by Zoey Gong
“Someone is coming!” Yanmei says. “Lots of someones!” She takes off at a run back for the abbey. I follow behind with less urgency. The last time a rider came to the abbey, he had come to tell us that the emperor had died. No rider ever comes to the abbey carrying good news.
When we reach the path that leads to the abbey, we are both surprised to see more than a dozen imperial horses. All the horses bear a single rider, an imperial guard, both man and horse clad in armor and red silk. There is one horse at the head of them all, though, that bears no rider and is clad in yellow silk. Last time, the messenger came alone. Why would this messenger require a whole contingent of guards?
“What is happening?” Yanmei asks of no one in particular, for I certainly don’t know. We then notice a loud commotion coming from the abbey. Crying, screaming, praying. Yanmei grips my arm and takes a step back. She looks at me as if to ask if we should run. If we should hide. I can understand her fear. What could be happening up at the abbey? Surely an imperial force would not arrive to do us harm. But what could have the ladies so stirred up?
I take another look at the riderless horse. The single, riderless horse. A whole cavalcade of men, but only one entered the abbey. This one alone adorned with yellow silk embroidered with five-toed dragons. My heart soars and I move toward the abbey without thinking.
“Wait!” Yanmei calls out to me, but I do not. If anything, I run faster. The men on their horses start when they see me, and I hear them murmur among themselves, but I do not pause to understand what they are saying.
I hold up the hem of my robe as I climb the stone steps to the abbey two at a time. And yet, I feel as though I am not running fast enough. I feel as though by the time I reach the abbey, the rider will be gone.
I trip when I reach the top step. It always has stuck out a little more than the others. From my position on my knees, I can only see a flurry of orange robes. The ladies have all gathered in the courtyard, many pushing and shoving one another to get a better look at the visitor, who I have no hope of seeing from my place on the ground.
I scramble to my feet and elbow my way through the crowd. A few of the ladies push back or stand firm, not wanting to yield their precious spot. But when they see that it is me who is trying to get through the crowd, most step aside, though with a hateful glare or a curse under their breath.
Finally, I see him. Prince Honghui. No. Emperor Honghui. He looks exactly how I remember him, but also completely different. He has the same beautiful face, but now it is heavy with burdens he was never meant for. He has the same tall, broad-shouldered body, but he carries himself with a more regal bearing somehow. I think that this is what it must mean to truly be noble. It is innate, something I never had, was never meant to have.
When our eyes meet, I want to run to him, jump into his arms, hold him. Kiss him. I feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, and I think he feels the same way. But we cannot go to one another. We must restrain our true feelings. No one can ever know that we have loved each other since long before his brother’s death.
Finally, I remember my place and fall to my knees, touching my forehead to the ground in a kowtow. I am no one now. Not an empress. A mere commoner, banished to live out my days as a nun, while he is the emperor of China. When my head touches the ground, it is as if the shock of his arrival wears off and all the other ladies follow my lead, bowing before their emperor.
Even though my nose is to the dusty ground of the courtyard, my eyes are open and I can see the emperor step in front of me.
“I have been told that your name is Daiyu now,” Honghui says.
I sit up on my heels but keep my eyes downcast. “Yes, your majesty,” I say. “Does it please you?”
Honghui chuckles and extends his hand down to me. “Everything about you pleases me,” he says brazenly as he pulls me to my feet. I feel my face blush, but I can think of nothing to say that won’t scandalize those around us.
“Come,” he says, tugging me toward the main temple where the large statue of Guanyin stands. “I must speak with you…”
8
“You want me to do what?” I ask in shock. Surely what Prince Honghui— I mean, Emperor Honghui—just proposed was merely a figment of my imagination. He can’t really have just asked me—
“Marry me,” he says again. Still, I have to blink and shake my head. This must all be a dream.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “I was your brother’s wife. I was banished, punished. I was told I had to spend the rest of my life here. How can I be your wife?”
We stand in the shadow of Guanyin, the doors to the temple shut tight so that we can speak privately. Still, there are windows open to let in some light and air, so we still stand some feet apart, a proper distance, just in case anyone tries to eavesdrop. It is difficult. I want nothing more than to be held tightly, safely, in his arms. But his words have so shocked me, I am near to toppling over.
“In his attempt to punish you,” Emperor Honghui says, “my brother inadvertently freed you. According to court records, you don’t exist. You never did exist. You were never married to Emperor Guozhi.”
I suppose he is right. That was what the emperor said, that I was to be erased. I suppose I didn’t think the erasure was literal. Or at least, not complete. Surely there must be a record of my erasure. Of my punishment. Could it be that I was really erased from all court records?
“So, because I was banished and erased, you want to marry me yourself?” I ask. “But I was your brother’s wife. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“It didn’t bother me while he was alive,” he says with a shrug. I feel a little nauseous at the thought. I didn’t love the emperor, but was forced to accept him as my husband. It never bothered me overmuch that I was not faithful to him. But Honghui was Guozhi’s brother. He should have known better, been more loyal than that. But Honghui loved me. I think, perhaps, he loved me even more than I loved him. I suppose that excused his actions in his own mind. And am I not alive because of those actions? He saved me when the foreigners stormed into the Forbidden City because he loved me.
“The official court records might have forgotten me,” I say, “but people will remember. The servants, the court officials, Guozhi’s mother. All of them will know who I am. Will they not take offense? Surely they will see wrong in it.”
“There is precedent,” Honghui says. I look at him dumbly. I don’t understand what he means, but I feel as though this is something an educated Manchu lady should know, so I stay quiet.
“There have been instances in history when emperors have taken the wife of another as their own,” he says, sensing my unease with the topic. “You have surely heard of Yang Guifei, one of the great beauties of the past.”
“Umm…of course,” I mumble even though I haven’t the slightest idea who he is talking about.
“She was the wife of the emperor’s son before the emperor took her for himself,” he says. “Many people forget that part of the story. In fact, he sent her away to a nunnery for a while before he claimed her as his own. As the emperor, it is my right to choose you.”
My heart flutters at that, at the thought of Emperor Honghui choosing me out of all the other women in the empire. He could have a younger wife, a prettier wife, a virgin wife. But instead, he wants me. And didn’t I once think that if I could have the freedom to choose my own husband, I would choose him?
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” I ask. “It might be your right to choose me, but many people will be unhappy about this. Guozhi’s mother, for one. And what about all the parents in the country who are hoping their daughter will be chosen as the next empress? It could cost you important allies.”
“I don’t care what Fenfeng thinks,” Honghui nearly spits. “If I could send her here to this nunnery, I would. That woman has never been a mother to me.
“As for the people… Well, more people will be glad of our marriage than angered by it.”
“What do you mean?” I a
sk.
Honghui sighs and takes a moment to respond. “There are many people, Han people, who are still angry at how Guozhi handled the foreign invasion, among other things. There is open talk of revolt, they aren’t even hiding it anymore! I have had to send troops all over the country to put down rebels, and more are talking of rebellion every day. The people don’t want a Manchu ruler anymore.”
I cross my arms and can’t help but smirk a little. For a moment, I remember living in the hutong outside the Forbidden City and hearing the people talk against the Manchu. Blame them for our constant troubles, our poverty. Dream of once again seeing a Han Chinese emperor on the throne. Of seeing Han girls living lives of pleasure and opulence within the inner court. Of their families being showered with power and riches.
“There,” Honghui says, pointing at me.
“What?” I ask.
“That…affinity you have for the Han people, it’s plain on your face.”
“Is it?” I ask innocently.
“The people see it too,” he says. “They have seen it. They still talk about how you fed them and protected them while the court was in exile. How you put their well-being ahead of that of the court.
“They talk about how you alone rode back to the Forbidden City and offered yourself to the foreigners in exchange for ending the invasion.”
“That’s not exactly what happened,” I say.
“But it is what the people think,” Honghui says. “It’s what they believe. They believe that you are the only Manchu noble in all of China who cares about them.”
“Perhaps they are not wrong,” I say.
“That’s not fair,” Honghui says. “I care about all my subjects.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen you as a ruler. I know that Guizhou only did what was best for the people in as much as it helped him. He didn’t give food to the poor because they needed it. He did it to keep them from revolting. And it sounds like you have inherited his same attitude.”
Honghui is stunned into silence for a moment. “Why do you care so much?” he finally asks, running his hand along the side of his head as if he would pull his hair out in frustration. “You think we should just give away money and food and clothes for no reason to people who would gladly kill us.”
“It’s not for no reason,” I say. “As the Son of Heaven, it is your responsibility to care for your subjects as a father would his children. A father would not let his children starve.” My eyes tear up at the memory of so many nights I couldn’t sleep because I was so hungry. I know that it killed my father to see his children starve. He worked so hard to provide for us, but it was never enough.
“The Han Chinese outnumber the Manchu a hundred to one,” I go on, practically yelling. “They could easily overthrow you…us. You rule at their pleasure, even if they don’t really know it. If you do not take care of them, why should they allow you to remain on the throne? They will replace you if you do not do right by them.”
Honghui is silent for a long while. I think he is waiting to see if I am done speaking. Of course, there is more I could say, so very much more, but I do not. I hold my tongue. If I keep talking, I may end up revealing more than I should.
“This is why I need you to marry me,” Honghui says. “The people, somehow, know that you support them. That you will fight for them. I believe that if you marry me, it will go a long way toward calming their anger at the court and at me.”
I am taken a little aback at this. “You think that marrying me will help save the court?”
“I do,” he says. “Think of it as a political marriage, one that will unite two warring factions. You and I can save the Qing Dynasty.”
“Is that the real reason you wish to marry me?” I ask. “To save your throne?”
Honghui chuckles and walks over to me. He tugs on my robe, pulling me to him. “That is merely a bonus,” he says, wrapping an arm around me and lowering his voice. “Think of it, my darling, being able to openly love one another. No longer having to sneak around and make love in dark and hidden places for fear of being caught.”
The thought of making love to Honghui makes my belly quiver and I feel the instant pang of desire in the deepest parts of myself.
“Well…I enjoyed making love in dark and hidden places,” I admit sheepishly.
Honghui turns me to him and places his lips on mine, hungrily, eagerly. Even though the windows are open and we are sure to be seen, I wrap my hand around his neck and kiss him back.
“Perhaps we could still steal away to our favorite places,” he whispers, “late at night, when no one is watching.”
“I’d like that,” I say. We kiss again, and for a moment, it’s so easy to pretend that everything is perfect. That everything is just how it should be. But life is never that simple, at least for me. I finally pull away and take a few steps back.
“There are a few things I must ask of you,” I say, “if I am to agree to this…arrangement of yours.”
“Oh?” Honghui asks, his eyebrow cocked. “Making demands of me?”
“No,” I say. “Or maybe yes. But marrying me will not help your reputation with the Han if nothing changes.”
He nods slowly. “I suppose that is true. Go on.”
“When you select new consorts, you must significantly limit the number of women you choose.”
“Want me all to yourself, do you?” he asks playfully. I know he only means to tease me, but his words hurt and insult me.
“I am not a jealous woman,” I say. “I understand the role consorts play in the greater scheme of things. But the inner court is a massive waste of funds. I want some of the money that would be spent on consorts to be given out in poor relief instead.”
“Yes, I know you were quite passionate about that when you were merely one of my brother’s consorts,” Honghui says. “And I suppose it is one of the things that endeared you to the people in the first place, so it is something we should keep going. Anything else?”
“You should appoint Han men to court positions,” I say. “How can you possibly make decisions on behalf of people you don’t know? You need Han men at your side, advising you.”
He rubs his chin at the thought. “That will be difficult. Some of the other ministers will not like it.”
“Then replace them with men who will,” I say. “You need the Han by your side if you wish to convince them that you have their best interests at heart.”
“Very well,” he says. “I will see what I can do. What else?”
I chew my lower lip for a moment. “There is one thing I would ask for myself. Dongmei and Jiangfei, I wish to be appointed as their mother, and me alone. I’ll not have Fenfeng interfere with their upbringing.”
“Consider it done,” he says. “Dongmei… Well, she needs you. Misses you.”
I feel a pang in my heart. I miss the girls so much. But I know they must be hurting. I promised them, time and again, that I would not leave them, and yet we were always ripped apart. I can only hope they will accept me back into their lives one more time.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Lady Yanmei must be allowed to return with me as my lady-in-waiting,” I say. “I’ll not leave her here.”
“Very well. And I will return all your old household staff to you as well, your maids and eunuchs. How would that be?”
“I would appreciate that,” I say, though I am saddened that Suyin will not be among them. Oh, if only she had stayed at the Forbidden City and not come here to me, she would still be alive and we would be reunited! The world is truly a cruel and unfair place.
“Anything else?” Honghui asks.
I shake my head. “Not that I can think of at the moment. But this is all rather sudden. I never imagined that I would be allowed to return to the Forbidden City. That I would marry you. That I would be the empress again.”
Honghui holds his hand out to me, and I take it. “Let us hope that our lives are much easier from here on out.
That we may have a time of peace and prosperity.”
“I pray it is so,” I say.
9
The next morning, before the sun rises, I mount a horse to return to the Forbidden City. I have told no one that I am leaving, save Tao Fashi and Yanmei. I know that the other ladies who only just arrived will be shocked, hurt, and angry that I am being allowed to leave, to return to our shared home, while they must stay behind. But I am a coward and cannot face them. There is nothing I can do to lessen their pain, their jealousy, except perhaps turn Honghui away, and I would be a fool to do that. No, I cannot save them, help them, but I can help myself and Yanmei, and that will have to be enough.
“May the blessings of Guanyin go with you, my girl,” Tao Fashi says, kissing my forehead goodbye.
“Thank you for everything,” I say. “These many months would have been unbearable without your guidance.
“The road ahead will not be easy, I fear,” Tao Fashi says, her face grim.
I can only shrug. “My life has never been easy. But I believe I will have more opportunities to do good when I am back in Peking. Perhaps I can even correct some of the mistakes of my past.”
“I will pray for you constantly,” Tao Fashi says, her eyes watering. We hug for the last time, and then I mount my horse before I lose my composure, sitting tall next to Honghui.
Instead of riding back to the Forbidden City hidden away inside a sedan chair, Honghui wishes for all the people we pass to be able to see me. He wants it to be known that the empress that the people love so dearly has returned. Yanmei, however, rides inside my chair to protect her fair skin from the sun and wind.
I have shed my orange nun garb and instead wear the red robe of a bride. Honghui had suggested that I wear the imperial yellow of an empress, but when I enter the Forbidden City this time, I want it to be as a bride for Honghui, not Guozhi’s empress. I never loved Guozhi, never wanted to be his woman. It was never my choice to be summoned to this bed. The fact that he was kind to me, good to me even, does not negate the fact that he had bought me like a sack of rice.
