Lying in my crib with nothing better to do, I immerse myself in my thoughts, trying to sort through the events of what I believe has been a month since my abrupt first awakening, as my notion of time has gone haywire, distorted by the constant cycle of sleep and wakefulness imposed by my new body.

  I reflect, with a mixture of irony and frustration, on the romantic idea of childhood as the best stage of life. Whoever said that surely never experienced confinement in the body of a baby, trapped in an endless cycle of basic needs such as eating, sleeping, and humiliating dependence on others even for the most basic personal hygiene. And to make matters worse, I have to cry and complain from time to time to continue the charade that I am a baby.

  And I don't even have any of the modern conveniences a baby should have. They put me in washable cloth diapers, no bottles, and I haven't seen a single electric light yet, just decorated paper lanterns. I have no choice but to accept that I have been reborn into a world that is technologically what could be ancient China.

  But despite these limitations and difficulties, I celebrate the small personal triumph that my vision, noticeably better than during those early days when I could only see blurry shapes, now allows me to see people clearly, even though my depth perception is still crap. However, the improvement in my vision makes me even more frustrated with the immobility of my legs.

  Despite visits from what appear to be doctors, who have used all kinds of techniques, from the most basic acupuncture, which has left me with more needles than a pincushion, to making me drink some kind of horrible-tasting herbs with milk that I almost spit out, I have made no progress. The paralysis persists, a constant reminder of my new situation.

  I reflect on the absence of the man who appeared on the first day, pondering whether his lack of presence is a cause for relief or concern. But knowing what the ancient Chinese clans were supposed to be like, or even the modern ones in some places, I am more surprised that a mother-in-law has not appeared to complain to my mother for giving birth to a defective baby or something similar.

  That leads me to assume that it must be because of the status of my new family, and my attention is drawn to my surroundings, an ostentatious display of wealth and good taste. The gold, gems, silk, and works of art that decorate the rooms I have seen are indicative of high status, probably nobility or a high-ranking official.

  In addition, both the traditional qiuku I wear and the fabric of the cradle are also made of silk, which borders on the absurd in my mind, as unfortunately I stain them every so often. Guilt for staining them occasionally assails me, and with nascent determination, I promise myself to learn to ask to use the bathroom as soon as possible without arousing suspicion.

  I also can't help thinking about everything I've left behind. I wonder about my assistants, hoping they weren't in the cave when it collapsed. But above all, I wonder about my parents and siblings, how they must have felt when they received the news and had to hold a funeral without a body, as I doubt China will excavate a mountain to recover my body or find the strange door. My consolation in all this is that at least I am not leaving anyone orphaned. Fortunately or unfortunately, having married my work and never having had more than sporadic relationships, I am not leaving any children to mourn a dead mother.

  But curiously, when I think about my past, my mind seems to have found a glimmer of comfort in my former passion, languages. The language that surrounds me, its meaning initially foreign, has begun to reveal its secrets, proving more familiar than expected thanks to my prior knowledge of Chinese.

  Although the learning process has been surprisingly quick, I suspect that the similarity between the languages has facilitated my understanding. From the conversations I have overheard, more and more of them, I have managed to deduce that my name is now Wen, as this is the name my mother and nanny call me. My mother is usually called Fei Xiang and, if I remember correctly, in ancient times Fei was a title for consorts who were not the principal wives of noble families.

  The nanny, whom they alternately address as RuNu and RuNu Lianhua, is a constant presence, although the incessant flow of maids and their sheer number reinforces my opinion that my new family are nobles. However, some faces have become familiar, recurring in the care and attention they give to both my mother and me, although their names are not so familiar due to the habit of addressing everyone by their title, and unless there is more than one present, they do not say specific names. Either that, or they are all named Nu, Zhi, or Jie.

  As I lie there lost in my thoughts, RuNu Lianhua, a young woman of about seventeen, appears. Her presence is always a comfort, although today she is not alone, as she is accompanied by two middle-aged women who look at me with a mixture of curiosity and, I suppose because they know of my condition, with a certain pity.

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  "It's time to get ready, Gongzhu Wen", RuNu Lianhua tells me in her soft but firm voice as she lifts me out of the crib. As she lifts me out of the crib, I notice that one of the other women is holding an incredibly luxurious outfit in her arms.

  As they dress me, I feel the tightness of the layers of clothing, almost too numerous for my small body. I want to protest the discomfort, but I only utter incoherent complaints to maintain my role as a baby. As they dress me, I can't help but notice that they are not wearing normal clothes either, but what appear to be luxurious ceremonial outfits. Today must be a special day.

  Once dressed, RuNu Lianhua carefully lifts me up while saying "You look beautiful, Gongzhu Wen."

  We leave the room and go to the next room where my mother is waiting for us, and her attire surprises me. Accustomed to seeing her in luxurious but practical clothes, she is now dressed for an occasion of great importance, in clothes of the kind I had only seen in period dramas or museums, radiating a majesty I had never witnessed before. Right behind her is the maid I have come to know as Fei Yi Lingxi , as she is always with her. Seeing the quality of the clothes everyone is wearing, the number of maids who have passed through the rooms, and the luxuries that surround me, a suspicion finally begins to form in my mind, interrupted when RuNu Lianhua confirms that everything is ready to leave.

  "Then let's go", my mother replies, her voice laden with an authority that resonates in the air.

  The other two maids who were with us open the door and my mother walks out with her regal bearing alongside Fei Yi Lingxi, followed closely behind by RuNu Lianhua, who carries me carefully in her arms, but not in a normal way, rather in a way that seems ritualized.

  After passing through the door, I see what looks like an army of women in the hallway on the other side, some of whom, to my absolute surprise, are armed as if they were guards. This shocks me, as in Chinese culture, the idea of female soldiers, beyond stories like Mulan, is impossible. This makes me completely reconsider all the concepts I might have assumed about this culture.

  The female guards, twelve of them in total, surround us, forming an escort that I quickly realize is more for honor than protection, and then we continue down the hallway, with all the other maids accompanying us silently behind us.

  The hallway is long, very long, with numerous doors on either side, which makes me wonder how big the house is, when we come out into a courtyard. The courtyard is very, very large. And turning my head as far as the uncomfortable clothes I am wearing allow, I see that it is surrounded by several buildings similar to the one I have just left. What's more, the courtyard is full of people. From what I can see, they are all women and a few children, some dressed in luxurious clothes, others, fewer in number, clearly guards.

  As we cross the courtyard, I see a huge gate that clearly leads outside, where eleven women are waiting, dressed in clothes at least as luxurious as my mother's. As we approach, one of the women steps forward with the clear intention of saying something to her, but is interrupted by my mother.

  "Fei Zhi, they are waiting for us. You don't want to be the one to delay us, do you?" my mother says with a coldness that cuts like steel. But the fact that my mother addressed her as Fei reinforces my opinion that it is a title of consort, and probably all these women must be the other consorts.

  The woman called Fei Zhi seems to bite her tongue and step aside, after which my mother and Fei Yi Lingxi continue through the door, followed by RuNu Lianhua and the escort of guards.

  As we pass through the gate, I see a large street surrounded by a wall, as is common in large building complexes in ancient China. As we continue walking down the street, we see guards every few moments, these ones men, who strike their spears against the ground as we pass, while my suspicions continue to gnaw at me. The walk is long, almost 10 minutes until we reach another gate, which is even more majestic than the previous one.

  In front of the gate are about twenty soldiers, led by a rather burly man in his fifties with a thick beard. My mother stops and the man asks in a tone that clearly indicates that he knows who my mother is and that some kind of ritual compels him to do so:

  "Who wishes to enter the center of the empire?" he asks in a voice that resonates with authority.

  "I am Fei Xiang, and I come at the summons of the Son of Heaven", is my mother's reply, without showing any doubt or fear.

  After uttering these words, the man and the soldiers step aside, forming a guard of honor that we pass through as the large doors open, revealing an enormous building that looks like something out of China's Forbidden Palace. My suspicions, heightened by the previous words, begin to make me want to scream for someone to get me out of there.

  RuNu Lianhua, noticing my growing unease, begins to discreetly cradle me while whispering to calm me down "Calm down, Gongzhu Wen."

  We climb the grand staircase leading into the palace, each step occupied by soldiers in armor even more luxurious than those outside, one at each end of the step. We cross the wide doorway as I notice that everyone stays behind, including the female guards, and enter a huge, luxurious hall filled with men and a few women in luxurious, elaborate costumes.

  My mother and RuNu Lianhua walk forward with me in their arms, and when we reach a certain point in the hall, both my mother and RuNu Lianhua kneel, the latter with some difficulty as she is carrying me.

  As they kneel, I can't help but look toward the front of the hall, where, at the top of a staircase, there is a throne on which sits a man I have no trouble recognizing. And I can't help but confirm my horrible suspicions and scream in my mind:

  "MY FATHER IS THE FUCKING EMPEROR!"