The Prison Cell

I wake in a cool place and almost sigh in relief. A hand holds my head up and a cup to my lips contains water that I am only allowed to sip. The cup gets taken away before I can take much more than a small mouthful. It is frustrating.

"Your Imperial Majesty, if you want this girl to live, she will need to be removed from the torture rooms and given gentle care. Even then, I am unsure if she will survive," a firm baritone speaks.

"She still has three months to her sentence," a familiar tenor with a slight nasal whine says. "They will not be reduced. You watch over her and make sure she recuperates, but she does not leave the prisons until her sentence is complete."

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty, but she should not be moved from the cells then. Do not send her for anymore hardship."

"Arrange it, Doctor. I will visit her often to ensure she is improving."

"If Your Imperial Majesty will be visiting her often, then she must be kept separate from all other prisoners."

"Of course," scoffs the tenor with the nasal whine. "See to it."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Immediately."

A breeze of heavy perfume washes over me and a warm hand brushes my face and neck, before several pairs of footsteps follow the perfumed wind.

The hand holding my head up gently rests my head back down, its owner muttering some things to himself under his breath. I cannot understand what he is saying. Whatever it is, it is irrelevant to a tofu.

"He's gone now," a whiskered mouth brushes my ear. "I know you're awake."

I don't know what Gentle Whiskers wants me to do. I am tofu. I do not move. I do not speak.

"There is a bucket in the corner for you to use," he says after a long moment of silence, moving away with a flap of cloth. "I will come and check on you every few days."

A long time later, Gentle Whiskers has returned to feed and trickle water into my mouth.

"Why haven't you moved? Have you no shame, soiling yourself every day? Can't you feel the sores you are developing? Why do you not feed yourself? Do you think that this will move the Emperor? If you remain like this, in all likelihood, he will order your death and those of your party. Have you forgotten? He will wage war against your country. Get well and submit yourself to him. Perhaps he will be willing to send the rest of your party on their way again."

He spoke, but tofu does not comprehend.

"Lady Lin? Lady Lin Singhua? Are you listening?"

Tofu has no names and recognises no identity. Tofu feels no pain. Knows nothing. Does nothing.

"His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, will be coming to visit you soon," Gentle Whisker's voice grows more concerned as he speaks. "Please stir yourself. You must not make him angry." A pause and he opens my eyelids to shine light in them. With the light comes a piercing pain that screams through my head. "Great God of Heaven," he exclaims. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that would hurt you so much."

I hear the sound of muffled sobs and wonder where it is coming from. The soft darkness is gradually easing the pain in my eyes and I feel a hand caressing my hair.

"You must open your eyes more often, Miss Lin. The light in the cell is not so bright and so you will become accustomed to seeing light again. He left you in the water boxes for too long. Can you move? Can you rise from the bed yourself?"

He tries to help me up and his encouraging sounds make my muscles twitch to follow, but I do not move. Tofu cannot move on its own. He should know that.

Laying me back down, Gentle Whiskers seems to sigh to himself.

"I will have someone come in to clean you every day and will come to visit you more often. Perhaps I will be able to find someone who is willing or able to help you get moving again as well. I am deeply sorry for what has happened."

An angry lady visits daily after that. She throws buckets of cold water on me, roughly rolls me over and throws more cold water. All the while, she grumbles about taking care of vegetables.

I am tofu. Not a vegetable. I want to tell her, but good tofu does not make noise. Lately though, I have been wondering whether a tofu is still tofu even when it is not called tofu or treated as tofu. Ever since I left my box this last time, I have not been called or treated as the tofu the Real Cooks make for the Emperor every day.

Gentle Whiskers visits sometimes and makes me drink bitter water. I do not understand and he does not understand when I try to refuse it. Who would want to eat bitter tofu?

He rubs my limbs, my back and neck until they twitch with burning pain and encourages me to keep my eyes open. Needles prick me and make my body ache. He says he has been unable to find someone else that can help him with me. Nobody wants the job. Gentle Whiskers has a round face and a long pointed beard streaked through with white.

He teaches me how to use the bucket on the other side of the grey stone cell, where it sits beneath a barred window that looks up at bright blue. The blue still hurts my eyes and I don't look at it often.