two, and my mother died ten years later. She took in sewing to support the two of us. Now, what brings you here?”
Caught off balance by the direct question, Jia Zheng stammers, “Perhaps you remember among your cases one involving a young man named Xue Pan.”
“Xue Pan? Yes, I’m hardly likely to forget a murder case.”
“Well, it so happens that Xue Pan is the son of my widowed sister-in-law—”
“Your nephew, is he?” Jia Yucun interrupts. “I wondered to what I owed this unexpected honor.”
At Jia Yucun’s sarcasm, Jia Zheng falls silent. But Jia Yucun looks at him expectantly, and he forces himself to speak the words he had rehearsed before coming. “I have come to ask for leniency on Xue Pan’s behalf. He is an upstanding young man, and has never been in trouble with the law before. While he did lose his temper and try to throw Zhang Hua out of his house, he had no intention of inflicting serious injury. In fact, he was so shocked when he heard Zhang Hua had died that he could not speak.” He sees the incredulity on the magistrate’s face, and breaks off, feeling foolish.
Jia Yucun seats himself behind the desk again and looks through a sheaf of papers. “Yes, he has already submitted a petition asking that the charge be reduced from ‘intentional homicide’ to ‘fatal bodily harm by mischance.’ Although I issued a warrant for his arrest, he is nowhere to be found.”
Though Jia Yucun’s expression is openly contemptuous, Jia Zheng forces himself to continue. “I came to ask if there is anything you can do to help my nephew. He is truly contrite. That is why, when he heard how seriously Zhang Hua was injured, he returned the girl at once, and even paid for the medical expenses—”
“Tried to pay him off, you mean,” Jia Yucun cuts in. “The case looks serious. Look at the list of injuries that Zhang Hua sustained: a broken arm, teeth knocked out, several serious cuts on his face. I find it hard to believe that his death was accidental.”
“I see,” Jia Zheng says slowly. “In any case, I thank you for taking the time to speak to me.” Secretly he is relieved that his mission has been unsuccessful. When Mrs. Xue came to him, his first impulse was to have nothing to do with the matter. However, when she begged and pleaded, and said that Xue Pan was in danger of his life, he had agreed to help, in part because he feared the scandal would redound upon the Jias, and also because he could not stand by coldheartedly while his nephew ran the risk of execution. He is a man who has always followed rules to the letter. He had slept badly the night before, hounded by a sense of wrongdoing and also by a fear that his misdeed would somehow be discovered and punished.
“Just a minute,” Jia Yucun says as he reaches the door.
He stops and turns. The magistrate is leaning back and putting his fingertips together, just as he was doing when Jia Zheng introduced himself. “I said it was a serious case, but not that it was hopeless.”
Jia Zheng takes a step back, wondering whether Jia Yucun has been feigning reluctance to fish for a bribe. “What do you mean?”
Jia Yucun shuffles through his papers again. “The testimony is far from conclusive. I can see some potential weaknesses in the prosecution’s case. Over the next few days, I will be calling witnesses in for questioning: those who were present at the fight—”
“The only people there were my nephew’s servants,” Jia Zheng says.
Jia Yucun continues as if he had not spoken, “I will question the eyewitnesses as to who struck the first blow—there may be some question as to whether your nephew acted in self-defense. I’ll ask for an examination of Zhang Hua’s body and a coroner’s report. Finally, I’ll question Zhang’s doctor about his injuries, and his general state of health.” He looks up from the papers. “I’ll let you know if something comes up. Why don’t you come back in a few days?”
Not knowing
Caught off balance by the direct question, Jia Zheng stammers, “Perhaps you remember among your cases one involving a young man named Xue Pan.”
“Xue Pan? Yes, I’m hardly likely to forget a murder case.”
“Well, it so happens that Xue Pan is the son of my widowed sister-in-law—”
“Your nephew, is he?” Jia Yucun interrupts. “I wondered to what I owed this unexpected honor.”
At Jia Yucun’s sarcasm, Jia Zheng falls silent. But Jia Yucun looks at him expectantly, and he forces himself to speak the words he had rehearsed before coming. “I have come to ask for leniency on Xue Pan’s behalf. He is an upstanding young man, and has never been in trouble with the law before. While he did lose his temper and try to throw Zhang Hua out of his house, he had no intention of inflicting serious injury. In fact, he was so shocked when he heard Zhang Hua had died that he could not speak.” He sees the incredulity on the magistrate’s face, and breaks off, feeling foolish.
Jia Yucun seats himself behind the desk again and looks through a sheaf of papers. “Yes, he has already submitted a petition asking that the charge be reduced from ‘intentional homicide’ to ‘fatal bodily harm by mischance.’ Although I issued a warrant for his arrest, he is nowhere to be found.”
Though Jia Yucun’s expression is openly contemptuous, Jia Zheng forces himself to continue. “I came to ask if there is anything you can do to help my nephew. He is truly contrite. That is why, when he heard how seriously Zhang Hua was injured, he returned the girl at once, and even paid for the medical expenses—”
“Tried to pay him off, you mean,” Jia Yucun cuts in. “The case looks serious. Look at the list of injuries that Zhang Hua sustained: a broken arm, teeth knocked out, several serious cuts on his face. I find it hard to believe that his death was accidental.”
“I see,” Jia Zheng says slowly. “In any case, I thank you for taking the time to speak to me.” Secretly he is relieved that his mission has been unsuccessful. When Mrs. Xue came to him, his first impulse was to have nothing to do with the matter. However, when she begged and pleaded, and said that Xue Pan was in danger of his life, he had agreed to help, in part because he feared the scandal would redound upon the Jias, and also because he could not stand by coldheartedly while his nephew ran the risk of execution. He is a man who has always followed rules to the letter. He had slept badly the night before, hounded by a sense of wrongdoing and also by a fear that his misdeed would somehow be discovered and punished.
“Just a minute,” Jia Yucun says as he reaches the door.
He stops and turns. The magistrate is leaning back and putting his fingertips together, just as he was doing when Jia Zheng introduced himself. “I said it was a serious case, but not that it was hopeless.”
Jia Zheng takes a step back, wondering whether Jia Yucun has been feigning reluctance to fish for a bribe. “What do you mean?”
Jia Yucun shuffles through his papers again. “The testimony is far from conclusive. I can see some potential weaknesses in the prosecution’s case. Over the next few days, I will be calling witnesses in for questioning: those who were present at the fight—”
“The only people there were my nephew’s servants,” Jia Zheng says.
Jia Yucun continues as if he had not spoken, “I will question the eyewitnesses as to who struck the first blow—there may be some question as to whether your nephew acted in self-defense. I’ll ask for an examination of Zhang Hua’s body and a coroner’s report. Finally, I’ll question Zhang’s doctor about his injuries, and his general state of health.” He looks up from the papers. “I’ll let you know if something comes up. Why don’t you come back in a few days?”
Not knowing
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