Chapter 1904 - The Verdict

Excavated mass burial pits; half-decomposed corpses stacked in neat rows; children's bodies with eyes, facial features, and organs carved out; mud and sand mixed with bone fragments; the cauldron used for boiling bones...

Though all were limited-clarity black-and-white glass plate photographs, the vivid details still made many spectators unable to look directly at the screen.

"This is Physical Evidence Number 291: a 'Life-Capturing Gourd.'" Shen Ruiming's voice accompanied images of the gourd—both full view and close-up—on the screen. "This is Number 292: 'Corpse Pills' discovered inside the gourd. According to suspect Wu Zhiqi's confession, Corpse Pills were made by mixing the body fat of victims with other substances and refining them..."

A deathly silence fell over the gallery. Yet Shen Ruiming knew that horror, terror, and the anger they spawned were fermenting among the crowd. He was secretly pleased.

"...This is Physical Evidence Number 778, the 'Great Medicine.' According to suspect Fu Wen's confession, he manufactured this so-called 'aphrodisiac' from the remains of victims mixed with medicinal herbs. Members of his gang sold this aphrodisiac in Guangzhou at two taels of silver per pill..."

At this point, Shen Ruiming keenly noticed that one distinguished gentleman in the reserved gallery had a face that suddenly contorted, as if he'd just swallowed excrement.

It seems he's one of those who took the medicine, Shen Ruiming thought.

Though the physical evidence presentation represented less than one-tenth of the actual content, the quantity was still staggering. By the time the full presentation concluded, it was already past three in the afternoon.

Judge Liang Xinhu then began questioning the defendants: "Defendant Wu Zhiqi, did you clearly hear what the prosecutor just said?" Upon hearing Wu Zhiqi's affirmative response, Liang Xinhu continued: "Recount the facts of the case." Wu Zhiqi had long since abandoned any hope of survival. Cowed by Cui Hantang's "sorcery," he'd already agreed to confess everything, asking only that after death his three hun and six po spirits be preserved. Now he poured everything out like beans from a bamboo tube. Fu Wen knew his crimes were heinous beyond redemption—besides, these past days he'd been living in an endless hell. Now he only sought a quick death, answering whatever was asked without reservation or quibbling. A few accomplices, however, believed their culpability was limited and harbored hopes of leniency, so their testimonies were evasive and their words slippery.

Shen Ruiming didn't take this too seriously—he had more than enough evidence in hand. These petty tricks were useless. When all the suspects had finished their statements, he looked toward Liang Xinhu. The latter indicated with his eyes that he understood, then said: "Defense counsel, please make your statement."

Zhang Yunmi had been somewhat nervous when she first sat down in the courtroom, but by the time it was her turn to speak, she'd calmed completely. She rose to her feet, first acknowledging Liang Xinhu with a nod, then began speaking confidently. The defense brief had been worked out in advance with Shen Ruiming, Cui Hantang, and others. The crimes of Wu Zhiqi and the others were indisputable; the defense would focus on their starting point—that is, their motives. Zhang Yunmi emphasized that the defendants' actions had been driven by superstitious ignorance, that their thinking was childish and laughable—simultaneously condemning it as a deviant path while not tarring all religious activities with the same brush, a balance that had required considerable effort from Cui Hantang. Apart from Wu Zhiqi and Fu Wen, the other defendants had been in subordinate positions and should receive lighter sentences.

This argument was well-reasoned and well-substantiated. It both effectively provided a defense for the accused and skillfully accommodated the emotions of the spectating masses. Both the Elders present and the citizens inside and outside the courtroom showed expressions of approval.

By the time all procedures had been completed, dusk was already approaching. In the old timeline, a case like this would have taken at least three days to try. To maximize the trial's social impact while also avoiding putting too much pressure on the police to maintain order at such a mass event, Shen Ruiming and Liang Xinhu had deliberately accelerated the proceedings.

After announcing a ten-minute recess, Liang Xinhu returned from the back of the court to the judge's bench and delivered the verdict on the spot. Defendant Wu Zhiqi was found guilty of all twenty-one charges including premeditated murder and kidnapping. Multiple counts, combined sentence: death. Defendant Fu Wen was found guilty of all twenty-three charges including premeditated murder and kidnapping. Multiple counts, combined sentence: death. The remaining defendants were sentenced to death, with only three accomplices receiving "lifetime hard labor." He then announced that a mass public trial would be held the following day to deal with other individuals connected to the case.

After reading all the verdicts "in the name of the Senate and the People," Liang Xinhu barked: "Take them away!"

Immediately, several dozen of the retained yamen runners—now police—came forward with shackles. The thirteen prisoners were shackled right there in court and escorted out.

Because Zeng Juan had been inside the courtroom, he was among the last to leave when the crowd dispersed. After a whole day, his legs and waist felt numb and he could barely walk. His lips were dry and cracked, and the half-portion of glutinous rice chicken he'd eaten at noon seemed to have vanished without a trace. His bladder was practically bursting. The moment he emerged from the court, he broke into a run toward the Wanshengliu Teahouse.

In the old days, he would have simply relieved himself in any alley. But now he dared not be so casual. With great difficulty, he held it until he reached the teahouse, then slipped behind to the urinal jar by the back wall and emptied his bladder with tremendous relief.

Having adjusted his clothes, he sauntered leisurely from the back toward the front of the shop. Evening business at the teahouse was relatively quiet. Sitting behind the counter, he had little to do besides tidying the accounts and chatting with customers.

The Wanshengliu Teahouse had few daytime patrons who drank alcohol—they came for tea and dim sum. But in the evenings, customers would order a pot or two of wine, either drinking alone or gathering with a few friends. After Zeng Juan took over as manager, he'd purchased several "Australian oil lamps" from the Grand World, illuminating the shop brightly. Though the expense was considerable, it proved very helpful for attracting evening business.

Guangzhou's public order still couldn't compare to core areas like Lingao, Chengmai, and Qiongshan, but after the Guandi Temple gang had been cleaned out, crime and criminal incidents in the city had plummeted by sixty percent—for shops and residents, it was a transformative change. After the plague ended, Liu Xiang, wanting to stimulate "nightlife" and restore Guangzhou's commercial atmosphere as quickly as possible, had pushed back the street-gate closing time from dusk to nine in the evening.

Zeng Juan was going through the accounts when he suddenly noticed that Yuan Shuzhi's name had been erased from the credit board. He asked: "Old He! Did Yuan Shuzhi come by?"

Yuan Shuzhi was a regular at the teahouse—barely qualified as a scholar. His background was similar to Zeng Juan's—also from a community school. But from age fifteen, when he first sat for the child student examination, right up to now past fifty, he was still just a tongsheng (child candidate). When he went visiting, he was still addressed as "young friend."

Zeng Juan knew nothing about Yuan Shuzhi's family background—who his parents were, whether he had relatives. But ever since Zeng Juan had started hanging around his brother-in-law's shop scrounging food, he would occasionally see Yuan Shuzhi—something of a fixture at the Wanshengliu Teahouse.

He'd heard people gossip behind Yuan's back: that Yuan had failed to gain entry to the scholar class, and couldn't make a living either. So he'd grown ever poorer, mortgaging even his house and moving into a temple to share a bed with monks—and had supposedly been "taken advantage of" by the monks. Teahouse customers often teased him about this. Yuan Shuzhi would never respond with harsh words, merely forcing a dry laugh to deflect.

Unable to make a living—and having never passed even the basic examinations—he couldn't even find work as a tutor. He could only set up on the street "writing letters for others," drafting correspondence and contracts for people, scraping together a few coppers for a bowl of rice. His life must have been truly wretched.

Having no home or career, Yuan Shuzhi practically lived at the teahouse. His washcloth and such were stowed there, and he came each day to wash up—since hot water was convenient here, as it was for most of the neighborhood's regular customers. He also took his two main meals at the teahouse. Of course, with his income, ordering a proper dish of glutinous rice chicken was out of the question. Usually he would order a pot of tea and eat it with flatbread bought on the street. On the rare days when his earnings were good, he might order a bowl of pig's blood congee to go with the flatbread—that was a feast.

Wretched though his life was, he would occasionally run up a tab of a few tens or a hundred copper at the teahouse. Yet his credit was impeccable—whatever was chalked on the board would be paid within a month. So Zeng Juan's brother-in-law had treated him reasonably well, letting him occupy a seat as long as business wasn't too busy.

But this time his tab had remained unpaid much longer than usual—though the recent plague offered some excuse. After the plague lockdown ended, he still hadn't come to the shop to wash up or take tea. Everyone assumed he'd probably died. The seventy coppers he'd owed before the plague were likely a lost cause.

Old He was a veteran waiter here, having worked nearly thirty years since starting as an apprentice. He said: "He came by this morning. His leg was a bit lame, but he seemed in good spirits. As soon as he walked in, he paid his tab."

"Caught a plague and ended up with a lame leg—that's a strange thing!" one of the customers remarked.

Another man drinking wine said: "...He was beaten until his leg was crippled."

Everyone let out an "Oh!"

"This Old Yuan is usually a cautious fellow. But during the plague, the whole city was out of work. He's a man with no roof over his head and not an inch of land. When he got desperate enough, he actually turned to stealing! And not just anywhere—he stole from Master Mo Rongxin's estate!"

Everyone sucked in a breath of cold air. This Master Mo, the steward of the Academy, was known as one of Guangzhou's tyrants. Though the Australians' arrival had somewhat diminished his prestige, his accumulated authority still commanded fear.

"What happened then?"

"What could happen? First he had to write a confession of guilt, then came the beating. They say they broke rattan canes on him—Old Yuan is over fifty and has never eaten his fill in his life. How could he survive such a thrashing? I hear his bones were injured. It was only because the monks at the temple where he was staying remembered old times and took him in to recover that he managed to survive at all!"

"Tsk tsk, I think the monks weren't remembering 'old times' but 'old feelings,' if you know what I mean."

Laughter erupted in the teahouse, and even the air seemed to lighten.

"If his leg was beaten lame, how does he have money now?"

"As it happens," the customer continued, relishing the gossip, "Old Yuan is an old acquaintance of Agui—do you know Agui?"

"I know him! Used to be a day laborer! Often did odd jobs for Old Master Zhong's household. Then I heard he molested one of Master Zhong's maidservants and got thrown out."

Zeng Juan naturally knew Agui. Ever since Li Ziyu had become a police officer, Agui had become practically his shadow, following him everywhere. He'd even rented a room from the Li family, spending all his spare time doing chores for them—practically a servant of the Li household.

Hearing the discussion, Zeng Juan pricked up his ears, wanting to hear what Agui had been up to. Li Ziyu was away training in Lingao. If Agui did anything improper, it could seriously implicate him.

"He's a police officer for the Australians now! I hear he made some merit and is quite full of himself..."

"That fellow is wishy-washy, can't get a complete sentence out, can barely string words together."

"You'd better watch what you say about that now. He may not be able to string words together, but he swings his baton slick as anything."

"Getting to the point! What does him knowing Agui have to do with anything?"

"What does it have to do? This Agui is now the sidekick of Li Ziyu, the number one star of the Guangzhou Municipal Police Bureau! Though he's just a lowly patrolman, even the old big shots greet him politely when they see him. This Agui saw that Old Yuan had been beaten and crippled, and decided to stand up for him..."

"Now Master Mo has really kicked a hornet's nest."

"Exactly!" The speaker was spitting with enthusiasm. "What good can come of crossing people from the yamen? This Agui told Old Yuan to go file a complaint at the police station—listed two charges: illegal detention and intentional injury. Either one of those, according to Australian law, if proven, and Master Mo's looking at several years in prison! See how clever this Agui is?"

"Nothing good comes from official doors—that's just how it is!"

"Speaking of which, Master Mo wasn't exactly a good person either. But in the past he had the Guandi Temple backing him, so his spine was stiff. Now that's all over. The moment Old Yuan—egged on by Agui—filed the complaint, there was an injury assessment right away. They determined it was 'minor injury.' The police immediately went to summon Master Mo for questioning. Now Master Mo was terrified. He tried to send his steward as a proxy, but that didn't fly. In the end, he had to go to the station himself to 'accept disposition.' He had to pay compensation and fines both. Only after bleeding quite a bit of money did he escape prison."

"No wonder Old Yuan looked so well last time he came—and was so free with his money! Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out shiny silver dollars!"

"Now that he's got this connection to Agui, when he steals in the future, won't he be even bolder?"

"Well, not exactly." The speaker continued with relish. "Old Yuan still had to sit in the lockup for fifteen days for stealing."

"Then both sides lost!"

"I think Old Yuan didn't lose at all—he's a bachelor with nothing to his name. Sitting in lockup for fifteen days is nothing to him. Those handfuls of silver dollars and banknotes, though—those are real!"

"In my opinion, Master Mo lost face this time and he's going to want it back... He's a man with a reputation in the city, after all..."

"Give it a rest! Master Mo's in-laws, the Gao family of the Guandi Temple—they're completely finished. What kind of big shot is he now? I think he probably won't even be able to keep his position as steward of the Wenlan Academy."

"If he loses the Academy stewardship, won't Master Mo be heartbroken?"

"Who wouldn't be? Just the rent from those shops and lands—how much income is that every year!"

"As the old saying goes: 'A new emperor brings new ministers.' Now that the Australians rule Guangzhou, a fat prize like the Wenlan Academy—how could they let an outsider touch it? Never mind Mo Rongxin—even Elder Zhong probably can't hold onto his position. I'd say the Wenlan Academy will soon answer to Master Gao Ju."