Chapter 60: Watching the Execution

Zhao Jin had some knowledge of executions and beheadings. He knew that only the most heinous criminals were executed at the third quarter of the hour of noon, and that death sentences were generally carried out in autumn. Those convicted and sentenced to beheading were always perpetrators of major, vicious crimes. He had no idea what evil today's convict had done to warrant such treatment.

Unlike usual, Zhao Zhentang did not stroke his monkey today. He went straight to the execution ground carrying the demon-headed blade wrapped in red cloth. Zhao Jin hurried after him.

The weather was still cold. Zhao Zhentang had changed into a short red cloth jacket underneath, with a padded robe over it. He had killed so many that he had no psychological barriers. His expression was calm as always, and as they walked, he told Zhao Jin about today's convict.

The man had no notable background, but he had committed a massacre that wiped out an entire household. Outside the city, Widow Lin had lost her husband early. Her husband's family were considered wealthy households in Xuzhou, leaving behind a considerable estate and three children — two sons and a daughter, all under ten. At the time, rumors said either Widow Lin would remarry, or her husband's family would divide up the estate.

No one expected that Widow Lin would manage the household alone, raising the children by herself. She had a sharp eye for business. When the Jia River opened, she bought several shops in Yutou Town, and the family business flourished, making them one of the wealthiest families in the eastern part of Xuzhou City.

Just last year, her eldest son's betrothal was settled, with the wedding planned for this year. People both inside and outside the city praised her, saying this was Widow Lin's reward for her chastity, virtue, and faithful widowhood. The authorities had already prepared to report to the imperial court to erect a memorial archway in her honor.

But right at this juncture, Widow Lin's home was burglarized in the middle of the night. Her family had prospered in recent years, drawing the envy of many. A ruffian from the same village scaled her wall in the dead of night, intending to steal valuables. Somehow, he alerted Widow Lin.

When discovered, the ruffian likely panicked and turned desperate. He hacked Widow Lin to death with an axe, then, in a murderous frenzy, cut down her eldest son and eldest daughter when they came running at the noise. Ordinary folk had never seen such a bloody scene. The farmhands and servants who came to help were paralyzed with terror. He killed two of them and was about to climb the wall and escape when he was finally overtaken and beaten down by a few men with some courage left, then bound and handed over to the authorities.

Who could have imagined that a perfectly fine family would be destroyed overnight? If the youngest son hadn't been such a deep sleeper, he likely wouldn't have escaped the slaughter. That youngest son is very timid by nature — they say he still hasn't been told what happened. As for the business and estate, they've had to be managed by the elders of Widow Lin's late husband's family.

"The world is going downhill. Deranged cases like this are increasing. The heads I've chopped in the last three years match the total from the five years before," Zhao Zhentang remarked.

Cases of murder and robbery weren't rare, and fewer than ten dead wouldn't normally count for much. But this case caused too great a stir — even Fengyang and Nanjing got word of it.

The Prefect of Xuzhou was already humiliated over his retention in office, and this incident made him lose even more face. He disregarded the rule against killing during spring's season of growth and renewal, directly sentencing the man to immediate beheading and reporting it upward. For a crime that enraged both heaven and man, the approval came quickly: execution in the second month.

Moreover, because major cases were occurring frequently in Xuzhou, this execution was to be held at the bell tower one li east of Pengcheng Academy, the central crossroads of Xuzhou City. The criminal's head was to be used to intimidate the wicked and depraved.

Halfway there, father and son parted ways. Zhao Zhentang had to go to the yamen to make preparations first; Zhao Jin went on his own.

Quite a crowd had already gathered around the execution ground. Rich and poor, noble and lowly — all sorts could be seen. Every face was rather excited, carrying an atmosphere almost like a festival.

He hadn't waited long when the sound of brass gongs rang out. The crowd in the distance suddenly stirred. Bailiffs and their assistants could be heard shouting for people to make way, and someone could be heard cursing "Animal!"

The crowd of onlookers parted to either side as the bailiffs escorted the prisoner wagon into the execution ground. Idle spectators threw things at the wagon. Though the bailiffs kept their distance, they were still often caught in the crossfire and couldn't help pointing and cursing furiously at both sides.

The criminal inside the wooden cage had disheveled hair. The skin exposed was a mess of blood and torn flesh. His head lolled to one side, motionless — it was impossible to tell if he was dead or alive.

The prisoner wagon stopped. The bailiffs opened the wooden cage and dragged the shackled criminal toward the execution platform — a makeshift wooden stage.

With a roar, the surrounding crowd surged forward. The yamen runners were well prepared for this scene. They swung clubs and cracked whips indiscriminately in all directions. Shrieks of shock and pain rang out, and the crowd dispersed somewhat.

The crush was so intense that people were even brawling over spots near the front. But Zhao Jin, whose body and strength now surpassed ordinary men, easily squeezed his way to the front.

The runners driving the crowd back clearly recognized Zhao Jin. Many had recently visited the Zhao household to pay their respects. Seeing his face, none of them laid a hand on him, and before long, Zhao Jin was standing in the very front row.

"Isn't that Old Zhao's kid, the one who nearly died of fright last time he watched a beheading? What's he doing here again?"

"I heard the boy's got real skill now. No youngster in the city is a match for him."

"Beheading's a fine trade. Of course Old Zhao wants to pass it down through the generations. His son's getting on in years — it's time he came to watch."

"... What if he gets spooked again..."

The murmuring reached Zhao Jin's ears, but he pretended not to hear. The supervising official had only just entered the grounds. His father was standing to one side, waiting. He might as well use this chance to look around.

Order had been restored. Driven back by clubs and whips, the crowd stood quietly encircling the grounds. Scanning the circle, Zhao Jin spotted a few familiar faces. Chen Sheng and Wang Zhaojing stood on the other side. Sun Dalei and Liu Yong were in an adjacent direction. The others hadn't shown.

They all smiled and waved greetings. There was always a sense of rivalry among them — they probably saw watching the beheading as a test of courage.

After sweeping his gaze around, Zhao Jin felt something was off. Among the onlookers, besides his friends, there seemed to be other familiar faces, yet he couldn't spot anyone else he actually recognized.

The supervising official began reading the criminal's charges and sentence. Hearing the details of the Lin family tragedy, the crowd stirred again. This time, their fury was truly ignited. Some couldn't help cursing at the criminal, while others grabbed whatever was at hand and hurled it. The scene grew chaotic once more.

The runners turned back to suppress the disturbance. Zhao Zhentang, holding the demon-headed blade, walked step by step onto the execution platform. He looked out over the crowd, his eyes meeting Zhao Jin's in the front row. He gave a slight nod.

Zhao Jin felt his father was checking whether he had actually come. With the beheading imminent, the crowd grew ever more excited. Zhao Jin felt people behind him constantly pushing and shoving. The runners' shouts and curses were barely keeping things under control.

At that moment, the criminal, who had been kneeling with his head bowed on the platform, raised his head and swept his gaze over the watching crowd.

The criminal's features were twisted, his face smeared with blood — he had clearly suffered greatly in prison. Though this was Zhao Jin's first time watching an execution, he had heard plenty about it at home. Before beheading, a person's mind was always broken. Some wailed and laughed hysterically, some struggled madly, some railed at heaven and cursed the earth, some collapsed in a paralyzed heap. All kinds, every one driven by fear and the desperate will to live.

But the criminal on the wooden platform was different. He wore a smile too, made grotesque by his twisted features and bloodied face, yet the smile was calm — so calm it was chilling.

A criminal who had broken into a widow's home in the dead of night, and when discovered, flew into a murderous frenzy and hacked her to death — he shouldn't have this expression. In Zhao Jin's judgment, this man should be collapsing in terror, or laughing wildly with feigned bravado. He should not, by any means, be this calm.

The spectators shared much the same thought. Swept by that calm, icy gaze, they all felt an inexplicable chill. Some instinctively stepped backward.

The scene actually fell silent — silenced because that criminal with the twisted features and blood-smeared face had raised his head.

It wasn't just the commoners below. Even the supervising official seated to the side was somewhat stunned. He swallowed before snapping out of it, hurriedly casting the warrant slip to the ground and shouting, "The hour has come! Execute!"

At the word "Execute," the criminal shuddered violently. He forced his head up, opened his mouth as if to speak. In that instant, a flash of blade — Zhao Zhentang beheaded him in a single stroke!

The hand rose, the blade fell, head separated from body. The criminal's head rolled from the wooden platform to the ground. Blood sprayed from the severed neck.