Crossing Victoria Harbour on the ferry from Tin Sing Pier, whether you are a public servant or going to attend a court trial, you must still brave the waves with the others heading out to sea for work, crowded together as you journey to the opposite shore.
Jiayi gazes out of the window, trying to see through the actually calm and unshaking window pane to spot the Avenue of Stars she remembers visiting in a past life as a tourist.
However, she does not get her wish. All she sees is the cold blue sea in the early morning, the aloof, blue-gray skyscrapers, and large clumps of clouds changing from cold blue to cold gray.
Hong Kong, a city accustomed to going to bed late and rising late, starts court proceedings very early, at the striking hour of just after seven, which fills the police detectives with dread.
It turns out that to declare justice, one must start early.
Hong Kong’s legal system follows the Anglo-American system, often referred to by many law students as the maritime legal system, a term perhaps coined to differentiate it from the continental legal system.
Having grown up watching many Hong Kong dramas, Jiayi is not entirely unfamiliar with the courts—the eloquent and formidable lawyers, the distinctly different jury system, and defendants standing in glass booths like in British and American dramas—all these images are imprinted in her memory, instilling a reverence for the law while also evoking a special fondness from childhood memories of watching these dramas.
Thus, as she approaches the courthouse, Jiayi’s mood is different from others. She carries with her the emotions of a young person from another time and space.
Calling it a pilgrimage might be an exaggeration, but it indeed feels somewhat similar.
Upon arrival, however, Jiayi finds that the place does not look quite like the old Hong Kong dramas.
It resembles a corporate building, situated on the south side of Admiralty’s Supreme Court fronted by a large fountain, much like the bustling business districts of 21st-century cities in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou—cities that really like to build various fountains in the centers of their commercial streets.
Next to the courthouse, which neighbors a tea ware museum, you can stumble upon excellent tea houses just by walking around, and even if you don’t drink tea, you can take a leisurely stroll in the park semi-encircling the courthouse.
The place lacks some cold solemnity but gains a sense of freedom and openness.
Standing by the fountain, Jiayi’s nervousness significantly decreases.
Following the signs marked ‘Reserved Seating for Media,’ ‘Media Passageway,’ ‘Litigants’ Passageway,’ and ‘Public Gallery Passageway,’ Fang Zhenyue and others enter the courthouse, while Jiayi, claiming she needs to use the restroom, moves alone.
After a quick visit to the restroom, Jiayi adjusts her white shirt and black suit jacket, wipes her black mid-heel shoes with a damp tissue, pats her trousers straight, tilts her head slightly while looking in the mirror to check her expression, and maintaining it, she steps out of the restroom to wait by the fountain.
As she expected, the eyewitness Zhao Zhicheng arrives very late, just ten minutes ahead of time.
The policewoman, feeling the chill of late autumn, takes a deep breath at the sight of Zhao Zhicheng’s nonchalant figure, hardens her gaze, and strides toward him with a menacing air.
As she approaches, he notices her and teases, “Madam, were you waiting especially for me?”
Jiayi proudly held her head high, walking in sync with him, unlike his swaying posture, she strutted with the majestic demeanor of a dragon.
Jiayi slightly tilted her chin up, facing forward without giving Zhao Zhicheng a glance or responding to his words. Instead, she said in a low, cold voice:
“The police have obtained concrete evidence that the defendant Lin Wangjiu did not push the victim. This includes several reports and test results from the forensic science department, along with the victim’s medical records and other items.”
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘One piece of environmental evidence is worth more than ten witnesses’? It’s a police term that means physical evidence doesn’t lie, but people do. Thus, judges tend to rely more on evidence.”
“Being able to send you to jail and vent my frustration, while simultaneously publicizing this in the newspapers to deter others from committing perjury, is certainly a win-win for the police.”
Suddenly, Jiayi stopped in her tracks, turned, and smiled at Zhao Zhicheng.
The icy pressure she had exerted just moments before transformed into a mockery and teasing at that moment.
Zhao Zhicheng watched as her features softened; her eyes curved into a smile, yet he felt even more on guard than when she was cold.
His hairs stood on end during their eye contact, like the thrill one feels while watching a horror movie.
“Do your best, because during the trial later, I’ll be watching you closely.”
After saying this, Jiayi’s eyebrows turned cold as she stared at him, pulling the corners of her mouth into a straight, slight smirk.
It was a subtle expression: the muscles around her mouth moved, but her eyebrows and other facial muscles remained perfectly still.
She had practiced this expression many times in the mirror the night before, mimicking the look a tiger gives its prey.
A tiger will slightly twitch the muscles around its mouth, preparing to bare its teeth— a gesture predators make when they’re about to pounce.
Such expressions instinctively invoke fear in humans.
Jiayi couldn’t bare her teeth at Zhao Zhicheng, so she diligently learned this micro-expression just for this moment.
Seeing Zhao Zhicheng hold his breath and glare back at her in fury, his body language screaming defense and dread.
Knowing she had achieved her goal, Jiayi suddenly quickened her pace and strode into the courthouse, leaving a mentally disarrayed Zhao Zhicheng behind without a second glance.
…
Inside the courtroom, Jiayi sat in the spectators’ area, alongside the detectives of Team B.
As the judge in red robes entered and the gavel struck, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the hall.
In the front rows of the litigation area sat the prosecutors and lawyers in white wigs, with the jury to the left and the witnesses to the right. The defendant, Lin Wangjiu, sat behind a glass enclosure, silently observing the judge, who sat authoritatively at the center, backed by a formidable flag.
Despite the judge being the nominal ‘master’ of the proceedings, the courtroom felt more dominated by the lawyers as per the maritime legal tradition.
The young, sharp lawyers had extensive questioning time, their speech marked by shifts in tone and control, displaying an eloquence and charisma reminiscent of classic lawyer characters from old dramas.
Jiayi felt envious of their sleek charm, wishing to be like them—commanding, eloquent, and radiant.
Although the detectives had prepared ample evidence, the tension was palpable as the court watched the trial.
Particularly when it was time for the eyewitnesses to testify and answer the lawyers’ questions, everyone sat upright, their gazes intense, as if they wanted to ignite the person on the spot.
Jiayi sat at the bench closest to the aisle, her brow furrowed, her gaze cold and piercing.
Zhao Zhicheng sat in the witness box enclosed by a wooden railing, swearing that the words he was about to speak would be nothing but the truth. Yet, as he uttered the word “honesty,” the expression and words of Officer Jiayi echoed in his mind, causing him to stumble over his oath multiple times, his nervousness escalating under the watchful eyes of the courtroom.
He had never felt fear, even when adrenaline surged during street brawls.
Yet, a man who seemed unafraid of death now felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles.
Zhao Zhicheng felt as if Jiayi’s stark, piercing eyes were fixated on him, her threatening words ringing sharply in his ears like a clanging bell, making him glance involuntarily towards the audience seating.
Even he did not realize how anxious his eyes became as they searched for her figure.
Finally, he saw Officer Jiayi sitting by the aisle, her demeanor unexpectedly serene. But when their eyes met, he felt a cold, sharp shock, as if a knife were slicing through his gaze.
Stanley Prison… 7 years… ample evidence… I will definitely sue you… the best legal team…
These words repeated endlessly in his mind, bogging down Zhao’s already not-so-sharp intellect, nearly rendering him incapable of thinking about anything else. His responses to the lawyer’s questions were hesitant and disjointed, sometimes completely off point.
As the lawyer disclosed his past criminal record one by one and kept asking him, “Do you agree?”, he fidgeted like someone with ADHD in his chair, incessantly picking at the wooden table in front of him.
“I agree.”
“I agree.”
“I agree…”
Each “Do you agree?” sounded like the tolling of a bell counting down, pushing him closer to the end. Zhao Zhicheng felt the reality of “ample evidence,” understanding that Officer Jiayi was not merely threatening him, realizing they truly had plenty of evidence and preparation.
Was it worth perjuring himself just to spite the police, risking his freedom for seven years?
If the risk was this high, if his false testimony could really be discovered, should he really do it?
The answer was increasingly clear—he was increasingly uncertain.
When a person is torn between choices, they feel immense anxiety and pain, and even panic can arise.
Anger also surged in Zhao Zhicheng’s chest, not knowing whether he was angry at his own cowardice and inability to withstand pressure, or at the police’s strong retaliation.
Clenching his fists, he stared at his pale knuckles. When the judge banged the gavel, he bowed his head and told the truth.
“I only saw a person running ahead, and as he was about to jump over the railing, he suddenly fell. The man behind didn’t touch the deceased; he was several steps away from the deceased. The man behind shouted for the one in front to stop and cooperate with the police, but the deceased paid no heed…”
The lawyer was momentarily stunned; the information he had beforehand didn’t match up.
However, he quickly composed himself, turned, and pointing towards Lin Wangjiu inside the glass enclosure, he questioned Zhao Zhicheng, “The person you mentioned who pursued the deceased, is it this Officer Lin Wangjiu?”
Zhao Zhicheng looked up at Lin Wangjiu, nodded, then bowed his head. Only after the lawyer pressed him again did he answer, “Yes.”
Jiayi closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and then exhaled forcefully.
She stood up, bowed to the judge, and then left the courtroom.
Outside the courthouse were several interesting tea houses. Before the trial concluded, she wanted to have a cup of warm tea, savoring the fragrant aroma of Xiangjiang tea, feeling the peace and happiness settle after days of turmoil and worry.
…
Inside the courtroom, the journalists in the media section gasped and made sounds of perplexed exclamations upon hearing Zhao Zhicheng’s words. Some even turned to whisper among themselves.
“How could this be?”
“Isn’t he a witness for the defense? Didn’t they say he saw the officer pushing someone?”
“Right, how did he suddenly become a witness for Officer Lin?”
“I think he must have heard the overwhelming evidence from the police side and feared obstructing justice, so he changed his testimony at the last minute.”
“Wow, I really didn’t expect that.”
“It’s an opportunity, a chance to write something really special.”
“Exactly, like ‘In the face of justice, no one dares to lie’ or ‘In the court, inspired by the righteousness of the law, the perjurer speaks the truth.'”
“Spot on.”
The journalists were buzzing, and the detectives in the audience seats were also taken aback.
Previously, Zhao Zhicheng was defiant and unyielding, how did he suddenly realize the error of his ways?
The private murmuring among the crowd was incessant, forcing the judge to bang his gavel to restore order and continue the proceedings.
Uncle Jiu inside the glass enclosure slightly tilted his head, watching Jiayi leave, his lips pursed in thought.
…
The trial concluded smoothly, and the judge declared Lin Wangjiu not guilty of murder or manslaughter, and the defendant was released in court.
Qiu Sushan stood up, looked up at the high ceiling, and unconsciously smiled.
Turning to her side, she said to Fang Zhenyue, “The incident from years ago where Uncle Jiu was disciplined because he trusted false information from an informant can finally be put to rest. We found Xi Ming, and some unresolved matters are finally settled.”
“It’s probably because the old mother ultimately couldn’t be saved, dying in the old house, that made Xi Ming break down,” Fang Zhenyue followed Qiu Sushan out of the courthouse, took off the silenced BB-call from his waist, and turned to ask, “What about Jiayi?”
Fang Zhenyue then also took off his silenced BB-call, read the message left by Jiayi, and replied, “The tea house nearby. It looks like she was confident that Uncle Jiu would be fine, sneaked off to enjoy herself.”
“Call Uncle Jiu back to the station to resume work, and then go to the tea house to pick up Jiayi,” Qiu Sushan pinched the BB-call, her face breaking into a smile.
“Madam, isn’t that a bit harsh? Uncle Jiu just got through this ordeal, and you won’t even give him half a day off?” Liu Jiaming approached with feigned anger and glared at Qiu Sushan playfully.
“We’ve been working on this case for several days, and Uncle Jiu has had just as many days off,” Qiu Sushan responded, playfully hitting Liu Jiaming on the arm. “You go call Uncle Jiu!”
“Yes, madam!” Liu Jiaming replied loudly.
“Where is Eleven at the tea house?” Qiu Sushan asked Fang Zhenyue, but getting no response, she turned to find him staring at Zhao Zhicheng coming out of the courthouse.
Zhao Zhicheng walked out looking dejected, immediately surrounded by reporters.
The reporters bombarded him with questions like “Why the sudden change of heart?” “Is there some kind of inside story?” “Were you threatened by someone?” “Did you commit perjury before, and have you now had a change of heart, or what?” Some questions were malicious traps, others were digging deeper.
Zhao Zhicheng just kept his head down and pushed through the reporters without responding.
It seemed he also knew that appearing here today was a joke, and he had lost face.
“If you knew this would happen today, why did you do it in the first place?” Sanfu, watching Zhao Zhicheng, couldn’t help but comment.
“You won’t shed tears until you see the coffin, will you?” Fang Zhenyue patted Sanfu on the shoulder. “Everyone’s efforts in gathering evidence to this extent must have played a significant role in forcing him not to commit perjury.”
Sanfu smiled and followed Brother Yue out of the courthouse, around the fountain, and towards a small tea house surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.
Seeing Gary catch up, Fang Zhenyue pulled out the most expensive bruise relief spray from his pocket and tossed it over.
Gary caught it with one hand, looked down at the small bottle’s label, and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Thanks, Brother Yue,” Gary said cheerily, shaking the little bottle vigorously, as if receiving medicine for his wounds was a cause for celebration.
The young detective, along with Brother Da Guangming and Jiayi, was conducting fall and tumble experiments and didn’t take it seriously himself, yet someone cared about the bruises on his body, which really felt like a blessing.
It made the news of Uncle Jiu’s acquittal even more joyful.
As Fang Zhenyue walked into the tea house, he found Jiayi had arranged seven small tea bowls on the long table. She seemed to have anticipated that everyone would come around this time and had ordered tea for each person.
Everyone gathered around, each lifting a cup to sip the hot tea. The warmth in the throat and the aroma of the tea filled their mouths, soothing both body and mind.
“Why hasn’t Uncle Jiu arrived yet?” Jiayi peered out the window until she finally saw Liu Jiaming pulling Uncle Jiu away from Auntie Jiu, both of them striding towards them.
They seemed to be talking about something and suddenly both started laughing, with Liu Jiaming patting Uncle Jiu’s back as if to brush away bad luck.
Uncle Jiu darted into the small teahouse, and the landlady, leaning on the counter, greeted him with a smile as the wind chimes jingled with the opening door.
Uncle Jiu, looking refreshed, nodded at the landlady before turning to walk over to a table surrounded by colleagues.
Qiu Sushan led the way as the detectives all stood up, raising their tea cups to congratulate Uncle Jiu on regaining his freedom and passing through this ordeal unscathed.
Tears welled up in Uncle Jiu’s eyes, overwhelmed by the atmosphere, and he laughed awkwardly.
“This case took a lot of effort from everyone. Let’s drink tea instead of liquor!” Uncle Jiu raised his tea cup high in front of his brothers and sisters, and then downed it in one gulp.
“It’s what we all should do,” Qiu Sushan said, laughing as she also drank her tea.
Everyone tilted their heads back and gulped down their tea with the gusto of drinking strong liquor.
“It’s all thanks to Gary for helping with the experiments, even though he took many falls,” Jiayi patted Gary’s back and boasted to Uncle Jiu.
“It’s all thanks to Jiaming for visiting and tirelessly taking notes.”
“It’s all thanks to Brother Yue for fetching the files, and to Brother Da Guangming for getting the footprints…”
“It’s all thanks to Sanfu…”
“It’s all thanks to madam…”
The group jovially praised each other, and Uncle Jiu also joined in, repeatedly expressing his gratitude.
Finally, when it came to splitting the team to tackle two tough problems, persistently visiting clinics to obtain medical records, having Brother Da Guangming and Gary repeatedly conduct experiments at the crime scene, and investigating false witness Zhao Zhicheng’s files, everyone’s gaze turned towards Jiayi.
After a recount, it dawned on them that this pretty young woman, who was serving great tea, had done so much, so much indeed.
Uncle Jiu savored the perseverance Jiayi had shown in the investigation, tirelessly running around without rest, more dedicated than when handling her own matters, and the trust she held.
Though she was the latest to join the group, having been a detective for less than six months, and their acquaintance only spanning a few months…
Lin Wangjiu raised his arm, his eyes filled with emotion as he looked at this young woman.
After a few seconds, his raised hand finally passed over Jiayi, and landed gently on the back of Liu Jiaming’s head, softly massaging his thick, fluffy short hair.
Liu Jiaming felt the strength and restraint in Uncle Jiu’s palm, knowing it carried a mix of complex emotions.
Was it gratitude? Was it being moved? Was it a cathartic relief, or perhaps something deeper, more poignant, and more complicated?
Liu Jiaming couldn’t quite put it into words, but the pat on the back of his head from Uncle Jiu suddenly stirred a rush of blood in his chest, activating something indescribable, and he felt unexpectedly emotional.
Liu Jiaming also knew that he was a stand-in for Eleven, as Uncle Jiu’s hand had initially intended to pat Eleven on the back of the head but simply hadn’t moved on.
But in this lively moment, Liu Jiaming had been drawn in; when Uncle Jiu’s forearm rested on Liu Jiaming’s shoulder, slowly pulling away, Liu Jiaming suddenly lunged forward and hugged Uncle Jiu.
He pounded Uncle Jiu’s back, pounding so hard that Uncle Jiu coughed.
He didn’t know what he wanted to say or do, but his emotions were intense, and he was both enjoying the ambiance flowing around everyone and expressing, conveying, and experiencing it.
Uncle Jiu patted Liu Jiaming’s shoulder, and as the young man straightened up with a goofy smile, Uncle Jiu lifted his head while holding Liu Jiaming’s arm and met Fang Zhenyue’s eyes.
The tall man stood a few steps away, not part of the hug, but his face bore a smile too.
Lin Wangjiu nodded, and Fang Zhenyue nodded back.
It was as if the two men had exchanged some kind of signal, Jiayi thought. If translated, it probably wouldn’t look as cool—just a simple exchange of “Thanks, Sir Fang” and “No worries, Uncle Jiu.”
Fortunately, they didn’t speak. This exchange of glances and subtle gestures preserved the cool demeanor of the two sirs.
Jiayi pursed her lips, a joyful spark dancing at the corners of her mouth.
She walked over and gently hugged Liu Jiaming and Uncle Jiu, then boldly wrapped her arms lightly around Fang Zhenyue, turned to pat Sanfu and Gary on the back, and leaned against Madam Qiu Sushan’s shoulder as she came over.
Jiayi, more generous than the elders in the room, passed warmth to every one of the posed, clearly moved yet too shy to express fellows.
Everyone’s eyes flitted about, and as they made eye contact with her, no one knew who cracked first, but suddenly laughter erupted in the teahouse—giggles, he-he’s, and ha-ha’s…
The sunlight streamed in, generously spilling everywhere. At last, the sky was clear.