by Poon, Alice;
“Your Imperial Highness, I have to say that there is a likelihood that he will, and no one can tell whether he will be as lucky as Xuanye.”
“Having had the disease once, is Xuanye guarded against another infection?”
“Yes, he has acquired immunity from it.”
Shunzhi turned to look at Bumbutai.
“Mother, it is Eternal Blue Sky’s will. I will appoint Xuanye as successor to the throne. I know this is what you would want too. When I feel up to it, I will send for someone from the Hanlin Academy to write down my will. Xuanye is only seven and we will have to appoint a Regent to help him. Who would you suggest?”
“Son, what I want most is for you to get well. Don’t give up fighting. But I have to say that you have made a prudent choice as far as your heir is concerned. As for regency, assuming Xuanye comes to the throne, perhaps a number of regents would be better than a single one? I was thinking that shared power would be preferable to absolute power.” She couldn’t help reminding herself of Dorgon’s hubris and tyranny during his Regency.
“I can see the wisdom in that, Venerable Empress Dowager, if I may offer my humble view,” the priest respectfully interjected.
“My mother is the wisest woman in the whole world, Mafa!” exclaimed Shunzhi, speaking from his heart. He was well aware of how much his beloved mother had helped him with her quiet support and timely hints throughout his reign. He agreed with the idea of having a Council of Regents, and having taken his mother’s cue, as always.
“I will appoint Sonin, Suksaha, Ebilun and Oboi as the Four Regents for Xuanye, as they have served me well on the Private Council,”he said. “I have left out Jirgalang, as I think he will prefer a well-deserved retirement.”
The priest expressed his full and sincere support, and then, seeing the Emperor was already quite worn out, made his farewell.
After the priest left, Bumbutai pulled up the quilt and tucked her son in.
“Mother, please promise me not to feel sad when I’m gone. I haven’t felt this peaceful and calm for a long long time. You know, I can’t wait to meet my Donggo and my son….”
“I know, Son, I know,” she said, swallowing her tears. “You mustn’t talk any more. You have to get some rest now.” Choked with repressed emotion and unexpressed love, she now yearned more than ever to cradle her son in her arms and kiss his cheeks, but his infection barred her from doing so.
Looking tenderly into his face, she could see the dreamy youth who had been crushed by the heavy load that his destiny had imposed upon him. She had done her best to mold him into a perfect head of state. But his delicate nature had limited her success. But he had given his best. And if it was eternal peace that he sought so passionately, who would have the heart to ask any more of him? She certainly did not. Together, mother and son had come a long way since Hong Taiji had left them behind. They had won some battles, and lost others, but better than anyone else, she knew how hard he had tried to do good for his subjects.
Above all, the mother-son link between them had always been strong. She had Eternal Blue Sky to thank for preserving that bond, and for giving her Xuanye as her grandson, now her son’s heir. Already the child was showing clear traits of superior qualities. Her mission, ultimately a Mongolian mission, would continue.
Five days later, Shunzhi summoned Scholar Wang Xi from the Hanlin Academy to his bed chambers to write his will in which he appointed his third son Xuanye as successor to the throne, to be assisted by Sonin, Suksaha, Ebilun and Oboi as his Four Great Regents. He specifically made Sonin the senior of the Four Regents, while leaving Oboi in the last position. Then he instructed that the new Emperor and his Regents should continue the implementation of his policies to lower taxes and levies, fight corruption, recruit more Han scholars to the Court and provide equal treatment for Han and Manchu Court officials.
When the will was finished, Shunzhi told Scholar Wang to take it to the Empress Dowager to provide her formal endorsement and signature. As Wang was walking down the marble steps of the Palace, he was accosted by Oboi, who roughly snatched the scroll from Wang’s hands. Terrified of the armed warrior before him, Wang just cowered and put up no resistance. After reading the scroll, Oboi took from his sleeve an identical scroll and handed it to Wang, ordering him to go back into the Palace to put the Imperial Seal on it. Fearing for his life, Wang meekly obeyed.
The next day, the Shunzhi Emperor passed away in peace, just a month and a few days before his twenty-third birthday.
When Bumbutai heard her son’s will being read out by the Minister of Rites to the full Court the following day, she was puzzled. The appointments were exactly as Shunzhi had commanded, but the sections that followed, which had a self-accusatory tone to them, were perplexing. They almost completely negated the policies that he had himself instituted, and sounded almost apologetic for his admiration of Han Chinese culture and for his favoritism towards Han Court officials. It declared an immediate return to Manchu systems and traditions.
She had heard of Oboi’s efforts to plant his spies and functionaries all over the Court and in the Palaces, even at the level of the Provincial governments. She suspected that one of Shunzhi’s new eunuchs might have overheard the Emperor’s conversation with her and the German priest and snitched to Oboi. Oboi was the only one who could have the audacity to tamper with the Emperor’s will. A return to the full Manchu system meant reinstating and entrenching the privileges that Manchu Bannermen used to enjoy, and endorsing the oppression of the Hans. She alerted herself to be more vigilant. She now had a new child Emperor and the Qing Empire to protect.
Oboi had risen through the ranks rapidly mainly due to his military prowess during the numerous battles against the Ming forces both in the days of Hong Taiji and Dorgon’s Regency. Dorgon had once tried to sentence him to death for insubordination, but the sentence was not implemented due to his substantial war credit, largely relating to the killing of the Ming rebel leader Zhang Xianzhong, who ranked second in viciousness only to Li Zicheng. After Dorgon’s death, he gradually gained Shunzhi’s trust by helping him purge the late Regent’s followers and with his rise in status, he showed himself to be a ruthless statesman thirsty for power as well as for blood. During the purge of Dorgon’s followers, he had perosnally executed dozens of people who had previously rubbed him the wrong way. He had employed the cruelest punishment of all—dismemberment. Bumbutai had a presentiment that a dark cloud was lurking on the horizon.
Out of respect for Shunzhi’s fervent Buddhism beliefs, Bumbutai asked Mao to conduct a Buddhist funeral for the late Emperor, to be followed by a cremation ritual in accordance with Manchu traditions.
During the cremation, Xuanye, as the chosen heir, offered incense at the altar and performed various rites under the direction of Mao. The child’s teary eyes, cast in bewilderment until they found Bumbutai, and he was instantly calmed. He had been feeling distraught since his father’s passing. But young though he was, he had some idea of what was expected of him. In a couple of months, he would be enthroned in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. He knew it was a serious and grown-up duty, and that the only way to live up to the challenge was to acquire knowledge through study. The prospect was as frightening as it was perplexing. He had only learned a little from the books he had read so far about what an emperor was supposed to be and to do, and he was curious to know more.
All he knew was that from now on he would be treated differently from his brother, Fuquan. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask his Nana, who he knew was smart and always had ready answers. More importantly, she was the one who could always soothe his fears and calm his nerves. He loved his own mother, too, but he couldn’t talk to her in the same way he could with Nana. Remembering one of her tricks—reciting poems silently to calm fears—he now began to recite one of his favorite Tang poems.
At the end of the ritual, Bumbutai instructed Mao and Sumalagu that the urn cont
aining her son’s ashes should be buried next to Consort Donggo’s in the Shunzhi Imperial Mausoleum. Then she went over to Xuanye and Fuquan and held their little hands in hers and led them back to the Princes’ Residence.
On the way, she secretly said prayers to Eternal Blue Sky asking it to help reunite and give eternal blessings to the deceased family of three, and to help Xuanye fulfill his duties as a righteous and benevolent ruler. Looking at the bright young face of the new Emperor, she felt hope and consolation, making all her previous trials and heartbreaks worthwhile.
Twenty-four
After being ordained a monk, Wu Liangfu lived a quiet and sheltered life in the temple on the outskirts of Beijing. Following Shunzhi’s death, he unfailingly chanted prayers for him first thing every morning, fingering as he did so the chanting beads his deceased master had given him as a keepsake. For ten days in a row after he received the awful news, he was unable to suppress his tears during the morning ritual. He knew he could not have had a kinder master than Shunzhi and he sorely missed him. Other novice monks, some of them teenagers and some just small kids, teased him when they saw him shedding tears. The bubbly faces reminded him of the child Emperor and the happy times he had spent with him, which just increased his sense of loss.
One chilly day about a month after Shunzhi’s passing, a teenage novice came running into the monastery, announcing breathlessly that several Manchu soldiers on horseback were riding up the hill. It was a big surprise for them all, as the temple was isolated and rarely visited by worshippers. The last event that had drawn a crowd was Wu’s ordination ceremony, following which the temple had sunk back into its normal state of tranquility. The more senior monks herded the noisy novices into the backyard and informed the head monk of the visitors.
Having dismounted, the six armored riders, all armed with swords sheathed at their sides, tromped up to the head monk, who was standing in the front courtyard to welcome them. Their leader demanded in an imperious voice to see Wu Liangfu immediately. The head monk enquired as to the purpose, but the leader’s deputy dismissed the enquiry.
“You have no business to know, bald head!” he shouted in stilted Chinese. At this, the head monk, flanked by four well-built monks, addressed the leader of the visitors in a steady voice:
“I hope you will understand that this is the house of Buddha and whoever enters it needs to comply with the Rules. No man may carry any weapons within these peaceful grounds. This is Rule number one. If you would be so kind as to disarm yourselves, I would appreciate it.”
“We will do nothing of the sort!” the deputy shouted. “Who do you think you are to give us orders? You had better get Wu Liangfu to come out at once, or else…..”
His superior checked him with a flick of his hand.
“Please excuse us, Master,” he said apologetically but firmly. “We are just soldiers and are quite ignorant of temple rules. If you will kindly ask Wu to come out to the gate, we will leave the temple grounds at once. We are under orders from General Oboi to summon the eunuch.”
The head monk hesitated, bound by his solemn promise to the late Emperor to ensure Wu’s safety, and he suspected the intentions of the armed intruders. Oboi’s name especially rang an alarm bell. He himself and four other senior monks had trained in Shaolin martial arts and would be a close match for the six armed cavalrymen, but he was aware that a confrontation might provoke more hostility from Regent Oboi’s men. Well-versed in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, he knew that stalling and avoidance were the best stratagems in this situation.
“Venerable,” he said. “Unfortunately Liangfu has been sick for the last few days and is still bedridden today. May I trouble you to come back in, say, three days? I believe he will have recovered by then.”
The group leader appeared a little annoyed by the head monk’s subterfuge, but he kept his temper in check. After a short pause, he cursorily apologized for the intrusion and ordered his men to withdraw.
When the riders were out of sight, the head monk hurried to the rear courtyard to find Wu and told him of what had transpired. He urged Wu to pack a few things and head straight for the Bamboo Temple in Kunming.
“It is time for you to seek shelter under Master Mao,” he said. “The Master promised the late Emperor to protect you. My temple is no longer a safe place for you.”
He then went into his chamber to fetch five silver bars and gave them to Wu, telling him that the late Emperor had left the funds there for him in case of emergency. Wu fell on his knees and bowed three times to the head monk to thank him for saving his life. The monk advised him to take advantage of the cover of night to start his journey.
Feelings of despair and isolation bore in on Wu like an invisible noose, and his thoughts reeled back to his early childhood and that fateful night when his destitute parents had sold him for two silver bars to the Bureau of Eunuchs. He had been pinned on a long table, stripped of his pants… the waxen faces staring down at him… the brutal tying up of his genitals... the cold glint of the hideous knife… the singeing pain… the callous gagging of his screams… the three-day water deprivation. Rivulets of cold sweat ran down his face.
When night fell, Wu threw a packed cloth sack on the back of the donkey that the head monk had given him, bade farewell to his fellow monks and led the animal out into the dark freezing unknown. A sterile half-moon dawdling in the sky provided the only light to the winding path leading from the temple down to the main carriageway. On both sides of the path rose tall pine trees hugged by a low spread of entangling bushes, throwing out eerie shadows.
Not a single other soul was on the dirt path. Dead silence stretched out its ensnaring arms as if ready to trap anything that came within its reach. Only an occasional daring chirp of a cicada punctuated the unrelenting quiet.
Wu, who was scared of the dark, thought it best to walk on foot with the donkey by his side. He badly needed the illusion of having a companion with him. The donkey seemed as though it could sense its master’s fear and gave out a low grunt now and then to calm his nerves.
Man and beast stumbled onwards, bracing themselves against the biting night frost. Wu tried humming a folk tune for distraction. As they were about to negotiate the last turn in the path before the main carriageway, a rustling sound gave Wu a start. Then there was a flicker of silvery light, and three dark figures jumped out and blocked his way. The riders had stayed behind on their leader’s orders, laying in wait for him. Wu was gagged and strong-armed away by the riders while the donkey paced helplessly backwards and forwards, bleating piteously.
A couple of days later, back in Beijing, Wu was charged with corruption and criminal meddling in state affairs. He was sentenced to death by slicing on the direct orders of Oboi.
When Sumalagu broke the news to Bumbutai, she was devastated, knowing as she did that Wu had in truth committed the crimes that he was accused of. The punishment, though unspeakably awful, was in accordance with the code. There was a small consolation when she found out that the executioner had been a beneficiary a few years earlier of her largesse—drought relief donations to Sichuan—and she immediately wrote to him, appealing for Wu to be given a quick death with the first cut, discreetly slashing the throat, thereby killing him instantly. The executioner received the letter in time and willingly did as he was asked. Later, he secretly cremated Wu’s remains and took the urn containing his ashes to the head monk of the temple for a proper burial in the temple’s rear courtyard.
Two months after the Imperial funeral, seven-year-old Xuanye was formally enthroned as the Kangxi Emperor in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, and Bumbutai took the title Grand Empress Dowager. In the following year, she issued an edict formally appointing Sonin, Suksaha, Ebilun and Oboi as the Four Regents to Kangxi, with Sonin as the Chief Regent. She knew in her heart that she would have to play the balancing game from then on.
As soon as the Four Regents were formally installed, Oboi bega
n to show his true colors. He had always coveted the White Bannermen’s Western quadrant of land in the Imperial City, which was the fertile and lush green area that abutted West Park. At the first meeting of the Regents, he didn’t bother to hide his covetousness and made a proposal to exchange the Yellow Banners’ more arid Northern portion for the White Banners’ Western lands. Ebilun, like Oboi from the Border Yellow, and who always followed his lead tacitly supported the proposal. But Suksaha of the Plain White objected in the face of Oboi’s greed and argued that all White Bannermen had already been settled in the Western section for a long time and it was beyond reason to upset their lives now.
The Chief Regent Sonin, though senile and ailing, was shrewd enough to discern Oboi’s proposal as nothing than a ploy to seize more land for personal gain. While he could have put his foot down, he was unwilling to make an enemy of Oboi and cannily suggested that the issue be referred to the Ministry of Revenue for a deliberation. The Minister of Revenue and other senior officials from the Ministry were clear on Oboi’s rapacious intent and unanimously rejected his proposal.
Undeterred by this setback, at another meeting of the Regents Oboi mooted the abolition of the Hanlin Academy, the institution revived during the Shunzhi reign for the purpose of nurturing Han scholars to be Court officials. He called for a significant reduction in the number of Han scholars in civil recruitment, and as the other Regents had no strong opinion about these matters, Oboi took silence for approval and went ahead with the implementation. He also dismantled the Bureau of Eunuchs, which had been a power hub under Shunzhi’s reign, with Wu Liangfu as its head.
What Bumbutai had feared was now coming to pass. Oboi became more and more brazen, not even deigning to show courtesy for the Kangxi emperor, much less allowing him to participate in any matters of state discussions. He attended Court only when it pleased him. Court memorials were to be sent direct to his residence, and he made decisions on urgent issues without consulting the other Regents. His followers formed a wide web throughout the Court, the military and all levels of government. They took orders from no one but him.
