Chapter 59: Mutilation

Chongzhen felt he couldn't keep staying cooped up in the palace. In his later life he'd already spent years as a shut-in; now there was no internet, no 1024, no Hand-Chopping Cat, no Second-Hand East, so he didn't want to stay holed up anymore.

Of course, at this stage Chongzhen couldn't go out and roam as freely as that Pockmarked Kang or the Old Man of Ten Perfections, so he could only move around at his own front door — or rather, step out of the back courtyard and stretch his legs in the big front yard.

After all, the entire Forbidden City was his home, except no one charged him an admission ticket.

Chongzhen wore a long cyan robe and waved a spring-palace fan in his hand, now and then opening it for a peek and then closing it again.

Although winter had already set in, the lecherous air and cheap grin on his face radiated an irrepressible springtime mood; by any measure he looked like a dissolute young rake.

As for Fang Zhenghua, his originally beardless face had been pasted with some whiskers, making the whole man look rather comical. And Wang Cheng'en, as on the last occasion they had slipped out of the palace, was still dressed as a steward.

The whole way, Wang Cheng'en kept up a steady mutter: "Young Master, it's fine to come out for a bit of fun, but we'd best head home early. It's not that this old servant means to prattle, but whatever there is outside, we have at home — why come out and suffer the cold?"

Chongzhen, who had finally gotten out to enjoy himself, would hardly listen. The last time he'd come out had been to watch the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot collect protection money; this time he was truly out for pleasure.

Annoyed by the nagging, Chongzhen said bluntly, "All right, all right. Say a few words less and no one will take you for a mute. We'll head back when it's about time. By the way, is there anything fun outside today? Any temple fair or the like worth a stroll?"

Wang Cheng'en, however unwilling, could only signal Wei Liangqing, the Embroidered Uniform Guard officer disguised as a household guard, to come over and answer.

Who was Wei Liangqing? He was Wei Zhongxian's son.

He had already received Wei Zhongxian's warning and knew the Son of Heaven was not a master easily fooled.

Now that he had risen with the tide and suddenly obtained the post of Guard Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, even if his power could not compare with that of Tian Ergeng and Xu Xianchun, still, the Guard Commander responsible for the imperial procession and escort within the Embroidered Uniform Guard was not a position just anyone could fill.

Wei Liangqing had always been accustomed to knocking about outside the palace and was thoroughly familiar with conditions in the capital, so he said cautiously, "Young Master, how about we take a walk over to the Eastern Peak Temple?"

Chongzhen thought it over. Since he had nothing else to do anyway, he might as well go a bit farther.

But when they reached the Eastern Peak Temple, before he had even gone in to see the temple fair, Chongzhen's anger was stirred up again.

On the open ground before the Eastern Peak Temple gate, both sides were lined with stalls selling snacks and small wares, interspersed with a few fortune-tellers' stands, and there were even several monks begging alms.

If it had only been these, Chongzhen would probably have strolled around a bit, eaten some snacks he'd never tried, and then returned to the palace to seek out Empress Zhou. But another group of people before his eyes drew Chongzhen's attention.

In the bustling crowd before him, there were several children of eight or nine, barely clothed, begging.

If it had been only that, it would have been nothing much; he could go back and kill a few of the wretches in the almshouses. But looking at these children, it was plainly deliberate on someone's part.

Of the six or seven children, some had both arms cut off clean at the shoulder, some had lost both feet, some still had legs and hands but had them twisted into extremely grotesque angles, and there were even crueler cases — noses and mouths had been sliced away.

Of these several children, not one had an intact body.

The few children who still had legs, though shivering from the cold, knelt and kowtowed at the sight of anyone, while those without legs dragged themselves along the ground, crying out: "Kind sir, have pity, have pity!"

If someone gave them a few coppers, the children did not dare spend the money on food. Though they had a little money from others' charity, they could only stare at the nearby steamed-bun stall and drool, not daring to delay their begging in the slightest.

Seeing this, Chongzhen suspected these children were controlled by someone, but he pretended ignorance and asked, "Steward Wang, look at those children up ahead — why are they so pitiful?

The officials of the almshouse draw salaries from the court and His Majesty, yet they don't look after these children?"

Wang Cheng'en looked at the children Chongzhen indicated and said helplessly, "Young Master, not to mention that the almshouse has no money at all to relieve these children — even if it did, it couldn't manage them."

Chongzhen knew perfectly well what was going on, but he feigned curiosity and said, "Why? That the almshouse has no money, We know. But what do you mean it couldn't manage them?"

Wang Cheng'en replied, "Young Master, these children have all been mutilated. Someone deliberately made them this way to earn money. Those people mostly call themselves disciples of the Beggars' Sect.

The almshouse would like to manage them, but it has no troops or horses in hand and cannot seize anyone; the local government offices can seize them, but there is no profit in it, so they do not wish to manage them either. Moreover, arrest one batch and another batch will come.

Over time, fewer and fewer people bother to manage them.

Our dynasty is already much better than the previous one. It is only in recent years, with the common people unable to get food, that vicious types have taken desperate risks and done such deeds."

Chongzhen understood. This was a problem not even later ages had ever rooted out; to have the Great Ming solve it completely was too difficult.

But he wondered how the Great Ming dealt with such criminals. So he asked further, "Then according to the Great Ming Code, how should these people be dealt with?"

But Wang Cheng'en's next words startled Chongzhen: "To answer the Young Master, according to the Great Ming Code: for all who mutilate persons for profit, the ringleader shall be executed by slow slicing; accomplices shall be beheaded; their property shall be adjudged to the household of the mutilated person.

Their wives, children, and household members living with them, even if ignorant of the matter, shall all be exiled two thousand li. Those who acted as accomplices shall be beheaded.

Village heads who knew and failed to report shall be punished jointly."

Chongzhen thought of later ages, where the harshest punishment for human traffickers was at most a single peanut. The Great Ming Code's severity was quite impressive.

In his previous life he had had no good solution to this situation and could do nothing. Now that he was the Son of Heaven, he absolutely had to teach these scum how to be human!

Having made up his mind, Chongzhen simply gave up on the temple fair, turned and gave a few instructions, then found a snack stall and sat down.

In about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the Five Wards Military Command had already sealed off the entire area around the Eastern Peak Temple, and then the Embroidered Uniform Guard charged in, splitting everyone apart and cutting them into small groups so they could not mass together.

At this point Tian Ergeng, the Embroidered Uniform Guard officer specially in charge of domestic livelihood affairs, also arrived on the scene.

After he had paid his respects to Chongzhen, everyone present realized that the reigning Son of Heaven had actually come to the Eastern Peak Temple in plain clothes to inspect the people's condition.

Among the crowd there were those with guilty consciences, and one immediately whispered to the man beside him, "Elder Brother, I told you we shouldn't come to the capital. Didn't we just run right into this? If we're discovered, we'll have to—"

The man addressed as Elder Brother was broad-shouldered and barrel-waisted, quite imposing. Hearing this, he replied in a low voice, "What's there to fear?

They're not here for us specifically. Besides, if we hadn't come to the capital, that dog surnamed Zhang would still be hunting us all over the world.

Only here at the feet of the Son of Heaven can that Zhang fellow do nothing to us."

Originally the part about mutilation was to be written later, but on reflection I decided to put it earlier. The author is a northern drifter and sees mutilated people almost every day.

If you don't give them money, you feel sorry for them; if you do give money, it never actually reaches their hands. Should the legal punishment be light or severe?

Like the question of nine degrees of kinship in the earlier chapters, different eras have different standards and modes of sentencing. But for those who mutilate people, no punishment is too severe.

If anyone disagrees, please first have yourself or your own child mutilated, then come back and spout off.

(End of Chapter)