“It may interest you,” said Yao, “that I am soon to enter the gentry myself.”
“Indeed?”
“The negotiations are almost concluded.”
They were all doing it, these merchants—at least, those who could afford to. For a suitable fee, the imperial court would give them gentry rank. It allowed them to display the symbols of their social rank in their houses. They were, at least officially, no longer the despised, money-grubbing merchants they had been before.
Personally, Shi-Rong regarded this as a debasement of the nobility, a lack of respect for Confucian order. But in these troubled times, what could you expect? In this case it would clearly be to the advantage of his adopted daughter.
“I congratulate you,” he said. “There are many men, my dear Yao,” he went on blandly, “who would be glad to marry my adopted daughter. I should like a rich man, certainly, but not too old. You are still vigorous. I want a man who would treat her kindly. I know you will. In return, she is young, she is healthy; and until she was born, her own mother had produced nothing but sons.”
“That is very good,” said Yao.
“Before speaking to you about the matter,” Shi-Rong continued, “I thought it wise to consult a marriage broker. She looked at your birth dates and consulted the calendar, and I am happy to tell you that if a marriage were to take place this year, there are no bad auguries. So we have some months. I can send the broker to you, or of course you may wish to consult your own.”
“Please send her to me,” said Yao eagerly. “I shall be glad to take her advice.”
“Naturally,” Shi-Rong continued, “Bright Moon’s trousseau is in order, and she would send all the usual gifts to your family. But I thought you might like to see these.” And returning to the drawer he’d opened before, he took out some pieces of embroidery and showed them to the merchant.
“Very fine.” Yao was deeply impressed. “Very fine indeed.”
“All by her own hand. She is most accomplished. She performs the tea ceremony elegantly. She is versed in poetry…” He noticed Yao look a little nervous. “I mean only to the extent,” he assured him, “that a new member of the gentry would wish.”
“Of course,” said Yao. “Very proper.”
“I have to make a visit to Beijing,” Shi-Rong announced. “Meanwhile, I shall send word that Bright Moon and her mother should travel to Jingdezhen, where they will stay at my residence. I expect to get back from Beijing before they arrive. Would that be agreeable to you?”
“Most certainly,” said Yao. “Most certainly.”
* * *
—
He sailed down the Yangtze with the current to Nanjing, then to Hangzhou and the coast, where he found a swift ship at Zhapu. Eighteen days later, from the coast below Beijing, he came easily by the Grand Canal to the capital and quickly found suitable lodgings. He sent word to Ru-Hai that he must attend to business the first day, but would call upon him the next.
It was his old friend Mr. Peng Senior who had suggested this visit. Besides taking young Peng under his wing at Guilin, Shi-Rong had helped the young man with numerous testimonials, and his father was not a man to forget favors. If everything in his letter worked out, he’d have more than repaid any debts of gratitude.
As you know, my friend, no state office has been more profitable to the holder than the collection and distribution of the salt tax. Hitherto, there was one man in charge, who, by taking a cut of the enormous volume, could make a huge fortune.
In recent years, the business has been less tightly controlled. Quite a number of men can get a share, and still do very well. So these posts are much sought after.
I’ve just heard that one of these positions will be available before long, and I thought you might be interested. Hardly anyone knows about this yet, so if you move quickly, you might be able to secure it. Normally I’d have asked Prince Gong to put in a word for you—and that would probably have done the trick. But as you will have heard, during this recent succession crisis at court, Dowager Empress Cixi not only adopted her nephew and made him the new boy emperor, but she has reduced the power and influence of Prince Gong, alas. So for the time being, his support mightn’t do you much good.
However, there’s another fellow I happen to know who has the ear of Cixi. He’s a strange chap. I’ll tell you all about him if you come to Beijing. You’ll have to bribe him, of course.
So it was, after a pleasant midday meal with Mr. Peng, that Shi-Rong made his way to a prosperous street in the merchant quarter and came to a handsome doorway, where a servant let him in.
Given all that Mr. Peng had told him about his host, Shi-Rong was quite curious. As soon as the door closed, he found himself between the two fearsome warrior gods who guarded the hallway, stared at his reflection in the big mottled mirror in front of him, which repelled all evil spirits, and followed the servant to the left and then to the right into the courtyard.
He was impressed. This was the house of a rich man. He wondered how his host could have accumulated so much in only a dozen years. Was the bribe Peng had recommended going to be enough to satisfy such a person?
As they entered the courtyard, he noticed a youth of sixteen or seventeen, slipping quietly into a doorway in the far corner. Was this the son of his host? Glancing to one side, through the latticework screen of an open window, he caught a glimpse of a lady sitting on a brocade-covered divan; she appeared to be smoking an opium pipe. The boy’s mother, perhaps?
Ushered into a small but pleasant office, he was informed that the master of the house would be with him directly. And indeed, it was only moments before a faint rustle of silk outside the door announced his host.
* * *
—
So this was the married eunuch known as Lacquer Nail. A strange chap, Peng had called him. Certainly he wasn’t like any eunuch Shi-Rong had seen before.
He wore a simple but costly grey robe. On his head, a plain round cap of the same material. He looked exactly like a rich merchant. But there was a hint of the servile eunuch about him as well, Shi-Rong thought, as Lacquer Nail bowed low and sat down opposite his guest.
“My friend Mr. Peng has explained your requirements in detail, honored sir.” His voice was soft, but not as high as many eunuchs’. Did he detect, behind the respectful politeness, a hint of an impatient mind? Shi-Rong wondered.
Though it was hardly customary to compliment a stranger on first meeting him, Shi-Rong couldn’t help remarking: “I must congratulate you on your fine house.”
“It is not mine, sir,” his host replied. “This house belongs to my esteemed friend Mr. Chen. Since his retirement to the country, I rent it from him, on the understanding that it is his to use whenever he wishes. He comes to stay with us for a month, twice a year.”
“An admirable arrangement.”
“Mr. Chen was an early mentor of mine. Like me, he became a eunuch after he had married and had a family. Here he lived as a merchant, as I do. The neighbors are not even aware of my position in the palace.”
“Remarkable.”
For the next few minutes the two men exchanged the usual courtesies. Shi-Rong asked whether it was the eunuch’s son whom he’d caught a glimpse of, and Lacquer Nail said that it was. Shi-Rong thought it better not to ask after his wife.
“My own son is nearly thirty now,” he offered. “He’s in the Bureau of Foreign Affairs, here in Beijing.”
“An interesting place to be,” his host politely remarked. “I believe this generation is the first to take an interest in the lands beyond our borders since the days of the Ming dynasty. No doubt you are proud of him.”
Shi-Rong acknowledged this with a slight bow of his head.
“Mr. Peng has spoken to you of my requirements?” Lacquer Nail continued. Evidently he was done with the pleasantries now.
“He ha
s. Everything is in order. He suggested I should leave this small gift with you…”—Shi-Rong produced a bag of silver—“to cover any expenses you might incur, with the balance to be made upon my securing the appointment.”
“Quite so. It will require patience, you know. Timing is everything.” Lacquer Nail gazed at the mandarin thoughtfully. “May I speak frankly and without reservation?”
“Of course.”
“Then I must tell you, honored sir, that while I am a devoted slave to the Dowager Empress Cixi—I owe her everything and I would die for her—that doesn’t mean she’s without fault.”
“Few of us are.”
“She has a remarkable instinct. Even her most exasperating decisions often turn out to be good—at least for her. But she’s changeable. You never know what mood she’ll be in from one day to the next. Someone like me, trusted for many years, is fairly safe. I’m only the eunuch who does her nails, and it amuses her to talk to me. But you know how she recently turned upon Prince Gong himself.”
“Of course.”
“She didn’t try to destroy him. For she’s not without gratitude. But for the present, his influence is uncertain.”
“So I have heard.”
“In short, honored sir, I must tread carefully. First, I must wait until the post is officially under consideration. To raise the matter beforehand might seem impertinent.”
“I understand.”
“Then I have to catch her on a good day. I can always tell her mood as soon as I come into her presence. On a bad day, she’ll take a delight in telling me no. On a good day, she’ll smile and ask me how much I’m being bribed.”
“She will?” Shi-Rong asked, alarmed.
“Of course. Everyone in the palace is bribed. It will amuse her.”
“But then she’ll know it’s me who bribed you.”
“I doubt she’ll care. I don’t suppose she’s ever heard of you.”
Shi-Rong sighed. It was painful to hear such a thing from this eunuch, but it was probably true.
“The Dowager Empress was born quite poor,” the eunuch went on. “She still had nothing when her son was born, or even when his father died. Her existence was uncertain. You may have heard that Prince Sushun wanted to kick her out. He may even have planned to kill her. But then, as we all know, Prince Gong triumphed, Sushun was executed, and his huge estate was given to Cixi and the widowed empress. Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Cixi had a lot of money. And like many people so blessed, she’s generous. By fits and starts, of course. But she loves it when her servants get rich, too. It makes her happy.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“Of course, your getting one of the salt inspector positions won’t actually cost her anything. Once you have the post, you’ll take your cut of all the salt tax that belongs to the state—which is theft, really. But then so would anyone else who got the job, so it makes no difference. And I will have received a bribe from you, and she likes me, so that’s all right.”
“You have a charming way of putting things,” said Shi-Rong. He was starting to resent Lacquer Nail, and the eunuch knew it, but it didn’t seem to worry him. Shi-Rong imagined Lacquer Nail was quite enjoying the spectacle of a man so superior to himself being forced to look at the uncomfortable truth. Instead of being angry, therefore, he took the opportunity to ask something he’d often wondered about. “Tell me,” he inquired, “what does the dowager empress really want from her position these days? What else makes her happy?”
“Ah.” Lacquer Nail nodded. It seemed he liked this question, for he thought for a few moments before replying. “First,” he replied, “I think she just wants to survive. A dozen years ago, as we’ve just said, she nearly didn’t.”
“That is understandable.”
“Second, she’d like to enjoy herself a bit, as any person would. But in her position, that is not easy. She’s just turning forty. She may not be conventionally pretty, but she has the same needs as any woman of her age. Her whole position, however, depends on her being the official mother of the boy emperor. So she probably can’t risk taking lovers.” He paused reflectively. “If she wasn’t so strong-minded she might have taken to opium. But she loves the theater. She can afford troupes of actors and dancers. In court, the parts are mostly played by eunuchs, you know. So we all have fun at that.”
“They say she’s extravagant: wanting to rebuild the Summer Palace when we still haven’t recovered from the Taiping and the Opium Wars. They call her a spendthrift.”
“They call her all kinds of names. Officials who get on the wrong side of her say she’s a dragon lady. I know palace people who call her Old Buddha—which seems a bit premature—because they think she’s inscrutable. But in my opinion, they’ve all missed the point. To understand what the dowager empress does, one has to forget the person and look at the situation.”
“Which is that the empire’s ruined.”
“Yes. And it’ll take us years to recover. But what’s she to do in the meantime? She has to give her people hope.” Lacquer Nail paused. “What was the greatest single catastrophe, would you say, during the Opium Wars?”
“The burning of the Summer Palace, certainly.”
“Indeed. And it wasn’t only the destruction; it was the humiliation. A blackened ruin at the heart of our empire.” He paused. “I was there, you know, and saw the whole thing. I even fought the barbarians myself with a sword, killed two of them.”
“You fought?” Despite himself, Shi-Rong couldn’t quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.
Lacquer Nail observed him coldly. “You do not believe me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It doesn’t matter. Today,” the eunuch went on, “the barbarian powers still encircle us like hungry rats, trying to steal whatever they can. Cixi hates it. She also knows that we can’t do much about it. Not yet. Not until we get stronger. But at least she can start rebuilding a part of the Summer Palace to show that the empire means to get its dignity back.”
The eunuch was no fool, Shi-Rong thought. Yet something was missing from this explanation. And because he felt at such an uncomfortable disadvantage in the interview so far, he pressed on when he should have remained silent. “But the Summer Palace was still, at the end of the day, a private pleasure ground,” he pointed out. “It’s not as if the emperor performed the ritual sacrifices there, if you see what I mean. It’s more about art and display than about the serious business of the state.”
Did he realize that he was indirectly suggesting the eunuch was frivolous? Or was he so busy constructing his proposition that he hadn’t considered the bricks of which it was built?
“The ritual sacrifices are ceremonies,” Lacquer Nail replied coolly, “with a correct procedure. That’s a display, of a kind. If the emperor goes through the streets, there are finely dressed attendants, soldiers, drummers. Display again. For how do the people know there’s order in the empire? Only by ceremony. Because ceremony is what they see. Wouldn’t you agree?” He stared at Shi-Rong until the mandarin bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Anyway,” Lacquer Nail went on blandly, “people like parades. They like the emperor and his servants to make a fine show—just as they like their temples to be full of beauty and scented candles, and gleaming gold. It makes them feel good. The emperor shows them their land is great; the temples bring them closer to the heavens.”
“And if the people are poor?”
“The peasants like to dress up, too. Even in the poorest hill villages. Look at the colorful tribal costumes they put on at festivals. It’s amazing how they manage it all, but they do. It’s just human nature.” He paused. “And they like to be entertained. That’s part of the art of ruling. You mustn’t let the people starve, but they’ll forgive you almost anything else if you keep them entertained.”
“They respect justice and good morals,” Shi-
Rong declared.
“When they need them,” Lacquer Nail replied. “But mostly they want to be entertained.”
“Perhaps you are too cynical about the people,” said Shi-Rong stiffly.
“I come from the people,” the eunuch riposted. “We were dirt poor when I was a boy.” He let his gaze rest for a moment on a fine piece of porcelain standing on a table by the wall. “Perhaps that’s why I like the finer things of life so much.”
“I was brought up to respect Confucian order,” Shi-Rong observed.
“Ah yes,” said Lacquer Nail. “So shall we call our arrangement a Confucian bribe?”
Shi-Rong winced as if he had been punched. He couldn’t help it. He thought of his father. He looked helplessly at Lacquer Nail, but the eunuch seemed suddenly weary.
“I believe our business is done for today,” Lacquer Nail said. “I’ll send word as soon as I have news. Please just be patient.”
The two men rose.
“It has been my privilege to meet you, honored sir,” the eunuch murmured, his manner disconcertingly servile again as he conducted Shi-Rong towards the entrance.
And Shi-Rong was just about to pass between the two warrior gods in the doorway and out into the street when he stopped for a moment.
He felt the need to speak again. Not to have the last word. Just to speak again. To say something, anything, that might allow him to quit the field of battle with his colors still flying. “Forgive my asking,” he said, “but I am curious. To what use will you put the money I give you? Towards buying this splendid house, perhaps?”
“No,” Lacquer Nail replied calmly. “I have another matter to attend to before that. I need to buy back my private parts, so that when the time comes, I can be buried as a complete man. Often eunuchs do not accomplish this until late in life, and sometimes never. Naturally, it is a point of honor—both for me and for my family.”
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