The chief examiner had no personal vendetta against him, and even if, as Lu Tong said, the man was bribed and corrupted, the offense did not warrant death. How could he lay hands on him?
Besides, having been a commoner for so many years, he was already accustomed to swallowing his pride and grievances. He didn't even entertain the thought of contesting the unfairness and oppression.
If it had been the eighteen-year-old Wu Youcai, perhaps he might still possess a sliver of courage to stand against this murky world and the powerful elites. But the Wu Youcai, worn down by the hardships of life, had long lost that spirit. He was like a sheet of ink-stained paper, smoothed out and laid bare between heaven and earth, allowing the wind and rain to batter him without resistance.
"Fairness" was a luxury that the poor dared not even dream of. Perhaps only in death could they go to Yama's court to receive an ounce of it from Judge Yama.
