Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I had thought about speaking out.

But before the words could even leave my mouth, I was usually the one who lost my nerve first.

That changed when Cui Yanxing took office.

The new prefect reopened old cases and reviewed backlogged files. Even Father had gone cold-faced at the dinner table and said this man “doesn’t understand how the world works-sooner or later, he’ll hit a wall.”

At the time, I kept my head down and drank my soup without saying a word.

But that night, I remembered the name.

Someone who didn’t understand how the world worked was not necessarily easy to deal with.

But sometimes, only that kind of person was willing to look at the papers before looking at favors.

Father once discovered that I had kept a copy.

That day, he pulled a stack of duplicate documents from beneath my desk, and his face darkened.

“What are you keeping these for?”

I said, “In case I forget.”

He stared at me for a long while, then finally smiled.

“You’re just like your mother. You always need to keep a backup of everything.”

Mother smiled too and spoke up for me from the side. “It’s good for a girl to be cautious.”

That night, I moved the copies somewhere else.

I hid them in the Incense and Paper Shop in the back alley behind Fu’an Temple. The shop belonged to the son of my wet nurse, Mama He. He usually wrote funeral elegies for people and sold joss paper. Behind the shop was a damp little room no one liked going into.

I wrapped the case files in oilpaper and delivered them there twice a year.

Every time I went, Mama He would ask, “Miss, what are you keeping these for?”

And every time, I said, “I’m afraid of death.”

She thought I was joking and tapped me on the forehead with her finger.

“Such a nice young lady-don’t say things like that.”

I thought it sounded unlucky too.

But that night, standing in Father’s study and looking at that confession, I finally understood that some unlucky words waited for their moment.

By the next morning, before dawn, the rain had stopped.

I sat under the lamp all night, going over every word I had heard and thinking it through again and again.

In three days, they would send me to admit guilt.

Three days was enough time for Father to rewrite a confession. Enough time for my brother to find witnesses. Enough time for Mother to pack a trunk for me with a few thick clothes to wear in prison.

And enough time for the Lin Family to say everything before I ever could.

I couldn’t wait.

Three days from now, they would be the ones speaking for me.

Today, I would speak first.

Whoever submitted the complaint to the court first got to shape the case first.

I changed into plain-colored clothes and tied my hair back tightly.

The face in the bronze mirror was pale.

I looked at her for a while, then raised a hand and tucked the last loose strand at my temple back into place.

If you were afraid of death, you could not afford to panic.

And you could not afford to be slow.

When I left, the gatekeeper was still dozing. Seeing me, he rubbed his eyes and asked, “Miss, where are you going so early?”

“To offer incense at Fu’an Temple,” I said.

He didn’t stop me.

It was never a big deal for a woman of the Lin Family to go out. Especially me. I often went to the temple for Mother to copy sutras or deliver lamp oil, so no one thought anything of it.

The shops on the street were still closed, and a thin sheen of water lay over the blue bricks. I walked quickly, and the hem of my skirt got splashed with mud.

By the time I reached the gates of the Capital Prefecture, the guards on duty were still yawning as they pushed the doors open.

I stopped before the Injustice Drum and reached for the drumstick.

It was heavier than I had expected.

When I lifted it, my wrist trembled.

One of the guards saw me and frowned. “Miss, this isn’t a place for games.”

I didn’t look at him.

The first strike landed, and the drum gave a heavy, muffled boom that shook through my chest.

At the second strike, the pigeons at the entrance scattered into the air.

By the third, my palm had already gone numb.

The guard’s expression changed. He ran over to snatch the drumstick away. “What family are you from? Do you even know that beating this drum means appearing in court?”

I let go and handed him the petition I had prepared in advance.

“I, Lin Qingcai, submit a complaint.”

He took it and glanced down. His face changed slightly.

“Miss, this is… a plea for justice?”

I looked at him.

“No.”

He froze.

“It’s an accusation.”

The sound of the drum was still echoing, one beat at a time, before the prefectural gates.

I could hear my own voice with perfect clarity.

“I accuse my father, I accuse my brother, and I accuse the Lin Family of falsifying testimony and shifting the crime onto me.”

When he saw the surname Lin, he blanked for a moment.

“Master Lin’s household?”

I nodded.

He glanced inside, then lowered his voice. “Miss, if something’s happened at home, sit down and talk it out. Once this drum is struck, it won’t stay a family matter anymore.”

“That’s precisely because it couldn’t be settled at home,” I said.

Cui Yanxing had only been in office for two months.

I had never met him before. I had only heard Father say that he was difficult, young, cold-eyed, a man who didn’t drink, didn’t accept calling cards, and had gone through three whole chests of old cases left behind by his predecessor, nearly driving several of the veteran court clerks sick.

Father had sounded displeased when he said it.

That was when I remembered him.

When I was brought into the hall, Cui Yanxing had only just taken his seat. He had not even finished straightening his official robes, as though the drum had summoned him out in haste. Two rows of lamps were lit below the bench. Dawn had not yet fully broken, and the shadows of the wooden placards stretched across the floor in bars.

He picked up the petition, read a few lines, and looked up at me.

“Lin Huaizhang is your father?”

“Yes.”

“Lin Cheng’an is your elder brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are accusing your father and brother of privately altering testimony, forging signatures and thumbprints, and shifting the blame onto you?”

I kowtowed.

“Yes.”

Cui Yanxing looked at me.

“Do you understand that by accusing your father and brother, you are pushing yourself into the center of the storm as well?”

“I do.”

“And you still accuse them?”

I raised my head.

The lamps in the hall had not yet gone out. Daylight was slowly spilling in from outside the doors, touching the edge of the petition.

“They’ve already written my confession for me.”

I paused.

“If I don’t accuse them first, then the next time I kneel here, I won’t be the one filing the complaint. I’ll be the one admitting guilt.”