On the day of the trial, Jiang Xun got up bright and early.
He stood before the wardrobe and picked out an ink-black suit. Shen Wangjing stood behind him, straightening his collar.
"Do I look good?" Jiang Xun tipped up his chin at the mirror.
"You do." Shen Wangjing's hand slid from his shoulder and gently pressed the back of his neck. "Don't be nervous."
"What do I have to be nervous about?" Jiang Xun adjusted his cuffs in the mirror, then tucked the longevity lock around his neck inside his shirt collar, settling it against his collarbone. "He's the one who should be nervous."
Every seat in the courtroom was taken.
Shen Wangjing, Jiang Huaixiao, Jiang Yanchu, Zhou Yanqing, and several familiar faces from the Special Task Force back then sat in the public gallery.
Facing the mining boss who had once thought himself untouchable, Jiang Xun calmly began his statement.
He spoke of the women who had been trafficked, of the names and lives stolen from them, of the buried evidence and the justice that had come far too late.
"You sit in the dock, thinking time can wash away every trace of what you did."
"But you forgot one thing. Heaven sees what people do, and the law will open every ledger, even if it's covered in dust by the time it's found."
Jiang Xun took a step forward. It was a scene he had dreamed of on countless late nights, now unfolding in reality.
"Did you think you could get away?"
In the public gallery, Shen Wangjing's hand slowly clenched on his knee. His eyes had long since reddened.
The trial ended, and the mining boss was escorted back to prison, to be executed three days later.
The strike of the gavel still reverberated in their