The Emperor's Seal

by Amanda Roberts

  “How…how do you know that?” Zhihao asked.

  “I know things,” Hu Xiaosheng said. “Sometimes I just forget what I know until I remember it.”

  “Any idea where you learned about the seal?”

  Hu Xiaosheng shook his head. “It was hidden in the back of my mind somewhere. I just know that when the Daoguang Emperor took the throne, he had the seal. But when his son, the Xianfeng Emperor, came to power, the seal was gone. Some people think it was lost during the Opium War. That maybe the British have it hidden away.”

  “That could be a possibility, I suppose,” Zhihao said. “But the empress doesn’t think so. She seems to think it was lost on the road to Jehol, on one of the emperor’s trips to the Mountain Palace.”

  “Why would she think that?” Hu Xiaosheng asked, finally looking up from his papers.

  Zhihao thought it was best not to mention Jiayi if possible. He didn’t want to lose face in front of his teacher by admitting he nearly fell for a charlatan’s cheap parlor trick. “She says there was a battle on the road. Some rebel group attacked the travelers, so the emperor thought it was best to hide the seal, to prevent the rebels from getting their hands on it.”

  “So why didn’t he go back and get it after it was safe?” Hu Xiaosheng asked.

  “As you said, Xiaosheng, it was lost,” Zhihao said.

  Hu Xiaosheng nodded his head slowly and seemed to mull this over for a moment. “You know,” he finally said, “the Daoguang Emperor loved his Mountain Palace, and was rather a fool for governance. Why else would he appoint Xianfeng as his heir? That witless boy. Anyone else could have seen that Prince Gong should have been his heir.”

  Zhihao nodded in agreement. Even though doubting the decisions of the emperor was tantamount to treason, now that the Daoguang Emperor, the Xianfeng Emperor, and Prince Gong were all dead, the old game of “what would have happened if Prince Gong had been emperor” was a favorite among scholars and even laypersons interested in China’s past, present, and future. Especially among revolutionaries.

  “He ran away from his responsibilities as often as possible. He would go to the Mountain Palace every chance he got, three or four times a year…until…hmm…”

  “Until what?” Zhihao prompted.

  Hu Xiaosheng wandered away, down an aisle between some of the shelves. He scanned them, looking for something. Zhihao didn’t bother to ask for more information. He knew that Hu Xiaosheng would tell him when he found what he was looking for, so he just followed along.

  Looking up and down the crowded shelves, Hu Xiaosheng mumbled to himself. He finally came across a pile of scrolls, all of which looked the same to Zhihao, and pulled a few out. He then walked over to a large table and spread them out, occasionally licking one of his fingers to more easily grip the dry pages.

  “There is no mention of the Daoguang Emperor and his family being set upon while on the road to Jehol. But there was something odd about one trip…” He flipped a few more pages, looking for a specific passage. “Ah! Here,” he said, pointing at what seemed to be little more than a travel record.

  “Record of the journey to Jehol, Autumn, in the fourteenth year of the reign of the Daoguang Emperor…” Zhihao read. He quickly calculated in his head what year that would have been according to the Gregorian calendar and came up with 1834, almost seventy years ago.

  “Day one, arrived safely at first camp in the midafternoon. The emperor took his leisure in his tent with several ladies…” Food, hunting, entertainment, rest—all regular activities for an imperial procession to the Mountain Palace. But on day three, the procession seemed to stop. The group rested for five days, which was indeed highly abnormal.

  “The trip to Jehol was usually only seven days,” Hu Xiaosheng said. “Why would they suddenly stop halfway there and rest for five days with no explanation? The record then carries on as normal, eating, hunting, and so on. There is no explanation for why they stayed in one place for five days. If one of the children or ladies had taken ill, the scribe could have simply said so. Why the mystery?”

  “Why, indeed,” said Zhihao. “You think this long break could have been when the battle was staged and the seal lost?”

  “It’s as good a theory as any,” Hu Xiaosheng said. “After this, the emperor’s visits to Jehol dropped dramatically. He didn’t return for over two years, and when he did resume his visits, they were less frequent, only one or two trips a year. And his protection doubled. It was like traveling with an army.”

  “He was perhaps paranoid of being attacked on the road again,” Zhihao said. “Three days out…that would have only been about ninety li from the city. What’s out there? Isn’t there a narrow part of the trail through there?”

  Hu Xiaosheng nodded. “The Conghua Pass.”

  “The Conghua Pass!” Zhihao repeated. “Of course! The pass would be an excellent place for an army to attack.”

  “Sounds like you have a good place to start your search,” Hu Xiaosheng said, turning back to his readings.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Hu Xiaosheng,” Zhihao said respectfully before he turned to leave.

  At first, Hu Xiaosheng did not acknowledge him, but when Zhihao was halfway out of the room, he said one last thing.

  “By the way,” the voice cracked in a low tone, “be careful of trusting that girl. Such power should not be taken lightly.”

  Zhihao whirled back around. “How…? You couldn’t have read that or heard about it from someone else so quickly. I came right here after my meeting. What do you know about the girl?”

  “Just what I said,” was all Hu Xiaosheng said as he returned to his manuscripts.

  Hu Xiaosheng did seem to know something about everything. Zhihao reasoned that it was possible the old man knew that the empress had a seer of some sort in her employ. But how did he know that Zhihao had met her? He knew that asking would do no good. Hu Xiaosheng only shared what he wanted when he wanted, and the fact that he had turned back to his manuscripts told Zhihao that he wouldn’t get anything else out of the old man today. He grabbed a few books on his way out about the Daoguang Emperor and the Mountain Palace. He still needed to know more about the emperor, Lady Cai, and the Conghua Pass if he had any chance of finding the seal.

  Five

  Late that night, long after the rest of the Forbidden City had fallen asleep, Jiayi was wide awake. She held the chain of Zhihao’s pocket watch with a handkerchief and slowly swayed the fob back and forth. She had told him she grew up poor, but she had not told him just how poor. That she had become a thief, a pickpocket, to survive. She had easily slipped the watch from his sleeve without him noticing when he kissed her hand. Even in her state of shock, she had no problem sliding the watch into her other hand. Her life needing to thieve to survive was now far behind her, but some habits were hard to let go of. She knew that one day she would outlive her usefulness to the empress, then what would happen to her? She couldn’t help stealing small items here and there, things she could later sell if she needed to. Maybe she could even sell them and earn enough money before the empress kicked her out. That way, she could leave the palace on her own terms. She could sneak out in the night, sell the pilfered items, and hop a ship to America. She had heard that there were jobs in America for young ladies, jobs as housemaids and seamstresses. She didn’t know much about cleaning or sewing, but she would be willing to learn.

  Jiayi finally slipped silently from her bed. She had a room to herself, but it was small and the window was uncovered. Eunuch Lo had been assigned by the empress to watch Jiayi night and day, and he was currently stationed outside her bedroom door. By this time of night, though, he had most certainly fallen asleep. Jiayi didn’t trust Eunuch Lo. She was certain that he had seen her steal one of the empress’s combs years ago, but he never reported her. She did not know why. Was he waiting to use that knowledge against her later? She was too afraid of him to ask why he did not report her, but not scared enough to stop stealing.

  Jiayi’s r
oom was little more than a closet. She had a small bed near a fireplace and a trunk for her few clothes, shoes, and hair decorations. She opened her trunk and removed one of her hairpins. She then used the pin to lift a loose floorboard, revealing a hole in the ground. In the hole was Jiayi’s horde of stolen items. Hairpins, pieces of embroidery, gold coins, even some of the empress’s jewelry. She could be put to death for stealing any one of the items, much less the whole cache of them. She placed Zhihao’s pocket watch among the other items and pulled out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. She hopped back into her bed, pulling her blanket over her lap. She gingerly unwrapped the cloth and revealed a gold necklace.

  The necklace was exquisite. It was a piece of traditional wedding jewelry. On one side was a phoenix and the other a dragon. The two met in the middle, where there was the character for eternal happiness. The character was embellished with swirls of gold and a large red ruby dangled from the center of the character.

  Jiayi shouldn’t be doing this. She needed to preserve her strength to search for the lost seal. But she couldn’t resist. She needed to see him. His soul called to hers through the centuries.

  She took a deep breath and quickly clasped the necklace around her neck before she slumped to the side.

  Jiayi could hear the drumming of hoofbeats before she opened her eyes. She felt something in her hands and clenched her fists. She heard the roar of the crowd and felt herself move up and down, up and down. When she opened her eyes, she was on horseback. She lowered herself to find her balance and gripped the reins in one hand and the polo mallet in the other. She squinted in the bright sunshine and saw the small white ball just ahead of her. She leaned to the side and whacked the ball as hard as she could down the field. The crowd hollered and cheered. She could not help but smile as she continued chasing the ball. Other riders—men and women—came up beside her, either hoping to help move the ball down the field or to steal it and knock it the other direction. She had no idea who was on her team, but win or lose, she loved the excitement of riding the horse and competing. By her time period, women were not allowed to participate in such masculine activities. But now, during the Tang Dynasty, women were given much more freedom.

  A male rider swooped in front of her and blocked another rider from reaching the ball. She used his guard to lean over and smack the ball farther down the field. A fellow woman rider cut across her path and hit the ball, knocking it into the goal. The crowd jumped and screamed, and she laughed. The men on her team bowed their heads at her for her excellent performance. The woman who had scored the winning goal rode to her side and embraced her.

  “Excellent job, Lady Meirong,” the woman said.

  “That was a thrilling match,” Jiayi replied, her smile huge.

  The riders all galloped to the edge of the field and were helped from their horses and given drinks. Jiayi looked around anxiously. She only had a minute or two left before she would run out of breath. She had to see him. Someone handed her a wet cloth to clean herself with. She used it on her face, neck, and hands as she walked toward the tent of the imperial family. Just as she was about to enter, a hand grasped hers and pulled her to the side.

  Prince Junjie—the man she had traveled through time and risked the wrath of the empress to see—put his finger to her lips to make sure she didn’t cry out. She stifled a giggle as they ran behind the tent.

  “You played magnificently,” he said.

  “You are too kind,” she said. “It was Lady Lin who scored the win.”

  “You look terrible,” he said with a joking smile. And oh, what a smile. His lips were slightly pink and so smooth. His cheeks dimpled and his eyes sparkled. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in real life or in all her dreams.

  She gasped and put her hand to her head. Indeed, her cloudy chignon was a rat nest and she pulled out a piece of straw. Her long gown was filthy. She could only imagine how her face looked.

  “Not all of us can sit aside in the empress’s tent and be fanned by slaves,” she said.

  “What I wouldn’t give for you to sit by my side,” he said with a sigh.

  She looked down. She knew this part of the story. It was always the same. Prince Junjie was a third son of the late emperor’s brother. A warrior. A scholar. A man destined for greatness. Lady Meirong was a niece of the empress. She was a lady, yes, but not one high ranking enough to marry a prince. She would most likely be married to a general or a low-ranking magistrate, if she were lucky. At seventeen, she was already getting too old to make a good match. Prince Junejie and Lady Meirong knew they could never be together, so they savored the little time they did have.

  Jiayi wasn’t even sure if Meirong loved the prince or was just enjoying his attention. But Jiayi loved him with every beat of her heart. She had loved him from the first time she saw him after traveling with the amulet several years before. She would do anything for him. She had stolen the amulet for him so she could travel to him whenever she wanted. She couldn’t live without him. Her real life at the empress’s court was so miserable, the only happiness she knew was the few moments she could steal away in the night to find Prince Junjie. It was dangerous—she was risking her life. If the empress knew she had stolen the amulet, she could be put to death. If she spent so much of her energy traveling to see the prince that she did not have the power to travel for the empress, the empress could simply discard her. The empress had no time or patience for a useless mystic.

  But she couldn’t stop herself. She had to be near him. She truly believed that fate had separated her from her true love by centuries. And he didn’t even know her name.

  “Please,” she said, realizing their time was short. “No time for sadness. Just love me now.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. His kisses at first were gentle, but she wanted—needed—more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight. She tangled her fingers in his long thick hair and he moaned when she gave a tug. He pushed her up against the wall of the tent and nibbled at her chin, then her neck. He ran his hand around her backside and she gasped.

  “I love you,” she whispered as she felt him start to slip away from her. “Never forget that. Never forget me.”

  Her eyes shot open and she had to stifle a cry. She put her hands to her chest and breathed slowly and steadily in and out. Then the tears came. Every time she was ripped away from Prince Junjie, she felt a part of her heart break. She forced her hand to her mouth so her crying would not wake her eunuch guard. She removed the necklace and wrapped it back in the simple cloth. She crept to the floor and placed it back in its hiding place. Exhausted from her journey, she crawled back into bed and quickly fell asleep.

  Six

  The next day, Jiayi was taken before the empress nearly after dawn, as was usual, by Eunuch Lo. The empress had always been an early riser. What surprised her, though, was that Zhihao was also present. She bent at the knees to greet him. He nodded at her with a smile.

  “I am very pleased with the progress Zhihao Shaoye has made,” the empress said.

  Jiayi noticed the respectful way the empress referred to Zhihao. She must have been happy with him indeed.

  “Tell Lady Jiayi what you have told me,” the empress commanded.

  Zhihao turned to her. “Well, I could not find any information about a battle on the road to Jehol,” he explained. Jiayi felt her stomach drop a little. This gave him more reason to doubt her abilities. “However,” he continued, “there was a strange incident. On one journey, there was an exceptionally long delay at the Conghua Pass. There was no explanation for the delay, no illness or anything by any of the party members. It could be that the delay was caused by an attack, but it was stricken from the record to prevent people from finding out and panicking. Or to hide the loss of the seal.”

  Jiayi smiled, glad that he was able to affirm her vision even though there was no record of it. “That is wonderful,” she said. “I am glad you have a lead. Hopefully it will be easy to find n
ow.”

  Zhihao chuckled a little. “The Conghua Pass is still a large area. And who knows if the seal stayed in the pass or if it was moved…” He shook his head. “It is a lead, yes, but this is only the beginning of the search.”

  Jiayi nodded. “The task ahead is still quite difficult, it sounds.”

  “Indeed,” Zhihao confirmed. “Which is why I think the empress’s idea of sending you on the expedition is an excellent one.”

  Jiayi’s heart leaped, but she did her best to keep her face calm. She wanted to leave the Forbidden City more than anything, but she could not let the empress think she was ungrateful for being taken off the street and provided for.

  Jiayi nodded. “I will go where the empress bids me.”

  “Good,” the empress said. “You will go with Zhihao. Eunuch Lo will accompany you.”

  Jiayi did her best to conceal a grimace. She could go nowhere and do nothing without Eunuch Lo’s knowledge or approval. Even now, she could almost feel his eyes boring into the back of her. She had been hoping that if the empress let her leave the Forbidden City with Zhihao, she would also allow her to leave Eunuch Lo behind. But she realized that leaving the Forbidden City was more than she could have hoped for. Leaving Eunuch Lo behind as well was more than she should have dared dream.

  “Of course,” Jiayi finally said with a nod of her head.

  “And you, Zhihao Shaoye,” the empress continued. “You said that you needed assistants. I understand you will need men to carry your goods. And you have requested some of your fellow historians to travel with you. You do realize how sensitive this issue is, do you not? If the wrong people hear about the lost seal, the entire empire could be in danger.”

  “I realize that, Your Majesty,” Zhihao said. “But this task is large. We will need all manner of equipment. And a translator, since the people around Conghua speak a different dialect. A geographer would be helpful as well. There are hills and caves and rivers around Conghua. If we don’t know the terrain, it could be very dangerous. And other people familiar with the Daoguang Emperor to share ideas with and help with research would be useful. I estimate a party of fifty people should be sufficient for an expedition such as this.”