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The Old Man’s Will
“Someday I’m going to teach these greedy people a lesson,” said Judge Dee, a tall broad-shouldered man with a foot-long black beard and matching side-whiskers.
The last tribunal session had been unexpectedly short, and it was too early for dinner. The judge did not want to go to his three wives, because his unanticipated presence at the ladies’ quarters would interrupt their afternoon routines. At this hour his First Lady would be reading the classics and his Third Lady would be practicing painting or calligraphy. As to what his Second Lady might be doing, he wasn’t quite sure. She was less educated, and perhaps still talking with her maid about the day’s shopping, or yet still doing it.
The judge’s office was adjacent to the court-hall, separated from the ladies’ quarters. The two buildings were connected through a narrow corridor with a tiled roof. If the judge had wanted to join one of his wives, he had to walk through the corridor, likely to be noticed by the servants in the main kitchen. Not wanting to alarm anyone unnecessarily, or to disturb the preparation of his dinner, Judge Dee decided to stay in his office with his confidential advisor, Sergeant Hoong Liang.
Sergeant Hoong helped him take off his ceremonial robe of shimmering green brocade, and put away the magistrate’s official cap of black velvet with stiffened wings spread out to each side. Judge Dee changed to his blue house robe and put a small black skullcap on his head. All civilized men wore caps, even indoors, except when sleeping.
It was early spring in a Year of the Snake and Earth, according to the Chinese calendar, approximately 669 AD. For a year now, Judge Dee had held the position as Magistrate at the tribunal of Poo-yang, a small but flourishing district of about twelve thousand people, located on the Grand Canal in middle-eastern China’s Kiangsu Province.
As the judge spoke to Sergeant Hoong he referred to a case brought in earlier that afternoon. A tailor named Bao Yuan had complained that one of the wealthiest merchants in Poo-yang named Yang Feng had refused to pay for an expensive wedding suit he had ordered for his son. The tailor had tried once more to collect his money that very afternoon. According to him, the greedy merchant had shamelessly claimed that he had already paid for it. The wedding would take place that evening, and the angry tailor had appeared in court. Although his sympathy went initially to the tailor, Judge Dee did not bring the merchant to court. On his wedding night, an innocent young man should not be hurt by his father’s greed. Judge Dee promised the tailor that he would investigate the case the following day.
Quite relaxed in his private study, the judge sat in his chair, slowly stroking his beard from his chin to its tip. His sergeant poured him a cup of tea. Hoong had been a long-time servant, who had for years been in the household of Dee’s father and had known the judge since he was nine years old. Poo-yang was Judge Dee’s third post as district magistrate and Sergeant Hoong had followed him from his very first posting. Although a small elderly man with a slightly bent back, the sergeant was courageous and had a natural gift for detective work. Judge Dee had appointed him sergeant of his constables, and treated him as his most confidential advisor.
Judge Dee walked across his private office to the window to glance into the courtyard, where Ma Joong, one of his lieutenants, a big, tall man and an excellent boxer, was drilling his constables. The night before, Judge Dee had sent his two other lieutenants, Chiao Tai and Tao Gan, to Magistrate Lo of Chin-hwa at the neighboring district to the east to give him some desperately needed help with a recent rash of pick-pocketing. These three lieutenants of his own choice and Sergeant Hoong formed Judge Dee’s inner circle, and the judge held the absolute power in Poo-yang.
The judge’s full name was Dee Jen-djieh, Dee as his family name and Jen-djieh as his own given name. It was composed of the two Chinese characters his late father had chosen for him: benevolence and prominence, hoping that the son would grow up to fulfill such lofty expectations. The magistracy was the lowest level of imperial administration to be appointed directly by the Emperor, who was referred to by all magistrates with much awe as “our August Throne.”
As the sergeant began to serve the judge his tea, Ma Joong came in and reported that a Mrs. Woong had come to see the judge and that she was waiting outside. Judge Dee couldn’t remember anyone by that name, but agreed to meet her anyway since he had so much time left before dinner.
“Bring her in,” Judge Dee ordered. Ma Joong left the room, followed by Sergeant Hoong. As Ma Joong showed Mrs. Woong in, he leered at the judge. The woman looked almost forty years old, but the judge quickly apprehended Ma Joong’s overt interest. His lieutenant was not necessarily a womanizer, but this was truly a beautiful woman. Her cherry mouth and almost apricot-shaped eyes modeled precisely the male ideal of female beauty. Even more remarkably, she achieved this beauty without any makeup, and indeed she was dressed very plainly.
She knelt in front of the judge and introduced herself. “This humble and insignificant woman, Woong yoo Mei, r-r-respectfully greets the Magistrate of Poo-yang.”
“We are not in tribunal session, Madam.” Judge Dee noticed her timid voice as he gestured her to stand up. “There is no need for formality here. Please rise and be seated.”
Mrs. Woong rose slowly and sat down on one of the drum-shaped footstools in front of the judge’s desk. She spoke in a quiet but sad and nostalgic tone. “On his deathbed twenty years ago, my late husband handed me this note with a gold bar.” The woman took out a piece of paper from her sleeve and placed it on the desk.
“My husband said that he would bequeath the gold bar to me and my son, leaving all the rest of his assets to my step-son-in-law. That included a mansion with a hundred rooms and three hundred acres of land.”
“I find it most peculiar, Madam,” Judge Dee said, tapping the desk with his hand, “that your husband should have given almost all of his possessions to his son-in-law instead of his son!”
“I thought that way too,” the woman mumbled, barely opening her cherry-sized little mouth, “especially as his daughter had already passed away. But my husband also told me that I should bring this piece of paper to the tribunal and show it to the magistrate when my son became twenty years old. ‘If he does not understand it, show it to his successor, until a wise judge knows what to do,’ he said.”
Judge Dee picked up the piece of paper and read carefully. Written Chinese did not yet then have punctuation. A writer could employ line breaks to help his readers understand his meaning, but this old man had deliberately written his message in an uninterrupted long line.
This old man is sixty nine his wife has just delivered a son no one believes that it is truly his all of his properties shall be given to his son in law and others shall get none.
“That is his will,” the woman spotted Judge Dee’s puzzled face and added, “and he also gave a copy to his son-in-law. My husband read his will to both of us from his death bed.” The woman recited the will exactly the way her husband had read it twenty years before:
This old man is sixty-nine
His wife has just delivered a son
No one believes that it is truly his
All of his properties shall be given to his son-in-law
And others shall get none.
“His son-in-law said I had deceived my husband and kicked me and my son out of the house. I don’t know why my husband said my son was not his. He only pressed my hand to remind me what he had told me earlier. Today is my son’s twentieth birthday, and it is my duty to execute my late husband’s instructions.”
“How old was your son when your husband died?” Judge Dee asked.
“Only a baby, less than a month.” The painful recollection made the woman weep, and she took out an old silk handkerchief to wipe her eyes.
“I see,” Judge Dee stroked his black beard. He waited until she had put her handkerchief back in her pocket. The woman must have endured great deprivations during the past twenty years, Judge Dee thought, since she was still using an old silk handkerchief that her husband must have given her!
“Madam, there must be some deeper meaning in this will. I shall study it more carefully. It is my duty to warn you, however, that I have to keep my mind open. I may find in your favor, but I could also find you guilty of adultery. In either case I shall take appropriate steps, and justice will take its own course. If you prefer to take back this note and withdraw your request for a public intervention into your domestic affairs, it is not yet too late. But personally I appreciated the fact that you have truthfully followed your late husband’s instructions.”
Mrs. Woong rose promptly. With quiet dignity she said: “I beg you to keep this for study, and pray to Merciful Heaven that it will grant you all the wisdom needed to solve the puzzle.” After a pause, she added: “Perhaps I should let you know that my step-son-in-law is one of the wealthiest merchants in this town and his name is Yang Feng.”
“I’ve already guessed that. I didn’t know he had inherited so much of his wealth from his father-in-law,” Judge Dee said.
The woman bowed deeply and took her leave.
Sergeant Hoong and Ma Joong had been waiting outside in the corridor. “Indeed a very wise man!”
Sergeant Hoong commented as he came in. “And evidently a most potent old man, I should say,” Ma Joong laughed mischievously as he sat down on the footstool that Mrs. Woong had been sitting on, finding that her bodily warmth gave him quite a lively sensation.
While Sergeant Hoong was making a new pot of tea for the judge he continued his comments and speculations. “The old man realized that his wicked son-in-law was violently jealous of the newborn baby. If the old man divided his property equally between his son-in-law and son, the former might have killed the infant to get his part of the inheritance.”
“Exactly!” Judge Dee said. “So the old man has made it appear that he disinherited the baby.” The judge shook his head disapprovingly as he reflected on the age gap between the old man and his young wife. To him, that was a sure way to destroy a family. One had to be very careful in adding a wife, Judge Dee thought. He had only three wives, although he could have four according to the law. It was under very unusual circumstances that he had even taken his third wife six years before. Personally he held the view that two ought to be sufficient, unless both proved barren, and that any additional ones would be likely to cause more trouble than not in a harmonious household.
Sergeant Hoong picked up the will from the desk and read it word by word, following with his fingers. “I don’t get it,” he said, putting down the paper on the desk. “It’s straightforward. What’s its secret?”
Ma Joong picked it up, and held it against the sunlight. “No. There’s nothing underneath either.” He put it back, crestfallen.
A servant came to the door and announced: “The First Lady says that dinner is ready.”
To their surprise, just at that moment, the gong at the tribunal’s entrance sounded urgently. Normally this large gong on an ornate wooden frame at the tribunal entrance was sounded only for the opening of the morning, noon, and afternoon sessions; to have it struck otherwise made known that someone needed to report an emergency case.
“Please tell the ladies to proceed without me,” Judge Dee told the servant, donning his official robe and winged cap in front of “the Mirror for Adjusting the Cap” made of polished silver with a lacquered frame and mounted on top of a square box. It was particularly important for an official to wear his winged cap properly straight and forward.
As he was waiting for his name to be officially announced in the court-hall, the judge smoothed the front of his robe and pulled it around to the back. After he entered the court he gracefully ascended the dais and seated himself behind his high bench, the top of which was covered in a width of red brocade. In front of the high bench, two clerks, six constables and other such minions of the law had lined up in separate rows to the left and right. The constables carried iron chains, bamboo clubs, hand screws and other intimidating paraphernalia of the tribunal.
Behind the high bench, the entire back wall of the court-hall was covered with a dark-violet curtain. In its center a large image of a unicorn, the symbol of perspicacity, was intricately embroidered in a shimmering thick gold thread. The fundamental rule of imperial justice was that everyone appearing before the bench was considered guilty until proven innocent. Everything in the tribunal was calculated to impress the public with the majesty of the law, and the awful consequences of opposing it. With no exceptions, everyone appearing there, old or young, rich or poor, man or woman, complainant or accused had to kneel on the bare flagstones. If the magistrate so ordered, they would be harshly beaten or tortured on the spot.
Sergeant Hoong and Ma Joong stood behind the judge, holding signs that read “Be serious” and “Be silent.” Usually this was Ma Joong and Chiao Tai’s job. Today, Sergeant Hoong substituted for Chiao Tai, and the sight of his puny figure sharply contrasted with the very large size of Ma Joong. This made it hard for spectators in the court to be silent or serious. They would all giggle or laugh.
It was the tailor who had hit the gong again. Kneeling in front of the high bench he panted: “This insignificant person is named Bao Yuan. My daughter is murdered. After I left the court this afternoon I walked straight home. To my surprise, my front door was open. I rushed inside and found my fifteen-year-old daughter lying on the floor. She is my only daughter; my wife passed away three years ago. I’m all alone in this miserable world and I’m not even sure why I’m still alive,” he sobbed as his voice trailed off.
Judge Dee felt disturbed with this distressing news, particularly because the tailor had been here before, asking for help with the wedding suit and he had given none. Judge Dee offered prompt action. “Let’s go to your house right now,” the judge said. “Where do you live?”
“My house is inside the South Gate, the ninth on the Fifth Street counting from the east.”
That was quite a distance from the tribunal, which was in the center of the city. Judge Dee sent a constable to have the coroner meet him at the tailor’s house. Half an hour later, Judge Dee arrived in a palanquin, a comfortable seat enclosed by curtains and carried by two strong men on their shoulders.
The coroner was waiting at the front door. He was a thin middle-aged man, having his own pharmacy business when he was not serving as coroner to the tribunal. Judge Dee followed him and entered the house. The body of a slim girl with a beautiful figure stretched out on the hallway floor. Her robe was open and her underwear pulled down. The coroner reported that she had been raped and died of suffocation, perhaps only a couple of hours before. There was no sign of struggle, but the front of her robe was soaked with blood.
“Look what I’ve found!” Ma Joong exclaimed, holding up something half an inch long, soft and twisted. Both Judge Dee and the coroner frowned. They looked at each other in a quick silent confirmation before they exclaimed loudly in bewilderment: “A cut-off tongue?”
“Holy Heaven!” Ma Joong flinched. Tongue was his favorite food, but a cut-off human tongue made him feel sick. He had to cover his mouth with his left hand, while with his right hand he was still shaking the gruesome remains in the air, not sure what to do with it. Judge Dee silently wrapped it in a piece of oiled paper and put it carefully in his inside sleeve pocket.
It had become dark outside. Judge Dee ordered two of his constables to guard the house and body overnight. He said he would come back the next day to take another look at the murder scene in the daylight. The following day, however, none other than the wealthy Merchant Yang himself, an elderly man of about sixty with graying hairs, brought a new case in the tribunal’s morning session.
“This insignificant person is Yang Feng. I had two hundred guests last night for my son’s wedding. But this morning my fortune has completely changed. I woke up to find my daughter-in-law has killed herself and my son is missing.”
“When did you last see them?” the judge asked.
“I saw her after dinner at about nine. As custom required, she retreated to her room after dinner, waiting for my son to join her later. But, as you know, the guests always try to prevent the bridegroom from joining his bride, and that is part of the fun of a wedding. So my son and I entertained our guests in the hall until the last guest had left at midnight. That’s the last time I saw him.”
“Did you search your house? Have you found anything suspicious or missing?”
“Nothing is missing, except for a servant named Nee. No one has seen him since yesterday mid-afternoon.”
Just then a commotion arose at the tribunal gate. Judge Dee raised his hand, and a constable came and took the old merchant by the arm and helped him to his feet. Other constables brought in three men and made them kneel in front of the judge. The number of spectators in the courtyard quickly redoubled. Judge Dee looked at the three men kneeling in front of him. The man in the middle was obviously a night watchman, for he still had his wood bell in his hands that he used for his job. The man on his right was covering his mouth with his hand and Judge Dee couldn’t see his face well. Pointing to the third man the judge commanded, “Speak up.”
“This insignificant person is Yang Hua.”
“Son! Where have you been?” the old merchant cried.
Judge Dee raised his hand to interrupt the merchant. To the son, he ordered: “Proceed now!”
“The most unfortunate thing happened to me last night. My bride was waiting for me in our bedroom after dinner. At midnight I went to my wife and found her sleeping on my bed, facing the wall. That was odd, I thought, for she was supposed to sit on my bed waiting for me. I hadn’t yet removed her head-cover.”
The man paused to catch his breath. Judge Dee found his story most striking. According to an age-long tradition, the bride wore a head-cover of red silk or brocade throughout the entire ceremonies of her wedding. As most marriages were arranged by others, usually parents, most newly weds had never even seen each other before their wedding day. When he took off that head-cover was the husband’s first chance to look at his wife.
“When I approached her in bed,” the young man continued his story, “she turned her face to me and screamed. ‘Who are you? Get out of here!’ Surprised and confused, I said, ‘What do you mean? I’m your husband.’ ‘No, you are not! He was here about an hour ago,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t talk nonsense! I am your husband, and I’m the only man who is supposed to enter this room, for Heaven’s sake. Look at me, and look at this expensive wedding suit!’ She stared at me and mumbled suspiciously, ‘You are my husband?’ and then her voice trailed off. The next moment she screamed hysterically, ‘What a shame! An imposter has slept with me! I don’t want to live any more!’ She threw herself off the bed, and I had to restrain her from hurting herself.”
Poor woman, Judge Dee thought. It reminded him of his own third wife. Six years before, the girl had been taken hostage and raped. Her father and fiancé had both refused to take her to their homes, for such a rape victim had been stigmatized as unworthy to be any man’s first wife. Seeing she had no place to live, Judge Dee had taken her into his house as a chambermaid to serve his First Lady, who later developed an affection for the girl and insisted that the judge take her as a third wife.
“Proceed!” Judge Dee couldn’t wait to hear the rest of the story.
The young man resumed. “Having heard her words I felt as if I had been struck by a bolt of lightning. How could I have such bad luck?” Self pity made him break into tears.
“Did she mention any specifics about the imposter? His height, weight, accent, and so on?” Judge Dee asked.
“She mentioned a big hairy mole on his right buttock.”
A laugh broke out among the spectators in the courtyard. Judge Dee rapped his bench sharply with the “wood that frightens the hall,” an oblong piece of black hardwood specifically designed to keep order in the court. When silence resumed he commanded: “Proceed!”
The man continued. “I was so upset I couldn’t sleep. All night I sat on the couch while my wife crouched on the bed weeping. I left the house before dawn and wandered the streets. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. In my confusion, I walked to the Temple of Confucius. At its front gate, I saw the night watchman and him,” Yang Hua pointed at the man kneeling with him who had been using his hands covering his mouth all the time. “I don’t know why I followed them, but here we are.”
“That’s my missing servant, Nee,” the old merchant cried from the side. The spectators in the courtyard became very excited as they heard that.
“Your Honor, this insignificant person is named Koong Ren,” said the night watchman. He obviously took ardent pride in his family name, Koong, for it indicated one of his forefathers had been related to Confucius, the great master of a school of philosophy that had endured for over a thousand years. “I heard the rumor about the rape and murder at the tailor’s house. The half tongue found on the floor must belong to the murderer. Look what I’ve found! A man who can’t talk! He was crouched under the table where we put our altar and place our incense for the Great Master. No matter how I questioned him, he wouldn’t talk. This man must have lost his tongue!”
Nee, who was kneeling on the floor, looked up at the judge with great pain and he couldn’t speak a word.
“And I also found this in his pocket,” the night watchman handed a golden nugget to the judge. Although it looked like gold, it was a fake and much lighter than real gold.
“Do you confess now to the murder of the tailor’s daughter?” Judge Dee asked Nee in his loud voice that conveyed all the power and authority of a tribunal.
The man denied it violently, shaking his head from side to side.
“Strike him twenty times on the bare behind,” Judge Dee ordered. “I’m sure he deserves much more,” he quickly added.
Two constables with five-foot-long bamboo clubs pulled down Nee’s underwear, and were dumbfounded. One of the constables knelt down before the bench and reported: “Your Honor, this man has a big hairy mole on his right buttock.”
A huge roar broke out among the spectators. “Kill him!” “Kill him!”
This new discovery was startling and unexpected; Judge Dee didn’t like it at all. He ordered the warden to jail Nee, and straightaway concluded the session.
Inside the judge’s private office, Ma Joong asked eagerly: “Your Honor, why didn’t you torture the servant Nee and make him talk?” “How could I? He has lost his tongue!” Judge Dee gave Ma Joong a reproving smile; his lieutenant still had much to learn!
While Sergeant Hoong was preparing tea for the judge, he offered his comments freely, and with his usual keen judgement. “That poor servant seemed still badly hurt. After losing his tongue he couldn’t have enjoyed posing as a bridegroom.” “Right!” Judge Dee exclaimed, “and for the same reason he couldn’t have raped the tailor’s daughter either if he had lost his tongue.”
“Why didn’t I think of that before!” said Ma Joong, whose pride was badly hurt, as he felt he knew everything about lovemaking.
“I don’t follow you, Sir,” Sergeant Hoong protested. “How did you know he lost his tongue before the rape?”
“Didn’t you see the blood on the upper portion of her robe? That suggests quite strongly that someone raped her after she had bit the tongue off. Her robe was not removed during the kissing, which usually occurs before a rape, not afterwards. If she had bitten off his tongue, the man wouldn’t have been able to complete the rape, for he would have been badly hurt,” Judge Dee explained.
“Then who raped her?” Sergeant Hoong blinked.
“There must have been a second intruder in the house,” Judge Dee said. “In fact, I already have a theory. I just need to verify a few minor points. This is really a fairly simple case,” he stroked his long black beard.
“Who is the murderer then?” Ma Joong asked eagerly, clenching his hands so tightly that the joints crackled.
“I haven’t seen him yet. But you’ll discover him, Ma Joong. I want you to go to Yang’s house, which is not far from here. Ask Yang Feng if he had a wedding guest who is young, single, male, and lives in the southeast corner of the city so that he passed the tailor’s house on his way to the wedding. There shouldn’t be too many guests from that part of the city, for most of the guests were probably Yang’s neighbors. The southeast corner is not a rich neighborhood and Yang can’t have many acquaintances there. If Yang Feng can identify such a person, go and arrest him immediately.”
Ma Joong gave the judge a bewildered look; Sergeant Hoong was also mystified. Judge Dee spoke a few words in the ear of Ma Joong, who leered, and then left.
The judge looked blankly at his desk with its “Four Treasures” on top: a brush-pen made of sheep hair and bamboo, a compact black ink-stick, a pile of white blotting paper as soft as silk, and a black ink-stone that looked delicately smooth but was actually as hard as steel. Scholarly administrators were disciples of Confucianism, and they all had these four items on their desks.
“Sergeant Hoong,” Judge Dee called his advisor as he took out Mrs. Woong’s note, “we still have the old man’s puzzle to solve. There are two tricks in the will, and I’ve already found the first one.” “You did?” the sergeant exclaimed. He couldn’t help but admiring his young master’s intelligence, even without being told what exactly the judge had figured out. And he didn’t ask for the information because he knew the judge loved to hold back critical evidence until the final moment when he announced how he had solved the case.
Judge Dee, with his hands behind his back, paced slowly around the desk to sip some tea and look at the will repeatedly.
Suddenly he stopped. “Yes, I’ve got it!” Judge Dee quickly walked to the desk and picked up a big brush-pen. Sergeant Hoong laid a large piece of paper on the desk, preparing the ink by rubbing the ink-stick against the ink-stone. It took only a minute before the ink was ready, while Judge Dee kept pacing, impatiently.
The judge quickly wrote down a few words in a big bold hand. His sergeant stood silently behind him watching. When the judge put down his brush-pen, the two men looked at each other and smiled. The sergeant was just about to speak, but Judge Dee put a finger on his lips, gesturing him to remain silent.
Before the noon session began, Judge Dee asked a constable to fetch Mrs. Woong and her son, and had them wait for him in his private office. He also sent for Yang Hua, the son of the wealthy merchant. Ma Joong had not returned when the session opened. The judge began with routine matters. When the son of the merchant was brought before him, clad in a mourning robe, the judge spoke to him in an amiable voice. “The coroner has proved that your wife killed herself. I’m terribly sorry about your loss. Since every detail is important, I want you to repeat her words exactly as you remember them. Proceed now.”
The young man hesitated for a second before he opened his mouth. “She said: ‘I waited for you in bed, and you came. No, that imposter came. He undressed me, but didn’t speak to me at all. Even when I asked him if he wanted tea, he just shook his head. That was odd, wasn’t it? I should have thought of it. After I became his woman he left the room and never returned. Oh, I nearly forgot. My right hand touched a big hairy mole on his behind.’”
“Stop!” Judge Dee interrupted. “That’s exactly what I’ve thought.” He caressed his long side-whiskers contentedly.
“See, the mole is actually on the left side of the imposter, for she touched it with her right hand.” Judge Dee said.
The spectators in the courtyard murmured, excited at the new finding. Yang Feng, who had followed his son to the tribunal, also stood among the onlookers. Judge Dee watched him out of the corner of his eye as he addressed the son: “When I find the imposter, I’ll make him pay dearly. As he is responsible for your wife’s death, some of his properties should be confiscated and transferred to you as compensation.” At that moment, Judge Dee thought he had detected a smile on the face of the elder Yang.
“Now, bring back that disgusting Nee.” While waiting, Judge Dee surveyed the tribunal to see if Ma Joong had returned. Not seeing him, the judge looked disappointed and impatient. As the constables forced Nee to kneel down, Judge Dee roared at him: “I know you can’t talk, but I’ll get a confession from you anyway. See the tools of torture in the hands of those men? You’d better behave!”
The man on the ground quivered in fear, as he glimpsed the five-foot-long bamboo clubs, the half-inch thick whips made of snakeskin, and the hand screws that looked innocent and delicate, but whose power everyone knew. At that moment, Ma Joong appeared at the gate with a young bookish-looking man in tow. Judge Dee’s face lit up. He sat up in his chair and addressed Nee in a less stern voice.
“I know you didn’t kill the tailor’s daughter, but I’ll tell you what you did do yesterday afternoon. Just nod your head yes if my statement is correct, and shake your head no if it is wrong. Understand?”
Nee nodded his head.
“When the tailor came to Yang’s house to collect the money for the wedding suit, you overheard both the dispute and that the tailor threatened to go to court right away.”
Nee nodded his head.
“You were presented with an excellent opportunity. You always lusted for the tailor’s daughter, but had never had the chance to be alone with her. Now you could pretend to deliver your master’s payment for the wedding suit and coax her to open the door while her father was here at the tribunal. That’s why you took along this fake gold nugget,” Judge Dee held up a golden nugget in his hand.
The man closed his eyes and nodded reluctantly.
“Your dirty trick worked, and the girl let you in and you forced a kiss on her. As you stuck your tongue into her mouth she became angry and bit off half of it. You ran to the Temple of Confucius to use the ashes of the incense to stop your bleeding. Crouching under the altar, you stayed the rest of the day and all night until he found you this morning.” Judge Dee pointed at the night watchman named Koong Ren.
Nee nodded again and touched his forehead to the ground as an expression of submission with respect commonly known as “kowtow,” which literally meant “knocking one’s forehead”. He did that several times, pleading for mercy. The clerk had recorded all the judge’s words and Nee’s nodding on a piece of paper. He passed it to Nee to put his thumb mark on it as approval. Judge Dee ordered twenty strikes for Nee, to be executed later when the pain from loss of his tongue was gone. That would distinguish the punishment by law from that of nature or providence.
As the constables took Nee away, Ma Joong brought in the young fellow and made him kneel in front of the judge. “Your Honor, I found this lazybones still sleeping at noon,” Ma Joong reported. “And I’ve checked the mark down there, too,” he added as he winked to the judge.
Judge Dee nodded approvingly and gave the youngster a stern look.
“Speak up!”
“This insignificant person is Wu Lin. I’m a Candidate of Literature, preparing for the next level of examinations which will take place in the provincial capital next year.”
“Shame on you, a student of literature!” Judge Dee admonished him. The young man’s eyes were quite closely set, and his eyebrows nearly met. Many believed that as a sign of focus and intelligence. If he could pass his exams next year, he would be appointed a magistrate like the judge himself. For that reason alone, Judge Dee felt sorry for the lad.
“How do you know the merchant named Yang Feng, and how did you get yourself invited to his son’s wedding?”
“My late father used to teach at Yang’s house. As a scholar, he never passed his exams. That had disappointed his father. My grandpa was a merchant and not a learned man. In his will he said that my father could not spend any money until he passed the exams. My father was never able to pass. He brought me with him to Yang’s, teaching both Yang Hua and me at the same time. I left Yang’s house when my father passed away last year. He left a similar will and I have to pass the exams.”
Judge Dee nodded several times as the young man answered. Many questions in the judge’s mind had been easily answered. Having lived in the house before, the young man could of course find his way to the bride’s room. Being a poor student, he had no chance with girls unless he could pass his exams. When all of a sudden a beauty was within arm’s reach, the temptation was just too strong.
“What did you do after dinner?” The judge now conducted his interrogation with much more confidence, and the young man blushed. “As a student and a knowledgeable person, you should know better. A girl should not lose her virginity to anyone but her husband. You are completely responsible for her suicide.”
“What? She killed herself?” The young man’s face turned ashen.
“Now, tell me how you killed the tailor’s daughter.”
“That girl died too?” Wu Lin fell to the ground in a dead faint.
A constable came over and poured cold water on him. Another constable held steaming hot vinegar under his nose. Gradually the student came to, and his face was very pale. He looked at the judge in confusion as if in a dream.
“Kill the bastard!” “Revenge!” “Make him confess!” “Use the tortures!” “Why the wait?” The onlookers in the courtyard yelled. Judge Dee rapped the bench with his gavel, and everyone instantly became quiet.
“If you can’t remember what you did yesterday, let me remind you,” Judge Dee said. “On your way to the wedding, you passed the tailor’s house and heard a terrible scream. A wild man ran out, his hands covering his mouth. Curiosity made you enter the house. You saw a girl standing in the hallway, dumbfounded. The front of her robe was soaked with blood. You didn’t know what had happened: for she went into shock when she realized she had bitten off someone’s tongue. You saw her beauty, and took advantage of her confused mind. You fondled her and rolled up her robe. She remained silent, even when you pulled down her underwear. But when you deflowered her, she spat out the tongue and screamed. You quickly covered her mouth with your hands. Your fear made you violent, and your hands blocked her breath. Cowardly, you ran away not knowing you had killed her. Your first taste of a woman made your lust insatiable. You committed a second crime, sneaking into the bride’s room after dinner. As she had never seen her husband before but only heard his voice, you could easily pass as her husband if you kept your mouth shut. That’s what you did, isn’t it?”
The young man gave Judge Dee a defiant look. “That’s the most sensational story I’ve ever heard. Where is your evidence?”
Judge Dee snapped at him angrily: “Why don’t you just pull down your pants and let us look at the big mole on your left butt?”
Huge laughter broke out in the crowd, and Wu Lin dropped his head in embarrassment.
“Confess, and I’ll spare you from the torture.”
The crowd in the courtyard felt both fury and envy towards the young man. They were furious with him for the deaths he had caused. But the crowd also envied him the extraordinary experience of enjoying himself with two virgins in one day. “Torture him!” “Why wait?” They shouted. A magistrate had only two legal constraints on the use of judicial torture: first, the death of the tortured would require the punishment of the magistrate for such excess; or second, an unusually strong objection from onlookers might also restrain the judge. The young man knew only too well that he had no chance of gaining popular sympathy.
“I confess,” Wu Lin whispered. The clerk grabbed his hand and pressed his thumb on the notes to make his confession official and final. In his resonant voice, Judge Dee announced: “The case is closed. The criminal Wu Lin, who has caused the loss of two innocent lives, will be decapitated. He shall be jailed until we receive the approval from our August Throne. All possessions of this young man, including his inheritance, shall be divided between Yang Hua and Bao Yuan as compensation, or smart money, as it is called.”
The crowd cheered while only a few old women bothered to weep for the two young victims, the tailor’s daughter and Yang Hua’s wife. As the spectators began to leave, the tailor kowtowed to thank the judge. When the merchant and his son did the same, Judge Dee suddenly asked the wealthy man: “Why didn’t you pay the tailor for the suit?”
The merchant was taken aback. He was just about to argue, but Judge Dee stopped him impatiently. “Your servant, Nee, must have known the truth, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so sure that the tailor would go to court.”
Yang started to rant, but Judge Dee interrupted him: “I have something else to settle with you.”
He pulled from his sleeve the old man’s will and held it up in the air. “Do you remember your father-in-law’s will?”
“Of course I do.”
Judge Dee signaled Sergeant Hoong to bring in Mrs. Woong and her son. The young man looked shy but well brought up. The woman now appeared more confident than at her first meeting with the judge. Pointing to her the judge spoke to Yang Feng: “And you must remember this woman as well.”
The merchant looked at her with candid contempt.
“Why did you take this young man’s position and everything that belongs to him?” Judge Dee suddenly asked as he pointed at Mrs. Woong’s son.
Yang Feng was startled. “Your Honor, my father-in-law bequeathed everything to me!”
“Who said that?” Judge Dee retorted, smiling.
“You have his will in your hand, Your Honor,” Yang Feng cried.
“You mean this piece of paper?” Judge Dee waved the old man’s will in his hand. It was written in an uninterrupted long line:
This old man is sixty nine his wife has just delivered a son no one believes that it is truly his all of his properties shall be given to his son in law and others shall get none.
The merchant stared at the judge and spoke up quite aggressively: “Yes!”
“What a pity that you simply don’t know how to read!”
From Sergeant Hoong’s hand Judge Dee took over a large piece of paper and hung it from his high bench down to the earth. “Read it by yourself, you idiot,” Judge Dee said.
Yang Feng saw the old man’s will written in Judge Dee’s elegant handwriting, with line breaks:
This old man is sixty-nine
His wife has just delivered a son
No one believes that [the old man could still father a son]
It [the son]
is truly his
All of his properties shall be given to his son
In-law and others shall get none.
The man became speechless. Judge Dee said: “Check it against your own copy at home, and transfer everything you have to this young man here, except the smart money your son will receive from Wu Lin. From now on you shall be a dependent on your son for your wellbeing. And don’t forget to pay the tailor!” The judge rapped his bench with the “wood that frightens the hall,” an oblong gavel he had constantly used in court to draw absolute attention.
The merchant raved and the constables had to take him away. Mrs. Woong and her son knocked their foreheads on the ground to thank the judge for justice. “Don’t thank me. It’s my duty. Come here and read it,” Judge Dee beckoned to the young man and showed him what had been engraved on the magistrate’s oblong gavel as a constant reminder of his solemn duties to the state and the people:
A judge must be a father and mother to the people,
Cherishing the good and loyal, helping the sick and old.
Though meeting out stern punishment to every criminal,
Prevention, not correction, should be his purpose.
Back in his private study, as he took off his official robe of green brocade and his winged judge’s cap of black-velvet, Judge Dee asked Sergeant Hoong. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to teach these greedy people a lesson?” Sergeant Hoong chuckled as he helped the judge put on his blue house robe and a black skullcap, “Surely you did, Sir.”
