The sun had barely risen when the drums began.
Their low, steady beat rolled through the streets of the capital, waking every home, every whisper, every fear.
The crowd gathered along the execution grounds outside the Western Gate — merchants, farmers, servants, courtiers pretending to be commoners — all drawn by the same morbid pull: to see the once-proud Chen Family brought to ruin.
The crimson banner of the Imperial Guard fluttered in the wind.
The execution platform stood in its shadow.
And upon it knelt Chen Wei, the disgraced uncle of Lady Chen — once draped in silk, now stripped to coarse robes, his hair unbound and face ghost-pale.
His wife and children stood shackled nearby, their eyes hollow, their tears dry.
The Imperial Crier raised his scroll.
