Empress Orchid (27 page)

“That’s right,” I said, remembering learning about the case.

“It didn’t take Su Shun long to find out the truth,” Yung Lu said. “However, the case was not an easy one to solve.”

“Why?”

“It involved one of His Majesty’s close relatives.”

“Did Su Shun persuade His Majesty to take proper measures?”

“Yes, and as a result the leader of the Imperial Academy was beheaded.”

“Su Shun’s power rests in his flexible tongue,” Nuharoo interrupted us. She had returned quietly, and sat holding her prayer beads. Her eyes were closed when she spoke. “Su Shun can talk a dead person into singing.”

Yung Lu cleared his throat, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“What did Su Shun say to Emperor Hsien Feng then?” I asked.

“He gave His Majesty an example of a riot that toppled the empire during the fourteenth year of Emperor Shun Chih in 1657,” Yung Lu replied. “It was organized by a group of students who were treated unfairly by the civil service exam.”

I took up my tea and sipped. “And how did you end up working for Su Shun?”

“I was thrown in jail for being a troublemaker.”

“And Su Shun rescued you?”

“Yes, he was the one who ordered my release.”

“And he recruited you and has been promoting you?”

“Yes, from lieutenant to commander in chief of the Imperial Guards.”

“In how many years?”

“Five years, Your Majesty.”

“Impressive.”

“I am terribly grateful and I will always owe the grand councilor my loyalty.”

“You should,” I said. “But keep in mind that it was Emperor Hsien Feng who allowed Su Shun his power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I thought for a moment and decided to reveal a bit of information An-te-hai had discovered, which was that the leader of the Imperial Academy was Su Shun’s enemy.

Yung Lu was surprised. I expected a response, a question, but none came.

“Su Shun cleverly accomplished an end to a personal grudge,” I added. “He eliminated his rival through the hand of Emperor Hsien Feng, and did so in the name of doing
you
justice.”

Yung Lu remained quiet. Seeing that I was waiting, he said, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I am at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” I put down my tea. “I was just wondering if you knew.”

“Yes, in fact … a little.” He lowered his eyes.

“Doesn’t such cleverness say something about Su Shun the man?”

Not daring to reveal himself too freely or doubt my motivation, Yung Lu raised his eyes to examine me. In this look I saw a true Bannerman.

I turned to Nuharoo. The beads sat still on her lap, and her fingers had stopped moving. I did not know whether she was engaged with the spirit of Buddha or had dozed off.

I sighed. The Emperor was too weak, Su Shun was too cunning, and Prince Kung was too far away, while we needed a man close by.

“Time will test Su Shun,” I said. “What we are concerned with here is your loyalty. Who will have it, Su Shun or His Majesty Emperor Hsien Feng?”

Yung Lu threw himself on the ground and kowtowed. “Of course His Majesty. He will have my everlasting devotion—there is no question about that in my mind.”

“And us? His Majesty’s wives and child?”

Yung Lu straightened his back. Our eyes met. As when ink wash hits rice paper, the moment created a permanent picture in my memory. Somehow he was betrayed by his expression, which told me that he was, in that instant, judging, weighing, evaluating. I sensed that he wanted to know if I was worthy of his commitment.

Holding his look, I answered him in silence that I would do the same for him in exchange for his honesty and friendship. I wouldn’t have done it if I had had any warning of what was to happen. I was too confident that I had control over my own will and emotions, and that I would be nothing less than Emperor Hsien Feng’s faithful concubine.

In retrospect, I was denying a truth. I refused to admit that I desired more than bodily protection from Yung Lu the moment we met. My soul craved to stir and be stirred. When I touched the edge of his sword, my “right mind” fled.

The eunuch returned with fresh tea. Yung Lu poured the mug down his throat as if he had just walked the desert. But it was not enough to overcome his nervousness. His look reminded me of a man who had just made up his mind to jump off a cliff. His eyes widened and his uneasiness grew thick. When he raised his eyes again, I realized that we were both descendants of the Manchus’ toughest Bannermen. We were capable of surviving battles, external as well as internal. We were meant to survive because of our minds’ ability to reason, our ability to live with frustration in order to maintain our virtue. We wore smiling masks while dying inside.

I was doomed when I realized that my talent was not to rule but to feel. Such a talent enriched my life, but at the same time destroyed every moment of peace I had gained. I felt helpless toward what was being done to me. I was the fish on the golden plate, tied with the red ribbon. Yet no one would bring me back to the lake where I belonged.

Trying to keep up appearances exhausted me.

Yung Lu sensed it. The color of his face changed. It reminded me of the city’s rose-colored walls.

“The audience is over,” I said weakly.

Yung Lu bowed, turned and marched out.

IN MAY OF 1858, Prince Kung brought the news that our soldiers had been bombarded while still in their barracks. The French and English forces had assaulted the four Taku forts at the mouth of the Peiho. Horrified at the collapse of our sea defenses, Emperor Hsien Feng declared martial law. He sent Kuei Liang, Prince Kung’s father-in-law, now the grand secretary and the court’s highest-ranking Manchu official, to negotiate peace.

By the next morning Kuei Liang was seeking an emergency audience. He had rushed back the night before from the city of Tientsin. The Emperor was again ill, and he sent Nuharoo and me to sit in for him. His Majesty promised that as soon as he gathered enough strength he would join us.

When Nuharoo and I entered the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing, the court was already waiting. More than three hundred ministers and officials were present. Nuharoo and I were dressed in golden court robes. We settled in our seats, shoulder to shoulder, behind the throne.

Minutes later Emperor Hsien Feng arrived. He dragged himself onto the platform and landed breathlessly on the throne. He looked so frail that a breeze might have caused him to fall. His robe was loosely buttoned. He hadn’t shaved, and his beard had sprouted like weeds.

Kuei Liang was summoned to come forward. His appearance shocked me. His usual placid and benevolent expression was replaced by extreme nervousness. He seemed to have aged a great deal. His back was hunched and I could barely see his face. Prince Kung had come
with him. The dark shadows under their eyes told me that neither had slept.

Kuei Liang began his report. In the past I recalled his countenance as one full of intelligence. Now his words were inarticulate, his hands palsied, his eyes dimmed. He said that he had been received with little respect from the foreign negotiators. They used the
Arrow
incident, in which Chinese pirates were caught sailing under a British flag, as an excuse to shun him. No evidence had been provided to substantiate their claims. It all could have been a conspiracy against China.

Emperor Hsien Feng listened grave-faced.

“In the name of teaching us a lesson,” Kuei Liang continued, “the British launched an assault on Canton, and the entire province was brought down. With twenty-six gunboats between them, the British and French, accompanied by Americans—‘impartial observers,’ they said—and by Russians who joined for the spoils, have defied Your Majesty.”

I didn’t have a full view of my husband’s face, but I could imagine his expression. “It is against the terms of the previous treaty for them to sail upriver toward Peking,” Emperor Hsien Feng stated flatly.

“The winners make the rules, I am afraid, Your Majesty.” Kuei Liang shook his head. “They needed no more excuse after attacking the Taku forts. They are now only a hundred miles from the Forbidden City!”

The court was stunned.

Kuei Liang broke down as he offered more details. As I listened, an image pushed itself in front of my eyes. It was from the time I witnessed a village boy torturing a sparrow. The boy was my neighbor. He had found the sparrow in a sewage pit. The little creature looked like it was just learning to fly and had fallen and broken its wing. When the boy picked the bird up, the feathers dripped with dirty water. He placed the bird on a steppingstone in front of his house and called us to come and watch. I saw the tiny heart pumping inside the bird’s body. The boy flipped the sparrow back and forth, pulling its legs and wings. He kept doing it until the bird stopped moving.

“You failed me, Kuei Liang!” Hsien Feng’s shout woke me. “I had put my faith in your success!”

“Your Majesty, I pathetically presented my death warrant to the Russian and American envoys,” Kuei Liang cried. “I said that if I yielded one more point, my life would be forfeited. I told them that my predecessor, the viceroy of Canton, was ordered by Emperor Hsien Feng to commit suicide because he had failed in his mission. I said the Emperor
had ordered me to come to a reasonable and mutually advantageous peace and that I had promised him that I would agree to nothing that will be detrimental to China. But they sneered and laughed at me, Your Majesty.” The old man collapsed on his knees, sobbing in shame. “I … I … deserve to die.”

To witness the tears of the respectable Kuei Liang was heart-breaking. The French and English demanded indemnities and apologies for wars against us started on our soil. According to Prince Kung, they had declared that recent events had rendered the previous agreements null and void. Grand Councilor Su Shun, who was dressed in a red court robe, warned that this was the pretext for the barbarians’ next move, which would be to hold a gun to the head of Emperor Hsien Feng.

“I have failed myself, my country and my ancestors,” Hsien Feng cried. “Because of my inadequacy, the barbarians have preyed on us … China has been violated, and the guilt is mine alone to bear.”

I knew I had to ask for permission in order to speak, but anger overcame me and I said, “Foreigners live in China by the good grace of the Emperor, yet they have harmed us in more ways than we can find words to express. They are causing our government to lose prestige in the eyes of our people. They leave us no choice but to despise them.”

I wanted to continue, but choked on my own tears. Only a few weeks earlier I had sat behind Hsien Feng as he thundered about war and ordered “death to the barbarians.” What was the use of more words? As events played out, the Emperor of China would soon be forced to make an apology for the “treachery of his troops who had defended the Taku forts against the British the previous year.” China would be forced to agree to pay to its invaders an enormous amount of taels as compensation.

The Emperor needed to rest. After a short recess, Kuei Liang spoke again. “The Russians have come to join the thievery, Your Majesty.”

Hsien Feng took a deep breath and then asked, “What do they want?”

“To redraw the northern border by the Amur and Ussuri rivers.”

“Nonsense!” Hsien Feng yelled. He began to cough, and his eunuchs rushed to him and wiped his neck and forehead. He pushed them away. “Kuei Liang, you have allowed this to happen …
you!
”

“Your Majesty, I deserve no more pardons, and I am not asking for any. I am prepared to hang myself. I have already bid farewell to my family. My wife and children reassured me that they would understand. I just want to let you know that I did my best and was unable to get the
barbarians to negotiate. They only threatened war. And …” Kuei Liang paused and turned to his son-in-law.

Prince Kung stepped up and finished Kuei Liang’s sentence for him. “The Russians fired their cannons yesterday. Due to fear that they might threaten the capital, Minister Yi Shan signed the treaty and accepted the Russians’ terms. Here, Your Majesty, is a copy of the treaty.”

Slowly, Emperor Hsien Feng picked up the document. “North of the Amur River and south of the Wai-hsin-an Mountain area, isn’t it?”

“Correct, Your Majesty.”

“That is a vast area.”

Many in the court knew all too well the extent of this loss. Some began to weep.

“Su Shun!” Emperor Hsien Feng called, slumping in his seat.

“I’m here, Your Majesty.” Su Shun stepped forward.

“Behead Yi Shan and remove Kuei Liang from all his posts.”

My heart went to Kuei Liang as guards escorted him out of the hall. During the next break I found a moment to speak with Prince Kung. I asked him to do something to stop the decree. He told me not to worry. He made me understand that Su Shun was in charge, and that he wouldn’t carry out Hsien Feng’s order. He answered yes only to appease His Majesty. The court trusted Su Shun to change the Emperor’s mind; everyone knew it would be impossible to replace Kuei Liang.

In the passing months Emperor Hsien Feng had become ever more dependent on Su Shun and his seven grand councilors. I prayed that Su Shun would be able to hold up the sky for His Majesty. Although I didn’t like Su Shun, I didn’t intend to be his enemy. I would never dream of offending him, yet one day it would become unavoidable.

It had been snowing for three days. Outside the gate there were drifts two feet deep. Although the coal heaters were burning, it was still too cold for comfort. My fingers were as stiff as sticks. Buried in his fur coat, Hsien Feng sprawled on a chair in the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing. His eyes were closed.

I sat at the desk, summarizing documents for him. For the past few months I had again become the Emperor’s secretary. He had simply run out of energy and asked me to help by picking out the most urgent letters to respond to. His Majesty spoke the words and I formed them into replies.

It was challenging, but I was thrilled to help. All of a sudden I was no longer an abandoned concubine. I no longer had to stitch misery
onto hoops. I was given a chance to share His Majesty’s dream of reviving China. It made me feel good—my energy was inexhaustible. For the first time in ages I saw true affection in his eyes. Late one night when Hsien Feng woke up in his chair, he offered his hand for me to hold. He wanted me to know that he appreciated my help. He no longer called for Summer, one of his Chinese concubines, or for Nuharoo, even when I begged him to take walks with her.

I visited Nuharoo to spend time with Tung Chih, who slept with his wet nurses nearby. I updated her on what I had worked on with His Majesty. She was pleased with my humbleness.

Every day before dawn, I got dressed and went to the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing on a palanquin. Right away, I began sorting official papers into several boxes. Emperor Hsien Feng was usually still asleep in the next room. I would line up the boxes in order of urgency. By the time the sun rose and the Emperor came to me, I was ready to brief him. He would debate with himself and weigh his decisions. Sometimes he would have a discussion with me, and afterward I was expected to draft the necessary edicts.

I made suggestions that I hoped would complement His Majesty’s thoughts. One day he came in late and a box needed immediate attention. To save time, I drafted a proposal in his style. When I read it to him for approval, he made no changes. The edict was sent with his seal stamped on it.

My confidence grew after that. From then on, Hsien Feng asked me to draft edicts on my own and brief him later. I was nervous at first; I wanted to consult Prince Kung or Su Shun, but I knew I couldn’t.

One morning I finished drafting seven documents and had begun an eighth. It was a tough one. It had to do with an item in a treaty with which I was not familiar. I decided to wait. When I heard His Majesty getting up, I took the draft to him.

Hsien Feng was half reclining on a rattan chair, his eyes closed. A eunuch was spoon-feeding him a bowl of deer blood soup. It must have tasted awful, for His Majesty’s expression reminded me of a child whose finger got pricked by broken glass. The soup dripped from his mouth. I had just begun to read the draft when I heard Chief Eunuch Shim’s voice. “Good morning, Your Highness. Su Shun is here.”

“Is His Majesty in?” came Su Shun’s voice. “The matter can’t wait.”

Before I was able to retreat, Su Shun walked directly toward Emperor Hsien Feng. His Majesty opened his eyes halfway and saw Su
Shun on his knees. I stood by the wall and hoped that Su Shun wouldn’t notice me.

“Rise,” Emperor Hsien Feng uttered. The eunuch quickly wiped the mess off his chin and sat him upright. “Is it about the Russians again?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Su Shun replied, rising. “Ambassador Ignatyev refuses to negotiate on our terms and has announced the date of the attack.”

The Emperor leaned to the right while his hand went to rub his side. “Orchid, did you hear Su Shun?” He threw the draft at me. “Tear it up! What’s the use of issuing edicts? What else can I do? My blood has been sucked dry and the wolves won’t leave me alone!”

Su Shun was startled to see me. His eyes narrowed. He kept turning his head back and forth between Emperor Hsien Feng and me.

I knew I had offended him by my mere presence. He stared at me and his eyes shouted,
Go back to your embroidery!

But I was obligated to give Hsien Feng an answer. I hoped that Su Shun would assume that the Emperor trusted me for a reason, and that my assistance had been valuable.

Surely if Su Shun asked, His Majesty would praise me. Last month there had been a report of a flood in Szechuan province. Hundreds of peasants had lost their homes. Food was scarce. When Hsien Feng heard that many families were eating their dead children to survive, he issued a decree to have the governors of Kiangsu and Anhwei open their stores. But there was no grain left. The storehouses had been emptied long before to fund the battles against the Taipings and the foreigners.

I suggested that His Majesty squeeze the money out of corrupt bureaucrats. I proposed that he order government officials nationwide to report their incomes. In the meantime His Majesty should send inspectors to audit their books to see if the reports matched what had really been earned.

“That might provoke resentment,” His Majesty said.

“Not if we add a clause to the decree stating that no one would be charged with embezzlement if the guilty individuals donated their improper money to the victims of the flood disaster.”

The decree worked beautifully. Emperor Hsien Feng rewarded me with permission to visit my family. From then on, His Majesty trusted me to issue most of the decrees. I became even more confident. In the Emperor’s voice I encouraged criticism and suggestions from all the governors. I benefited from their comments and proposals.

While I felt fulfillment and satisfaction, I was also concerned about
Hsien Feng’s growing lack of interest in his work. It was hard not to be affected by his increasing pessimism. He was now in a great deal of physical pain and was depressed most of the time. When I brought in Tung Chih, he had no energy to play with him. He would send him away within minutes. He no longer proofread the edicts I drafted. When state reports arrived, he expected me to take care of them. He didn’t even want me to consult with him. When I passed him those that I thought he must be made aware of, he would push my arms away and say, “The bugs inside my head have built their nests so thick that I can’t think.”