In the ninth year of Tianwu, on the seventh day of the first lunar month, a tranquil mist enveloped the woods of Fengxiang Garden. Shadows of trees danced gently, sketching a scene reminiscent of a delicate ink painting. The early morning sun cast a dreamlike glow across the stone path.

Chen Quanan, carrying a shoulder pole, hurried through the woods, taking a shortcut to the city. As he ventured deeper, he heard voices and discovered a splendidly feathered parrot in a cage, hanging from a tree. The bird, perched amidst golden wires, curiously eyed Chen Quanan, who paused in admiration. “Such a rare bird, left unguarded,” he sighed.

Tempted, Chen Quanan played with the parrot, then, seeing no one around, hesitantly reached for the cage. Unexpectedly, the previously docile bird suddenly squawked loudly.

Wang Li, who had been resting by the creek, was startled by the noise. He rolled up his sleeves and dashed towards the sound, yelling, “Who dares touch my Great General?”

Chen Quanan, caught red-handed with the cage, turned guiltily to face Wang Li’s furious gaze through the mist. Panic-stricken, he quickened his pace.

Wang Li, infuriated at seeing his beloved bird endangered, lunged at the thief. However, Wang Li, a refined gentleman, was no match for the rugged Chen Quanan. In the scuffle, Wang Li slipped on a wet stone and was impaled by a sharp branch, lying motionless.

Wang Li, from a distance, heard the parrot's soft cry and hurried over. He called out, “May I ask, why do you linger here?”

Chen Quanan, unfamiliar with Wang Li and recognizing his luxurious attire, realized the gravity of his actions. Dropping the cage in a panic, he fled, tripping and scattering his belongings. He hastily collected his items and fled without looking back.

Meanwhile, not far away, Hua Hai, a well-known local ruffian, lurked in the woods—a common path to Fengxiang Garden frequented by the sons of wealthy families. He often wandered here, hoping to befriend one of them and change his fortunes.

Hearing a commotion ahead, Hua Hai quickened his pace only to find Wang Li lying in a pool of blood, the fallen cage nearby, and a figure fleeing in haste. Shocked and fearing implication, Hua Hai grabbed the birdcage and quickly disappeared into the distance...

In the ninth year of Tianwu, on the ninth day of the first lunar month, Youlan, clad in tattered hemp clothes, her face etched with sorrow, clutched her child tightly and knelt before the bronze lion gates of the Prefectural Governor's Office. The setting sun cast a poignant silhouette, contrasting sharply with her frail figure, painting a picture of despair.

Chen Geng, busy with official duties inside, was notified of her presence. Setting aside his documents, he frowned and signaled Wei Zhaoyang to bring the kneeling woman inside.

Soon, Youlan was led into the inner hall, trembling with nervousness, clutching her child, unable to meet Chen Geng’s gaze directly.

Observing her for a moment, Chen Geng finally spoke, "Madam, what brings you such grief? What injustice needs to be addressed?"

Hearing Chen Geng's question, Youlan's eyes sparkled with a faint hope. She knelt down, her voice breaking with emotion, "Sir, I am Youlan, wife of Hua Hai. Recently, he brought home a valuable parrot and sold it for thirty silver taels. But before we could even use the money, the officials came and took him away, accusing him of murdering Wang Li, the young master of Xianzhi Hall, and sentenced him to death."

Chen Geng furrowed his brow, "How does finding a parrot connect to murder?"

Youlan, her head bowed, choked back tears, "My husband mentioned seeing a corpse in the woods and took the birdcage. Even if we were accused of not reporting lost property, it would be bearable. But how can they accuse him of murder without evidence?"

Chen Geng looked deeply into Youlan’s earnest eyes, a wave of empathy washing over him. He sighed heavily, "Madam, rest assured. If there is an injustice here, I will ensure it is rectified."

Youlan, tears soaking the ground, thanked him profusely, "I thank you, Sir, for saving my husband’s life."

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Chen Geng turned to Wei Zhaoyang, "Escort the lady out, and then investigate the jail."

Wei Zhaoyang, understanding his intent, escorted Youlan out, slipping a silver ingot into her hand, "This will help you get by for now. Don’t worry, justice will be served."

Youlan gratefully accepted the silver, cradling her daughter as she disappeared into the crowd. Behind her, a new storm was brewing in the Governor’s Office.

Wei Zhaoyang, having dispatched Youlan, hurried to the prison. As he walked the stone streets, a familiar figure caught his eye – Ye Nanqiao, busily helping a little girl chase a runaway calico cat. The cat, agile and quick, left Ye Nanqiao breathless and disheveled.

Seeing Wei Zhaoyang, Ye Nanqiao shot him a defiant glare, the cat in her arms mirroring her tension. "Master Wei, loitering on the streets like a common ruffian?"

Wei Zhaoyang shrugged, "I'm on important business."

Ye Nanqiao’s eyes lit up, she whispered, "A new case?"

Wei Zhaoyang stroked his chin, "Do you know a man named Hua Hai?"

Ye Nanqiao frowned, "The one always hanging around the taverns?"

Wei Zhaoyang nodded, "He's involved in a murder case, and his wife claims he's been wrongfully imprisoned. You know how my master is – he won't tolerate injustice. I’m off to investigate."

Ye Nanqiao pondered, then approached him, "Hua Hai may be lazy, but he's kind-hearted. He even looked for honest work recently. I doubt he's capable of murder."

Wei Zhaoyang’s eyes sparkled, "Since you know so much about him, why not join me? The master wouldn’t mind."

Ye Nanqiao smiled and blinked, "Feels like you're asking for my help."

Wei Zhaoyang, unfazed, crossed his arms, "Everyone knows ‘Master Bingchen.’ You can’t resist a good mystery."

Ye Nanqiao waved her hand dismissively, heading towards the prison, with Wei Zhaoyang following triumphantly.

The pair, side by side, walked towards the prison, their laughter echoing down the streets.

The prison, located in a secluded area, stood in stark contrast to the bustle of the county yamen. Its walls, having lost their original color, were deep grey and black, covered in moss, creating a mottled appearance. From outside the high walls, faint dripping sounds could be heard, like the cries of the imprisoned.

The rust-stained metal gates, adorned with heavy iron rings, remained firmly shut. The stone steps beside it were worn and indented from frequent use.

As Wei Zhaoyang and Ye Nanqiao approached the prison gates, they were stopped by a tall, thin clerk. His hands clasped behind his back, his eyes held a trace of disdain.

"Who goes there?" he sneered, scrutinizing them. "This isn’t a place you can just walk into."

Wei Zhaoyang, composed, replied, "We are here on the orders of the Prefectural Governor to investigate a case."

The clerk feigned contemplation as if trying to recall such orders, then shook his head, "I'm not aware of any such directive. If the Prefectural Governor had really sent you, I would have been notified."

Ye Nanqiao, sensing deliberate obstruction, sternly said, "You realize you're delaying official duties, right? We are indeed here on orders."

Before she could finish, Wei Zhaoyang flashed his badge, "Open the gate immediately."

The clerk smirked, "Then show me a written order or password from Director Liu."

Wei Zhaoyang’s patience thinned. Approaching the clerk, he drew his sword and pressed it to the man's neck, "Obstructing justice is a capital offense under the laws of Dayao. Dare to hinder us again, and I'll execute you right here."

The clerk, after a moment's standoff with Wei Zhaoyang’s unwavering gaze, knew he was no pushover. His voice trembling, he relented, "Please, come in."

As they entered, Ye Nanqiao gently tugged at Wei Zhaoyang's sleeve, signaling not to be too harsh on the clerk. Wei Zhaoyang sheathed his sword, and they slowly stepped into the prison, leaving the sweating clerk behind.

Inside, they heard faint sighs and suppressed groans. The wind, passing through cracks in the walls, carried away the dense, damp air, as if trying to bring a breath of fresh air to the prisoners. But such attempts were futile; the weight and oppression of the prison felt like invisible shackles, binding everyone who entered.

At the end of the cell block, Ye Nanqiao finally stopped —

Hua Hai sat in a dark corner, trembling slightly. Sunlight seeped through the narrow window, highlighting his bruised and battered body. His once robust muscles were now covered in contusions, blood mixed with mud, like withered leaves on the ground. A fresh scar was visible on his cheek, likely from a sharp object.

His clothes were torn, revealing whip scars, some turned into black scabs, others still bleeding. His arms were bound tightly with coarse rope, his skin pale and fingernails filled with dirt and blood.

“Hua Hai?” Ye Nanqiao called out softly.

Hua Hai instinctively turned his head, his eyes filled with sorrow and despair.