Empress in Disguise, Book 1

by Zoey Gong

  A ghost bride. A fate worse than death according to some. Even though the boy is dead, the girl will be considered his wife and must serve her in-laws as any dutiful daughter-in-law would for the rest her life—but without the comfort of a husband and children of her own. She’ll spend her life as nothing more than a slave.

  I’m not sure why Baba has brought this up except to hint that one of the children will have to be sold if we are to survive. I look at my sisters, Mingming, who is twelve, Junli, who is six, and Huanji, only three, and fear grips my heart at the idea of any of them being forced into a brothel. Of course, the madam would assure Baba that they wouldn’t be given to customers until they were old enough, but we all know that that isn’t true. There is no shortage of wicked men who will pay for the company of a girl too young to understand what is happening to her.

  “I will find a position,” I say, standing up from my bucket. “I can find a place as a maid to a rich family. Or I can go to Suchou and get a job at the embroidery factories.”

  “No!” Baba says, placing the baby aside and standing to face me. He’s terribly thin, much like Mama, but he is at least a head taller than I am. “If we do that, you’ll never be able to marry. It’s been hard enough to find a husband for you with your big, ugly feet.”

  I curl my toes under and move my pantlegs to try and hide my feet. I glance at Mama and her tiny bound feet. It was unconventional for Mama to not bind my feet. In fact, I don’t know any families with girls with unbound feet, no matter how poor. It’s nearly impossible to find a husband for a girl with unbound feet. But Mama couldn’t do it to us.

  Mama says that she nearly died after her feet were bound due to an infection, and her younger sister did, in fact, die. So she was too afraid to bind our feet, and Baba couldn’t do it, so instead, we are a family of big-footed girls. Some people have even mistaken us for Manchu girls at times since the Manchu do not follow the tradition of foot-binding.

  In some ways, I’m grateful that my feet were not bound. It’s a life of constant pain, and the daily ritual of having to wash and wrap the feet is painful and tiring. But I know that the chance of me marrying, of any of us marrying, is very small.

  “You know I’m not going to marry no matter what,” I say. “My feet aren’t bound and I have no dowry. I only have sisters, so no one will believe I can bear sons. The matchmaker has never knocked on our door because she knows we are all lost causes.”

  “Then what good are you?” Baba asks, his voice straining. I know he wants to yell, be angry, but tears prick the corners of his eyes. He feels like a failure, I know it. “I should just sell you and be done with it!” he says, turning away from me. “All of you!”

  There’s no point in arguing with him. It’s the same fight week after week. Baba has said for years that he should sell us, but he never does. He loves us too much, to his own detriment.

  “Come on,” I say to the other girls, motioning toward the door. I pick up the pail of dirty water and follow them into the hutong, the alley where we live. I toss the water away and then follow the girls as we walk toward the water pump, one shared by the whole neighborhood.

  We pass a building that has been converted into a public house and I see Dong Fa inside, drinking. I feel sick. To think he just sold two of his children and is wasting the money on getting drunk. He at least could have used it on food for his remaining family. But as we reach the water pump, which is very near the Dong house, my heart thumps hard and I drop the bucket.

  Dong Fa’s wife is dead. She’s laid out in front of the house, covered by a white cloth. I only now notice that a few people have gathered around to stare and gossip.

  “What happened?” I ask a person standing next to me.

  “Hung herself,” the woman says, shaking her head. “You heard what happened to her daughters? She couldn’t stand the pain of it.”

  Tears escape my eyes and I think I will be sick. Not for the Dong family, but for my own. I know that Baba has no real wish to sell us, no matter what he says, but will it come down to that or dying of starvation? Mama is already so thin, and the baby sickly. I do not believe it will survive the winter.

  “Daiyu?” Mingming says, tugging my sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

  “Go back,” I tell her. “Take the little ones home.”

  “Why?” she asks, concern on her face. “Where are you going?”

  “Just go,” I tell her, pushing her away. I don’t wait for her to try and talk me out of it before I walk away. I have to do something. I can’t let my family die or my little, innocent sisters be sold away.

  I start walking, and the sun begins to set. I won’t get far before dark, but I have to hope it’s far enough.

  I pass several brothels, red lanterns lit outside and women with obscene amounts of paint on their faces calling enticingly to passing men to join them inside. But I walk on. If I’m going to sell myself to a brothel, it’s going to have to be worth the money. These places wouldn’t pay enough to save my family.

  I keep walking and walking, walking until my feet hurt and the sky is a deep blue. It won’t be safe for me to be out at night in an unknown place, so I have to hurry. I start to cross a street and hear a horse whinny and a man cry out. I fall back and realize that I walked right in front of a horse pulling a carriage. The horse rears up as the man grabs the reins and tries to steady it.

  “I’m sorry!” I say, my heart in my nose and my knees shaking so hard I’m not sure I can keep walking.

  The door to the carriage flies open and a finely dressed woman steps out. I know she is Manchu as soon as I see that she is wearing shoes with thick platforms. The Manchu might not bind their feet, but they still wear ridiculous shoes that make it difficult to walk.

  “What’s going on?” the woman screeches. “I nearly fell and broke my neck!”

  “Sorry, mistress,” the man says, getting the horse under control. “This idiot girl tried to kill herself by throwing herself in front of the horse.”

  “I didn’t!” I say to the woman. “It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

  The woman looks at me as if she has seen a ghost. “Who…who are you?”

  I look at the man and then see that a few people have gathered around to watch what is going on.

  “No one,” I say.

  The woman steps forward much more quickly than I would have thought capable on her precarious shoes and grabs my arm. “Who are you?”

  “No one!” I say again as I try to pull away, but she has a terrible grip on me.

  “Tell me, girl, now!” she orders.

  “Let me go!” I yell and I push her away. She loses her balance and falls back. A man from the crowd steps forward to catch her. As the woman stands back up, she gives me a hard look and I know she’s going to grab me again. I turn and push my way through the crowd.

  “Stop her!” I hear the woman call. “Stop that girl!” But thankfully no one does, and in a moment I’m through the crowd and running back toward home.

  Was she going to have me arrested for accidentally stepping in front of her carriage? I can’t wait around to find out. I don’t like the way she was looking at me. Was she angry? Afraid? I can’t be sure.

  It’s late and growing dark and the woman might hire men to find me, so I must abandon my plans to sell myself tonight. There’s always tomorrow.

  3

  “No, don’t!” I yell as Huanji tries to splash me with some of her wash water as I serve up bowls of congee for breakfast. She laughs and splashes me even more.

  “Leave your sister alone,” Mama says with a chuckle as she bounces the baby on her knee. “Look, Daiyu, she’s smiling!” I take Mama a bowl and see that, indeed, the baby is smiling and cooing, not crying for once.

  “She’s so cute,” I say. “What are we going to call her?” We’ve just been calling her “baby” so far.

  “I don’t know,” Mama says as she tries to juggle the baby and her bowl. Baba comes over and takes the baby, holding her up in
the air.

  “She’s a strong one,” he says, and I can see the pride in his eyes. One night of sleeping with full bellies seems to have done everyone some good. I haven’t seen so many smiling faces in this house since… Well, I can’t remember when.

  “Where are you going to look for work today?” Mama asks Baba.

  “I think I might walk to the riverfront,” he says. “There is always cargo that needs unloading.”

  “It’s so far,” Mama says, concerned. “You wouldn’t make it back today. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “I have a lot of energy today,” he says. “Besides, we need more money to keep us together. More than I can find around here. You have enough food for the week, so I’ll stay at the wharf for a few days. When I get back, maybe we should think about moving closer to the river so I wouldn’t have to travel so far to find decent-paying work.”

  I’m not sure if this is a good idea or not. Dock work is brutal, and I doubt Baba would live to be an old man if he decided to try and do it every day. The area is also dirty and stinks of fish. We would have more money, though, so it’s a difficult decision.

  “The emperor is holding the consort selection soon,” I say. “There could be work building more rooms and palaces in the Forbidden City soon.”

  Baba scoffs. “Consort selection. Ridiculous. How many women does one man need?”

  “I’d like to be a consort,” Junli says as she twirls around. “I’d have beautiful dresses and servants and so much food! I’d send most of it back here to you, Mama, so you’d never be hungry.”

  “Such a thoughtful girl,” Mama says, squeezing Junli’s chin. “But I’d never see you. Could you live your life without ever seeing your loving Mama again?”

  “I’d come back!” Junli exclaims, her eyes wide. “I’d never leave you, Mama!”

  Mama holds Junli close. “Well, there’s no need to worry. The emperor will only marry Manchu girls, so you are quite safe.”

  There’s a heavy pounding on the door that immediately raises the tiny hairs on my arms as I remember the accident I nearly caused last night. Did the woman find me? Did I really do something so terrible?

  “Hong Laoye!” a voice booms, asking for my father. “Open up!”

  Baba looks at Mama, who is holding the baby protectively. She shakes her head, and Baba holds a finger to his mouth to tell us all to be quiet. It can never be good news when someone you don’t know bangs on your door. I wonder for a moment if it has nothing to do with me, but is a debt collector.

  There is another bang and demand for Baba to open the door. This time, the baby cries. Mama tries to shush it, but it is too late.

  “Open the door,” I hear a woman say, and it sounds just like the woman from last night. I look around futilely for somewhere to hide or a way to escape the single room dwelling.

  Baba sighs in resignation and opens the door. “Yes?” he asks, folding his hands together and bowing respectfully.

  I can’t see outside with the bright morning sunlight shining into the dark room, but I see the shape of a man move aside and a smaller figure steps forward, nudging Baba out of the way as she steps into our home without invitation.

  I can see her more clearly now than I could the night before. She is still wearing the pot-bottom shoes of a Manchu, which makes her appear taller than any of us. Her floor-length robe is heavily embroidered, and her headdress is studded with so many jewels and decorations I wonder how she can hold her head up. She is undoubtedly a wealthy woman.

  She holds her chin up as her eyes sweep around the room. She frowns as though there is a putrid smell, and I suppose we do stink compared to her since we have no more than a single basin to wash in and no perfumed soaps to use.

  “My lady?” Baba asks, confused when the woman doesn’t speak.

  Finally, her eyes land on me and I instantly fall to my knees and bow my head.

  “Forgive me, my lady,” I cry into my hands. “I’m sorry. I should have watched where I was going. I’m sorry if I caused you any upset.”

  “What is going on?” Baba asks, stepping between myself and the woman. “Who are you? What do you want with my daughter?”

  “Calm yourself,” the woman says. “I had to make sure your daughter didn’t run away again. Thankfully she wasn’t too difficult to identify.”

  “Who are you?” Baba asks again.

  The woman smiles. “Someone who is about to change your life.”

  Mingming pours tea into teacups with chipped edges, but the strange woman, who is sitting primly on a rough-hewn chair, accepts the cup graciously.

  “My name is Ula-Nara Mingxia, of the Bordered Blue Banner clan,” she says proudly. It means little to me which Manchu clan she belongs to. What is she doing in our house?

  “My husband was a general in the imperial army, but he died some time ago,” she says. “Quite young. We had only one daughter before he had to lead a campaign against foreign invaders. He never returned home.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Mama says as she nurses the baby. Mingxia looks at the baby longingly. I’m suddenly alarmed, afraid that she is going to want to buy the baby for herself. But why?

  “My daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me,” the woman says, turning her gaze from the baby to my mother. She reaches out and places a hand on Mama’s arm. “You can understand that, can’t you? The need to do whatever it takes to protect your children.”

  “Of course,” Mama says cautiously.

  Mingxia gives a small smile. “I knew it. After all, you have five! And you haven’t sold any of them! They must mean a great deal to you. Which is why I know you will understand me and want to help me.”

  “Help you?” Baba says. “How can we help you?”

  “I suppose you have heard that the emperor will be holding a selection for consorts soon,” she says.

  Baba nods. “It has nothing to do with us.”

  “But it does to me and my daughter,” the woman says. “She is sixteen and required by law to appear during the selection.” She looks at me. “How old are you, girl?”

  I look at Baba, and he nods for me to answer.

  “Fifteen.”

  The woman smiles. “And you are unmarried, obviously. Is she promised to be married?” she asks my father.

  “No,” he says, embarrassed. “She… Her feet are unbound and we have no money for a dowry.”

  Mingxia laughs. “Well, you might be outcasts among your own people for abandoning such a barbaric practice, but it just might be what saves your lives.”

  “What are you talking about?” Baba asks, growing irritated. “You come into my home, insult my family, my people. Yet you want my help for some reason I cannot understand. What do you want?”

  Mingxia stands—which we all do as well—and motions to the man who arrived with her, who is now standing guard at the door so we won’t be disturbed.

  “Bring her,” she says. The man nods and steps out. I walk over to the window and peek through the cracks in the shutters. The man goes to a finely decorated rickshaw. The street is too narrow for a carriage such as the one she was riding in last night. The man helps a woman out of the rickshaw and down to the street. I can’t see what she looks like because she is wearing a thick veil. The man leads the woman inside and Mingxia takes her hand.

  “Go ahead,” Mingxia instructs the other woman, and she lifts her veil. We all gasp when we see her face.

  It’s me!

  “Wha…what?” I ask, unsure of what I’m looking at. She appears slightly taller than me, but that is because of her pot-bottom shoes. Her skin is also a lighter shade than mine; I suppose she hasn’t spent much time outside the way I have. But aside from that and her fine clothes, it’s as if I am looking at myself in a pool of water. The longer I stare, the more differences I see. Her nose is slightly upturned, and she has a noticeable freckle on her right jaw. Her cheeks are also rounder since she probably has never gone to bed hungry in her life.


  The longer I look at the girl, the more reassured I feel that this is a mere coincidence and not a trick of witchcraft.

  “How strange,” Baba says. “How can two girls who are not even the same race look so similar?”

  “This is my daughter, Lihua,” Mingxia says, wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Of course,” Mama says. “She looks just like Daiyu, who I always thought was a beauty. If I’d had the strength of character to bind her feet, I’m sure we could have made a good match for her.”

  Mingxia snorts. “What, to another poor day-laborer? A fishmonger? Is that truly what you would have wanted for your eldest daughter?”

  “It’s honest work,” Baba says. “What would you eat in your fancy palace if not for people willing to fish and slaughter pigs?”

  “You misunderstand me,” Mingxia says. “I simply mean that it is a blessing from Heaven that you did not bind the poor girl’s feet.”

  “Why?” Mama asks. “How? What do you want from us?”

  “I want your daughter to take Lihua’s place at the emperor’s selection for new consorts.”

  My jaw drops and when I look to Mama and Baba, their faces show just as much shock.

  “No,” Mama says. “It’s impossible. We are not Manchu.”

  Mingxia waves the objection away. “What does it matter if they look alike? No one would know the difference.”

  “But…why?” I ask, looking at Lihua. “Don’t you consider it an honor to be chosen as a consort? You could be the mother of the next emperor.”

  “I will never see my daughter again if she is chosen!” Mingxia says before Lihua can answer. “She’s all I have in the world! Please, will you help us?”

  “No!” Baba says without hesitation, and I nearly cry. I know he loves me, loves all of us. “Why should we help a spoiled, entitled Manchu woman like you?”

  “Because I can pay,” Mingxia says. She reaches into one of the bilious sleeves of her robe and pulls out a small silk purse. I expect her to open it and offer Baba a few coins, but I nearly faint when she holds the whole bag out to him.