for his eighteenth birthday.”

Jiang Heng nodded, indicating that he understood.

He had encountered many plaintiffs like this before.
They would bring small items belonging to the deceased to court, symbolizing their grief while also allowing them to “witness” the outcome.

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Ji Yao also arrived early, just ten minutes after Li Linghua.
He had come with Wang Tao.
As they entered the courthouse gate, Li Linghua and the others were still standing in the parking lot.

Jiang Heng was dressed very formally, wearing a suit with a black overcoat.
He appeared tall and distinguished among the group.
Ji Yao’s gaze subconsciously turned toward him, and Jiang Heng seemed to sense it.
They exchanged a distant look across half the parking lot.

Then Ji Yao averted his gaze first.

“Let’s go,” Wang Tao said as he parked the car and walked over.
He glanced at the crowd around Li Linghua and told Ji Yao, “Let’s head inside.”

Ji Yao nodded.

On the trending searches, the news trend of “Third Party’s Suspected Intention to Harm the Legitimate Son” was intensifying.
There were criticisms of the third party and condemnation of the scumbag man.
Countless likes and comments had sparked a localized public opinion storm.
But because the medical accident issue hadn’t been mentioned, this hidden detail went unnoticed.

The district court was somewhat empty, with few people in the spectator seats, only Li Nan and several members of the Li family were present.

Ji Yao had been nervous the previous night, but now that he was seated in the defendant’s seat, he oddly felt a sense of calm.

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Since things had come to this point, he thought, he might as well let things take their course.

After the mundane preparations were completed, the prosecutor read out the indictment.
Ji Yao only half-listened, sensing that it was probably Jiang Heng’s handiwork.

Jiang Heng had a minor habit when drafting indictments; he tended to use certain fixed phrases habitually.
Ji Yao had seen him practice writing so many times that he had almost memorized them.

Li Linghua’s demands were simple.
She didn’t care about the compensation; she only wanted the medical accident to be severely punished according to the law.

“Based on the medical report and forensic appraisal submitted by the plaintiff, Li Wen had a CD4 cell count of less than two hundred when he underwent surgery.
From a clinical perspective, surgery was not possible,” the presiding judge said.
“However, the defendant still chose to proceed with the surgery, is that correct?”

“Mr.
Li Wen’s condition was critical at the time, with a ruptured abdomen and massive bleeding, as well as a risk of infection,” Wang Tao said.
“In this situation, his physical condition couldn’t withstand a complete preoperative examination, so our client opted for immediate testing.
Because the immediate test result was HIV-negative, our client proceeded with the surgery through the normal process.”

“Regarding Mr.
Li Wen’s HIV-positive status, his close relatives were all aware of this.
On the day of the incident, Mr.
Liu Qiang, Li Wen’s biological father, was clearly present, but the medical staff didn’t inform him of the situation.
Instead, they chose Zhou Fang, who had no blood relation to the deceased, as the signing proxy,” Jiang Heng said.
“From a procedural perspective, this violated the informed consent rights of direct relatives.
Therefore, we have reason to suspect that this further led to the involved doctors not communicating adequately with the patient’s family, resulting in a lack of clear understanding of the patient’s condition.”

Jiang Heng’s tone was very indifferent, cold and distant, carrying a mechanical sense of officiousness.
In Ji Yao’s impression, aside from the times when Jiang Heng spoke sternly during their previous encounters, he rarely used such an assertive tone.

Privately, Jiang Heng was actually quite easygoing.
He was gentle and considerate, maintaining a tolerant attitude toward many things, skilled in considering others’ perspectives, so he rarely argued with anyone.

Interestingly, he wasn’t actually a soft and kind-hearted individual.
He had his own ideas, boundaries, and convictions, and to some extent, he was quite firm in his decisions.

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Now it seemed like he had channeled all his sharpness and strength into his work.

“Was Mr.
Liu Qiang in a state of heavy intoxication at that time?” the presiding judge asked.

“To state the truth,” Wang Tao said softly.

“He was indeed in an intoxicated state,”

Ji Yao recalled, his nerves causing him to stumble a bit as he spoke.
“But he was able to communicate with me.
He was crying the whole time and even asked me to save his son.”

“Does the prosecutor have any further questions?” the presiding judge asked.

“I request to call a witness,” the prosecutor said.

At this point in the trial, Liu Qiang’s testimony’s completeness became exceptionally important.

Following the principle of isolation, Liu Qiang had not attended this trial as a spectator.
When he was called in, the atmosphere in the room was tense.
Li Linghua’s eyes were red, and everyone’s gaze was fixed on him, which made him feel weak in the legs.

Liu Qiang didn’t know at which stage the trial was, his heart pounding with fear.
His gaze shifted back and forth between Li Linghua and Ji Yao.

He walked unsteadily to the witness stand, stumbling through the oath and then repeating his rehearsed account under the prosecutor’s questioning.

“When you were communicating with the defendant, were you informing him proactively or answering the doctor’s questions?” the prosecutor asked.

“I told him proactively,” Liu Qiang hurriedly said.
“He said he was going to operate on Xiaowen, so I told him quickly.”

“What exactly did you say?” the prosecutor asked.

“I told him that Xiaowen has AIDS and asked them to be careful with his treatment,” Liu Qiang said.
“I also said things like urging them to save Xiaowen… The situation was urgent at the time, and I said it, and he left.”

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“Were there other people present at the time?” the prosecutor asked.

“Zhou Fang was there,” Liu Qiang said.
“No one else.”

“What about medical personnel?”

“None,” Liu Qiang said.
“Only this doctor.”

“We have something to say,” Wang Tao raised his hand, signaling.
“Based on the surveillance video, we can see that there were other medical staff around our client during the communication process, including a head nurse and two on-duty doctors.”

At the time, the emergency room entrance was in chaos, and Ji Yao had several people pass by him.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t been present the whole time, so each person’s testimony was incomplete.

However, Wang Tao intentionally didn’t explain everything clearly.
Liu Qiang momentarily panicked and said, “That… that might be my mistake.”

“Liu Qiang!” Li Linghua suddenly became emotional, unable to hold back her shout, “Can’t you be more reliable?”

“Order in the court,” the presiding judge said.

Li Linghua’s chest was heaving rapidly.
She struggled to suppress her anger, glaring fiercely at Liu Qiang.

“I-I have evidence!” Liu Qiang, spurred by Li Linghua’s urging, jumped nervously.
He blurted out, “I have a recording!”

“What recording?” the prosecutor asked.

“Just from that night,” Liu Qiang forced himself to speak confidently.
“I have evidence.”

Ji Yao suddenly froze.
He instinctively looked at Jiang Heng and saw Jiang Heng frown slightly, his expression showing some surprise.

“The evidence is late now, beyond the period for submission of evidence,” the prosecutor said in an unfriendly tone.
“If you had evidence, why didn’t you bring it earlier?”

“I… I only found it last night,” Liu Qiang said.
“I saw it when I was going through my phone, as if I accidentally touched the recording button.”

Wang Tao furrowed his brows slightly.
He leaned closer to Ji Yao and asked in a serious tone, “Did he really not say it?”

“No,” Ji Yao said.
“I’m certain he didn’t.
He definitely didn’t say it.”

Wang Tao hesitated for a moment, then bit his lip and said, “I understand.”

“We agree to present the evidence in court,” Wang Tao said.

“We have no objections either,” Jiang Heng said.

Nervously, Liu Qiang licked his lips and took out his phone from his pocket.
After unlocking it, he handed it over to the presiding judge.
His hands were shaking with anxiety, and Li Linghua’s gaze was locked onto his hand as if it were a lifeline.

The presiding judge pressed the play button, and a cacophony of sounds came from the phone: the rolling of hospital bed wheels, fragmented voices, mingling together and making Liu Qiang’s voice a bit distorted.

“Doctor… Xiaowen’s situation is unique…”

The background noise in the recording was chaotic, but recognizable sounds could still be heard amidst the confusion, confirming that it was indeed recorded in a hospital.

Ji Yao’s complexion suddenly turned very grim.

“We request to listen to it again,” Jiang Heng said.

The presiding judge had no objections and soon replayed the recording.

This time, Jiang Heng seemed to be sure of something.
He closed a document he had been reading, and put the cap back on the pen in his hand.

Li Linghua grew excited.
Audio evidence was far more useful than witness testimony.
She sat up straight instinctively, wanting to say something, but before she could, Jiang Heng gently held her hand under the table.

“Mr.
Jiang…” Li Linghua looked at him puzzledly.

Jiang Heng didn’t say anything; he simply shook his head slightly.

After a brief examination, it was preliminarily determined that the recording wasn’t fabricated but an original recording from the phone.

“It’s definitely fake,” Ji Yao muttered softly.
“This is a forgery.”

“I know,” Wang Tao said.
“The key is to determine how to prove that it’s fake.”