Empress in Disguise, Book 1

by Zoey Gong

  I wonder what my family is doing. If they are well. If they know that in a few hours I must report to the Forbidden City. News about the Manchu rarely ever reaches our neighborhood. Why would we care what the rich and powerful invaders are doing? It is strange that a palace official even put a flier about the consort selection up in our neighborhood. There are no Manchu there. Well, I suppose there could be some. After all, I am about to be a Han Chinese within the Forbidden City. Some people always end up where they shouldn’t be.

  There is a knock, and Ah Lam opens the door carrying a candle. “It is time,” she says solemnly. The light from the candle casts shadows on her face and accentuates the creases of worry that run around her brow and mouth. Early on she tried to talk Mingxia out of the plan as well, but it came to nothing. I think that Mingxia must have gotten quite angry with her. I saw a red mark on Ah Lam’s cheek one day; she never spoke against my training again.

  I nod and follow her from the room. I am to dress in Mingxia’s chambers to keep from getting myself or my clothes dirty.

  When Ah Lam opens the door to Mingxia’s rooms, I see Mingxia and Lihua waiting for me. I start when I see that Lihua is dressed in the simple clothes of a maid. Her hair is tightly pinned behind her head and she wears no paint on her face. For the first time, I realize that Lihua and I do look alike. I didn’t realize the difference a little paint and a new set of clothes could make.

  Ah Lam takes me to a side room where a large brass basin full of water is set up. She instructs me to get inside and sit down. The hot water feels wonderful on my skin and seeps down to my bones. It is summer, but the evenings can still get chilled. The water warms me all the way through in a way I didn’t know was possible. I’ve never had a hot bath before.

  I dip under the water to wet my hair and Ah Lam uses a perfumed soap to wash my hair, scrubbing my scalp with her nails. It is painful, but I do my best not to wince or even utter a sound. I know she has to get me as clean as possible.

  She then uses a rough, horse-hair brush to scrub my skin until it turns pink. She rubs me with thick, creamy milk before rinsing me clean. She says the milk will make my skin whiter so I look less like a peasant, but I doubt it will work. You cannot undo a lifetime in the sun with one wash.

  When I finally get out of the tub, Ah Lam rubs my whole body with scented oil. Then, I sit to have my hair prepared. I am surprised when Ah Lam stands back and Mingxia takes her place behind me. Mingxia runs a comb through my long hair one hundred times. She wraps my hair tightly around the flat bianfang, pinning it in place so that not a single hair can fall out of place. She then attaches the heavy, fan-shaped liangbatou headdress. She attaches pink silk flowers to the headdress, along with butterfly-shaped hairpins and additional jewels and pearls. To one side, she attaches a long pink tassel studded with seed pearls that make a slight rattling when shaken. It is there to remind me to stand still enough that I don’t make a sound.

  Mingxia then prepares my face. She uses a light rice powder to make my skin brighter, then she lines my eyes with kohl and paints my lips with a red stain.

  Finally, it is time to dress. I look out the window and see that the sky is beginning to lighten. We are running out of time. Ah Lam helps me into a long silk shift that feels cool against my skin. Then she and Mingxia help me step into the long, light blue qipao. The collar, sleeves, and hem are embroidered with an ornate pink pattern. It is clasped at my neck and down across my shoulder. The sleeves are bilious and hang long past my hands.

  As Ah Lam helps me put on my pot-bottom shoes, I think Mingxis might cry. Her eyes water and she looks at me with a pride I have until now only seen her express at Lihua.

  “You’re a vision,” Ah Lam says.

  I know I must look beautiful. Look like an elegant lady. Look like someone else. But I avoid looking in the mirror. Once I am back home, I don’t want to remember myself this way.

  “Come,” Mingxia says, and she motions toward the door. I take a deep breath and step forward, one foot carefully crossing in front of the other, my chin held high. Indeed, the headdress is so heavy that if I were to tilt my head, I would surely fall over.

  We walk through Mingxia’s garden estate and out the door. The one thing I am glad of this day is that I will never see this house—never see Lihua—again. I am not exactly sure how Mingxia and Lihua plan to convince other people that she is a mere maid, but that is not my concern.

  The donkey cart is waiting for us, along with a male servant to help me inside. I glance down the road and see donkey carts outside two other houses. The streets will soon be strewn with carts carrying precious cargo. The servant helps me step into the cart, where I then sit cross-legged on a bed of satin pillows.

  “We will wait here for your return,” Mingxia says. “Once you are dismissed, you must come back here. You will then change back into the clothes of a maid and will return home.”

  “Yes, my lady,” I say since I am unable to nod my head. I had hoped I would not have to come back to this place, but I suppose the ruse must continue for a moment even after I am sent away.

  She looks at me for a long moment, as if she wishes to say something else. She takes my hand and gives it a tight squeeze.

  “Good luck, my girl,” she says.

  “I will not disappoint you,” I say with a confidence I don’t truly feel. How can I? I am a fraud. I could never be a Manchu lady. A rich spoiled girl who never had to worry about anything. I have worked hard. I have gone to bed hungry. I have been spat upon by those who thought they were my betters. I can never forget all the things that made me the girl I am today. I am sure my true identity will show in my eyes. But what else can I do? I will play the part I’ve been assigned and then return to my home. My people. My family.

  Mingxia nods and releases me, stepping back as the servant closes the door. I catch one last glimpse of Ah Lam wiping her eyes. A moment later, the cart jerks forward and I have to grab onto the cushion I am sitting on to keep from toppling over. After a moment, the cart finds its stride and I am able to sit up straight again.

  I peek through one of the curtained windows at the city, now bright with sunshine. We pass through the complicated maze of alleys toward the Forbidden City. Every few minutes, there is another house with a donkey cart outside of it. I see other girls dressed very similarly to myself climbing into them or standing nearby while they say goodbye to their families.

  For some families, it is a celebration. There is laughter and cheering. The popping of firecrackers. The waving of flags and streamers. For others, it is a funeral. There is much weeping and I see more than one girl begging not to be sent away.

  I feel a kinship with the sad girls. We all pray that we will not be chosen, but rejected early. This way we will not dishonor our families, but neither will we have to endure life as a prisoner.

  I wonder if there are any other girls out there like me. Girls plucked from poor families to take the places of cherished daughters so that they are not lost forever. I suppose it is not likely, but Mingxia can hardly be the first or only parent to attempt such a scheme. I wonder if I will know such a girl if I see one.

  The cart comes to a stop, and I wait for the door to open, but it does not. The cart jerks forward, then stops again. I realize we must have found the line of carts at the east gate of the Forbidden City where the girls are to be dropped off. I have no way of seeing in front of us, so I cannot begin to guess how long it will take us to reach the gate—or how many more times I must be jerked about in the cart like a ragdoll.

  Thankfully, it is only about half a dozen stops before the door opens and a hand reaches in for me. I step out as gracefully I can—which isn’t very—and my breath falls out of me as I look up at the red wall towering before me. I have lived within the shadow of the Forbidden City my whole life, but never have I been this close to it. There is no sky, no earth—only red.

  “My lady?”

  I blink and see that a man in a plain black robe is waiting for me. I g
ive a smile, then I remember I must be more demure and smile less.

  “Please.” He motions toward the gate where another man in a black robe is waiting at a table. The cart I arrived in clatters away and another one takes its place. I look down the road and there are carts as far as I can see.

  “Name?” the man at the table asks me.

  “Ula Nara Lihua, of the Bordered Blue Banner Clan.”

  The man flips through a stack of papers, pulling one out.

  “Date of birth?”

  “The tenth day of the eighth month in the eighth year of the Yongzheng Emperor.”

  The man nods as he uses a brush to mark something on the paper, which he then hands to me.

  “Suyin!” he calls and a plainly dressed woman near the table gives a slight curtsey before coming to my side and offering me her arm.

  It is actually rare for a Manchu lady to go anywhere without her maid to help her walk. However, for the consort selection, the girls are not allowed to bring anyone with them but are assigned maids, servants, and slaves that have been chosen by imperial officials. I suppose this girl is to be my maid for the day. If I am chosen, will she remain with me? No, I must not think that way. I won’t be chosen. I will return to my family.

  “Hand that paper to the astrologer inside,” the man at the table tells me. “Next!”

  I have passed the first test. No one seemed to have the slightest suspicion I was not who I claimed to be. I turn to walk to the gate and my right foot catches on the ground. I nearly stumble, and would have fallen if not for the girl at my side.

  “Thank you,” I say to her and immediately regret it. Lihua would never thank a maid. My hands are shaking and I am afraid to look around and see if anyone is staring at me.

  “Do not worry, my lady,” the maid, a young girl, perhaps no older than my sister Mingming, says. She squeezes both of my hands and gives me a reassuring smile. “You need not be afraid. I will help you.”

  I give a small nod and stand up straight again, balancing the weight on my head with my neck. I take a step and this time do not stumble. I place one foot in front of the other as we walk through the gate into the palace.

  9

  As we walk through the gate, I’m struck by the beauty of the place. I could never have imagined what the inside of a palace looked like, but it certainly wasn’t a place of so much color.

  The city of Peking might be gray and brown, but I am now standing in a glorious park, imminently more striking than even Mingxia’s courtyard.

  Paths wind around flower beds with clusters of blooms in every color. Some of the walkways are open so that you can see the sky—which seems a little bluer here—but others are covered to offer protection from the sun. Some of the coverings are trellises from which beautiful white and purple blooms dangle. A curved bridge provides a path over a clear stream where I can see orange, red, and gold koi. I spy a turtle sitting on a rock in the sunshine, and out of the corner of my eye see a frog leap and disappear into the water. There are open-air pagodas that would be perfect for gathering and chatting with friends, or perhaps doing embroidery in the light of day so it is less taxing on the eyes than indoor lighting.

  But the most beautiful sight of all is the hundreds of ladies who, like me, are being escorted by a maid down the path, over the bridge, and through another large gate. Each girl—for some cannot be older than thirteen—wears a different color robe and holds her head high to balance the ornately decorated liangbatou upon her head. Compared to so many elegant young ladies, I surely will not stand out.

  I still have no desire to be chosen. This place is beautiful, but it is still a cage. And I have no wish to pretend to be Manchu for the rest of my life. But I feel slightly guilty at the fact that I am grateful to be here. A girl such as me should never be allowed to see the inside of the Forbidden City. It is a sight I will surely never forget.

  We are lead through a gate with three doors and come to a large screen wall carved with nine dragons, each one a different shade of red, gold, and blue. From there, we are escorted to the left and through another gate. This one opens up to a large, baren courtyard. There is only a flat, stone ground. No trees, no flowers, no winding paths. There are hundreds of girls already here, if not a thousand, all arranged in long lines facing a large building.

  “Paper,” a voice says. I look to my left and a man is holding his hand out to me. He is dressed similarly to the other men I have seen, except his robe is blue instead of black. I then remember I was supposed to hand the paper with my birthdate on it to an astrologer.

  He glances at the paper and then nods. “Line up.”

  I mutter some sort of thanks as my maid—I think the man at the gate called her Suyin—leads me to one of the lines and then releases my hand. I feel a surge of panic that she might abandon me and grab her wrist.

  “Don’t worry,” Suyin says. “I will wait with the other maids.” She nods to the very back of the courtyard where there is a little shade next to the wall where hundreds of plainly dressed women are standing. “I will come back for you when I am needed.”

  I nod and reluctantly release her arm. She smiles and then trots off to join the others. I can’t say anything and have been practically struck dumb by the grandeur of everything around me. I don’t belong here. Not someone has plain and poor as me.

  A girl and her maid walk up behind me to wait in line.

  “I’m so nervous,” the young lady says.

  “Don’t be,” her maid replies. “You are sure to be chosen.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  The maid then leaves her lady the same way mine did, probably eager to get out of the sun, which I only now feel beating down on me. I feel a little woozy as the heavy robe threatens to pull me down. But I do my best to maintain my balance.

  “What’s your name?” the girl behind me asks.

  “Da—Lihua,” I say. “Ula Nara Lihua.”

  “I’m Ayan Gioro Yanmei,” she says. “From Canton.”

  I try to remember if I know anything about Canton and come up with nothing. Would a Manchu girl know where Canton is? Is it an important place? Is it very near to here? Very far? She waits for a reply expectantly.

  “I have a home here in Peking,” I say, recalling what I know about Lihua’s past. “But I grew up in Mongolia. My father was a general.”

  “Was?” she asks.

  “He passed when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I give a small smile and shrug, unsure of how to reply. I don’t have any feelings on the matter, and it seemed that Lihua didn’t either. I don’t think she remembered him at all.

  “Quiet!” I see a stern-faced woman glaring at me. I give a small bend of my knees and neck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ula Nara Lihua,” she says, looking at my paper. “Your birth chart is very much in line with that of the emperor. Very auspicious. You advance.”

  I’m shocked into silence for a moment, but thankfully, it seems the woman doesn’t expect a reply as she moves on to Yanmei.

  The woman humphs and grips Yanmei by the chin, turning her face right and left. “Your birth chart is not very auspicious, but you are pretty enough. Advance.”

  Yanmei exhales in relief as the woman moves on. “Oh, thank Heaven,” she mutters.

  “Dismissed,” the woman says to the girl behind Yanmei. The girl bursts into tears as her maid rushes up and takes her hand. I look around and see that there is a matronly woman working her way down every line, telling which girls to stay and which ones to leave. I only now notice that hundreds of girls—most of them—are being dismissed, some crying as they walk back out the gate, some obviously relieved.

  I cannot believe that so many girls are being sent away while I am being told to stay. I had hoped to sent away in the first round. I should be heading home now! My heart is heavy with worry that I have even progressed this far.

  The woman who told me to stay didn’t mention any
thing about my appearance, only my—Lihua’s—birth chart. I wonder for a moment if Mingxia knew that Lihua’s birth chart was auspicious enough to have her advance. If it was likely that I would be chosen based on that alone, she would have told me, right? But she never said a word. She insisted that I wouldn’t be chosen.

  But the more I think about it, the more angry I become. Mingxia is not a stupid woman. She knew that Lihua would advance. That was why she hired a stand-in, hired me, to take Lihua’s place. She lied about the probability of me being chosen because she needed me to agree. I was a fool to ever trust that woman. She wouldn’t have had any qualms about lying to me, deceiving me. I’m nothing to her. Just another worthless Chinese she could walk over with her stupid shoes and use to her own advantage.

  “What’s wrong?” Yanmei asks me. “Are you not glad?”

  “No,” I spit, and the shock on Yanmei’s face reminds me to be more cautious. “I mean…I would prefer not to be chosen. I will miss my family.”

  “I understand,” Yanmei says. “My mother cried so much this morning, it was hard to leave.” Her eyes water a little, but she blinks it away.

  “Line up!” a woman shouts and all the maids who are still present come rushing forward to help us move forward, toward the giant building, filling in the empty spots left by the girls who were dismissed. There are still maybe a hundred girls left.

  “The emperor approaches!” a voice calls out, and everyone—lady, maid, eunuch—drops into a bow. The ladies are allowed to remain upright, though crouched over their precarious shoes. Everyone else goes down on their knees, their foreheads to the ground in a kowtow. Thankfully my maid is able to help me crouch before she kowtows.

  I am supposed to keep my chin to my chest, but I cannot help but raise my eyes and try to catch sight of the emperor. I see a group of men gather on what I now realize is a balcony on the front of the building before us. I cannot see him clearly, he is too far away, but his yellow robe—he is the only man allowed to wear imperial yellow—shines brightly. He waves to us, even though we shouldn’t be able to see him with our heads bowed, and then he disappears again.