Empress Orchid (23 page)

I was dragged out. Suddenly I felt warm fluid dripping from between my legs. I held my belly and cried.

It was then that I heard a long wail from the far end of the hall.

“Still and silence!”

Emperor Hsien Feng lunged between Chief Eunuch Shim and me. He was in his light yellow silk robe. His nostrils flared. His eyes were filled with rage. The breathless An-te-hai stood behind him.

Chief Eunuch Shim went to greet His Majesty, but he received no response.

Nuharoo rose from her chair. “Your Majesty, thank you so much for coming to release me.” She threw herself at the Emperor’s feet. “I can’t bear this anymore. I can’t make myself order Lady Yehonala’s punishment knowing that she is carrying your child.”

Emperor Hsien Feng stood frozen for a moment. He then bent down, both of his arms reaching out. “My Empress,” he called softly. “Rise, please.”

Nuharoo wouldn’t rise. “I am an unfit Empress, and I deserve punishment,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please forgive me for failing to perform my duty.”

“You are the most merciful person I have ever known,” the Emperor responded. “Orchid is very fortunate to have you as a sister.”

I lay on the ground. An-te-hai helped me to sit on my heels. The warm fluid between my legs seemed to have stopped. When Hsien Feng looked to see whether I was truly hurt, I could see him concluding that An-te-hai had exaggerated.

His Majesty told Nuharoo that she had done nothing wrong. He took out his handkerchief and passed it to her. “I didn’t mean to burden you with responsibilities. However, you must understand that the Im
perial household needs a ruler, and it is you. Please, Nuharoo, you have my deepest trust and gratitude.”

Nuharoo rose and bowed to the Emperor. She passed back his handkerchief and took a towel from Chief Eunuch Shim. She patted her cheeks with the towel and said, “I am concerned that the baby has been strained because of this. I will not be able to face our ancestors if there is any damage.” Again she broke into tears. At this, Emperor Hsien Feng offered to accompany her to the Imperial park in the afternoon to help her regain her composure.

It was hard to watch the way His Majesty showed his affection for Nuharoo. And it was harder to spend the night alone knowing that Hsien Feng was with her. The possibilities of what might have happened, and what might happen in the future, scared me more than any nightmare.

I lived in a world of chaos where torture was a routine practice. I began to understand why so many concubines became obsessed with religion. It was either that or complete madness.

I was enduring the worst winter of my life. It was mid-February of 1856. My belly was now the size of a watermelon. Against An-te-hai’s advice, I stepped out onto the frosted ground. I wanted to visit my garden and longed to breathe fresh air. The beauty of the snow-covered pavilions and pagodas brought me a delighted feeling of hope. In only a few months the baby would be born.

I attempted to dig into the soil, but the ground was still hard. An-te-hai brought a large sack of flower bulbs from the past year and said to me, “Plant a wish for the baby, my lady.”

I could tell he had been sleeping soundly, for his cheeks were apple red.

“Of course,” I said.

It took us the whole day to plant the bulbs. I thought about the farmers in the countryside and imagined the families working to break the frozen soil.

“If you are to be a son,” I said, placing a hand on my belly, “and if you ever get to be the Emperor of China, I wish you to be good and deserving.”

“
A-ko!
” The moment I heard An-te-hai’s cry, my mind turned into a spring garden where flowers bloomed all at once. Although exhausted, I was in rapture. Before Hsien Feng arrived, Nuharoo and all His Maj-
esty’s other wives and concubines made their way to my palace. “Where is our newborn son?”

Everybody congratulated Nuharoo. When she picked up the baby from my arms and proudly showed him to the others, my fear returned. I kept thinking:
Now that they have lost the chance to kill my son in my belly, will they kill him in his cradle? Will they poison his mind by spoiling him?
One thing I was sure of was that they would never let go of the idea of getting even with me.

I was granted a new title by Emperor Hsien Feng, the Auspicious Mother. Gifts and cases of taels were sent to honor my family. Still, my mother and my sister were not permitted to visit me. My husband didn’t come either. My “filthiness” was believed to be capable of bringing disease to His Majesty.

I was served ten meals a day, but I had no appetite and most of the food was wasted. I was left alone to drift in and out of sleep. In my dreams I chased people who came in disguise to harm my son.

A few days later, the Emperor visited me. He didn’t look well. The robe he wore made him look thinner and frailer than before. He was concerned about the size of his son. Why was he so small, and why did he sleep all the time?

“Who knows?” I teased. How could the Son of Heaven be so innocent?

“I went to the park yesterday.” His Majesty passed the baby to a maid and sat down beside me. His eyes wandered from my eyes to my mouth. “I saw a dead tree,” he said in a whisper. “On top of its crown grew human hair. It was very long and draped down like a black waterfall.”

I stared at him.

“Is it a good sign or a bad sign, Orchid?”

Before I could answer, he went on. “That’s why I came to see you. If there is a dead tree on the grounds of your palace, have it removed immediately, Orchid. Will you promise me?”

His Majesty and I spent some time in the courtyard looking for dead trees. There was not one, and we ended up watching the sunset together. I was so happy I wept. His Majesty told me that he had learned from the gardener that the hair he saw in the park was a rare kind of lichen that grew on dead trees.

I didn’t want to talk about dead trees, so I asked about his days and his audiences. He had little to say, so we walked quietly for a while. He rocked the baby to sleep. It was the sweetest moment in my life. Em-
peror Hsien Feng didn’t stay the night, and I dared not beg him to.

I told myself that I should be glad that my delivery had gone smoothly. I could have died under Chief Eunuch Shim’s whip, or a hundred different ways. The Imperial concubines had lost, and I regained His Majesty’s attention because of the newborn.

The next day Hsien Feng came again. He lingered after holding the baby. I made it a rule not to ask him any questions. He began to visit me regularly, always in the afternoon. Gradually we started to talk again. We chatted about our son, and he described the goings-on at court. He complained about how long everything took and the impotence of his ministers.

I listened most of the time. Hsien Feng seemed to enjoy our discussions and started to arrive earlier in the day. We were never intimate, but we were close.

I tried to be content with what I had. But part of me wanted more. After His Majesty had gone for the night, I couldn’t help imagining him with his Chinese women—surely they performed better tricks than my fan dance. I became miserable trying to understand why he was no longer attracted to me. Was it the change in my body shape? My red eyes? My milk-enlarged breasts? Why did he avoid coming near my bed?

An-te-hai tried to convince me that His Majesty’s lack of interest had nothing to do with me. “He isn’t in the habit of returning to women he has slept with. It doesn’t matter how much he praised their beauty or how satisfied he was in bed.”

The good news for me was that I had heard no report of any other pregnancy.

From Prince Kung’s letters I learned that Emperor Hsien Feng had been avoiding audiences since he had signed a new treaty with the foreigners, which acknowledged China’s defeat. Ashamed and humiliated, His Majesty spent his days alone in the Imperial gardens. At night, bodily pleasures had become his escape.

Sick as he was, he demanded round-the-clock entertainment. An-te-hai found out the details from a new friend, His Majesty’s chamber attendant, a eunuch named Chow Tee, a boy from An-te-hai’s hometown.

“His Majesty is drunk most of the time, and he is unable to perform his manhood,” An-te-hai told me. “He enjoys watching his women and orders them to touch themselves while dancing. The parties last all night while His Majesty sleeps.”

I recalled our last visit together. Hsien Feng couldn’t stop talking about his fall. “I have no doubt that I will be shredded into ten thousand pieces by my ancestors when I meet them.” He laughed nervously and coughed. His chest sounded like a wind box. “Doctor Sun Pao-tien has prescribed opium for my pain,” he said. “I don’t really mind dying, because I look forward to being released from my troubles.”

It was no longer a secret to the nation that the Emperor’s health had once again begun to decline. His pale face and empty eyes concerned everyone. Since we had moved back to the Forbidden City, the court’s ministers were ordered to report their state matters to him in his bedroom.

It broke my heart to see Hsien Feng giving up hope. Before he left my palace he said, “I am sorry.” Raising his face from his son’s cradle, he smiled sadly at me. “It is not up to me anymore.”

I looked at my child’s father putting on his dragon robe. He had no strength even to lift his sleeves. It took him three long breaths to get into his shoes.

I must ask him before it is too late to grant me the right to raise our son!
The thought came to me while I held the baby and watched Hsien Feng enter his palanquin. I had mentioned my wish before, but there had been no response. According to An-te-hai, the Emperor would never hurt Nuharoo by taking away her right to be the first mother.

My son, who was born on May 1, 1856, was officially named Tung Chih.
Tung
also stood for “togetherness,” and
Chih
for “ruling”—that is, ruling together. If I had been superstitious, I would have seen that the name was a prediction itself.

The celebration started the day after his birth and lasted an entire month. Overnight the Forbidden City was turned into a festival. Red lanterns hung from all the trees. Everyone was dressed in red and green. Five opera troupes were invited to the palace to perform. Drums and music filled the air. The shows went on day and night. Drunkenness was rampant among men and women of all ages. The most asked question was “Where is the chamber pot?”

Unfortunately, all the gaiety didn’t stop bad news. No matter how many symbols of good luck and victory we wore, we were losing to the barbarians at the negotiating tables. Minister Chi Ying and Grand Secretary Kuei Liang, Prince Kung’s father-in-law, were sent to represent China. They came back with another humiliating treaty: thirteen nations, including England, France, Japan and Russia, had formed an al-
liance against China. They insisted that we open more ports for opium and trade.

I sent a messenger to Prince Kung inviting him to meet his newborn nephew, but secretly I hoped he would also be able to persuade Hsien Feng to attend his audiences.

Prince Kung came immediately, and he looked agitated. I offered him fresh cherries and Lung Ching tea from Hangchow. He drank the tea in gulps as if it was plain water. I felt that I had chosen a bad time for the visit. But the moment Prince Kung saw Tung Chih, he picked the little thing up. The child smiled, and his uncle was completely taken. I knew Kung meant to stay longer, but a messenger came with a document for his signature, and he had to put Tung Chih down.

I sipped my tea as I rocked the cradle. After the messenger was gone, Prince Kung looked tired. I asked if it was the new treaty that weighed on him.

He nodded and smiled. “I don’t feel twenty-three, that’s for sure.”

I asked if he could tell me a bit about the treaty. “Is it really as awful as I hear?”

“You don’t want to know” was his reply.

“I already have some ideas about it,” I ventured to say. “I have been helping His Majesty with court documents.”

Prince Kung raised his eyes and looked at me.

“Sorry to surprise you,” I said.

“Not really,” he said. “I only wish that His Majesty would take a greater interest.”

“Why don’t you talk to him again?”

“His ears are stuffed with cotton balls.” He sighed. “I can’t shake him.”

“I might be able to influence His Majesty if you could inform me a bit,” I said. “After all, I need to learn for the sake of Tung Chih.”

The words seemed to make sense to Prince Kung, and he started talking. I was shocked to learn that the treaty allowed foreigners to open consulates in Peking.

“Each country has selected its own site, not far from the Forbidden City,” he said. “The treaty allows foreign merchant ships to travel along the Chinese coast, and missionaries are given the government’s protection.”

Tung Chih cried in my arms. He probably needed changing. I gently rocked him and he became quiet.

“Also, we are expected to agree to hire foreign inspectors to run our
customs, and worst of all”—Prince Kung paused, then continued—“we are given no choice but to legalize opium.”

“His Majesty will not allow it,” I said, imagining Prince Kung coming for his brother’s signature.

“I wish it were up to him. The reality is that the foreign merchants are backed by the military powers of their countries.”

We sat staring out the window.

Tung Chih began to cry again. His voice was neither loud nor strong. It was like a kitten’s. A maid came to change him. Afterward I rocked him to sleep.

I thought about Hsien Feng’s health and the possibility that my son might grow up without a father.

“This is what a five-thousand-year-old civilization comes down to.” Prince Kung sighed as he rose from his seat.

“I haven’t seen His Majesty myself for a while,” I said, putting Tung Chih back in his cradle. “Has he been in touch with you?”

“He doesn’t want to see me. When he does, he calls me and my ministers a bunch of idiots. He threatens to behead Chi Ying and my father-in-law. He suspects them of being traitors. Before Chi Ying and Kuei Liang went to negotiate with the barbarians, they held farewell ceremonies with their families. They expected to be beheaded because they saw little hope that His Majesty would have his way. Our families drank and sang poems to send them off. My wife has been distraught. She blames me for involving her father. She threatens to hang herself if anything should happen to him.”