Deep winter at year’s end, the north wind blew with killing sharpness.
Flying snow fell like torn cotton and shredded floss, blanketing the sky and fields, covering the Luoyang road in white.
The end of the fifth year of Chengsuo was strangely cold, the late spring chill arriving with ferocious intensity. Pedestrians hunched their shoulders and tucked their necks, hurrying on their way.
After leaving court, Wang Che sat in his sedan chair heading to his office, rubbing his frozen-stiff palms together.
He could not help but sigh inwardly—the weather was growing colder by the day.
Having to bustle about in such frigid, snowy weather was no easy task.
These were troubled times indeed. Throughout Luoyang, shopkeepers had shut their doors and windows tight, sealing out the wind and snow. But step into any establishment, and one would surely hear common folk discussing the recent confiscation of the Grand General’s estate, their expressions a mix of shock and excitement.
After all, for the many commoners struggling to make a living, the downfall of anyone in high position was always worth animated discussion.
Even if that Grand General had won no small number of battles before.
Overnight, rumors had spread throughout Luoyang that this man had defied imperial edicts and harbored treacherous intentions, causing the tragic deaths of thirty thousand soldiers.
The matter was a pity to recount. Since last year, the border campaigns had gone exceedingly poorly. After autumn began, Grand General Duan Hong had received the imperial command to march out. It was thought he would pacify the border unrest, but who could have expected that he would alter his marching route without prior approval, leading to the complete annihilation of thirty thousand troops?
When the battle report reached Luoyang, the court erupted in uproar. Officials submitted memorials of impeachment one after another, and some even seized the opportunity to produce evidence of Duan Hong’s suspected rebellion. This provoked the Sage’s fury, and an edict was issued to confiscate the entire Duan clan’s property and imprison them pending trial. In a single night, even a number of officials who had once been close with the Duan family were either thrown in prison awaiting trial or stripped of office and exiled.
The common folk buzzed with gossip, public opinion seethed, and officials trembled with fear when attending court, terrified of making a single misstep.
By all rights, the Duan clan, having been placed in the imperial prison, should have been subjected to rigorous interrogation and convicted without delay.
But as it happened, the Duan family were relatives of the Empress. The Son of Heaven’s attitude remained unclear to this day, with no decision rendered, leaving the ministers below unable to gauge the proper course.
If one were to ask which of the Nine Ministers had the hardest task, it would surely be Commandant of Justice Wang Che. Though His Majesty had ordered him to jointly adjudicate the imperial prison case with the Chancellor’s Chief Clerk and the Censor-in-Chief, the responsibility for criminal interrogation still fell squarely on his shoulders.
Wang Che sighed all the way. He had served as an official for sixteen years and as Chief of the Court of Judicial Review for three, well-versed in the art of self-preservation. He only prayed that this fire would not spread to him.
When the sedan chair came to a stop outside his office, he gathered his sleeves and rose to step out, his boot soles treading through thick accumulated snow as he entered the gates of the Court of Judicial Review.
Yuan Jing, the Left Supervisor, had been waiting inside the office. Seeing him arrive, he hurried forward and presented the organized documents with both hands, speaking respectfully: “Your Excellency, these are the interrogation rosters this subordinate has compiled.”
Wang Che reached out to take them, letting out a sigh. “Quite a few people have been keeping an eye on my office these past days. His Majesty brought it up again at court today—I suspect the Duan family’s conviction will come within the next few days.”
Yuan Jing probed cautiously: “Then… that should be a good thing?”
“Good thing?” Wang Che snorted coldly as he flipped through the roster. “If the matter is handled poorly, and even the slightest hitch occurs along the way, that would be a ‘good thing’ that gets our heads chopped off.”
The moment he finished saying the words “slightest hitch,” he suddenly heard a sound from outside.
Deep and thunderous, like muffled thunder rolling across the horizon.
Listening more closely, it was the beating of bells and drums.
Wang Che’s hand, which had been flipping through the roster, froze. He raised his head in astonishment. There was only one drum that could be struck outside the gates of the Court of Judicial Review—could someone actually be braving the snow to strike the Petition Drum in this bitter winter weather?
He was about to call someone to ask when a runner from the office came dashing in at full speed. “Your Excellency! Your Excellency! There’s someone outside… striking the Petition Drum…”
Yuan Jing drew in a sharp breath, startled. “Who would be so bold?”
The Petition Drum, which no one had struck in eight hundred years, had actually been sounded today?
As everyone knew, the Petition Drum was not something to be struck lightly.
At the founding of this dynasty, the Petition Drum had been established for common folk to voice their grievances and proclaim their wrongs, serving to demonstrate the court’s accessibility and benevolent governance. But the process of petitioning was hedged about with layer upon layer of restrictions, making it harder than ascending to heaven.
Not only did petitioners face harsh conditions for filing suit, there were also regulations such as “all petitioners must stand in the open wearing cangues, and be subject to military conscription or exile.” If evidence was insufficient or testimony proved false, one could be deemed a troublemaker and summarily beheaded.
By now, the drum had long become a mere ornament. It was considered remarkable if it sounded even once in several years. The last time it had been struck was two years prior, when the petitioner, lacking sufficient evidence, was flayed alive in the street. In the end, the grievance went unredressed, and the petitioner lost his life as well.
Who today would be so bold?
And why must they choose this particular moment of turmoil to stir up more trouble?
Wang Che felt a surge of anger bottled up inside him, which he dared not vent in official circles. Since someone had come to court his misfortune, he waved his hand and said coldly: “Bring the person in!”
Soon, the runners escorted a person inside.
It was a woman.
She was slender of frame, appearing at first glance like a snow figure white from head to toe. Only upon closer approach did one see she wore plain white mourning clothes, her thick black hair loosely pinned with a bamboo hairpin, covered in scattered snowflakes that fell like grains of salt as she walked.
The moment she was thrown to the ground, she drew her thin shoulders tight against the cold, supporting herself on the frozen-red fingers of her hands, kneeling with difficulty.
“Your… your humble subject pays respects to Your Excellency…”
Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, and halfway through her sentence, she covered her mouth and broke into a low, hacking cough.
She seemed to be ill.
Wang Che and Yuan Jing both stared in surprise, having not expected the one who dared to strike the drum to be a woman.
Wang Che frowned as he sized her up, then barked coldly, “So it was you striking the drum just now? Do you know the Petition Drum is not to be struck lightly? Whoever strikes it must pay a price.”
“This common woman knows. This common woman… has a grievance.”
She struggled to steady her breathing, slowly propping herself up to kneel properly, head bowed as she answered.
“What grievance do you bring?”
“This common woman petitions… that the case against the Grand General is a false accusation.”
Beside him, Yuan Jing’s hand twitched, and he drew in a sharp breath. Wang Che was also startled, wondering if he had misheard, his expression nearly slipping.
He slammed his hand on the table. “Nonsense!”
She flinched at the harsh shout, her spine cowering, and her fingers resting on her knees unconsciously clenched tight. She was silent for a moment, then slowly raised her head, revealing a pale but delicate face.
“This common woman stakes her life on the truth of these words, and I have evidence.”
Had it been anyone else, they would have been too terrified to speak by now. She was clearly afraid too—her body trembling in the cold wind that poured into the hall—yet she did not yield an inch, instead straining to straighten her back.
“Would Your Honor not look at this common woman’s written complaint?” She reached for the bundle at her side, her frozen-red fingers fumbling to pull something out.
“Absurd! I see you’ve come here to cause trouble!”
Wang Che’s temples throbbed with pain. The investigation at the prison was at a critical juncture, with the report due to be submitted to the palace in two days. Now this woman of unknown origin appeared—who knew if she had ulterior motives? How could her words be taken seriously?
He had no desire to hear her defense, nor would he accept her petition. He said coldly, “Guards! Take this audacious woman who dares file a false complaint and lock her up!”
The yamen runners on both sides stepped forward quickly and seized her arms. She had not expected them to refuse to hear her out entirely. She looked up at them in alarm, her chest heaving rapidly as she said urgently, “Since I have struck the drum, you cannot dismiss this so hastily—”
She struggled violently, but her strength was no match for the runners. In moments, she was fitted with shackles and hauled up from the ground.
Just then, someone came running in a panic and said to them, “Your Honor, out—outside, someone has come…”
Both men were startled. Yuan Jing hurriedly waved at the runners. “Hurry up and take her away and deal with it! Nothing but troublemakers all day.”
The woman, held between them, seemed utterly unwilling to accept this. She fought desperately, the cold, heavy shackles dragging a dark mark across the ground.
Their movements were a beat too slow—the person outside had already stepped leisurely inside.
“Wang Your Honor, you seem quite busy today.”
A young, clear voice came from outside.
The runners froze mid-motion. The woman, still held between them, had not yet registered what was happening before she was released again and fell heavily to the ground, letting out a low whimper of pain.
As she lowered her head, she felt a sharp gust of wind sweep past her.
“So it’s Secretary Yan…”
Seeing that the visitor was none other than Yan Zhan, the Chief Secretary to the Chancellor, Wang Che hurried forward with a smile to greet him.
The Chancellor’s Chief Secretary held a rank of one thousand bushels—though not nearly as high as the Commandant of Justice, as a subordinate official of the Chancellor, no one in court dared to slight him.
Wang Che felt uneasy, unable to guess why Yan Zhan had come. Could the Chancellor have issued some sudden instruction? Or was it something else?
“Might I ask what business brings the Secretary here?”
Yan Zhan had come straight from the palace, still in his official robes, with a silver seal and green ribbon, a cap atop his head. He leisurely clasped his hands in greeting to Wang Che and said with an unhurried smile, “I was on my way to the Chancellor’s residence and happened to pass by. I saw someone striking the Petition Drum, so I thought I’d stop in and watch the excitement.”
Watch the excitement?
Hearing this, Wang Che cursed inwardly at the wretched woman for causing trouble. Everyone knew Yan Zhan was the Chancellor’s trusted aide. For him to have witnessed this drum-striking today—it looked like trouble was brewing.
Though irritated, he smiled on the surface. “These days, it’s rare to find anyone who strikes the drum and follows the rules. This woman claims to be crying out for justice, but really she’s just causing a disturbance. I was about to deal with her according to procedure—no need for the Secretary to trouble himself.”
“Is that so.” Yan Zhan turned his head, his gaze landing not far away.
There.
The woman lay crumpled on the ground.
Her clothes, disheveled from the dragging, hung loosely over her too-thin frame, so oversized they seemed to let the wind through. The nape of her neck, exposed as she bowed her head, was fair and slender. Her entire body trembled in the wind and snow, on the verge of fainting.
She couldn’t faint.
If she fainted now, all of this would be utterly hopeless.
She had to seek justice.
She could not fall like this.
Her thoughts were in chaos, pain and cold nearly overwhelming her consciousness, pushing her to the very limit of what her body could bear. She swayed precariously, yet refused to accept her fate, gritting her teeth to hold on.
In her daze, she sensed footsteps approaching.
Until a pair of black boots appeared before her eyes, and she suddenly realized that the official who had just entered had stopped in front of her.
Before Yan Zhan could speak, she had already struggled to prop herself up, and like a drowning person grasping at driftwood, she lunged forward and seized the hem of his robe.
She raised her head stubbornly, staring straight into his face.
“Please, Your Honor, grant justice for this common woman! The Commandant of the Nine Courts dismissed my plea without even reading my petition, declaring me a troublemaker. I appeal for justice on behalf of the Duan family—I beg Your Honor to investigate thoroughly…”
He could not make out what she was saying.
The moment he saw her face, his mind seemed to explode with a thunderous roar, and he stood there utterly frozen.