An audience with the emperor

Cui Wan waited well into the evening, but Chu Moqi still did not return.

She had asked Qiaoju during the day, and Qiaoju had said the young master had gone out on business and would return later. She believed her. But the sun set, the moon rose, and the lanterns beneath the covered walkway were all lit, yet there was still no sign of that figure in a wheelchair.

She put on an outer robe and left her room.

The light was still on in the side room.

Cui Wan felt a little reassured. A light meant someone was there.

She went over and knocked softly.

"A-Qi?"

The door opened a crack, and Yan Huai poked his head out.

His eyes shifted evasively, and his sheepish smile looked rather unnatural.

"My lady," he said in a very low voice, "well... I'm massaging the young master's legs."

Cui Wan's heart tightened.

"Are A-Qi's legs hurting again?"

Yan Huai blocked the doorway with his body, completely obscuring the light inside.

"Yes!" He nodded, then hastily shook his head, confusing even himself. "No, no, no, well... it's just his routine massage before bed! Yes, a routine massage!"

Cui Wan looked at him, feeling that something was not quite right.

"Really?" She peered inside, but Yan Huai blocked her view completely. She could see nothing. "May I see him? Is he feeling unwell and refusing to let me see him again?"

"Not at all, not at all!" Yan Huai's voice rose half a pitch before he hurriedly lowered it again. "The young master's legs are exposed right now. As you know, my lady, he's... very proud. He certainly wouldn't want you to see them. It wouldn't be good if he lost his temper afterward."

Cui Wan thought for a moment, then nodded.

A-Qi was indeed like that. He did not want her to see his legs. If she insisted, he would be angry.

"That's true." She withdrew her gaze. "All right, then. I'll come see A-Qi tomorrow."

As though granted a pardon, Yan Huai nodded repeatedly. "Yes, yes, yes! Good night, my lady! Good night!"

Cui Wan glanced at him, then turned and left.

Clutching the doorframe, Yan Huai nearly went limp. He leaned against the door and gulped for breath, his heart racing.

"Good heavens..." Yan Huai pressed a hand to his chest and muttered, "Young master, you'd better come back tomorrow! I'm running out of lies!"

He looked up at the night sky, pressed his palms together, and murmured:

"If you come back, I'd gladly massage your legs a hundred times a day! Truly! A hundred times! I won't slack off! General! Eldest Young Master! Old Madam-oh, no, Old Madam is still alive... well, may your spirits in heaven protect the young master!"

The next day, close to noon.

Chu Moqi sat in the corner of his cell, his back against the cold wall.

Sunlight streamed through the tiny barred window high above, cutting a slanting streak of light across the floor before him. He sat motionless at its edge.

His lower body lay utterly limp. Both insensate legs sprawled on the floor, his toes turned inward, his knees loose and slack. However they were positioned, they remained that way. He had not slept all night and had no strength to move them.

When he heard footsteps, Chu Moqi's back stiffened slightly.

Then he reached out, braced his hands against the floor, and pushed himself up little by little. His hands shook, and so did his arms. The wounds around his waist and back pulled, the pain bringing cold sweat to his temples. But he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright against the wall.

His back was ramrod straight.

The footsteps stopped outside his cell.

He Tan stood beyond the bars, looking at the young man in the corner.

He had seen Chu Moqi push himself upright. He saw those two insensate legs, Chu Moqi's pale face and cracked lips, and the straight back and clear, upright gaze he now maintained.

He Tan sighed inwardly. His voice was quiet but perfectly clear:

"Second Young Master Chu, His Majesty wishes to see you."

Chu Moqi's pupils contracted slightly.

Xiao Ling'an.

The new emperor had been on the throne for barely two months. After just one night in prison, that man wanted to see him?

He was silent for a moment before asking:

"Lord He, what do those above intend?"

He had thought this case would undergo a joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices, drag on for ten days or a fortnight, and become a prolonged tug-of-war. He had not expected His Majesty to inquire into it personally.

He felt somewhat uncertain...

"Your evidence is genuine." He Tan paused briefly. "Eldest Cui had no backbone. He confessed everything last night. As for His Majesty's intentions... neither you nor I can presume to know."

Chu Moqi nodded. "Thank you, Lord He."

Looking at that pale face, He Tan suddenly remembered the father and son he had seen at court many years ago.

"Chu Rong had a fine son," he said suddenly, his voice tinged with feeling. "I once thought Chu Molei would surely amount to something. Now it seems you are no less capable than your elder brother."

Chu Moqi lowered his eyes and said nothing. After a moment, he spoke flatly:

"Just a cripple. Good or bad, it makes no difference..."

He Tan looked at him, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. "Let's go. His Majesty is waiting. What... would be easier for you?"

Chu Moqi raised his eyes to him. "Is my wheelchair still here?"

He Tan nodded. "Yes. Your guard has been keeping it safe for you."

Chu Moqi's expression eased slightly for an instant.

"Then..." He paused, his voice dropping. "Sorry for the trouble, Lord He. Please find someone..."

Those two words stuck in his throat. He could not force them out.

Help me.

Have someone help me.

Chu Moqi lowered his eyes, his lips twisting into a self-mocking curve. "Have someone carry me on their back. Yesterday... was rather undignified."

He Tan looked at his calm face, his legs lying limp on the floor, and the faint, self-mocking smile on his lips. He sighed. "All right..."

Chu Moqi was carried into the hall, wheelchair and all.

Two young eunuchs carried the wheelchair up the steps, one at a time, through the vermilion doors, and finally set him gently down in the hall paved with golden bricks.

The hall was very quiet.

Chu Moqi raised his head.

A young man sat on the dragon throne, only a few years older than him, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe. His expression held a trace of the aloofness and scrutiny peculiar to those in power.

Xiao Ling'an, the newly enthroned emperor.

Chu Moqi lowered his lashes and bowed slightly. "Your subject, Chu Moqi, second son of the Marquis of Ningyang, pays his respects to Your Majesty."

Xiao Ling'an said nothing. He simply sat on the dragon throne, looking down at the man in the wheelchair in the hall.

The silence spread little by little, like an invisible pressure.

After a long while, Xiao Ling'an finally spoke. His voice was quiet, yet it echoed clearly through the hall:

"Chu Moqi... even your father, with all his illustrious military achievements, had to kneel before the late emperor when he attended court. What, you need not kneel before me?"

Chu Moqi stiffened slightly. He did not raise his head, but slowly released the wheelchair's armrests and pitched forward.

His knees struck the floor, his two insensate legs trailing limply behind him. Bracing both hands against the floor, he barely managed to prop up his upper body, bowing low.

Then his legs began to spasm.

Without warning, those two paralyzed legs went into violent spasms. The muscles twisted into knots beneath his skin, twitching, tightening, then twitching again. His body swayed, nearly collapsing, but he gritted his teeth and used every ounce of strength to hold himself up.

He remained sprawled there, both legs twitching uncontrollably behind him.

Xiao Ling'an watched him without speaking.

The hall was deathly silent.

There was only Chu Moqi's labored breathing and the rustle of fabric as his legs jerked behind him.

A long time passed-long enough for cold sweat to bead at Chu Moqi's temples, long enough for his arms to begin trembling.

Xiao Ling'an suddenly laughed, his voice languid, with a hint of amusement:

"I have received your sincerity."

Chu Moqi lay on the floor without moving. His legs still twitched, but he clenched his teeth and made no sound.

Xiao Ling'an rose from the dragon throne and descended, walking toward him step by step.

He looked down at the utterly disheveled man on the floor, at his prostrate posture, his endlessly spasming legs, and the profile of his face with its tightly clenched jaw.

"I have only just ascended the throne." Xiao Ling'an's voice came from above. "Your Chu Family truly does command the people's hearts. Even I cannot find a flaw-hmm?"

Chu Moqi's Adam's apple bobbed. His voice was hoarse, but every word was clear. "Your Majesty, every word of my written complaint is true."

Xiao Ling'an laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. "I know. You are very capable, just like Chu Rong back then."

He paused, his voice dropping, carrying a hint of pointed warning:

"But letting your sharp edge show too much is never a good thing."

Chu Moqi did not respond.

Xiao Ling'an turned, walked back to the dragon throne, and sat down. "Eldest Cui and Third Cui plotted against their own brother and caused the deaths of thirty-seven people in the Ministry of Works. By law, they shall be beheaded. Chu Moqi, you had best stop here as well. Hmm?"

Chu Moqi lay prostrate, his forehead pressed to the cold brick floor. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Xiao Ling'an did not reply. He merely waved a hand.

Chu Moqi knew it was time to leave.

He tried to push himself up.

But his arms were trembling, and those two damned, insensate legs dragged limply along the floor, still spasming faintly, utterly beyond his control.

He pushed once, then slipped back down. He pushed again and slipped down once more.

Footsteps passed beside him.

It was Xiao Ling'an.

His steps were unhurried, the hem of his dragon robe brushing the fingertips Chu Moqi had braced against the floor.

"Sometimes-" Xiao Ling'an's voice came from above, indifferent, as though discussing something of no consequence. "You should recognize your place. Recognize the place your Marquis of Ningyang's Residence now occupies."

The footsteps gradually faded, and the hall fell quiet again.

Chu Moqi lay motionless on the floor.

After a long while, two young eunuchs hurried over. One on either side, they took him under the arms, dragged him off the floor, and bundled his limp body back into the wheelchair. His legs were still crooked, slanting to one side, impossible to straighten no matter how they arranged them.

Chu Moqi merely tugged his robe down to cover the disarray, leaned back in the wheelchair, and closed his eyes.

By the time Yan Qin wheeled Chu Moqi back to Orchid Courtyard, it was already evening.

Yan Huai rushed out of the side room, looking for all the world as though he had seen his savior.

"Young master!" Yan Huai lowered his voice, yet could not suppress his relief at having survived the ordeal. "You're finally back! You have no idea what a close call I had!"

He came closer and began chattering:

"My lady knocked last night and asked what you were doing. I said I was massaging your legs! She wanted to come in and see you, so I blocked the doorway with my body. It took all my persuasion to send her back! Luckily, my lady is easy to fool... oh, no! Luckily, my lady trusts me, so the truth didn't come out!"

Chu Moqi said nothing.

He merely looked down at his robe.

Yan Huai did not notice his silence and kept talking. "I'll go fetch my lady right now! She must have missed you terribly!"

"Wait!"

Chu Moqi suddenly spoke. His voice was very hoarse and low, as though squeezed from the depths of his throat.

Yan Huai froze.

"Wheel me back to my room." Chu Moqi did not look at him. "Let's take care of things first."

Only then did Yan Huai notice how frighteningly pale the young master was, and how there was something unnatural about his whole demeanor.

His heart lurched. "Yes!"

The side room's door closed.

Yan Huai carefully undid Chu Moqi's outer robe, then his inner robe, and finally his lower garments.

His hands stopped.

A large bundle hung between those legs, bulging and heavy. A broad patch of his outer trousers was already soaked through, its dark color painfully conspicuous. The underpants beneath were even more thoroughly drenched, clinging tightly to his skin.

A diaper.

From the time he left yesterday until now, nearly two days and a night, the young master had not had his diaper changed.

Yan Huai felt as though something had blocked his throat.

He raised his head and looked at Chu Moqi.

Chu Moqi's eyes were closed. His body was trembling, very, very faintly, shuddering from his shoulders to his fingertips. He merely let the humiliation of these two days submerge him, little by little.

He knew what he looked like now.

Ever since being temporarily detained yesterday, he had known it would come to this. He could not move, could not call out, could not ask anyone for help. He had simply sat in that damp cell, feeling his body betray him little by little, feeling that uncontrollable humiliation seep out bit by bit.

He had no way out. He could not even do anything. All he could do was be tended to and changed like this, like a useless wreck.

He was a useless wreck...

Yan Qin silently brought hot water and wrung out a cloth.

Yan Huai took a deep breath and began helping him empty his bowels. His movements were very gentle, very careful, for fear of hurting the young master. Yet with every movement, he felt Chu Moqi tremble a little harder.

Neither knew what to say, nor could either say anything. They could only remain silent as they cleaned away the mess of those two days, little by little.