by Anchee Min
Realizing that I couldn’t afford to wait any longer, I went to Nuharoo.
“But how should we act?” Nuharoo asked.
“Issue an urgent decree in Tung Chih’s name summoning Prince Kung to Jehol,” I replied.
“Would it be valid?” Nuharoo became nervous. “Usually it is Su Shun who drafts orders and prepares edicts.”
“With both of our seals it is valid.”
“How would you get the decree to Prince Kung?”
“We must think of a way.”
“With Su Shun’s watchdogs everywhere, no one can get out of Jehol.”
“We must select a reliable person for the mission,” I said, “and he must be willing to die for us.”
• • •
An-te-hai asked for the honor. In exchange, he wanted me to promise that he would be allowed to serve me for the rest of his life. I gave him my word. I made him understand that if he was caught by Su Shun, I expected him to swallow the decree and do everything to avoid making a confession.
With Nuharoo by my side, I worked on the details of An-te-hai’s escape plan. My first step was to have An-te-hai spread a rumor among Su Shun’s circle. We targeted a man named Liu Jen-shou, a notorious gossip. The story we spread was that we had lost the most powerful seal of all, the Hsien Feng seal, which we carefully hid away. We created an impression that we had been concealing the truth because we understood that the penalty for losing the seal was death. We concocted three possibilities regarding the seal’s whereabouts. One, we had lost it on our way from Peking to Jehol; two, we had misplaced it somewhere in the Palace of Great Purity back in the Forbidden City; and three, we had left it with my jewelry boxes at Yuan Ming Yuan, which likely had been stolen by the barbarians.
Our rumor also said that Emperor Hsien Feng knew that the seal had been lost before he died, and he was too gentle-hearted to punish us. In order to protect us His Majesty hadn’t mentioned the disappearance to Su Shun.
As we had expected, Liu Jen-shou took little time in passing the rumor to Su Shun’s very ear. The story made sense to Su Shun, as no one could remember seeing the prized seal since leaving Peking.
Su Shun didn’t wait to make his move. He immediately requested an audience with us, which was attended by the entire court. He declared that he had just finished drafting a new decree addressing the nation regarding the moving of the coffin, and he needed to use the Hsien Feng seal.
Pretending to be nervous, I took out my handkerchief and wiped my forehead. “Our double seals are as good as the Hsien Feng seal,” I said in a small voice.
Su Shun was clearly pleased. The lines on his face danced and his veins stood out with excitement. “Where is the Hsien Feng seal?” he demanded.
With the excuse that I was suddenly feeling ill, Nuharoo and I requested that the audience be brought to an end.
Su Shun pressed onward. He kept at me until I confessed that An-te-hai had lost the seal.
An-te-hai was arrested and dragged out by the guards as he screamed for forgiveness. He was taken out for punishment—one hundred lashes.
I was afraid that An-te-hai wouldn’t be able to bear the suffering. Fortunately, the eunuch was meant to live—he truly had friends everywhere. Later, when he was brought back by Su Shun’s guards, his robe was in shreds and matted with blood.
I was aware that Su Shun was observing me, so I not only made myself look unmoved, but also said in a cold voice, “The eunuch deserved it.”
Water was poured over An-te-hai’s face and he came to. In front of the court, Nuharoo and I ordered An-te-hai to be thrown into the Imperial prison in Peking.
Su Shun didn’t want to let An-te-hai out of his sight, but Nuharoo and I insisted that we must rid ourselves of the ungrateful creature. When Su Shun protested, we argued that we had the right to punish our own house eunuch without restriction. We went to the back of the hall, to Hsien Feng’s coffin, and wept loudly.
Pressed by the senior clansmen to leave us alone, Su Shun relented. But he insisted that his men escort An-te-hai to Peking.
We agreed, and An-te-hai was on his way. Hidden between layers of An-te-hai’s shoes was the decree I had written.
In Peking, Su Shun’s men turned An-te-hai over to the minister of Imperial justice, Pao Yun, along with Su Shun’s secret message—I learned of this later—that An-te-hai be beaten to death. Unaware of the situation, Pao Yun prepared to carry out Su Shun’s order. But before the whips went to work, An-te-hai requested a private moment with the minister.
An-te-hai took out my decree from its hiding place.
Pao Yun was dumbfounded. Without delay he contacted Prince Kung.
Upon reading my decree, Prince Kung gathered his advisors. They listened to An-te-hai’s report on the situation in Jehol and discussed a course of action long into the night. The conclusion was unanimous: overthrow Su Shun.
Prince Kung understood that if he hesitated in helping Nuharoo and me, power could quickly fall into Su Shun’s hands. There would be no recovering from such a loss, since he and Prince Ch’un had been excluded from Emperor Hsien Feng’s will.
The first step Prince Kung took was to select someone to present his idea to the court in the most legal and logical way. Kung turned to the head of Imperial personnel. He asked the man to come up with a proposal suggesting that Nuharoo and I be named executive regents—the only regents—of Tung Chih, replacing Su Shun, and that we run the court with Prince Kung.
After the proposal had been completed, a trusted local official was chosen to submit it. The intent was to create the impression that the idea had come from the grassroots level, which would make it difficult for Su Shun to throw it out without a review. By using this method, the proposal would also make the rounds and be reviewed by every governor in China before it reached its final destination, Su Shun’s office.
On September 25, draped from head to toe in the white cotton of mourning, Prince Kung arrived in Jehol. He headed directly to the coffin room, where he was blocked by guards and told to wait until Su Shun arrived. When Su Shun appeared—this was reported to me later—behind him stood the rest of the Gang of Eight.
Before Prince Kung had a chance to open his mouth, Su Shun ordered his arrest. The charge was disobeying the decree.
“I am here because a new decree has summoned me,” Prince Kung calmly explained.
“Really? Present it, then.” Su Shun smiled contemptuously.
“Without our drafting it, how could there be a decree?” one of the gang said.
From his inner pocket Prince Kung took out the decree An-te-hai had delivered.
The little yellow silk scroll with both Nuharoo’s and my seals rattled Su Shun and his men. They must all have been silently asking one question: How did this get out?
Without another word, Prince Kung pushed through the gang and marched in.
At the sight of the coffin Prince Kung lost his composure. He banged his head on the ground and cried like a child. No one had seen anyone so heartbroken in front of the dead Emperor. Kung wailed that he couldn’t understand why Hsien Feng had not given him a chance to say goodbye.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He must have wished that his brother could see the mistake he had made. Prince Kung knew what Nuharoo and I did not, that Su Shun had already failed in his first attempt to overthrow Tung Chih on the day of his ascension. The grand councilor had sent Chiao Yu-yin, a member of the Gang of Eight, to contact General Sheng Pao and General Tseng Kuo-fan for military support. When Chiao accidentally leaked the information, Su Shun denied everything and secretly canceled the plot.
I caked my cheeks with powder and then slipped into a mourning gown. I noticed that Nuharoo’s face had grown puffy. Her usually glowing skin had become a dull, dead white. Her tears had drawn two wiggly lines under her eyes.
We were ready to meet Prince Kung, but learned that he couldn’t pass Chief Eunuch Shim, who quoted the household law that it was improper for Imperial widows to be seen by a prince of
the same age during the time of mourning.
Prince Kung threw himself on the floor and begged Su Shun to be allowed to meet his nephew Tung Chih.
I suggested to Nuharoo that we go to the coffin room. We dressed Tung Chih and went there. Behind a wall panel we were able to hear the voices of Su Shun and Prince Kung. Su Shun insisted that he was acting on Emperor Hsien Feng’s behalf.
The frustrated prince cursed. “The one who thinks of himself as having the wind at his back and moonlight in his sleeves is nothing but a mite-infested wooden puppet.”
I worried about Prince Kung’s temper. If he angered Su Shun further, Su Shun could accuse him of interfering with the execution of the Imperial will.
“This is about my birthright, Su Shun!” Prince Kung yelled.
Su Shun laughed. He knew his advantage and took his time. “No, this is not about what you are entitled to, Prince Kung. It is about the justification of the most powerful. Emperor Hsien Feng’s will leaves the nation with the impression that you are a weak hen who produces soft-shelled eggs. I don’t know what is lacking in you, but the defect is clear.”
The court laughed with Su Shun. A few of the senior clansmen stamped their feet on the floor.
“Imagine the soft-shelled egg,” Su Shun continued. “A yellow yolk wrapped in a paper-thin white shell. Oh, it is leaking. Can’t sell it and can’t keep it. We have to eat it as family members.”
The laughter shot up to the ceiling.
“Su Shun.” Prince Kung’s voice was dangerously low. “I am not asking much. And I am asking for the last time. I want to see my sisters-in-law and my nephew.”
“You are not going through that door.”
I sensed that Prince Kung was running out of patience. I pictured him pushing Su Shun away. I grabbed Tung Chih and whispered in his ear.
“The Emperor invites his uncle …” My son repeated what I had instructed: “The Emperor invites his uncle Prince Kung to enter the Imperial coffin room. The Emperor also grants permission for Prince Kung to pay respects to Her Majesties the Empresses.”
Upon hearing Tung Chih’s voice, Li Lien-ying, my young eunuch, ran out. He threw himself on the floor between Prince Kung and Su Shun. “Your honored grand councilor, His Majesty Emperor Tung Chih has summoned Prince Kung!”
“Would any of the grand councilors like to accompany me to meet His Majesty and Her Majesties?” Prince Kung turned to Su Shun. “So you can make sure that everything we say or do is appropriate?”
Before Su Shun could respond, Prince Yee, who must have felt that it was his turn to speak, said, “Proceed, Prince Kung, you are the person His Majesty has summoned.”
We lost our words when we saw each other’s white gowns. Tung Chih threw himself at his uncle, who in turn got down on his knees and kowtowed. Watching them on the floor, Nuharoo and I cried freely.
“It has not been peaceful here,” Nuharoo finally said. “We fear—”
I stopped her from speaking further. I hinted that Su Shun and his men were listening behind the wall.
Nuharoo nodded and sat back in her chair.
“Summon the monks,” I said to Li Lien-ying.
Under the cover of the monks’ chanting, Prince Kung and I exchanged information and discussed future plans. We plotted a counter-attack against Su Shun while Nuharoo went off to keep Tung Chih entertained. I was shocked when Prince Kung told me that Su Shun had bribed the military. We both agreed that he had to be eliminated.
My questions were: If we arrested Su Shun, would we have the support of the nation? Would the foreigners take advantage of the ensuing chaos and launch an invasion?
Prince Kung felt confident about receiving the necessary support, especially if the country could be told the truth. As for the Western powers, he had been in constant contact with them. He had let the foreigners know that he envisioned a freer society for China’s future, which had secured their promise of support.
I asked Prince Kung for his thoughts about the Taiping rebels. I be-lieved that they could easily become a serious threat if we even momentarily let our guard down. I told him that according to reports from Anhwei alone, the Taipings had united with local hooligans and had been pushing their forces toward Shantung province.
Prince Kung informed me that Generals Sheng Pao and Tseng Kuofan had already made arrangements regarding the matter.
How committed were the generals, I wanted to know. I dared not assume that everyone would behave the way they were expected to. I understood the power of Su Shun’s bribery.
“Sheng Pao is ready,” Prince Kung replied. “He asked to work with Seng-ko-lin-chin’s Mongol forces. I gave him permission. Seng-ko-linchin is eager to prove his loyalty and restore his name, and this will be his opportunity. I am not sure about the Chinese: General Tseng Kuofan and General Chou Tsung-tang view our conflict with Su Shun as a squabble among Manchu nobles. They believe it is wiser to stay out of it. They prefer to wait until there is a winner.”
“I despise people who bend with the wind,” Nuharoo said. I didn’t know she had reentered the room. “His Majesty was right about never trusting the Chinese!”
“For Tseng Kuo-fan and Chou Tsung-tang the situation may be more complicated,” I said. “We must be patient and understanding. If I were those generals, I would do exactly what they are doing. After all, Su Shun’s power cannot be denied, and to offend him is to risk one’s life. We are asking people to turn their backs on Su Shun, so we should allow the generals time to weigh their thoughts.”
Prince Kung agreed. “Tseng and Chou are leading the fight against the Taipings. Although they haven’t expressed any support for us, they haven’t promised anything to Su Shun either.”
“We’ll wait, then,” Nuharoo said. “I just don’t feel comfortable that our military power is in the hands of the Chinese. When we have achieved peace, we should remove them or at least keep them away from the highest positions.”
I disagreed, but said nothing. As a Manchu I naturally felt more secure with Manchus in the top military positions. And yet there were few men of talent among the princes and clansmen. After two hundred years in power, we had degenerated into decadence. The Manchu nobles spent their time reveling in past glory. All they really knew was that they were entitled to prestige. Luckily, the Chinese had always gone along with it. The Chinese honored our ancestors and graced us with their blessings. The question was, how long would it last?
“I am leaving tonight,” Prince Kung said, “although I told Su Shun I would stay till tomorrow.”
“Who will be here to protect us when we move the coffin from Jehol to Peking?” Nuharoo asked.
Lowering his voice, Prince Kung said, “I’ll be in control. Your job is to act as normal as possible. Don’t worry. Prince Ch’un will be around.”
Prince Kung warned us to expect Su Shun’s anger. He wanted us to be prepared to receive a document submitted by a provincial inspector of justice named Tung Yen-ts’un. It would publicize Su Shun’s flaws and call Nuharoo and me “the people’s choice.” Prince Kung wanted us to keep in mind that by the time Su Shun got hold of Tung’s document, it would already have been reviewed by statesmen all over the country. Prince Kung revealed no details. I could tell he was afraid that Nuharoo wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut if Su Shun happened to ask.
We parted.
Before dinner, Nuharoo came to my quarters with Tung Chih. She felt unsafe and wanted to know if I had seen anything unusual. I noticed that Prince Kung’s visit had put Su Shun on guard. More security had been added to the outer courtyard before the gate was locked for the night. I told Nuharoo to go out and smell the fragrant laurel in the garden or visit the hot spring. She said that she didn’t feel like doing either. To calm Tung Chih I picked up embroidery and asked Nuharoo to shed some light on the design. We sewed and chatted until Tung Chih fell asleep.
I prayed for Prince Kung’s safety. After I sent Nuharoo and Tung Chih to my guest room to sleep, I went to my own bed. My eyes
were afraid to close.
A few days later Tung Yen-ts’un’s document arrived. Su Shun was enraged. Nuharoo and I read it after Su Shun reluctantly passed it on to us. We were secretly pleased.
The next day Su Shun’s men launched a counterattack. Historical examples were used to convince the court that Nuharoo and I should retire from the Regency. At the audience Su Shun’s men spoke one after another, trying to create fear in us. They badmouthed Prince Kung. They accused Tung Yen-ts’un of disloyalty and called him a puppet. “We must cut off the hand that pulls the strings!”
Prince Kung expected me to remain silent, but Su Shun’s negative portrayal of him was having an effect among the court members. It would be fatal to allow Su Shun to dwell on the fact that Emperor Hsien Feng had excluded Prince Kung from his will. People had been curious about the reason, and Su Shun was feeding them his own interpretation.
With Nuharoo’s permission I reminded the court that Su Shun would have stopped Emperor Hsien Feng from naming Tung Chih as the successor if I hadn’t approached the deathbed myself. Su Shun was responsible for the strained relations that had existed between Hsien Feng and Prince Kung. We had strong reason to believe that Su Shun had manipulated the Emperor in his last days.
At my words Su Shun sprang from his seat. He punched the nearest column and broke the fan he was holding. “I wish Emperor Hsien Feng had buried you with him!” he yelled at me. “You have deceived the court and you have exploited Empress Nuharoo’s kindness and vulnerability. I have promised His Late Majesty to do justice. I would like to ask Her Majesty Empress Nuharoo for support.” He turned to her. “Do you, Empress Nuharoo, really know the female sitting next to you? Do you believe that she would be satisfied just sharing the role of regent with you? Would she be happier if you didn’t exist? You are in great danger, my lady! Protect yourself from this wicked woman before she puts poison in your soup!”
Tung Chih was scared. He begged Nuharoo and me to leave. When I said no, he wet himself.
Seeing the urine dripping from the throne, Nuharoo rushed to Tung Chih’s side.
