Chapter 22: The Left Hand, Live

The cane clicked down the centre aisle, and two thousand people turned in their seats.

Nobody spoke. A woman in the fifth row put her hand over her mouth.

Mingxuan walked slowly, with Haoran at his elbow.

Every step cost him something Wenxin could see from where she stood.

On the stage, Madam's smile had not moved.

It had stopped moving, and that was different.

"Mingxuan," she said into the microphone. "My darling. You should be in bed."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mother," he said.

His voice was a rasp, but the hall was so quiet it carried to the balcony.

A man began to clap, and stopped himself.

Mingxuan reached the foot of the stage. Haoran lifted him up the three steps, and Madam did not move to help.

He stood at the lectern, shaking, and took the red paper out of her hand.

She let him. It was the only choice she had in front of the cameras.

"This is a marriage certificate," he said. "My mother says I signed it."

He turned it toward the audience.

"I never signed it. I have never been married. I was in a coma, and I knew nothing about it until yesterday."

A sound rose from the hall, the sound of a great many people leaning forward.

"He's confused," Madam said, quickly, lovingly. "The doctors warned me. He doesn't remember."

"Then let's see," said Mingxuan.

A stagehand came out with a pen and a white placard.

Mingxuan took the pen in his right hand, as he always had, and wrote his name.

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