Chapter 1191: In the Courtroom

At the Luoyang prefectural office, the Governor and Duke of Luan, Murong Yanchao, opened court to hear the case—naturally, the matter of Han Qingxiong killing Chang Kan at the Peony Pavilion the day before. Quite a crowd gathered to watch, from nobles and officials to common folk alike, all wanting to see how Imperial Uncle Murong would adjudicate this affair.

As the capital of the Western Capital, governing the entire Heluo region, there was no shortage of daily business, and in matters of criminal law, Murong Yanchao in fact rarely intervened—that was essentially left to the Administrative Assistant of the yamen.

This time, however, since it involved the killing of one scion of a meritorious family by another, the Administrative Assistant could not be certain, and so reported the matter up to Murong Yanchao. To Murong Yanchao, this affair was not exactly difficult, but it was troublesome nonetheless.

Imperial Uncle Murong actually had some talent for interrogation and adjudication. In the past, whether serving as a Military Governor, at the Kaifeng prefectural office, or in the Ministry of Justice, he had a record of cracking cases.

Not to say he pleaded for the people, but he always acted according to law, and cases were always sorted out clearly. Therefore, this case was hardly a challenge for Murong Yanchao—the facts were clear, investigation and evidence-gathering were simple; the most troublesome part was how to pass sentence.

With state law to rely on, plus his own status, Imperial Uncle Murong was not afraid of offending anyone. But whether one is afraid and whether one acts are two different things. So, last night, Murong Yanchao submitted a memorial to Emperor Liu, requesting guidance on how to handle the matter.

What he received was naturally not gentle words from Emperor Liu. The Emperor's response was simple and direct—a small murder case, and he still had to disturb the imperial person? He questioned Murong Yanchao: having served as an official for many years and handled no few cases, did he still need someone to teach him how to judge?

The Emperor's response left Imperial Uncle Murong somewhat dejected, though of course he could appreciate that the Emperor was not targeting him personally. Still, the ball had been kicked right back to Murong Yanchao.

Under such circumstances, Murong Yanchao had come to thoroughly detest the parties involved in the incident—both Han Qingxiong who did the killing and Chang Kan who was killed.

These pampered sons of privilege—why couldn't they do something better with themselves? Even if it were brawling or bullying the weak, he could handle it on the spot and would not be lenient in dealing with it. But no, they had to go and cause a death.

Under the Great Han's current laws, human life was also a most basic bottom line. In civil disputes, once a death occurred, the nature of the matter escalated and changed—a major incident could not be smoothed over easily.

Over all these years, cases involving deaths among the people were not numerous, but once they escalated to such a vicious outcome, those involved could basically not escape a death sentence—there was essentially no exception.

Past sixty years of age, Imperial Uncle Murong had by now completely withered into a thin, dried-up little old man. Yet, framed by a jade-inlaid official cap and a crimson-purple court robe, he still radiated full authority, not to be taken lightly.

The gawking crowd outside the courtroom was strictly held back at the perimeter. A cursory glance revealed some familiar faces. Apart from those purely there for the spectacle, the rest were mostly people connected to the Han and Chang families, the two sides clearly divided. The Chang family had more people—men, women, old and young, it seemed all had come, each dressed in mourning clothes, wearing an air of righteous indignation, silently staring at the courtroom, making no sound yet exerting real pressure.

Murong Yanchao paid little attention to the "idle onlookers" outside the hall—though inwardly he did feel somewhat awkward, as if the display was accusing him of bending the law for personal gain. Last night, members of the Chang family had come to the yamen, hoping to retrieve Chang Kan's body, but Murong Yanchao had refused on the grounds that the case was not yet concluded.

This time when he opened court, Murong Yanchao did not, as in past trials, peel back the layers, interrogate meticulously, or even match wits with the suspect. He merely had the sequence of events laid out and reported in a procedural manner, then watched the two families' legal advocates debate...

And so, the scene in the courtroom was this: two rows of yamen runners holding intimidation staves, while Han Qingxiong, in a brown prison garb, shackled and fettered, knelt there in a daze. Chang Kan's father, Chang De, dressed in plain white mourning clothes, knelt obediently as the plaintiff, his grief at losing his son written plainly on his face, enough to move anyone to pity.

The two legal advocates, each citing the legal code, marshaling facts, detailing the process, engaged in fierce verbal combat. Both were advocates who had made names for themselves in the Eastern Capital; when the court moved west to Luoyang, they naturally followed to the Western Capital to seek their fortunes.

This lawsuit was a rare opportunity for both men—not only because it connected them with the powerful and noble, but also because it was a chance to display their legal acumen, expand their practice, and break into upper-class society.

In recent years, the Great Han had been in a state of comprehensive development; every aspect of society was advancing, including the legal advocate profession.

With the realm unified and north and south converging, the Great Han's commodity economy had fully entered the fast lane. Commercial transactions among the people grew increasingly frequent, and where interests were involved, contradictions and conflicts easily arose—and lawsuits were often the final and most important avenue for resolving disputes.

As the market grew, the corresponding professions welcomed major development. The Great Han's legal provisions had previously undergone systematic simplification and reorganization for ease of understanding and implementation; later, through deletions, adjustments, and additions, by now the various statutes and regulations were already quite complete.

And completeness also meant complexity. For the current common folk of the Great Han, it could be said that virtually all were legally illiterate, possessing only some simple moral intuitions. Aside from basic awareness of rebellion, murder, theft, robbery, fraud, and adultery, they were vague or even wholly ignorant of everything else.

Even the officials of the Great Han were the same—the Criminal Code was mandatory study, but officials who could delve deeply and become familiar with Han law were few. Therefore, whether in government trials or civil litigation, specialists devoted to legal study were needed as assistants—in the government, these were the criminal clerks, inspectors, and scribes; among the people, they were the legal advocates.

The legal advocate profession had existed since ancient times, but after over a thousand years of development, it had never achieved scale—until the present Great Han, when it erupted. Of course, this was also because the comprehensive development of society, economy, and politics provided the soil for its growth. And there was also Emperor Liu's affirmation and guidance.

The Great Han's legal code had been established for many years, its authority continuously expanding, its credibility growing ever stronger. Yet how to utilize the code could not rely solely on officials—legal advocates were a fine supplement.

At present, legal advocates did not enjoy a good reputation among the people; ordinary folk generally had no use for them, and their primary clientele were the propertied and middle classes. In the course of their development, they could not avoid such blemishes as colluding and bribing, tampering with documents and swapping petitions, bullying and threatening—but their positive significance could not be concealed either.

Yet people tended to see only the misdeeds and ignore the positive significance. Especially now, with the Great Han's overall political environment clean and clear, the explosion of the legal advocate profession was beneficial to social development. It also provided a new career direction for scholars who had failed to find advancement—after all, being an official of the Great Han was getting harder and harder; for one thing, the threshold kept rising.

In many people's eyes, these were a bunch of morally low, flashy and vulgar types, colluding with unscrupulous merchants, buzzing about like flies—behavior that completely corrupted social mores.

But even with a poor reputation, the number of people throwing themselves into the profession was steadily increasing. First, the court's attitude was clear—tolerant and supportive; second, there was fame and profit to be had. Of course, among them were also upright individuals who respected the law, defended rights, and pleaded for the people.

In the past, legal advocates could generally only participate in civil cases, which involved disputes over interests—at worst, assault.

Whenever a death was involved, they basically had no right to speak. In this regard, officials everywhere took it very seriously; investigation, interrogation, and sentencing left no room for legal advocates to stir up litigation with clever words.

This time, however, clearly broke that established convention. The Han family had hired a famous advocate to seek acquittal or mitigation, while the Chang family had also engaged a "great barrister," determined to have Han Qingxiong sentenced to death. And Murong Yanchao had tacitly accepted it, watching the two sides' fierce debate with considerable interest.

The outcome of this lawsuit was still undecided, but the ceiling of the legal advocate profession, through this litigation, might well be raised considerably.

From the bottom of his heart, Murong Yanchao looked down on these legal advocates. When the government tried cases, how could the courtroom allow these one or two bookish men without office or authority to show off their tongues and quibble with cunning arguments? If this continued, where would the authority of government officials be?

In fact, Emperor Liu's supportive attitude toward the suddenly flourishing legal advocates was precisely to curb the mentality of officials like Imperial Uncle Murong.

When it came to the common people, the power to interpret the law could not be held entirely in the hands of officials—that was probably Emperor Liu's most simple original intention. However, for the legal advocate profession to continue developing and become standardized, it would still need to endure some twists and turns.

In the courtroom, regarding the case of Han Qingxiong killing Chang Kan, the two sides engaged in a comprehensive analytical debate over the relevant provisions of the Criminal Code. The defense reconstructed the entire sequence of events from beginning to end, raising several points they hoped to use as grounds for mitigation—such as Chang Kan having provoked first, involving personal insult and contempt for ancestors, plus drunkenness and impaired faculties, and so on.

The intent was to prove that Han Qingxiong had not premeditated murder, but had acted in a fit of passion, drawing his sword to wash away shame. In the Great Han, many moral considerations could influence sentencing—this was an indisputable fact. Many cases were accompanied by such subjective factors as "extenuating circumstances" or "a momentary impulse" that affected the outcome.

The Chang family's advocate, however, no matter how the other side quibbled, fixed on a single point: Han Qingxiong killed a man—Chang Kan was killed in full public view. Clinging to that point, he meant to nail Han Qingxiong for good.

After all, Chang Kan had only wielded the sharpness of his tongue—neither treasonous nor villainous. Even if he had insulted the Han family, it was a matter of excessive and improper speech. Even if Han Qingxiong truly acted in a moment of fury, he could draw his sword to wound or kill—but having caused such grave consequences, he had to pay the price for his actions.

Han law, after all, did not punish thoughts. But Han Qingxiong's killing was an indisputable fact, with conclusive evidence of guilt.

The two sides argued for a long time, each seeking to influence Murong Yanchao's judgment. There was no jury in the courtroom; even with the Administrative Assistant, Registrar, and subordinate clerks present, the final power of sentencing lay in Imperial Uncle Murong's hands.

Having enjoyed a splendid debate, Imperial Uncle Murong—his body weary, his spirit fatigued, and his mind somewhat irritated—finally decided to conclude this court session.

A single slap of the gavel brought the entire hall to silence. After a round of boilerplate remarks, before the witness of all present, Murong Yanchao solemnly announced the verdict.

The moment the result came out, the dazed Han Qingxiong utterly lost his spirit.