by Anchee Min
Was anything up to me at this moment? The silk pillow felt soft and cool against my cheek. I could no longer drag my thoughts along this path. I heard an aria inside my head: Like a river rock that rolls uphill, like a rooster that grows a set of teeth …
A touch on my shoulder woke me.
“How dare you fall asleep while His Majesty is awake!”
I sat up. I couldn’t quite tell where I was.
“Where have you been?” the man in front of me mocked. “Soochow or Hangchow?”
I was shocked. “Pardon me, Your Majesty, for I haven’t been myself. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was tired and I fell asleep carelessly.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
I pinched my thigh, trying to get my mind to work.
“How can you possibly be tired?” Emperor Hsien Feng sneered. “What have you been doing besides embroidery?”
I remained silent, but my mind’s wheel rolled.
“Answer my question.” His Majesty got up from the bed and began to pace with his shirt open in the front. “If you have been doing embroidery, tell me about it. I need distraction.”
I sensed that His Majesty was uninterested in hearing me talk about embroidery or anything else. I would be looking for trouble no matter what I said. The man was a smoking hut. I wanted to tell him that I had expected our coupling, not conversation.
His Majesty looked at me.
Realizing that I was naked, I reached toward the stool to grab my gown.
He kicked the stool and my gown fell to the floor. “Wouldn’t you like to be out of your costume for a while?”
I looked at him, amazed by his words. His voice reminded me of certain village boys I had known, boys in their late teens who still sounded like young roosters.
“I would.” The Son of Heaven answered his own question. “I might even be happy for a moment.”
I was overwhelmed by curiosity and decided to take a risk. “Your Majesty, may I have your permission to ask a question?”
“Yes, you may ask for anything except my seeds.”
I understood what he meant and felt insulted. I lost interest in speaking further.
“Go ahead, slave, I have given you my permission.”
My voice left me. Despair flooded my heart’s bank. I thought about what I had done to gain this one chance. I could hear the clock ticking and Chief Shim’s voice: “Your time is up, Lady Yehonala!”
I tried to convince myself to make peace with the loss, but my spirit wouldn’t obey. Every nerve in my body rebelled against my will to perform what I was taught.
“I’ll send for someone to replace you.” His Majesty leaned over. He smelled of orange peel. “I am in the mood to be pleased.” His breath touched my cheek and he seemed to enjoy the threat. “I want a parrot. Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Sing or sink. Coo-coo!”
Hopelessness came to wrap me and I still could find no words.
“Chief Eunuch Shim is waiting right behind the door,” His Majesty continued. “I shall call him to take you away.” He made a move toward the door.
I allowed my nature to take over. Despair had aroused my desire to fight, and suddenly my fear cleared. In my mind’s eye I saw a suicide rope hanging down from the Imperial palace beam, dancing like the sleeves of the moon goddess. The joy of taking control was unexpected but real. I got off the bed and slipped into my gown. “Have an excellent night, Your Majesty,” I said, and then I lunged toward the door.
I would have regretted it if I had been older or more experienced, but I was young and my blood was a hot spring. The situation had maddened me. Understanding that I would be beheaded for my behavior, I wanted to perform the final act my way.
“Halt!” Emperor Hsien Feng called from behind. “You have just offended the Son of Heaven.”
I turned around and saw a grin on his face.
“If you are to order my punishment,” I said, standing straight and tall, “my only wish is that you have the mercy to make it quick.”
As I spoke, I tightened the laces on my gown. What more could I achieve? Since moving to the Forbidden City I had ceased being an ordinary person. What would Big Sister Fann’s reaction be when she learned that I had addressed the Son of Heaven as one equal spirit to another? I smiled just thinking about Big Sister Fann’s face. She would spread the story of the “legendary Orchid” until her lips grew blisters.
Almost with elation I told His Majesty that I was ready for the eunuchs to remove me.
Hsien Feng made no move. He seemed surprised at the situation. But what he felt no longer mattered to me. All my waiting for tomorrow’s luck was over. My soul was set free.
“You interest me,” the Emperor said, and a smile traveled across the sealed lips.
This seemed to be the Imperial style of torture.
“Tell me that you feel remorse for what you have done.” He walked up to me until his face was inches away. There was a gentleness in his gaze. “It is too late even if there is regret. Begging is of no use. I am in no mood to grant mercy. Not one ounce. I have no more mercy to give.”
For that reason alone I pity you. I shot my words at him with my eyes. I was glad that I was not in his position. He could order my death, but he couldn’t order himself one. What kind of power was his, then? He was his own captive.
His Majesty insisted on learning my thoughts. After a moment’s hesitation I decided to reveal them. I told him I pitied him although he appeared to be powerful. I told him it was not impressive that he picked not an equal but me, a defenseless slave, to punish. I told him I wouldn’t resent him for punishing me, because I could see he had to find someone on whom to take out his frustration, and there was nothing easier than beheading a concubine.
As I spoke, I expected him to become enraged. I expected him to call the eunuchs to drag me out and the guards to poke me with their swords. But His Majesty did just the opposite. Instead of bursting with rage, he became calm. He seemed to be truly affected by my words. His expression became the work of a poorly skilled clay sculptor who intended to make a cheerful face but instead made a bitter one.
His Majesty slowly sat himself down on the edge of the bed and waved for me to sit by him. I obeyed. The sound of the yoo-hoo-loo outside the window was loud but not unpleasant. The moonlight threw shadows of a magnolia on the floor. I felt strangely peaceful.
“How about a simple conversation?” he asked.
I didn’t feel like responding, so I remained silent.
“You don’t have anything more to say?”
“I have said it all, Your Majesty.”
“You … are smiling!”
“Are you offended?”
“No. I like it. Keep smiling … Did you hear what I said?”
I felt my facial expression freeze at his order.
“What’s wrong? Your smile has disappeared. Get it back! I want to see that smile back on your face. Put it back. Now!”
“I am trying, Your Majesty.”
“It is not there! You have taken my smile away! How dare …”
“How about this, Your Majesty?”
“No, that is not a smile. That is a grin. An ugly one. Do you need help?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how, then.”
“Your Majesty could tell me my name.”
“Your name?”
“Do you know my name?”
“What a wicked question! No, of course I don’t.”
“I am your wife. I am your consort of the fourth rank.”
“Indeed?”
“My name, Your Majesty?”
“Would you kindly remind me?”
“Would I? Has anyone in this realm had the luck to hear the Son of Heaven say ‘Would you kindly’?”
“What’s your name? Come on!”
“Why bother?”
“His Majesty wants to bother!”
“He’d better not. It’ll give him nightmares.”
“How so?”
“I have no id
ea whether I shall turn into a good ghost. And a bad ghost chases after the living. I assume you are aware of that.”
“I see.” He got up and walked barefoot to a golden tray on his desk. On the tray was a bamboo chip with my name on it. “Lady Yehonala.” He picked up the chip and cupped it in his hand. “How does your family call you, Yehonala?”
“Orchid.”
“Orchid.” He nodded and murmured the name repeatedly as he dropped the chip back onto the tray. “Well, Orchid, maybe you’d like to ask me to grant you a last wish.”
“No, I would like to get my life over with as soon as possible.”
“I shall certainly honor that. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Well then,” the Emperor said, “perhaps before you die you may wish to know how you came to be here tonight.” The Emperor’s effort to appear stern could not hide a faint smile.
“I wouldn’t mind, no,” I managed.
“Well, it all began with Chief Eunuch Shim telling me a story … Come, Orchid, lie here with me. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? Maybe this will turn you into a good ghost.”
As I climbed into the bed, my gown became tangled.
“Off, take your dress off.” Emperor Hsien Feng pointed his finger at my gown.
I revealed my body with embarrassment. What a strange play to be part of!
“It was a story about the Emperor Yuan Ti of the Han Dynasty.” His Majesty’s tone was warm and charged with energy. “Like myself he owned thousands of concubines whom he never saw. He had time only to pick them from their portraits, which were painted by the court artist, Mao Yen-shou. The concubines showered gifts on the painter in the hope that he would make them look as desirable as possible. The loveliest of all the concubines was an eighteen-year-old girl named Wang Ch’ao-chun. She possessed a strong character and didn’t believe in bribery. She thought that it would be all right if the artist painted her as she really was. But of course Mao Yen-shou painted a terrible portrait of her. The painting failed to do justice to her beauty. As a result, Emperor Yuan Ti knew her not.
“In those days many dignitaries came to pay homage at the court, among them Shang Yu, the Great Khan, who reigned over the Turkomans of the Huns. Wishing to strengthen the ties of friendship with this powerful neighbor, Emperor Yuan Ti offered him one of his own concubines as a wife. And Emperor Yuan Ti gave him Wang Ch’aochun, whom he had never seen.
“When the bride, who had come to bid farewell, appeared before Yuan Ti, the Emperor was struck dumb by her beauty. He had not known that his harem contained a maiden of such transcendent loveliness. He desired her right on the spot, but it was too late—Wang Ch’ao-chun was his no longer.
“As soon as the couple departed, Yuan Ti ordered Mao Yen-shou’s beheading. Even so, the Emperor was forever haunted by the memory of the maiden and by regret for the happiness that might have been his.”
Emperor Hsien Feng gazed at me. “I summoned you because I didn’t want to suffer the regret Yuan Ti did. You are as beautiful as Chief Eunuch Shim described. You are Wang Ch’ao-chun’s incarnation. But Shim failed to tell me that you are also a lady of character. You are better than the orange-peel tea they make me drink. It is delicious, but I find no pleasure in its taste.
“It is the same with everything these days. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy Wang Ch’ao-chun even if she existed. And I am wondering about you. All I can think of, I’m afraid, is the shrinking map of China. Enemies are coming from all directions. They have grabbed me by the throat and spit in my face. I am beat up and shot through. Why should I—how can I—sleep with you or any concubine? To pass on a living man’s worst nightmare? I am incapable of producing an heir. I am no different from a eunuch.”
He began to laugh. There was a wrenching sadness in his manner and voice, which touched me. I knew the map he was talking about. It was the same map my father had shown me. The man in front of me reminded me of my father. He too had desperately desired to bring back the honor of the Manchus, and yet he ended up deserting his post. I felt the shame His Majesty bore. It was the same shame that killed my father.
I looked at Hsien Feng and thought that he was a true Bannerman. He could have sat back and enjoyed the garden and the feast of concubines, but he chose to worry himself to impotency.
An urge to comfort him overcame my fear. I moved to sit on my knees. I opened my arms and pulled him to my chest as a mother would an infant. He offered no resistance, and I held him this way for a long time.
He sighed and drew back to look at me.
I reached for the sheet to cover my exposed breasts.
“Leave it,” he said, pulling away the sheet. “I enjoy what I see.”
“My death sentence?”
He grinned. “You’ll have a chance to live if you help me get a good night’s sleep.”
Sunlight filtered through my heart’s darkest chamber, and I smiled.
“The smile is back!” he cried happily, like a child discovering a shooting star.
“Is it time for Your Majesty to sleep?”
“It is no longer an easy job.” He sighed.
“It will help if you let go of your thoughts.”
“Impossible, Orchid.”
“Does Your Majesty like games?”
“Games no longer interest me.”
“Does Your Majesty know ‘Joy at Meeting’?”
“That is an old song. By Chu Tun-ju of the Sung Dynasty?”
“What an excellent memory Your Majesty has!”
“Let me warn you, Orchid, no doctor has succeeded in helping me with my sleep.”
“May I have your qin?”
He reached for the instrument and passed it to me.
I plucked the strings and began to sing.
I lean on the western railing of the city wall
Of Ching-ling in the fall.
Shedding its rays over the land, the sun hangs low
To see the great river flow.
The central plain is a mess,
Officials disperse in distress.
When to recover our frontiers?
The winds of Yang-chou came to blow away my tears.
Emperor Hsien Feng listened quietly and started to weep. He asked me to sing another song. “If you were an actor from the royal troupe, I would reward you with three hundred taels,” he said, taking hold of my hand.
I sang. I no longer wanted to think about how strangely things had turned out. After I finished “Farewell, Black River” and “The Drunken Concubine,” His Majesty wanted more. I begged his pardon and explained that I was not prepared.
“One last song.” He held me close. “Anything that comes to your mind.”
My fingers wandered over the strings. A moment later a tune came to me.
“It is called ‘Immortal at the Magpie Bridge,’ composed by Ch’in Kuan.” I cleared my throat and started.
“Wait, Orchid. ‘Immortal at the Magpie Bridge’? Why have I never heard of this? Is it popular?”
“Was.”
“That’s not fair, Lady Yehonala. The Emperor of China should be informed about everything.”
“Well, that’s why I am here, Your Majesty. For me, this lyric eclipses all other love poems. It tells the old legend of the Cowherd and the Maiden—or the Weaver—two stars separated by the Milky Way. They were to meet on the Magpie Bridge once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, when the autumn wind embraces the dew.”
“The pain of separation is known to many,” the Emperor said quietly. “The story reminds me of my mother. She hanged herself when I was a child. She was a beautiful woman, and we are separated by the Milky Way.”
I was moved to hear him say this, but managed not to comment. Instead, I sang.
Clouds float like works of art,
Stars shoot with grief at heart.
Across the Milky Way the Cowherd meets the Maiden.
When autumn’s golden wind embraces the dew of jade,
All the love
scenes on earth, however many, fade.
Their passion flows like a stream.
This happy date seems but a dream.
Can they bear a separate homeward way?
If love between both sides can last,
Why need they stay together night and day?
Before my last note ended, Emperor Hsien Feng was asleep.
I put the instrument down beside the bed, wishing that this moment would go on forever. But it was time for me to depart. According to custom, I had to be sent back to my own palace at midnight. The eunuchs would soon come and remove me. Would I be summoned again? Most likely Emperor Hsien Feng would forget about me when he woke up.
A sense of melancholy descended. Fortune had not led to intimacy. I tried not to think about my ruyi and my lost hairpin and the energy and hope that went into my preparation. I hadn’t been given a chance to perform my fan dance. If Emperor Hsien Feng had desired me, I felt I could have made him happy.
Lying next to him, I watched the candles inside the red lanterns die out one after another. I tried not to feel beaten. What good would it do if I allowed myself to break down? The Emperor would only be irritated.
Sorrow drowned me in silence. My heart floated in an ocean strangled by seaweed. The candle in the last lantern flickered and went out. The room turned black. I hadn’t noticed until now that the clouds had blocked the moon completely. The singing of the yoo-hoo-loos was joined by other insects. The symphony of this night was marvelous. I lay in the dark and watched Emperor Hsien Feng breathing peacefully in his sleep. Like a pen, my eyes traced the contours of his body.
A shaft of moonlight cut the floor. The color was white with a touch of yellow. It recalled my mother’s complexion as she watched my father die. Each day the wrinkles chewed away a bit of her, biting deeper into her skin. Then suddenly one day the lines changed the entire landscape of her face. Her skin hung as if pulled by the earth. My mother was no longer a young woman.
Slowly and silently, I removed myself from the bed. I placed the qin on the table against the wall. I put on my gown and looked out the windows. I stared at the moon and saw myself in it—a large tear-washed face.
