by Zoey Gong
I had expected to see General Pake and Prince Honghui in the audience hall, but I am surprised to see well over a hundred men waiting for me. Both foreign men and the emperor’s advisors and lords are present, all dressed as if they were waiting to see the emperor himself. There is a table set up at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the emperor’s throne. High above the throne, the massive, golden dragon with the pearl in its mouth hovers. Even though no one is sitting on the throne, I expect the dragon to drop the pearl at any moment, sending it crashing down the stairs and rolling over anyone in its path.
At each end of the table stand General Pake and Prince Honghui. I grip Huiyin’s hand as Honghui looks at me, his face dark, his brow furrowed. His eyes go wide when he sees me and then he yells something in English at General Pake. They have a bit of a back and forth.
“The prince is upset and accusing the general of causing you harm,” Huiyin explains.
“It’s my fault,” I say, interrupting the men and speaking directly to Honghui. “No one here has hurt me. Everyone has been very courteous.”
Honghui glares at me for a moment before speaking to General Pake again. There is more back and forth before the general motions to the large parchment in the middle of the table. The general addresses the crowd, then he dips a pen into an ink well and signs the paper. Prince Honghui signs as well, but he does not speak before doing so. He practically throws the pen down when he is done, as if it has offended him somehow. And I suppose it has. I have no idea what the terms of the treaty are, or what they might mean for China, except that they are unfair to us. I know Honghui said he would sign to save the country from war, but the terms are still distasteful.
After Honghui signs, the general smiles and claps, and all the foreigners in the crowd clap as well. The general and Prince Honghui shake hands, and the ceremony seems to be complete. The people disperse and the large doors to the front of the audience hall are opened. Prince Honghui motions toward the door to me, and Huiyin helps me walk outside, where a donkey cart is waiting for me. This is not a cheap, open-air donkey cart like what we used to escape the palace when the foreigners invaded, but an imperial one, with a covering and flaps to protect me from the elements and lined with silks and furs.
“What happens next?” I ask Honghui.
“We are to return to the Winter Palace,” he says with no warmth in his voice. He is barely even looking at me. “The foreigners have thirty days to leave Peking. Emperor Guozhi refuses to return to the city as long as a single foreigner remains.” He pulls a flap back and motions for me to climb into the cart. I am frustrated by his curt manner with, and it frightens me. If he is this angry with me, how much more angry must Guozhi be?
“This is where I leave you,” Huiyin says. I feel her start to pull her hand away, but I grip it tighter. I think she must see the fear on my face. She pats my cheek. “Be brave, your majesty. Remember, whatever happens next is what is supposed to happen.”
I nod, but I can’t speak. My old fears return and I am on the verge of tears again. Huiyin gives me a gentle hug, kisses my cheek, and then returns to the audience hall, turning her back on me, her country, and her people forever.
“Who was that?” Honghui asks me.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I don’t see why he needs to know that it is another one of the emperor’s women who did what she thought was best instead of what was expected of her. She should have chosen death over infidelity. But she didn’t. She chose happiness instead, and I hope she never regrets that choice. Like Wangli, I want nothing but joy for her.
“Come on,” he says, a little more gently than before. “We need to go.”
“Must we?” I ask, my courage certainly failing me. “Is Guozhi… Will Guozhi… Will he kill me?”
“I don’t know, Lihua,” he says with a sigh, as if he is ready for this whole affair to be at an end. I have to grit my teeth to keep from telling him to call me Daiyu. If he were to find out right now that I have been lying to him all this time, I cannot predict how he would react. If I want to have any hope of my life being spared, I will need Honghui on my side.
“Guozhi is furious,” he finally admits, looking down at me. “He believes you have betrayed your country, your people, and most of all, him.”
“I may have gone against his will,” I say, “but I did not betray my people. Our people. I did it for them. They are the only reason I did this. Guozhi was going to let them die. Let the foreigners slaughter them, raze the fields, let us starve. I protected our people, not Guozhi. Not the emperor. Not the supposed Son of Heaven.”
“Lihua!” Honghui growls at me, grabbing my arm. I scream in pain and Honghui releases me. I open my robe and show him my arm in its sling. His face softens. “What happened to you?”
“I was thrown from your horse,” I say, pulling my robe around me again. “When the soldiers wouldn’t let me into the Forbidden City, I charged them. They shot the horse and I fell to the ground. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive. But my arm will be terribly scarred when it heals.”
Honghui is quiet for a moment, then he sighs. “I know why you did this. I understand your motives. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But Guozhi… To him, there is no excuse for disloyalty. I do not know if he will kill you, but he will not let you go unpunished.”
I nod. “I will have to accept whatever decision he makes.”
We look at each other for a long, silent moment. I want to ask him to protect me. To save me. And I think he is searching his brain to try and find a way to help me. But I cannot ask such a thing of him. He has already risked so much for me.
“Come on, then,” he says. He gently takes my other arm and helps me into the cart. I situate myself on the silk pillows, trying to find a way to sit comfortably, but it is a lost cause. Honghui closes and ties the flap shut, and a moment later, the cart is bouncing along the rough road.
I lay down on my right side and try to sleep, but the cart shakes me like a bag of rice. I think riding the horse was more comfortable, and that was rather terrible. I wouldn’t be able to ride a horse in my present condition, though. My leg hurts too badly to hold me in the saddle, and I wouldn’t be able to use my left hand to grip the reins.
All I can do for the duration of the long, terrible ride is imagine how my meeting with Guozhi will go. I suppose I will throw myself at his feet. Beg for mercy. Plead ignorance and stupidity. I am just an idiot girl, even after everything. I don’t know how any of this will play out. If I actually saved lives or not. If China will be better or worse under the new treaty. I don’t suppose I will ever know. I’ll either be dead, or I will be once again sequestered behind the tall, red walls of the Forbidden City, unaware of what is going on outside.
Finally, after several days of traveling, the cart slows to a stop. As I wait for someone to open the flap, I begin to hear voices. Many voices. I realize that the crowd of people outside the Winter Palace is still there. I had assumed that they would return home after the treaty was signed, but I suppose they are waiting for the foreigners to actually leave the city, like the emperor is doing.
I wonder if the people have heard what has happened. What I have done. How I betrayed them by giving myself up to the foreign general. I am starting to wish that Honghui had led the cart all the way inside the palace before stopping. I don’t want to face a riot.
The flap is opened and Honghui reaches his hand inside for me. I step out into the light and have to blink a few times in order to see. When my vision returns, I see that the guards are holding back the crowd.
“Get back! Stay back!” they order. I stand a little closer to Honghui, but I then realize the people don’t appear angry. If anything, they are crying, reaching for me, just like they did when I was bringing them food.
“There she is!” someone says.
“Your Majesty!”
“Empress, help me!”
“What is going on?” I ask Honghui.
He shakes
his head. “I don’t know. They have been calling for you non-stop since you left.”
“What?” I am completely dumbfounded.
One elderly man is on his knees, reaching through the legs of the guards for me. “Empress! Empress!”
I step away from Honghui and kneel down as best I can, taking the man’s hand in mine. “What is wrong?”
“Thank you, my lady,” he says.
“For what?”
“You saved my son.”
“How?”
“He said you ended the war,” the man says. “You let all the men who had been recruited into the emperor’s army go free.”
I shake my head. “No. I did no such thing.”
“You did,” the man says. “I know you did. We all know that it had to be you who stopped the war. Only you have shown a care for any of us. Thank you.” His hand slips from mine and he is quickly lost in the crowd.
“It seems they have heard about what you did,” Honghui says. “They credit you with ending the war.”
“May the empress live ten-thousand years! May the empress live ten-thousand years!” the crowd chants over and over again. The sound grows louder and louder, echoing off the surrounding mountains.
“But…I forced us to surrender,” I tell Honghui. “We didn’t win the war.”
“They don’t understand any of that,” Honghui says. “They are simple people. They only know that war, death, and famine were coming. Now, all of that is gone and they will soon be able to return to their homes. They thank you for that.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I don’t know how the people can know what happened between two great powers on the brink of war. What do they know of taxes and treaties? But I suppose they don’t need to. For them, it is very simple. They saw me riding a horse to Peking, and then the war came to an end. I watch as the entire crowd of people drops to their knees and kowtows to me.
“May the empress live ten-thousand years! May the empress live ten-thousand years!”
I shake my head and put my hand to my mouth to hide a small smile. It might seem strange. After all, I betrayed the emperor. He might order my death. My life may be at an end very soon. But right now, for just a moment, it feels good to know that at least a few people know that I did everything I could to save them. That I did save them. That I was willing to risk my life to avert a war.
I think that Huiyin was right. I can face whatever comes next because I finally did something great with my life. I didn’t just save Lihua from being trapped in the harem. I didn’t just save my family from poverty. I saved lives. So many lives. More than I can count.
What is one life when compared with so many others?
26
Prince Honghui leads me to the emperor’s bed-chamber. When I step into the room, I gag and have to put my finger to my nose, the smell is so pungent. I see the doctor and several eunuchs around the emperor’s bed. When they see me, they stop what they are doing and bow, giving me a view of the emperor.
“What’s happened to you?” I ask, rushing to his side. His face looks almost green, he is so ill. He grimaces, in obvious pain.
“Get back, witch,” he says, slapping at my hand as I reach for him, but the attempt is weak. “Leave us!” he hisses to everyone else. The doctor and eunuchs back out of the room quickly, but Honghui lingers. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me that Guozhi’s health had decayed so rapidly. I had imagined that he would be nearly back to full health upon my return. As it is, I’m surprised he’s still alive.
“Out!” Guozhi says to Honghui, his voice raw. Honghui hesitates, but then he backs out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“How could you, Lihua?” he asks with a cough. “How could you betray me like that?”
I get on my knees. “I am sorry. I was afraid. I was afraid for you, for me, for everyone. I thought that if you did not sign the treaty, then we would all die—”
“That was my choice!” he says, pounding his fist on the bedcovers. “My right as emperor. It is not up to you to challenge my decisions. If I want every person in this kingdom to sacrifice their life, then they must obey! My word is law!”
My voice fails me. He is being completely unreasonable. I have to wonder if the sickness has infected his brain. I realize that nothing I say can help the situation.
“Yes, your majesty,” I say. “I beg for your mercy.”
“Mercy?” he says, then he coughs again. “I should have you dragged from this room and beaten to death.”
I tremble with terror, but I nod. “I know.” My voice cracks and tears pool in my eyes.
“That was my plan,” he says, his voice a little calmer. “As soon as I heard what you did, I branded you a traitor and was going to have you executed as soon as you were returned.”
“I knew the risk I was taking,” I say.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Then, why? If you knew that your actions would merit death, why would you do it?”
“You might be the emperor, but you are still only one man. My thoughts were with the hundreds of people outside who were depending on you to protect them. The thousands, millions of people in China who might die if the war continued. My life is insignificant in comparison.”
“Do you know what you have done?” Guozhi asks me. “Do you know the terms of the treaty my brother signed?”
“No.”
“Of course you don’t,” he says. “You are just a stupid, ignorant girl.”
“Yes.”
“You have meddled in affairs you cannot possibly understand.”
I stay quiet because he is right.
“You think you saved lives, but you may very well have cost lives as well.”
His words frighten me. “What do you mean?”
“The treaty laid all the blame for the conflict at my feet,” he says. “Because of that, I must now pay thousands of taels of gold in penalty. Do you know where that money will come from?”
I shake my head.
“Taxes, Lihua. That money comes from the people you were so desperate to protect. People who you yourself have said many times are already impoverished.”
My heart beats rapidly in my chest. I can’t imagine the already overtaxed people being able to pay even more money to the government.
“I had to agree to a lower tax rate on foreign imports and exports, so that is even more money lost. I had to end the ban on importing opium. Opium is a vile substance. Foolish, weak-minded people will eat opium instead of food until they starve. Until their families starve.”
I had known opium-eaters when I lived in the hutongs. They would sacrifice everything for a little bit of black tar in their pipe until they had nothing left. And when they could no longer pay, the opium den owners would throw them out into the street until they starved or froze to death.
“I had to give them land, whole islands! A province in the north. Even land within Peking itself where the foreigners can do whatever they want and pay no heed to our laws.”
I wipe my leaking nose and the tears from my cheeks. I had no idea. I knew the terms were harsh, but I still thought that they must be better than open warfare. And Prince Honghui said he would sign the treaty. But I suppose that could have been an earlier version of the terms. Once the foreigners had me in custody, they could make any demands they wanted. The fact that I might have made things even worse for the people makes me sick.
I move back away from the bed and do a full kowtow with my forehead to the floor, paying no heed to the pain in my body. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I believe your heart was in the right place, Lihua,” the emperor says, not unkindly. “I have never known you to act out of malice. But your actions are unforgivable.”
I cry, my face still to the floor, as I wait for him to pass his sentence. I only hope I will have the strength to bear it.
“You are no longer my empress,” he says. “Neither are you my consort or concubine. Your existence in the palace records w
ill be completely destroyed. It will be as if you never lived.”
I groan in despair. Everything I have ever done has been in the service of others. I have completely given up my life twice. But now, even my very existence will disappear with my death. My sacrifices will be lost and I will be forgotten.
“It is only out of my love for Caihong that I do not have your head removed from your body,” the emperor says. It takes me a long moment to understand his words since they are not what I expected to hear.
“Wha-what?” I finally say.
“You saved Caihong’s life from the assassin,” he says. “The fact that she died later was not your fault. You saved Caihong’s life, and now I have spared yours.”
“Thank you!” I cry, knocking my forehead to the floor again. I’m not going to die! I can hardly believe it. “Your majesty is truly kind and gracious!”
“You will be taken to the Temple of Grief, where you still live the rest of your days as a nun. Your life will be as that of a widow.”
I had heard of the Temple of Grief, but I have never been there. It is an abbey situated on a mountain north of Peking. Whenever an emperor dies, his surviving consorts and concubines—except for the empress dowager—are sent there to live out their days. No matter how young the widows may be, they are not allowed to remarry and are expected to live the rest of the lives in mourning for their dead emperor. Considering that most consorts and concubines never had children of their own, it is not a happy end to their lives. Very few can ever claim to have had a real marriage to their emperor, and they are forbidden from ever having one with someone else. It is called the Temple of Grief because the women are expected to spend their lives grieving for the emperor. But I had always thought it was called that because the women are grieving for themselves. Perhaps it is both.
“Are you not grateful?” the emperor asks me, his breathing becoming labored.
“Yes,” I say. “Of course! I am only in shock at his majesty’s great mercy toward me.” I had been thinking about what life at a temple would mean for me and hadn’t thanked him for sparing my life. “You are truly kind and merciful and I am not worthy of the generosity you have shown to me.”
