Empress Orchid (26 page)

“I’ll leave you to the headaches, then,” she said, smiling and getting up.

To put her mind more at ease, I told her I had no experience dealing with the court, nor had I any connections.

“That’s something I am sure I can help with,” Nuharoo said. “My birthday is approaching, and I have ordered a banquet to celebrate. I want you to invite anyone you think will be useful to you. Don’t worry. People are dying to make connections with us.”

“Who is there besides Prince Kung that we can trust?”

She thought for a moment and then replied, “How about Yung Lu?”

“Yung Lu?”

“The commander in chief of the Imperial Guards. He works under Su Shun. He is a very capable man. I went to my family reunion for the rice cake festival and his name was on everyone’s lips.”

“Have you met him?”

“No.”

“Will you send him an invitation?”

“I would if I could. The problem is that Yung Lu’s rank is not high enough to entitle him to a place at an Imperial banquet.”

Fragrance of laurel filled the courtyard and the reception hall. Dressed like a blossoming tree, Nuharoo was surprised to learn that Su Shun had sent word at the last minute that he would not be attending. His excuse was that “His Majesty’s ladies are for His Majesty’s eyes only.” Nuharoo was beside herself.

Wearing so many necklaces of hammered gold, precious stones and brocade caused Nuharoo’s neck to lean forward. She was sitting on the throne in the east hall of the Palace of Gathering Essence. She had just completed her second change of dress for the day and now wore a bright
yellow gauzy silk robe embroidered with an array of Imperial symbols.

All eyes were locked on Nuharoo except those of Emperor Hsien Feng, who, although sick to the bone, had made an effort to come. He was dressed in a matching robe to complement Nuharoo. But the symbols on his robe were slightly different. Dragons replaced phoenixes, mountains replaced rivers.

“Happy twenty-second birthday, Your Majesty Empress Nuharoo!” Chief Eunuch Shim sang.

The crowd followed, and toasted Nuharoo’s longevity.

I sipped rice wine and thought about what Nuharoo had said to me about her method of achieving internal harmony: “Lie in the bed others have made, and walk in the shoes others have cobbled.” The sentiment made little sense to me. My life so far was a piece of embroidery with every stitch sewn by my own hands.

The banquet’s courses were endless. As people tired of eating, they moved to the west wing, where Nuharoo was presented with her gifts. She sat like a Buddha receiving worshipers.

Emperor Hsien Feng’s gift was the first presented. It was a giant box wrapped with red silk and tied with yellow ribbons. It was brought into the hall on an ivory table carried by six eunuchs.

Nuharoo’s eyes glowed like those of a curious child.

Beneath six layers of wrapping, the gift revealed itself. Inside the box was a monstrous peach the size of a wok, carved out of wood.

“Why a peach?” Nuharoo asked. “Is it a jest?”

“Open it,” the Emperor urged.

Nuharoo left her seat and walked around the peach.

“Expose the pit,” His Majesty said.

A hush fell over the room.

After Nuharoo made a few rounds of touching, pinching and shaking, the peach fell open, splitting down the middle. At its heart was a creation that was the very essence of beauty, bringing gasps of admiration from the spectators—a pair of wondrous shoes.

If she hadn’t suffered in her childhood, she had suffered long and hard enough as a neglected wife to earn the right to this reward. The Manchu shoes with high heels were in the very best of taste, covered with sparkling gems like the dew on the petals of a spring peony. Nuharoo wept with happiness. During the months when Emperor Hsien Feng and I had lost count of our days, Nuharoo had become a walking ghost. Each night her face must have been the color of moonlight, and she must have chanted Buddhist prayers in order to sleep. Her jealousy
was put to rest now that I had fallen from grace and become the same backyard concubine as she.

I complimented Nuharoo for her beauty and luck, and I asked if the shoes fit. Her reply surprised me. “His Majesty has granted his Chinese women palaces, pensions and servants in his will.”

I looked around, fearing what would happen if His Majesty heard this. But he had fallen asleep.

Nuharoo packed the shoes back into the peach and sent her eunuch to store the box. “Disregarding his own health, His Majesty has no intention of giving up the bound-feet women, and I am upset.”

“Indeed, His Majesty should take care of himself,” I echoed in a small voice. “For the sake of your birthday, Nuharoo, forget about it for a moment.”

“How?” Her tears welled up. “He hides the whores in the Summer Palace. He has spent taels building a water canal around his little ‘town of Soochow.’ Every shop along the river has been furnished and decorated. The teahouses now present the best operas, and the galleries the most famous artists. He has added stalls for artisans and fortunetellers, just like a real town—except there are no customers! His Majesty has even given names to the whores! One is called Spring, another Summer, and then there is Autumn and Winter. ‘Beauties for all seasons,’ he calls them. Lady Yehonala, His Majesty is sick of us Manchu ladies. One of these days he will collapse and die in the middle of his flagrant activities, and the embarrassment will be too great for us to bear.”

I took out my handkerchief and passed it to Nuharoo to wipe her tears. “We cannot take this personally. It is my feeling that His Majesty is not sick of us, but of his responsibility toward his country. Maybe our presence reminds him too much of his obligations. After all, we have been telling him that he is disappointing his ancestors.”

“Do you see any hope that His Majesty will come back to his senses?”

“Good news from the frontier would improve His Majesty’s mood and clear his thoughts,” I said. “In this morning’s court briefs, I read that General Tseng Kuo-fan has launched a campaign to drive the Taiping rebels back to Nanking. Let’s hope he succeeds. His force should be near Wuchang by now.”

She stopped me. “Oh, Yehonala. Don’t put me through this torture. I don’t want to know!”

I sat down on a side chair and took the tea An-te-hai passed to me.

“Well.” Nuharoo composed herself. “I am the Empress, and I need to
know, correct? All right, tell me what you have to say, but keep it simple.”

I patiently tried to give Nuharoo some sense of the matter. Of course she couldn’t help but know a little already—that the Taipings were peasant rebels, that they had adopted Christianity, and that their leader, Hong Hsiu-chuan, claimed he was the younger son of God, the brother of Jesus. But Nuharoo had little knowledge of how successful they had been in battle. Although Hsien Feng would not publicly acknowledge the situation, the Taipings had taken the south, the country’s farming region, and had begun to press northward.

“What do these Taipings want?” Nuharoo blinked her eyes.

“To bring down our dynasty.”

“It is unthinkable!”

“As unthinkable as the treaties the foreigners have forced on us.”

Nuharoo’s expression reminded me of a child who had discovered a rat in her candy box.

“Free trade plus Christianity is how the foreigners would ‘civilize’ us.”

“What an insult!” Nuharoo sneered.

“I couldn’t agree more. The foreigners say they are here to save the souls of the Chinese.”

“But their behavior speaks for itself!”

“Very true. The British have sold nine million pounds’ worth of goods in China this year alone, of which six million was opium.”

“Don’t tell me that our court is doing nothing, Lady Yehonala.”

“Well, as Prince Kung said, China is prostrate and has no choice but to do what it is told.”

Nuharoo covered her ears. “Stop it! There is nothing
I
can do about this.” She grabbed my hands. “Leave these matters to men, please!”

Yung Lu, the commander in chief of the Imperial Guards, was summoned by Nuharoo. She believed that as long as she had someone guarding the gates of the Forbidden City, she was safe. I couldn’t argue with her. A few days earlier Nuharoo had conducted the wedding ceremony of Rong and Prince Ch’un. It was a lengthy event that wore me out. But Nuharoo was full of energy and spirit. During the proceedings, she changed dresses thirteen times, more than the bride.

I followed Nuharoo to a quiet chamber in the west wing where Yung Lu had been waiting. As we entered, I saw a man of strong physique rise from a chair.

“Yung Lu at Your Majesties’ service.” The man’s manner was humble
and his voice firm. He got down on his knees and bowed deeply. He completed the ritual by performing the traditional kowtows, his head knocking on the ground.

“Rise,” Nuharoo said, and gestured for the eunuchs to bring tea.

Yung Lu was in his late twenties and had a pair of scorching eyes and weather-beaten skin. He had sword-like eyebrows and the nose of a bull. His jaw was large and square, and his mouth was the shape of an ingot. His broad shoulders and the way he stood reminded me of an ancient warlord.

Nuharoo began to chat of small things. She commented on the weather, while he asked about His Majesty’s health. When questioned about the Taipings, Yung Lu answered with patience and precision.

I found myself impressed by his manner, which was reserved and honest. I studied his clothes. He was in a three-piece cavalry brigade uniform, a skirt covered by a sleeveless court gown. Held together by toggles and loops, it was padded and encrusted with copper studs. The plain weave indicated his rank.

“May I look at your crossbow?” I asked.

Yung Lu took it off his belt and passed it to Nuharoo, who then held it out to me.

I examined the quiver, which was made of satin, leather, swan’s-down, silver and sapphires, with vulture feathers on the arrows. “And your sword?”

He passed the blade to me.

It was heavy. As I ran my fingertip along the edge, I felt him watching me. My cheeks ran hot. I was ashamed of the way I was paying attention to a man, although I couldn’t name the nature of my sudden interest.

An-te-hai had informed me that Yung Lu had emerged on the political stage of China by his own merits.

I had to restrain my urge to ask Yung Lu questions. I had to be careful what I said, although I intended to impress him.

I wondered if Yung Lu had any idea how rare it was for someone like Nuharoo or me to have this encounter. How precious it was to be able to spend time with someone who lived his life outside the Forbidden City.

“The inner palace is so isolated that we often feel that we exist only as names to the country”—my voice spoke my thoughts involuntarily. I glanced at Nuharoo, who smiled and nodded. Relieved, I went on. “The elaborate lives we lead serve only to confirm to ourselves that we are the possessors of power, that we are who we think we are, that we needn’t be afraid of anything. The truth is, not only are we afraid, but
we also fear that Emperor Hsien Feng is dying of distress. He is the person who is most afraid.”

As if shocked by my revelation, Nuharoo grabbed my hand and pressed her nails into my palm.

But I couldn’t be stopped. “Not a day passes that I don’t fear for my son,” I barged ahead, and then suddenly stopped, deeply embarrassed. I looked down and noticed the magnificent sword in my hand. “I hope that one day Tung Chih will fall in love with a sword this beautiful.”

“Indeed.” Nuharoo seemed glad that I had returned to a proper subject. Joining in, she praised the weapon as a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

I recognized the symbols on the sword’s handle, which were reserved for the Emperor. Surprised, I asked, “Was this a gift from His Majesty?”

“Actually, it was a gift from Emperor Hsien Feng to my superior Su Shun,” Yung Lu replied, “who in turn gave it to me, with the permission of His Majesty.”

“What was the occasion?” Nuharoo and I asked almost at the same time.

“I was fortunate enough to be able to save Su Shun’s life in a fight with bandits in the mountain area of Hupei. This dagger was also my reward.” Yung Lu got down on his left knee and pulled out a dagger from inside his boot. He passed it to me. The handle was made of jade inlaid with stones.

The moment my fingers touched the weapon, I felt a sensation of excitement.

It was noon when Nuharoo said that she had to leave for her Buddha room to chant and count her beads.

To her, what Yung Lu and I were talking about was uninteresting. It amazed me that she found the endless chanting interesting. Once I had asked Nuharoo if she could shed some light on Buddhism, and she said that it was all about “an existence of nonexistence,” or “an opportunity that is not pursued.” When I pressed for more of an explanation, she said that it was impossible. “I can’t describe my relationship with Buddha in an earthly language.” She gave me a steady look, and her tone was full of gentle pity as she said, “Our lives are predestined to attain.”

After Nuharoo left, I resumed talking with Yung Lu. It felt like the beginning of a fascinating journey, which I was enjoying despite my
guilt. He was of Manchu origin and was from the north. As the grandson of a general, he had joined the White Bannermen at the age of fourteen and worked his way up, taking the Imperial academic route as well as advanced military training.

I asked about his relationship with Su Shun.

“The grand councilor was in charge of a case in which I was a plaintiff,” Yung Lu replied. “It was in the eighth year of His Majesty’s rule, and I took the civil service examination.”

“I have read about those examinations,” I said, “but I have never known anyone who has taken them.”

Yung Lu smiled and licked his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Oh, no,” he apologized.

“So, did you win a position through the examination?”

“No, I didn’t,” he answered. “Something strange was going on. People suspected the winner of cheating. He was a rich layabout. Several people blamed it on corruption among the higher-ups. With the support of fellow students, I challenged the court and demanded a recount of the scores. My proposal was rejected, but I didn’t give up. I investigated the case myself. After a month, through an elderly clansman, I presented a detailed report to Emperor Hsien Feng, who forwarded the case to Su Shun.”