by Zoey Gong
“Do not rush!” Tao Fashi says, gripping my arm to keep me from toppling over.
I let out an annoyed chuckle. “Ah! How is it that you are the one helping me?” I instantly regret my words, fearing that Tao Fashi might think my words an insult, but she only laughs.
“A woman grows only stronger with age,” she says. For some reason, her words remind me of my mother. After all she had been through, so many births, at least one devastating miscarriage, illness, starvation, and yet she endured, year after year. I wonder where she was now and if she ever found the rest she so rightly deserved.
“What is troubling you?” Tao Fashi asks again once we are both somewhat comfortable.
“No one thing,” I say. “I suppose I am just caught between wondering what will happen next or thinking that nothing will come next. The emperor is gone and I am here.” I give a small shrug. “What else is there for me?”
Tao Fashi nods knowingly. “For so long, it was emperor Guozhi who was in complete control of your life. Without him, I suppose you feel like a ship, rudderless. Captainless. Drifting.”
“I suppose so,” I say. “Even though I had not seen him for months before his death, even though he had banished me, erased me, my life was his to command. Now that he is gone, does that mean my life is over? Or is my future now wide open?”
Tao Fashi tutted her tongue and shook her head with a bit of an annoyed chuckle. “You are far too young to be wary about such things. You have no idea what changes in your life could be waiting for you when the sun rises tomorrow.”
“I doubt my life will change that much in a day,” I say.
“Perhaps,” Tao Fashi says. “But Emperor Guozhi’s widowed consorts will be arriving soon, before the week is out. There will certainly be many changes around here then.”
“Really? They will be here that soon?”
“You had friends among the other ladies you are looking forward to seeing again?”
“Yes,” I say, and I can feel my mood lighten. “Well, I had one. Yanmei. To see her again will bring me such joy.”
Tao Fashi brushes my check. “Hold on to that feeling, my dear. You deserve a bit of happiness in your life.”
Her well-meaning words send a pang through my heart. “Do I?”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes, it is you who is your worst enemy, Daiyu.” She lets out a small groan as she stands, taking her little stool with her as she leaves me alone in the darkening courtyard.
As the light fades, so too does any joy I might have felt at Yanmei’s arrival. Tao Fashi is right. I am my own enemy. I am the one who brings pain and suffering to those around me. Suyin was not here at the Temple of Grief for a full day before she was killed, mistaken for me. Will something terrible befall Yanmei when we meet again?
I crawl to my bed, exhausted in my body, heart, and mind, yet unable to find rest for any of them.
6
The next few days are a flurry of activity as we prepare for the new arrivals. Of course, it should be a somber time. The emperor is dead, after all. And yet, the fact that so many new women will be coming to live with us at the Temple of Grief is a change that happens so very rarely. For most women here, their lives have been the same, day in and day out, for decades. This is the only opportunity most women here will have to meet new people, make new friends.
Tao Fashi remains surprisingly calm as she directs all the changes that must be made, but I can see in the lines of her forehead, the twinge at the corner of her eye, that she is anxious. I do what I can to be useful, making no complaints as over a hundred additional beds are brought in and arranged. In one building, there is no space between the beds from wall to wall, and the women will have to crawl in and out from the ends of them. Hundreds of new bowls and chopsticks must be washed and put away, along with crates and crates of food. A dozen more women are selected to now serve in the kitchen to help prepare so much more food. It seems that the temple’s population is about to double, and I can hardly see how we will be able to accommodate everyone. But we will have to do our best, I suppose.
The day finally arrives, and I am nervous. I am excited to see Yanmei, but hesitant to see many of the other ladies. I was not well-liked within the harem, and I did little to reach out and be friendly to the other women. When I was the emperor’s favorite and the empress, it was easy for me to keep myself apart. I had a large private home with tall walls and my own servants. I could pretend that my little household was all that existed within the great red walls of the Forbidden City. But here, within the Temple of Grief, all women, save Tao Fashi, are equals. We live together, sleep together, work together, side by side. How the ladies will react to seeing me here like this, I have no idea. They might find it amusing to see me brought so low. They might still hold resentment that I was once elevated above them. Or perhaps they will give no thought to my presence at all.
Neither am I looking forward to the adjustment period the ladies will have to go through. While some of the ladies were from low birth—for a Manchu—most were high-born. Most lived all their lives with servants, fine silk garments, and endless bowls of food and sweets at their fingertips. But here, there are no servants. Not everyone cooks, but we all wash our own bowls after we eat. We serve ourselves our meals. We wash our clothes and hang them to dry. We wash our own bodies from pails of water that we heat over a fire. Our clothes are simple and plain, as are our shoes. As widows, we are forbidden to paint our faces. Though, a few of the younger widows cannot seem to help put a little color on their cheeks and lips. As long as it is not ostentatious, Tao Fashi tends to look the other way. But as I look around now, I see that no one has taken liberty with their looks or done more than plait their hair. I wonder if Tao Fashi spoke to some of the women privately and asked them to set a good example for the new arrivals. I am sure—at least I hope—the ladies were informed about the rules of their new way of life before arriving, but actually having to live such a mean existence after a life of opulence will be difficult for many of the ladies, I am sure.
To say nothing of how young many of them are, as I am. Most still have decades of existence ahead of them, years that should be filled with love and children. Living in the harem, dozens of women bound to one man, was hard enough. But at least as wives to the emperor, there was a chance of gaining his affection, of having his children. But here, in this place devoid of men, that hope is gone. I know that Tao Fashi has many years of experience offering comfort to the women who are sent here, but I do not envy her task ahead. Many of the ladies are sure to be heartbroken, lost, hopeless. I do not know how they will find peace here…
I am sweeping the floor of one of the sleeping halls when someone announces that the ladies are coming. I place my broom against a wall and, for some reason, I smooth my hair and the front of my simple, orange, linen gown before stepping outside into the sun and making my way to the courtyard. Everyone is present, so I try to lose myself in the crowd, hopefully standing where I can see the new arrivals but not be seen.
In small groups of two or three, the ladies walk through our gate and are greeted by Tao Fashi. I am too far away to recognize anyone in particular at first, but they seem…bewildered, looking around with large and confused eyes. Whatever it was they were expecting, I am sure it was not this. After living in the palace, they probably thought that the temple they were being sent to would be not too dissimilar. Beautiful and well-appointed. They probably had no idea just how simple their new surroundings would be.
Tao Fashi welcomes the ladies, who in turn introduce themselves. One of Tao Fashi’s assistants then checks a registry and tells them where their rooms are. I feel a shiver down my spine as I recall the similarity to my arrival at the Forbidden City. I had no idea what to expect, or what was expected of me. I was a name on a list, and nothing more. Oh, I know that to Tao Fashi, each lady matters. But still, for now, there is a process that must be adhered to, and it gives me chills.
Finally, I see a face I recognize, Euhmeh, and
I shudder. Her chin is high, and she looks around, her eyes searching. I feel as though she is looking for me. I duck low behind the women in front of me, praying she does not see me. I would not say that Euhmeh and I were enemies, but we were never friends. I had attempted to reach out to her, asking that she help me with the harem accounts, but after some bad advice from Emperor Guozhi, a wedge was driven between us that I could not repair, though I did not try very hard to make amends. She grew closer to the dowager empress after that, which only made me more leery of her. I suddenly realize that the dowager empress will now be without many of her ladies-in-waiting, such as Euhmeh. That must make the loss of her son even more poignant. She has lost her son and her closest friends and confidants. Could that have something to do with why she tried to have me killed? Does Euhmeh know anything about the attempt on my life? The thought makes me shrink even deeper into myself and I crouch down, nearly to the ground, and wrap my arms around my knees. I wish the floor of the courtyard would open and swallow me whole, take me away from this place.
“Daiyu!” I hear Tao Fashi call out. The ladies around me take a step back and look down at me quizzically. I rise to my feet and brush myself off.
“Daiyu?” someone asks, a warm and familiar voice.
“Yes, she changed it to Daiyu when she came here.”
I step through the crowd and the woman Tao Fashi is talking to turns to me, her face round, her smile wide.
“Lihua!” Yanmei says. She rushes to me and takes me in her arms. For a moment, I’m stunned. I knew she was coming, that she would be here, and yet, seeing her in person, hearing her voice, holding her in my arms, it is a shock to me.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she says. “I missed you so much.”
Finally, I let my body relax and let go of my fears and suspicions. I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. I want to tell her that I missed her too. That I love her. That having her here changes everything. But I can say nothing. My voice chokes and tears fall from my eyes. Somehow, I let out a small laugh. A laugh and a cry at the same time. Is this what people mean when they say they cry with happiness?
I do not know how long we hug, but it is Yanmei who pulls away first. She cups my cheeks and wipes away my tears.
“Look at you,” she says. “You look so different.”
“Do I?” I manage to croak.
She nods. “I mean that in a good way. You look…happy.”
“Only because you are here,” I say. I then take a step back and get a good look at her. I would not say that she looks good. Her face is pale and drawn, and she has always been a skinny girl. I run my hand over her forehead to check for a fever. “Are you ill?”
She takes my hand in hers and shakes her head. “No. But the last few months have not been easy. We have much to talk about.”
“I am sure,” I say. “Though Suyin told me—” My voice catches in my throat at the thought of my last friend who came to see me here in this place.
“Suyin?” Yanmei asks, her eyes wide. “She’s here?”
I shake my head as my eyes fill with tears.
“Then where is she?” she asks.
I am too ashamed to reply.
“I’m so sorry,” Yanmei says. My rough hands are trembling and cold as she takes them into her own, which are still warm and soft. She has not yet had months of hard work to make them rough. She wraps an arm around me and we walk away from the crowd to a more isolated part of the courtyard.
“When she disappeared, I hoped that she had found her way to you,” she says. “I never imagined that she could have come to a bad end, and so quickly.”
“She…” I do my best to find my voice. Yanmei deserves to know the truth. “She came here, and then she died in my arms.”
“What?” Yanmei asks, recoiling slightly.
“I will tell you everything, I promise.”
She presses her lips, but seems less sure of herself now. Perhaps she had tried to see the positives in coming here, in being with me, in being free of the red walls. But now, the reality of her situation is settling in. She is in a strange place with strange people, and it is not as safe as she thought it would be. The guilt chills me to the bone, and I wish I could send her away.
“There, there,” Yanmei finally says, the smile returning to her face. “We are together now. All will turn out right, I promise.”
I pull her back to me in a tight hug, which she returns eagerly. I can’t change what happened to Suyin. I’d been foolish, complacent. I tried to pretend that the outside world couldn’t affect me here. But I know better now.
This time, things will be different.
7
“The world is an unfair place,” Yanmei says as she places flowers on Suyin’s grave. “She was such a kind person, a loyal person. The dowager empress should pay for this.”
“How?” I ask. “I could never prove that she was the person who sent the assassin.”
“Unless you found the assassin,” Yanmei says, but a coy lift to the corner of her mouth shows she is speaking in jest.
“I assume he will spend the rest of his life in hiding,” I say. “The dowager surely would not allow him to live if she found him.”
“At least you are safe for now,” Yanmei says, walking away from the grave with her eyes to the ground, looking for nuts or herbs or other useful items to put into her basket.
“Am I?” I ask, following along.
“She surely will not try again,” Yanmei says. “Especially with all of us here now.”
“I don’t know,” I say, watching the woods around us warily. “She is a stubborn, determined woman.”
“Yes, but her power is greatly diminished,” Yanmei says, prying a nut open with her teeth to try and identify it. “The prince— I mean, Emperor Honghui cares for her not at all. He only allowed her to stay in the inner court because he had to. Officially, she is his mother, but it is clear to everyone that they don’t like each other.”
My heart hitches at the mention of Honghui. I’m so afraid that my feelings for him will be plain on my face that I’ve dared not ask about him. I turn away and seem very interested in some lichen on a nearby tree in an attempt to hide my face.
But I know the prince—the emperor—must be suffering so. He loved his brother very much. His own mother died when he was very young. Fenfeng should have loved him as she did her own son, but it was clear she did not. It is customary for an emperor’s mother to serve as a sort of informal confidant and counselor. I know that Fenfeng fulfilled that role for Guozhi. It must grate on Fenfeng that Honghui does not hold her in the same estimation. But it is a situation of her own making. Had she loved him as a son, he would love her as a mother. As it is, they are stuck with one another until the bitter end.
“Had Honghui…chosen his empress?” I finally ask, though I still do not look directly at Yangmei as I do so. I keep my voice low, yet to my ears it echoes off the trees and bounces back to me loud as thunder.
Yanmei seems to not take note of the significance of my question, but just shakes her head. “I think he’s been too preoccupied to even think about taking a wife. He’s been effectively serving as emperor ever since Guozhi was injured.”
“I suppose he won’t be able to ignore the issue now,” I say. “There will be a consort selection again.”
Yanmei surprises me with a snorting laugh. “If there are any eligible girls left. Our selection was so recent.”
“True,” I say. “But some of us were chosen based on our birth numbers. Many were probably dismissed for the same reason. Girls who were not compatible with Guozhi might be compatible with Honghui.”
“Oh, you’re right,” Yanmei says. “I wonder what the court astrologers will be looking for this time around.”
“I have no idea,” I say. Of course, I didn’t know what they were looking for last time either. Mingxia did, which was why she was so determined to find a stand-in for her own daughter, Lihua.
“I suppose it doesn’t mat
ter,” Yanmei says. “It won’t be either of us this time.” She turns back toward the abbey, swinging her basket alongside her in a carefree sort of way. She has only been here a couple of days but seems to be adjusting remarkably well. Many of the girls cry themselves to sleep. More than a couple have run away. Tao Fashi is supposed to report any runaways immediately, but I have a feeling she is taking her time in doing so. Some women are not meant for this life. One young woman committed suicide by hanging herself inside the main temple. Some of the ladies now refuse to go in there for fear of meeting her vengeful ghost. But Yanmei has taken everything in stride. She has been kind and helpful and so encouraging to me. She is far more resilient than I ever gave her credit for in the past.
But I still have not told her the truth about me, who I really am. I’ve tried. I’ve opened my mouth to spill out everything, but only silence escapes my throat. I want to tell her, truly. I fear that I can never be a real friend to her unless she knows who I really am.
But I am a coward, as usual. Though, I do not merely fear for myself. I do not think that Yanmei would share my secret or reject me for it. But after what happened to Suyin, I am terrified of something happening to Yanmei. If I were to reveal myself to Yanmei and then she was to die, I’m not sure I could bear it. Perhaps I am paranoid. As Yanmei said, surely the assassin will not return. Still, just to be safe, I have refused to let Yanmei sleep in the same building as me. She was surprised at first, and I think a little hurt, but after I told her about Suyin, she understood my reasons. I am sure she will also understand my reasons for staying silent for so long about who I really am. At least for waiting this long. The longer I wait, the less sure I can be on that account. Perhaps I should just tell her now.
“Yanmei, I—”
“Shh!” she says, holding up a hand as she listens intently. “Do you hear that?”
My heart beats so hard that at first, I can hear only the blood rushing in my ears. I look around frantically, waiting for the assassin to burst out of the woods, charging toward me, his dagger raised. When I see nothing of the sort, my ears clear enough for me to hear the thrumming on the ground of horse hooves—dozens of horse hooves.
