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| Justice Is Mine Ending Explained & Review: What Really Happened to Judge Qin Yu (Photo: Youku) |
Hong Kong icon Nick Cheung returns to long-form drama as Judge Qin Yu (Qin Yu/秦誉), a respected figure who crosses a line when his son Qin Yiwei (Benjamin Tsang) is involved in a hit-and-run.
On the other side stands Inspector Tong (Myolie Wu), relentless yet empathetic.
Around them: fixer-cop Cao Wei’er (Eddie Cheung), ruthless climber Qi Changrong (Michael Tse), volatile heir Han Lie (Joseph Zeng Shunxi), veteran player Lu Weide (Benz Hui), and a shadowy political machine pulling strings over the Old Town redevelopment.
If you’ve seen Kvodo/Your Honor, you’ll recognise the moral chessboard.
But Justice Is Mine leans into HK grit and a 1990s atmosphere, tightening the screws episode by episode across a lean 20-episode run.
Quick Recap of Justice Is Mine Final Episode
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The trap closes: Qin Yu manoeuvres the syndicate and their proxies into turning on one another while reopening the Old Town fire and land deeds mess.
Old Town verdict: In court, Qin Yu rules that the Old Town land deeds remain valid, handing everyday residents a rare win and flipping the redevelopment play.Settling scores: With careful staging, Qi Changrong is taken off the board via a legally defensible confrontation; separate moves collapse protection for the political bloc.
Han Lie’s endgame: The unstable antagonist forces a final face-off in a supermarket.
Aftermath: At Qin Yu’s funeral, the public image is intact: a principled judge. He won the case, unmasked rot, saved lives—yet paid with everything.
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Justice Is Mine Ending Explained: what it means (in depth)
Justice Is Mine closes on a bittersweet “win”. Legally, Qin Yu nails the landing:
1. Old Town residents win their case, a direct rebuke to land-grab politics.
2. The enforcers—from bent gang figures to dirty intermediaries—are dismantled.
3. The political conduit (Councillor Huang and co.) is exposed/neutralised enough that the immediate machine stalls.
But thematically, the show stresses cost and complicity. Qin Yu’s victory is a pyrrhic triumph: he restores balance by abandoning the purist path he once preached.
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The finale argues that in systems engineered for powerful interests, “clean” justice may be structurally blocked, so the only way through is controlled contamination—a series of hard, rule-bending choices made to deliver a just outcome to the many.
Two extra layers give the ending its staying power:
Moral recursion: Qin Yu originally breaks the rules to protect his son; by the end, he breaks them to protect everyone else. The same tools, different aim.Deliberate negative space: Even as named players fall, the drama leaves a sense that larger, faceless interests can always regroup.
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So, is it happy or sad ending? Both.
The community is safer; the truth mostly prevails; a kid lives. But the man who made it happen doesn’t walk away.
The title lands: Justice is “his”—because he takes ownership of it—yet justice also takes him.
Characters wrapped (where they land)
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Qin Yu (Nick Cheung): Mastermind to the end. Wins the case, disarms the bloc, shields civilians. Public legacy: righteous judge. Private reality: paid in full.
Inspector Tong (Myolie Wu): Holds the line when it counts, partners pragmatically with Qin Yu to reopen Old Town wrongs. Conscience of the show and the bridge back to lawful order.Cao Wei’er (Eddie Cheung): Tragic fulcrum. Loyalty weaponised by bigger players; his arc underscores how “grey” gets ground up.
Qi Changrong (Michael Tse): The swaggering mid-boss who meets a lawful end via lawful means—a neat piece of Qin Yu’s chess.
Lu Weide (Benz Hui): Old-school survivor reading the winds; a reminder the city remembers older rules beneath new schemes.
Councillor/Bloc: Exposed and fractured. The show hints at deeper hands above them, wisely left offscreen.
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TL;DR + Justice Is Mine Short Review
TL;DR: A taut 20-episode HK crime drama where a revered judge dirties his hands to clean up a citywide mess.
The finale delivers a community win, a personal loss, and a lingering question: how clean can justice be?
Short Review:
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What works: Nick Cheung’s magnetic restraint; Myolie Wu’s steel-with-heart; punchy plotting without filler; swift pivots from courtroom chess to street-level danger; a finale that’s both satisfying and reflective.
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What stumbles: A couple of expositional leaps; an intentionally hazy “bigger fish” that some will want named; a few convenient timings in the last sprint.
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Verdict: ★★★★☆ (4/5) — tight, grown-up genre work with a finale that lingers.
FAQs
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Is the ending happy or sad?
Bittersweet. The public good is served; Old Town residents win; the machinery of abuse is checked. But Qin Yu’s heroism costs him everything.
Do you need to have watched Your Honor or Kvodo first?
No. The show stands on its own, swapping in Hong Kong texture and a 1990s charge.
Will there be a Season 2?
No official word. The story is emotionally complete, yet the finale’s “larger forces” gap could support a new case—perhaps with Inspector Tong front-ing, investigating the next tier above the fallen bloc. If it returns, expect a fresh central dilemma rather than undoing this ending.
Who actually “wins” in the finale?
Old Town wins in court. Qin Yu wins the board but loses his life. The system gets a jolt of accountability; whether it stays that way is the question the show leaves with us.
Is it action or legal drama?
Both. It blends legal manoeuvre, police procedure, and street-level stakes, with character beats driving the turns.
The final act reframes Qin Yu’s arc from “father protecting his son” to citizen defending a community.
He redeploys the very flexibility that damned him—calculated misdirection, pressure points, timing—against the power network that had captured the city’s levers.
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By securing the Old Town verdict and collapsing the enforcement ladder (thugs → handlers → political mouthpiece), he rebalances the board.
Yet the drama insists that means matter.
Qin Yu cannot return to the bench he once honoured; his public myth (righteous judge) is built on private compromise.
The show’s last beat—a saved child, a grieving son, a city with a chance—argues that sometimes the clean outcome demands unclean effort, and that someone will always pay the tab.
In other words: justice is not free; someone chooses to carry it.
Justice Is Mine sticks the landing with a finale that’s bold without shouting.
If you’re into morally knotty thrillers with actual consequences, this one’s your jam.
What did you make of Qin Yu’s choice—necessary, or a step too far? Drop your take, fave scene, and who you’d want to lead a potential Season 2 in the comments.








