Beiji

Chapter 1 (Pt. 2)

Meng Yuan stayed still for a moment, attempting to hold onto his rationality. "What's your name?" he asked hoarsely.

The man on the ground looked up at him but didn't respond. He was young – younger than Meng Yuan anyway, though probably not by too many years. Now that Meng Yuan was looking, he could see that the man was dirty, both his clothing and his skin, as though he'd been performing some kind of manual labor before being brought here.

"I asked you your name, and yet you didn't respond," Meng Yuan said, circling around him. The man tried to follow with his gaze, whipping his head to the other side when Meng Yuan passed behind him, but he had stopped there, just out of sight, and the man clearly didn't dare attempt to move in order to turn around and face him. "Do you know who I am?"

When he still did not receive an answer, he said, "Since you don't seem to know, I am His Majesty the Emperor, and generally when I ask a question, it's expected for it be answered." He walked back around to the front of the man who was trembling on his knees before him. "Now tell me: What is your name?"

The man's lips quivered as if he might cry, and Meng Yuan lost all patience with him. In a flash of movement, he had him by the throat, leaning down in front of him, their faces centimeters apart. The man's head tilted back to look at him automatically, though he looked as if he regretted the action as soon as he'd done it. His skin was lighter than Meng Yuan's despite appearing as though he'd been out in the sun, and his eyes were darker, nearly black but not quite.

"If you know what's good for you, then you'll speak to me," the emperor said, his voice low and dangerous. "So far I have only asked you one simple question, and yet you cannot even deign to answer that. Fine, then. I'll ask you the question I truly want the answer to: Eight days ago, did you or did you not rape my sister?"

The man swallowed and Meng Yuan felt the action with the hand still pressed over his throat. But his lips remained closed.

Enraged, Meng Yuan's hand tightened on the man's throat, which elicited a gasp from him. "You –"

Abruptly, the man shook his head violently, his eyes closed.

"Is this supposed to be the answer to my question?" Meng Yuan asked. "Oh, so you didn't then?"

The man shook his head again, slightly less frantically this time, his eyes reopening, and when he looked up at the other man's face, so close to his own, his eyes were suddenly full of hope. Disgusted by this undeserved hopefulness, Meng Yuan moved in closer and asked, "Then why does my sister say it was you?"

The man swallowed again, the hopeful expression fading.

"Was she mistaken?" Meng Yuan asked, his voice deceptively calm, but it seemed this man could see through this deception because he didn't appear to be reassured in any way. "Who do you think I'll believe? Think I'll believe you over her just because you shook your head at me?"

This time, the man didn't bother shaking his head in response, as though he already knew it was pointless.

Abruptly, Meng Yuan thrust the man away from him and with his hands chained as they were, he hit the ground hard on his side, still without making more sound than a gasp upon impact. And yet this only served to incense his attacker even more. Meng Yuan kicked him in the stomach and ribs, and when it still did not elicit a sound from him, he did so over and over again until the man coughed up a mouthful of blood onto the floor beneath him. Still, the only sound he made was that of his retching.

Meng Yuan gripped him by the front of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. "You can't even open your mouth to offer some excuse, some explanation? Not only will you not confess to your crime, but you won't even attempt to defend yourself?"