Chapter 2634: Legal Popularization Style Lawsuit (Part 3)

Liang Xinhu reflected that scholars truly were eloquent—those twelve characters had laid out the benefits with perfect clarity. He nodded and said, "The gentleman speaks rightly. Since ancient times, the King's Law has been ruthless. Every word and phrase concerns the lives and livelihoods of the common folk. That is why, beyond the Interrogation Decision Division, the ancestors of this Dynasty also established the system of 'Overturning Difference Separate Survey' (Fan Yi Bie Kan)."

Zhang Jiayu's interest was piqued. "Please enlighten me, Chief!"

Liang Xinhu explained that the Overturning Difference Separate Survey was a judicial system implemented during the Song Dynasty. "Overturning Difference" (Fan Yi) referred to recanting a confession, while "Separate Survey" (Bie Kan) meant a separate trial. During the Song Dynasty, criminal defendants could cry foul and recant at any juncture—whether during the recording of testimony, the announcement of judgment, or even facing execution. Once a defendant recanted, the case automatically entered the appellate procedure of Separate Survey.

In essence, the "Overturning Difference Separate Survey" was an automatic appeal mechanism built into the judicial system. Each time a criminal defendant recanted, a different judge had to be assigned to retry the case. This consumed enormous judicial resources and inevitably slowed the pace of justice.

"...Of course, some prisoners exploited this mechanism—serving detention again and again, recanting again and again, forcing retrial after retrial in an endless cycle. To prevent such abuse of judicial resources, a balance had to be struck between judicial justice and judicial efficiency..."

The Song people's solution was to limit the number of times a defendant could invoke the "Overturning Difference Separate Survey." The Northern Song implemented the "Limit of Three Recommendations" (San Tui Zhi Xian), giving defendants three chances to appeal through recantation. After the third Separate Survey, if a prisoner still cried foul, the court would no longer accept it. By the Southern Song, this had been expanded to the "Five Recommendation System" (Wu Tui Zhi), allowing defendants five such appeals.

Unfortunately, after the Yuan Dynasty, this system was completely abolished. During the Ming and Qing eras, though situations like recanting confessions on the spot or filing leapfrog complaints still occurred, they either carried harsh restrictive conditions or left retrial decisions entirely in the hands of the presiding official. Crying injustice became an extremely risky proposition with no guaranteed benefit. Unless someone had suffered a grave miscarriage of justice, few dared to attempt it.

Zhang Jiayu listened with rapt attention. Criminal law was part of every official's practice, and scholars inevitably touched upon it to some degree—but generally, it received little emphasis. Zhu Yuanzhang might have possessed a strong "legal consciousness," going so far as to promulgate the Grand Pronouncements (Da Gao) throughout the realm. He had not only made it required reading at the Imperial College and content for the Imperial Examinations, but also stipulated that any household possessing the book could have their crimes reduced by one grade. Yet when the man died, his policies died with him. In barely a hundred years, by the Jiajing Reign, the book had faded into obscurity, and the Ministry of Rites had to re-promulgate it. Beyond this, the market offered extremely few books specializing in legal matters. The relevant yamen clerks guarded such knowledge as "secrets not to be transmitted." Thus Zhang Jiayu's understanding of the subject remained superficial—all general talk, rarely touching on specific practice, let alone legal principles.

Liang Xinhu's lecture concluded at lunchtime. After a simple meal, the Circuit Court's first day of trials began at one o'clock in the afternoon. Zhang Jiayu followed the crowd to observe the proceedings.

The "Circuit Court" emphasized adapting to local conditions. In places with proper facilities, court could be held in a lofty hall or open pavilion—an ancestral temple, a shrine, an old government office. Where such amenities were lacking, it was common practice to set up court directly in an open space like a threshing ground or stage.

Jiujiang actually had quite a few usable buildings. However, Liang Xinhu wanted to maximize the reach of his legal education efforts, allowing as many common folk as possible to observe the proceedings. Whenever conditions permitted, he chose outdoor venues with larger capacity.

Today's court session was set on one of Jiujiang's threshing grounds. An earthen platform had been piled up in the center to serve as the court, surrounded by a wooden fence. A squad of National Army soldiers had already established a cordon along the perimeter, keeping the growing crowd of spectators outside the barrier.

On the open ground, several wooden poles had been erected. Wired speakers hung from their tops.

Zhang Jiayu had once attended the Witchcraft Case as a spectator. That case had involved so many people across such a wide scope that it could rightly be called the "First Case of the Southern Sky." At the time, the crowds seeking to observe had emptied entire streets. The Guangzhou Municipal Government had been forced to deploy large numbers of National Army troops to maintain order. Even with considerable connections, Zhang Jiayu hadn't been able to enter the courtroom itself, and had listened to the proceedings through a "wooden box" speaker outside.

Today's Circuit Trial was similarly packed—for villagers without any other form of entertainment, watching trials was entertainment. Fortunately, Zhang Jiayu now held the status of "Visiting Minister," which entitled him not only to a place inside the wooden fence, but also to a seat.

He filed into the courtroom with the crowd and settled into the audience section. Looking around, he saw that the parties to the trial had all arrived. At first glance, there were quite a few people waiting—a dark mass divided into two groups. One side held "Civil Cases," the other "Public Security Cases." The latter group was under police guard.

According to the Law Society's design, the Circuit Court generally did not try major criminal cases. It primarily handled civil and public security matters.

Zeng Juan watched the bailiffs on either side glance at the desk clock on the table, then shout loudly: "Time! Please maintain silence! All rise!"

Amplified through the speakers, this shout gradually hushed the noisy venue.

Presiding Judge Liang Xinhu emerged from a tent beside the main seat. He wore the Xiezhi Crown upon his head, a black robe about his person, and A-Grade Replica Black Leather Shoes from the Landu Ship on his feet. Truly majestic and commanding—the very picture of righteousness.

The Xiezhi Crown, also called the Law Crown or Iron Crown, was according to records first made by King Wen of Chu and worn by law enforcement officials—hence its name. Atop it was a decoration symbolizing the horn of the Xiezhi, a divine beast of ancient legend. The creature's horn was said to be inherently loyal and capable of distinguishing right from wrong. The Law Society had specifically chosen it as the symbol of judicial attire.

This crown followed ancient tradition. Not only did most common people not recognize it—even ordinary scholars were largely unfamiliar with it, assuming it to be some "New Dynasty Attire." Zhang Jiayu, having read widely and possessing broad knowledge, naturally recognized it. Only the Law Robe itself puzzled him; he truly could not determine which dynasty's relic it represented.

Liang Xinhu picked up the gavel and struck it forcefully. "Court is now in session! First case!"

The bailiff immediately brought both parties forward. They began with the routine preliminaries—name, age, home address, and other basic information.

It turned out both parties made their living in Jiujiang. The defendant, Zhang Cai, was the shopkeeper of a small inn on Front Street. The inn wasn't large, containing just seven or eight rooms, mostly rented to small merchants and artisans working in Jiujiang.

The plaintiff was his tenant, Chen Sanli—a small merchant who sold fishing gear in Jiujiang. Judging by their businesses, both were minor operators barely keeping their heads above water. Zhang Jiayu thought to himself with some surprise: What great matter could two such petty dealers have to trouble the government over?

After establishing the basic facts, both sides stated their claims and positions. Only then did Zhang Jiayu understand the case: Chen Sanli had once signed a contract with Shopkeeper Zhang for a three-year lease. They had lived in peace at first. But when the Australians came and turmoil spread through the countryside, Chen Sanli feared that the unsafe conditions would affect ordinary folk like himself. He had rolled up his bedding and fled overnight.

He remained gone for over half a year. When the situation gradually stabilized, Chen Sanli returned to Jiujiang to resume his old trade. To his dismay, Shopkeeper Zhang—having assumed that a man who fled like that must have died in the chaos—had already rented the room to someone else. He was only willing to return the original rent.

At first, Chen Sanli accepted this. But with the current stability and improved business conditions, rents in Jiujiang had risen considerably. With his original money, he could no longer secure such a favorable long-term lease. Chen Sanli felt he had been cheated. Shopkeeper Zhang, however, maintained that the man had abandoned the property of his own accord, and since the remaining rent had been returned, he felt perfectly justified in refusing to honor the old lease.

Both believed they were in the right, and neither would yield. The dispute had dragged on until now. What had begun as a matter neighbors might have resolved among themselves had, after years of festering, transformed into an emotional battle where winning mattered more than the money at stake. Finally, Chen Sanli had decided to sue Zhang Cai.

The court proceedings moved slowly. Unlike rural farmers, merchants who dealt with people daily spoke reasonably well. But these two parties—one a petty trader, one a declining small shopkeeper—had received no systematic education. Their logic inevitably became tangled, and the same question often had to be asked several times before receiving a proper answer.

"Defendant, you claim that when the plaintiff left Guangzhou, you had the right to reclaim the property. What is your basis for this?"

"Replying to Your Honor, this is the rule on our street," Zhang Cai said. "He just ran off like that. He was gone nearly ten months. Not a word of news. How was I supposed to know if he was alive or dead..."

"Even if I were dead, I paid the money! You should have kept it for me for the full three years!" Chen Sanli erupted.

"Silence! Do not interrupt!" warned the law officer beside him.

Liang Xinhu then questioned the plaintiff, Chen Sanli, who stated he had never heard of any such rule.

Subsequently, Liang Xinhu called several witnesses—some proposed by the parties themselves, others local Pai Jia officials and Chamber of Commerce representatives. All provided relevant testimony.

Regarding whether a lease should be considered fulfilled or terminated when a tenant left without notice, the witnesses offered varying opinions and interpretations. Whether such a rule actually existed mattered little to Liang Xinhu. The Senate's relevant laws already contained regulations addressing precisely this type of question. The case presented no complexity; he could simply apply the law directly. At this moment, he was purely demonstrating to his study group students how to properly execute trial procedure.

The cross-examination proved quite dull. Zhang Jiayu found himself stifling a yawn. Such a trivially minor case, and a Senator had to personally preside over it? The Australian way of thinking was truly hard to fathom.

When the cross-examination stage concluded, Liang Xinhu did not announce an adjournment. This type of case required neither a collegial panel nor mediation proceedings—the judge would render judgment based directly on the facts.

The case was not difficult to decide. But before issuing judgment, he first provided an explanation of the legal reasoning. Establishing new judicial concepts as quickly as possible had become standard practice for the Senate—explaining the basis for judgments was now judicial habit.

This was especially important because the Contract Law and various Commercial Laws from the Original Time Space had backgrounds far removed from the conditions of This Time Space. Applying them rashly would create numerous problems. European Commercial Law in This Time Space had already developed in embryonic form, yet suffered from the same issue—it did not conform to local conditions. And traditional Chinese laws like the Great Ming Code contained very little pertaining to commercial matters.

(End of Chapter)