Empress Orchid (25 page)

With a hundred pairs of eyes watching, Tung Chih had his first bath. He was getting more and more disturbed.

“Look, there is a dark spot under Tung Chih’s right armpit!” Nuharoo got up from her chair and ran to me. She had changed into her second gown for the occasion. “Is it an unlucky sign?”

“It’s a birthmark,” I told her. “I consulted Doctor Sun Pao-tien and he told me not to worry.”

“I wouldn’t trust Sun Pao-tien,” Nuharoo said. “I have never seen this kind of birthmark—it’s too big and too dark. I must consult my
astrologer right away.” Turning to the tub, she admonished the maids, “Don’t try to stop Tung Chih from crying. Let him! He is supposed to feel uncomfortable. This is what the ceremony is about. The louder he cries, the better the chance he will grow up to be strong.”

I forced myself to walk away so I wouldn’t punch Nuharoo in the chest.

The wind blew. Pink petals rained from the trees. A couple of them landed in the tub. The maids picked up the petals and showed them to Tung Chih in an effort to quiet him. This picture of bathing under the magnolia tree would have been lovely if the baby were not in torment. I had no idea how long Tung Chih would have to sit in the water. I looked up at the sun and prayed that it would stay out.

“Clothing!” Chief Eunuch Shim sang stylishly. The maids quickly dried and dressed Tung Chih, who was so exhausted that he fell asleep in the middle of their handling. He looked like a rag doll. Yet the ceremony was far from completed. After the tub was emptied, the sleeping Tung Chih was put back in it. Several lamas dressed in sun-colored robes sat down in a circle around the baby and began chanting.

“Gifts!” Chief Eunuch Shim shouted.

With Emperor Hsien Feng leading, the guests came forward to offer tribute.

As each box of gifts was opened, Shim announced the contents. “From His Majesty, four gold ingots and two pieces of silver!”

Eunuchs removed the wrapping, revealing a carved box of red lacquer.

Chief Eunuch Shim moved on. “From Her Majesty Empress Nuharoo, eight pieces of gold and a silver ingot, eight good-luck
ruyi,
four pieces of gold and silver money, four cotton winter blankets, four cotton covers and sheets, four winter jackets, four winter pants, four pairs of socks and two pillows!”

The rest of the guests presented their gifts according to rank and generation. The tributes were more or less the same except in amount and quality. No one was supposed to top the first couple, and no one actually used the gifts. Everything was packed up and sent to the Imperial storehouses in the name of Tung Chih.

The next day, I got up before dawn in order to spend time with my son. Then the ritual of
Shih-san
went on. Tung Chih again was soaked in the tub.

He had been sitting in the water for one hour and fifteen minutes. The sun was shining, but the May air was chilly. My son could easily catch a cold. Nobody seemed to care. After Tung Chih sneezed a couple of times, I told An-te-hai to bring out a tent to protect him from the breeze. But Nuharoo rejected the idea. She said that the tent would block Tung Chih’s luck. “The purpose of the bath is to expose Tung Chih to the magical powers of the universe.”

I refused to give in to her this time. “The tent will stay,” I insisted.

Nuharoo didn’t say anything. But when I went to use the chamber pot, the tent was removed. I knew I was crazy to think that Nuharoo’s intention was to drive my son to illness. But I couldn’t help dwelling on the idea.

Nuharoo said that we were not entitled to alter tradition. “From emperor to emperor, every heir has bathed in the same way.”

“But our ancestors were different people,” I argued. “They lived on horseback and went around half naked.” I reminded Nuharoo that Tung Chih’s father was a man of poor health and Tung Chih was underweight at birth.

Nuharoo was silenced but didn’t surrender.

Tung Chih started to sneeze.

No longer able to control myself, I went to the tub and pushed the maids away. I grabbed Tung Chih and ran inside.

The ceremonies and festivities went on and on. In the middle of it all a gardener discovered a fetish doll buried in my garden. On the doll’s chest were two black characters spelling out “Tung Chih.”

Emperor Hsien Feng summoned the wives and concubines—he wanted to solve the crime personally. I dressed and went to Lady Yun’s palace. I didn’t know why we had to meet there. I ran into Nuharoo on the way. She had come from another palace and had no idea what was going on either.

As we approached the palace we heard sounds of sobbing. We hurried into the hall and found an angry Emperor. Hsien Feng was in his sleeping gown, and next to him stood two eunuchs, each holding a whip. On the floor knelt numerous eunuchs and servants. Among them, in the first row, was Lady Yun. She was in a pink silk gown and had been the one sobbing.

“Quit crying,” Emperor Hsien Feng said. “As a noble lady, how could you lower yourself to this?”

“I didn’t do it, Your Majesty!” Lady Yun threw her head back to face
him. “I was overjoyed by the birth of Tung Chih. I couldn’t celebrate enough. I will not close my eyes if I am hanged because of this!”

“Everyone in the Forbidden City recognizes your handwriting.” The Emperor raised his voice. “How could everyone be wrong?”

“My calligraphy is not a secret,” Lady Yun protested. “I am known for my art. It would be very easy for anyone to copy my style.”

“But one of your maids caught you making the doll.”

“It must be Dee. She made this up because she hates me.”

“Why does Dee hate you?”

Lady Yun turned around. Her eyes spotted Nuharoo. “Dee was given to me by Her Majesty Empress Nuharoo as a gift. I never wanted her. I punished her several times because she sniffed around—”

“Dee is only thirteen years old,” Nuharoo interrupted. “Accusing an innocent in order to cover your crime is shameful.” She turned to me as if for support. “Dee is known for her sweetness, isn’t she?”

Unprepared to respond, I lowered my head.

Nuharoo turned to Hsien Feng. “Your Majesty, may I have your permission to perform my duty?”

“Yes, my Empress.”

At this Lady Yun screamed, “All right, I will confess! I know exactly who set this up. It is an evil fox in a human’s skin. She was sent by the demon to destroy the Ch’ing Dynasty. But there is more than one fox in the Forbidden City. The evil fox has called in her pack. You,” she pointed at Nuharoo, “are one of them. And you,” she pointed at me, “too. Your Majesty, it is time to reward me with the white silk rope so that I will have the honor of hanging myself.”

This caused a brief commotion in the hall. The noise settled when Lady Yun spoke again.

“I want to die. My life has been hell. I have given you a princess,” she pointed at Emperor Hsien Feng, “and you treat her like a piece of rubbish. As soon as she turns thirteen, you will give her away. You will marry her off to a savage from the borderlands in order to make peace. You will sell your own daughter …”

Lady Yun broke down. Her two dimples were making a strange grin. “Don’t think I am deaf. I have been hearing you and your ministers talk about this. I have not been allowed to speak about my misery. But today, like it or not, you will hear all that I have to say. Of course I am jealous of the way Tung Chih is treated. Of course I cry for my daughter Jung’s misfortune, and I question Heaven why I was denied a son … Let me ask you, Hsien Feng, do you know when your daughter’s birthday
is? Do you know how old she is? How long has it been since you last visited her? I bet you have no answers for any of my questions. Your heart has been chewed up by the foxes!”

Nuharoo took out her handkerchief and began to pat her face. “I am afraid that Lady Yun is leaving His Majesty with no choice.”

“Finish the business for me, Nuharoo.” Emperor Hsien Feng stood and walked out of the hall in his bare feet.

Lady Yun hanged herself that night. The news was brought to me by An-te-hai the next morning while I was having breakfast. My stomach turned upside down. For the rest of the day I could see Lady Yun’s face behind every door and in every window. I asked An-te-hai to stay nearby while I checked and rechecked Tung Chih’s cradle. I wondered about Lady Yun’s daughter, Princess Jung. I wished I could invite the girl to stay with me for a while and spend time with her half-brother. An-te-hai said that the toddler had been told that her mother had gone on a long journey. The eunuchs and servants were ordered to keep Lady Yun’s death a secret. The girl would find out about it in the cruelest way: she would learn of the death from gossip, from Lady Yun’s rivals, who wished to see the girl suffer.

Nuharoo came unannounced at midnight. Her eunuchs knocked on my gate so hard that they almost broke it down. Nuharoo threw herself on me when I greeted her. She looked ill and her voice choked. “She is after me!”

“Who is after you?” I asked.

“Lady Yun!”

“Wake up, Nuharoo. It must have been a nightmare.”

“She was standing by my bed in a greenish transparent dress,” Nuharoo sobbed. “There was blood all over her chest. Her neck was cut from the front, as if with an ax, and her head was hanging on her back, connected to her neck by only a thin piece of skin. I couldn’t see her face, but heard her voice. She said, ‘I was supposed to be hanged, not beheaded.’ She said that she was sent by the judge of the underworld to find a substitute. In order to come back for her next life, she had to make the substitute die the same way she did.”

I comforted Nuharoo, but was scared myself. She returned to her palace and devoured every ghost book she owned. A few days later she visited me and said that she had discovered something that I’d better know.

“The worst punishment for a female ghost is being dumped in the
‘Pool of Filthy Blood.’” Nuharoo showed me a book with lurid illustrations of the “Department of Scourging” at work in the underworld. Severed heads with long hair floated in a dark red pool—they looked like dumplings in boiling water.

“See this? This is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Nuharoo said. “The blood in the pool comes from the filth of all women. Also in the pool are poisonous snakes and scorpions that feed on the newly dead. They are the transformations of those who committed wrongdoings in their lives.”

“What if I commit no serious wrongdoing during my lifetime?” I asked.

“Orchid, the judgment of the underworld is for all women. That is why we need religion. Buddhism helps us repent the crimes we commit simply by being women and living a material life. We need to forgo all earthly pleasure and pray for Heaven’s forgiveness. We must do everything we can to accumulate virtue. Only then may we have a chance of escaping the Pool of Filthy Blood.”

ON HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY my son would be presented with a tray filled with a variety of items. He was expected to pick one that would give the Imperial family a clue to his future character. This was called
Chua-tsui-p’an,
Catch the Future in a Pan. Important court members were invited to observe.

Tung Chih’s eunuchs had been busy all week in preparation for the event. The walls, columns, doors and window frames of my palace were freshly painted in vermilion. The beams and bracket sets were accented with blue, green and gold. Against the bright northern sky, the yellow tile roof glistened like a gigantic golden crown. The white marble terraces vibrated with their exuberant carvings.

The ceremony opened in the Hall of Bodily Mercy, in the east corner of the palace, where an altar had been set up. Above the altar was a broadside explaining the ritual. In the center of the hall sat a large square redwood table. On top of the table stood a tray the size of a mature lotus leaf, larger than a child’s tub. On the tray lay symbolic items: an Imperial seal, a book of Confucius’s
On Autumn and Spring,
a brush pen made of goat hair, a gold ingot, a silver ingot, a riddle, a decorative sword, a miniature liquor bottle, a golden key, ivory dice, a silver cigarette box, a musical clock, a leather whip, a blue ceramic bowl painted with landscapes, an antique fan with a poem written by a famous Ming poet, a green jade hairpin crafted with butterflies, an earring in the shape of a pagoda and a pink peony.

My son had been taken from me in the morning. This was to assure
that he would act of his own free will. For the past few weeks I had tried hard to guide him to the “right choices.” I showed him a map of China, colorful landscape paintings, and of course the object he was supposed to pick, the Imperial seal—a fake one for the practice runs of course. An-te-hai had made it from a block of wood. I stamped the “seal” on different boards to attract Tung Chih’s attention. But he was more interested in the pins in my hair.

The guests sat quietly in the hall and waited for Tung Chih to perform. In front of hundreds of people, I got down on my knees by the altar and lit incense.

Emperor Hsien Feng and Nuharoo sat in the center chairs. We prayed as the incense smoke began to fill the room. Tea and nuts were served. When the sun hit the beams of the hall, Tung Chih was carried in by two eunuchs. He was dressed in a golden robe embroidered with dragons. He looked around with big eyes. The eunuchs placed him on the table. He bounced up and down and was unable to sit still. The eunuchs somehow got him to bow to his father, his mothers and the portraits of his ancestors.

I felt terribly weak and alone, and wished that my mother or Rong were here. This ritual hadn’t been taken seriously in the past, when people had come simply to coo and giggle over a baby. But these days astrologers ruled—the Manchu royals were no longer sure of themselves. Everything was up to “Heaven’s will.”

What if Tung Chih picked up a flower or a hairpin instead of the Imperial seal? Would people say that my son was going to be a dandy? What about the clock? Wouldn’t he be drawn to its tinkly sound?

Tung Chih’s bib was wet from drool. When the eunuchs let him go free, he crawled toward the tray. He was so bundled up that his movements were clumsy. Leaning forward, everyone watched with anxiety. I sensed Nuharoo’s glance in my direction and tried to appear confident. I had caught a cold the night before and my head ached. I had been drinking glass after glass of water to calm myself down.

Tung Chih stopped crawling and reached out to the tray. It felt like I was the one on the table. Suddenly I desperately needed to go to the chamber pot.

I hurried out of the hall and brushed aside the maids before they could follow me. Sitting on the chamber pot, I took several deep breaths. The pain on the right side of my head had spread to the left side. I got off the pot and rinsed my hands and face with cold water. When I reentered the hall, I saw Tung Chih chewing on his bib.

The crowd was still patiently waiting. Their expectations devastated
me.
It was wrong to make an infant bear China’s burden!
But I knew that my son would be taken from me for good if I dared to utter such a sentence.

Tung Chih was about to slide off the table. The eunuchs picked him up and turned him around. A scene came to my mind: hunters had released a deer, only to kill it with their arrows. The message seemed to be: if the deer was not strong enough to escape, it deserved to die.

Emperor Hsien Feng had promised that I would be rewarded if Tung Chih delivered a “good performance.” How could I possibly direct him?

The more I read of the broadside above the altar, the more fearful I became.

Tung Chih “studied” every article but picked up none. The hall was so quiet that I could hear the sound of water running through the garden. My sweat oozed and my collar felt tight.

Tung Chih stuck a finger in his mouth.
He must be hungry!
The chance that he would pick up the stone seal was fading.

He resumed his crawling. This time he appeared somehow motivated. The eunuchs put up their hands around the edges of the table to prevent Tung Chih from falling.

Emperor Hsien Feng leaned over in his dragon chair. He held his head with both hands as if it was too heavy, shifting the weight from one elbow to another.

Tung Chih stopped. He fixed his eyes on the pink peony. He smiled, and his hand traveled from his mouth to the flower.

I closed my eyes. I heard Emperor Hsien Feng sigh.

Disappointment? Bitterness?

Tung Chih had turned away from the flower when I reopened my eyes.

Was he remembering the moment I punished him when he picked up the flower? I had spanked him, crying myself. I had put my fingerprints on his little behind and hated myself for it.

My son raised his tiny chin. What was he looking for? Me? Forget-
ting my manners, I weaved through the crowd and stopped in front of him. I smiled and used my eyes to draw a line from his nose to the Imperial seal.

The little one acted. In one determined motion, he grabbed the seal.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty!” the crowd cheered.

Crying joyfully, An-te-hai ran to the courtyard.

Rockets shot into the sky. A hundred thousand paper flowers popped open in the air.

Emperor Hsien Feng jumped up from his seat and announced, “According to the historical record, since the beginning of the Ch’ing Dynasty in 1644, only two princes grabbed the Imperial seal. They turned out to be China’s most successful emperors, Kang Hsi and Chien Lung. My son, Tung Chih, is likely to be the next one!”

The day after the ceremony, I knelt before a temple altar. Although I was exhausted, I felt that I must not neglect the gods who had helped me. I made offerings to show my gratitude. An-te-hai brought in a live fish on a golden plate. It had been caught in the lake and was tied with a red ribbon. In a rush I poured wine on the cobblestones because the fish had to be returned to the lake alive.

An-te-hai carefully placed the plate with the fish into a palanquin as if it were a person. At the lake I let go of the fish, and it leaped into the water.

To secure my son’s future and increase blessings from all of the gods, An-te-hai bought ten cages of precious birds for me to release. I granted the birds mercy on Tung Chih’s behalf.

Good news greeted me upon my return to the palace. Rong and Prince Ch’un were engaged. My mother was thrilled.

According to Emperor Hsien Feng, his brother had little talent or ambition. In his own introduction to Rong, Prince Ch’un had described himself as a “worshiper of Confucius’s teachings,” meaning that he pursued the life of a free mind. While he enjoyed the benefits that came with his royal position, he believed that “too much water makes a cup spill,” and “too many ornaments make a headdress look cheap.”

None of us realized that Prince Ch’un’s rhetoric was an umbrella covering flaws in his character. I would soon discover that Ch’un’s “modesty” and “self-imposed spiritual exile” came from his laziness.

I again warned Rong to expect no fantasy from an Imperial marriage. “Look at me,” I said. “His Majesty’s health has declined to the point of no return, and I have been preparing myself for the Imperial widowhood.”

I was not alone in my concern for the Emperor’s health. Nuharoo shared the same feeling. On her last visit we had come together on friendly terms for the first time. The fear of losing Hsien Feng bound us. She had begun to accept the fact that I had become her equal. Her sense of superiority had softened, and she began to use “would you” instead of “this is Her Majesty’s thinking.” We both knew from history what could happen to an emperor’s wives and concubines after his death. We both realized that we had only each other to depend on.

I had my own reasons for wanting Nuharoo as an ally. I sensed that my son’s fate would be in the hands of such ambitious court ministers as Grand Councilor Su Shun. He seemed to have the Emperor’s complete trust. It was public knowledge that even Prince Kung feared Su Shun.

Su Shun had been running the state’s affairs and conducting audiences in the name of Hsien Feng during His Majesty’s illness. More and more, he acted with total independence. Su Shun’s power worried me, for I thought him manipulative and cunning. When he visited Emperor Hsien Feng, he rarely discussed state matters. In the name of caring for His Majesty’s health, he isolated Hsien Feng and strengthened his own position. According to Prince Ch’un, Su Shun had been carefully constructing his own political base for years through the appointment of friends and associates to important positions.

I convinced Nuharoo that we must insist on having important documents sent to Emperor Hsien Feng. His Majesty might be too ill to review the documents, but we might help him stay informed. At least we would not be kept in the dark and could make sure that Su Shun was not abusing his power.

Nuharoo didn’t want to bother. “A wise lady ought to spend her life appreciating the beauty of nature, preserving her yin element and pursuing her longevity.”

But my instinct told me that if we refused to take part in the government, we could lose whatever control we had.

Nuharoo agreed that I had a point, but didn’t fully embrace my plan. Nonetheless, I spoke to His Majesty that evening, and the next day a decree was issued: all documents were to be sent to Emperor Hsien Feng’s office first.

It didn’t surprise me that Su Shun ignored the decree. He ordered the messengers who carried the documents to “follow the original route.” Again his excuse was the Emperor’s health. My suspicion and distrust deepened.

“I feel myself aging over your struggle to control Su Shun’s ambi-
tion,” Nuharoo said. She asked me to spare her the exertion. “Do whatever you want with Su Shun as long as you respect the fact that ‘the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,’” she said, referring to the two of us.

It amazed me that Nuharoo would think of this as important. I gave her my word.

Immediately she relaxed. “Why don’t you take charge and update me once in a while?” she said. “I hate to sit in the same room with men whose breath stinks.”

At first I suspected that Nuharoo was testing my loyalty. But in time she made me realize that I was doing her a favor. She was the kind who would lose sleep over the smallest flaw in her embroidery, but not if we lost an important term in a treaty.

The sunlight on Nuharoo’s bone-thin shoulders carved a beautiful contour. She never failed to prepare herself for His Majesty’s possible appearance. Her makeup must have taken half a day to complete. Black paste made of scented flower petals was used to accent her eyelashes. Her eyes looked like two deep wells. She painted her lips a different color every day. Today was pink with a touch of vermilion. Yesterday had been rose, and the day before purple. She expected to be complimented, and I learned that it was important to our relationship that I do so.

“I’d hate to see you age, Yehonala.” Nuharoo held up all of her fingers. The two-inch-long nails were painted gold and silver with delicate details from nature. “Take my advice and have your chef prepare
tang kuei
soup daily. Put dry silkworm and black dates in it. The taste will be awful, but you’ll get used to it.”

“We need to talk about Su Shun and his cabinet, Nuharoo,” I said. “I get nervous about things I don’t know.”

“Oh, you will never know it all. It’s a hundred-year-old mess.” She blocked my eyes with her “finger spears.” “I’ll send my nail lady to your palace if you don’t get it done yourself.”

“I am not used to long nails,” I said. “They break too easily.”

“Am I the head of the Imperial household?” She frowned.

I sealed my lips, reminding myself of the importance of keeping harmony between us.

“Long nails are symbols of nobility, Lady Yehonala.”

I nodded, although my mind had gone back to Su Shun.

Nuharoo’s smile returned. “Like a Chinese lady who binds her feet, who doesn’t live to do labor but to be carried around in palanquins. The longer our nails, the further we depart from the ordinary. Please
stop bragging about working in the garden with your hands. You embarrass not only yourself but also the Imperial family.”

I kept nodding, pretending to appreciate her advice.

“Avoid tangerine.” She leaned so close that I smelled jasmine on her breath. “Too many hot elements will give you pimples. I’ll have my eunuch send you a bowl of turtle soup to put out the fire inside you. Do honor me by accepting.”

I was sure that she felt she had achieved her goal when the Emperor stopped sharing my bed. She now had an even better reason to feel safe with me: Hsien Feng was never going to get up and walk back into my bedroom.