Compared to the bustling Court of Judicial Review, Chen Taisu’s study appeared unusually desolate. Chen Taisu sat alone at his desk, where the papers unfurled before him were not poems or classics, but the official copy of the inquiry documents delivered by the Court of Judicial Review early that morning, along with the case file summaries that required him to "submit a formal written statement."
The wording of the document was rigorous and strictly professional, detailing the basic circumstances of the case, the years of backlog, and specific questions requiring him to explain why it had not been handled in a timely manner back then, who the handling personnel were, and whether any request for review had been received from lower authorities.
Looking at the words "Madam Liu, over sixty years of age, widowed and destitute" alongside the absurd verdict—"Empty words carry no proof, feared to be extortion"—Chen Taisu’s withered, thin fingers trembled slightly. How had this case ended up on his desk all those years ago?
Chapter 492