In the back hall of the Jiangning County Magistrate's office, a scene of "house-clearing" was currently unfolding.
The house being cleared didn't belong to a criminal, but rather to the newly appointed magistrate himself, Xu Youde.
The sandalwood desk, which was supposed to be used for presiding over court, had been flipped upside down. Ancient case files were scattered across the floor like scrap paper. Xu Youde was hunched over, his backside in the air as he poked and prodded at the cracks between the floorbricks. He looked for all the world like a portly squirrel, muttering frantically to himself:
"The seal? Where is my official seal? I clearly tucked it into this box yesterday..."
Standing nearby was the legal secretary, Ma San. With his hands tucked into his sleeves and his shoulders quivering, he was clearly stifling a laugh.
He was a "slick old oil stick" left over from the previous administration. Though he held the title of legal secretary, he was in truth an informant planted in the yamen by the local aristocratic families. Watching Xu Youde scramble like a clueless country bumpkin, Ma San’s triangular eyes were filled with mockery.
"Your Honor, you’re looking for it the wrong way."
Ma San spoke slowly, his words laced with hidden thorns. "This official seal is a heavy instrument of the imperial court; it carries its own 'official aura.' If it truly is lost, it can only mean... the feng shui of this yamen does not recognize its master."
Xu Youde froze. He emerged from under the table with cobwebs clinging to his hair, his face flushed red with anxiety.
"Bullshit! I was personally appointed by the Emperor! Who dares not to recognize me?"
"Whether they recognize you or not is a matter for later," Ma San said, nudging a document on the ground with the toe of his boot and sighing insincerely. "But without the seal, you can’t issue warrants or sign decrees. This court session... I’m afraid it won't be happening. Those local gentry outside waiting to see the new official's 'three fires of reform' are going to laugh their teeth off."
The fat on Xu Youde’s face quivered.
He was a man who loved his dignity, and he especially feared being looked down upon by the arrogant elite of Jiangning.
"Daughter! Daughter, save me!" he hollered, calling for his secret weapon.
A curtain was lifted, and Xu Qinghuan walked in.
She carried a lidded teacup, her pace steady and unhurried, seemingly unbothered by the chaos in the room. She cast a brief glance at the empty seal box, then at the snide Ma San. Her gaze lingered for a split second on his bulging sleeve pocket.
"Father, stop looking."
Xu Qinghuan blew the tea leaves aside, her tone as flat as if she were discussing what to have for dinner.
"It’s just as well that the seal is lost."
"Huh?" Xu Youde was stunned.
"Without the seal, we cannot try cases."
Xu Qinghuan walked to the desk, picked up the empty seal box, and casually tossed it into the wastebasket. With a loud "clatter," it sounded as if she hadn't thrown away an instrument of official power, but a useless block of wood.
"Today, we shall speak of etiquette."
...
Half an hour later.
The two dust-covered vermilion gates of the Jiangning County yamen swung wide open.
The plaque that usually hung in the main hall, inscribed with "A Mirror Hanging High" to signify justice, was gone. In its place was a temporary wooden sign painted in black lacquer with four large characters: Respect, Sincerity, and Order.
Xu Qinghuan had ordered the sandalwood desk to be moved directly onto the street, and she sat behind it. To her left was a copy of the "Great Qian Code" as thick as a brick; to her right was a massive abacus. The ink on the sign was barely dry, exuding a sense of cold authority.
As for Xu Youde, he had been ordered to stay in the back hall and drink tea, strictly forbidden from showing his face and embarrassing himself.
This "street-stall style of governance" left the various spies and observers lurking outside the yamen completely bewildered.
No court session? Had they switched to fortune-telling?
A commotion broke out in the crowd.
Several lavishly decorated sedan chairs forced their way through the commoners and stopped arrogantly right in front of the yamen gates.
A curtain was pulled back, and a middle-aged fat man dressed in magnificent silk robes stepped out.
He had a ruddy complexion and waved a gold-flecked folding fan. A thumb ring of translucent green jade sat on his hand. He walked with his nose in the air, the very image of a man used to getting his way.
This was Zhao Fu.
The head steward of the Zhao family, one of the four great aristocratic families of Jiangning.
He had been sent by the head of his house to "crash the party." Ostensibly there to pay respects, his real purpose was to publicly demand why court wasn't being held, thereby pinning the label of "incompetence" firmly onto the Xu family.
Zhao Fu straightened his lapels and, leading a few family lackeys, prepared to barge inside.
"Halt."
A cool voice drifted out from behind the desk.
Xu Qinghuan didn't even raise her eyes. Her slender fingers tapped twice on the cover of the "Great Qian Code." The rhythm was slow, yet it carried an inexplicable sense of pressure.
Zhao Fu paused mid-step, then gave a cold laugh, snapping his fan shut.
"What? Is the Magistrate’s daughter blocking a guest? I am here on behalf of the Zhao family to pay respects to His Honor. In this territory of Jiangning, I’ve never heard of anyone daring to block the Zhao family’s path."
"It is precisely you I am blocking."
Xu Qinghuan finally looked up.
Her eyes were dark and devoid of emotion, making Zhao Fu feel a sudden, inexplicable tightness in his gut.
"The Great Qian Code, Volume of Rites, Chapter Three, Article Fourteen."
Xu Qinghuan flipped open the book and pointed her finger at a line of text. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear, carrying on the wind to everyone in the street.
"Whenever a commoner meets an official, they must dress properly, remove flashy ornaments, and show due reverence. Violators shall be punished with twenty strokes of the cane and a fine of fifty taels of silver."
Zhao Fu blinked, looking down at his outfit.
High-quality Suzhou silk, embroidery by famous capital craftsmen, and a jade pendant worth a fortune. This outfit was worth at least several hundred taels. How was it not "proper"?
"The lady must be joking. My clothes..."
"This is evidence of a crime."
Xu Qinghuan cut him off. She slammed the gavel onto the table and pointed at the intricate pattern around his collar.
"Suzhou silk is one thing. But your collar is embroidered with the Cloud-Dragon pattern. Although it is a subtle weave, it has five claws."
She leaned forward slightly, the corner of her mouth curling into a playful yet chilling arc. Her voice turned sharp.
"According to the Great Qian Book of Rites, five claws signify a dragon; four signify a python. None but the Imperial kin may wear the dragon."
"Steward Zhao, are you planning a rebellion?"
"Or do you believe your Zhao family is already greater than the Emperor?"
Boom!
This accusation was like a thousand-pound weight dropping from the sky.
The surrounding commoners, who had been enjoying the spectacle, were instantly terrified. They shrunk back, fearing they would be splattered with the blood of a "treason" charge that could wipe out nine generations of a family.
Cold sweat poured down Zhao Fu’s face, soaking his back in an instant.
This pattern was the most popular style in the capital's tailor shops lately; who would be bored enough to count the claws? But this was the kind of detail that meant nothing until someone made an issue of it—and once it was framed as a matter of state security, it was a death sentence!
"A mis... a misunderstanding! This is a massive misunderstanding!"
Zhao Fu’s knees went weak. His usual arrogance was sucked out of him, and his face turned paler than if his own father had died.
This Xu girl had a venomous tongue!
"I'll go back and change immediately! Immediately!"
"Go back?"
Xu Qinghuan let out a mocking snort. Her gaze was like that of someone looking at a fat sheep that had wandered into a cage.
"Once you've entered the yamen grounds dressed like that, trying to leave is considered 'contempt of court' plus 'intent to rebel.' The crimes stack; you'd have to take a trip to the executioner's block at the vegetable market."
"Then... then what should I do?" Zhao Fu asked with a sob in his voice. He was truly terrified of this madwoman.
Xu Qinghuan pointed to a small, drafty side room nearby.
"As the Magistrate’s daughter, I care for the people. I have specially launched a new service—'Good Citizen Skin Rental.' We have several sets of regulation-compliant clothing inside. As for the rent... it’s not expensive."
She held up one pale finger and waved it in front of Zhao Fu.
"Ten taels of silver for half an hour."
"No credit. Cash only."
Zhao Fu looked at the dark, damp side room that reeked of mildew, then back at Xu Qinghuan’s face, which practically screamed "your money or your life." Gritting his teeth so hard they nearly shattered, he reached into his robes with a trembling hand, pulled out a silver ingot, and slammed it onto the table.
A few moments later.
When Zhao Fu reappeared before the crowd, the entire entrance of the Jiangning County Yamen fell into a dead silence.
If this were a cartoon, a flock of crows would have flown overhead at that very moment.
Then—
"Pfft..."
Someone couldn't hold it back, and in an instant, a thunderous roar of laughter erupted!
"Hahahaha!"
