I was sure that my rivals had sent spies to watch over me. The “eye” might be one of the Emperor’s own attendants. If so, he would certainly report on our activities in the palanquin. A little scandal might be made to go a long way. To the three thousand females in the Forbidden City, I was the thief who had stolen the only stallion. I was the one who had robbed them of their only chance of motherhood and happiness.
The disappearance of my cat, Snow, had been a warning. An-te-hai had found her in a well not far from my palace. Her beautiful white hair had all been pulled out. No one came forward to name the killer, nor did anyone express sympathy. In a strange coincidence, soon afterward three operas were performed on the Grand Changyi Stage. Was that an expression of victory? A celebration of revenge? I was the only concubine who was not invited to attend. I sat alone in my garden and listened to the music float over my wall.
An-te-hai had also reported another bit of gossip. A fortuneteller had visited the palace and predicted that something terrible would happen to me before the end of winter: I would be strangled to death in my sleep by the hands of a ghost. Whenever we passed one another, the expressions on the other ladies’ faces told me their thoughts. Their eyes asked, “When?”
Although I meant no harm, I was in a position to do harm. I was left with the choice of either ruining others’ lives or letting them ruin my own.
I knew exactly what was wanted from me. But would I voluntarily withdraw from His Majesty’s affection? Before I bribed Chief Eunuch Shim, my bed had been cold for months. I refused to willingly crawl beneath those sheets again.
At audiences, I discovered that the best solutions often existed between the words of those who reported the troubles. They had spent time with the subject and were able to come up with suggestions. What bothered me was that the ministers often held their true opinions back. They trusted the Son of Heaven to see things “through a god’s eye.”
It amazed me that Emperor Hsien Feng believed that he was the god’s eye. Rarely doubting his own wisdom, he sought signs to prove its heavenly source. It might be a tree split by thunder in his garden or a shooting star crossing the night sky. Su Shun encouraged Hsien Feng’s fascination with himself, convincing him that he was protected by Heaven. But when things outside the Forbidden City failed to go Hsien Feng’s way, he acted like a leaking water bag-his self-confidence spilled away.
The Emperor fell apart. When truth and understanding were kept from him, his moods swung all the more violently. One minute he would be definitive about defeating the barbarians and order the deportation of a foreign ambassador; the next minute he would despair and agree to sign a treaty that would only lead China into deeper economic disaster. In public I tried to maintain the illusion of my husband’s power. But I could not fool myself. Beneath my golden dress, I was Orchid from Wuhu. I knew that crops were helpless when locusts invaded.
When audiences went smoothly, Emperor Hsien Feng would tell me that I had helped him restore his magic powers. All I did was listen to people like Su Shun and Prince Kung. If I had been a man and been able to set foot outside the palace, I would have gone to the frontier and come back with my own strategies.
Outside our palanquin we could see nothing but barren hills. Letting down the curtain, His Majesty rested on his pillow and continued speaking about his life. “The Taiping rebels caused destruction everywhere. I have no one but my brother to count on. If Prince Kung can’t do it, nobody can, and that I know for sure. In the past I humiliated him knowingly and unknowingly; now I take every opportunity to mend our relationship. My father didn’t keep his promise, and I am guilty for him. I granted Prince Kung the highest title the day I was crowned Emperor.
“Then I granted him the best place to live outside the Forbidden City, as you will soon see for yourself.” He nodded. “I offered him a fortune in taels and he used it to remodel the palace. I neglected my other brothers and cousins. The Garden of Discerning is not a bit less beautiful than any of the palaces inside the Forbidden City.”
I was not unfamiliar with what Emperor Hsien Feng had done for his brother. To make Prince Kung feel welcome, Hsien Feng disregarded the tradition that a Manchu prince was not allowed to hold a military position. He appointed Kung as the chief advisor of the Imperial military cabinet. Prince Kung’s power was equal to Su Shun’s. Ignoring Su Shun’s protests, His Majesty also granted Prince Kung the right to pick whomever he liked to work with him, which included his father-in-law, Grand Secretary Kuei Liang, who happened to be Su Shun’s enemy.
We reached the Garden of Discerning just before noon. Prince Kung and his fujin-Manchu for “wife”-had been notified and were waiting by the gate. Kung seemed to be delighted to see his brother. Twenty-two years old, he was two years younger than Hsien Feng. They were about the same height. I detected Prince Kung’s sharpness when he stole a glance at me. It was an evaluation detached from feeling. I sensed his suspicion and distrust. No doubt he had wondered why his brother was keeping me, especially given the harshness of the rumors in circulation.
Following tradition, Prince Kung performed a ritual of welcome. To me it seemed rather unaffectionate. They did not act like two brothers who had grown up together. The feeling was more like a servant paying tribute to his master.
Emperor Hsien Feng acknowledged his brother’s gesture. He was impatient with the formality and rushed through his response. Before Fujin finished her “I wish Your Majesty ten thousand years of life” bows, he took his brother by the arms.
I performed my kowtows and bows and then stood aside to listen and observe. I discovered resemblances in the way the brothers carried themselves: elegant and arrogant at the same time. They both had typical Manchu features: slanting single-lidded eyes, a straight nose and a well-defined mouth. Here was the difference, I quickly decided: Prince Kung had a Mongol rider’s posture. He walked with a straight back but was bowlegged. Emperor Hsien Feng’s movements were more like those of an ancient scholar.
We exchanged gifts. I gave Fujin a pair of shoes that An-te-hai had only moments before returned with. They featured pearls and green jade beads sewn in a beautiful floral pattern. Fujin was delighted. In return she gave me a copper smoking pipe. I had never seen anything like it. The little pipe bore a sophisticated foreign battle scene, with ships, soldiers and ocean waves. The tiny figures were incised precisely and the surface was polished as smooth as porcelain. Fujin told me that it had been made with the help of a machine invented by an Englishman. It was a gift from one of Prince Kung’s employees, a Briton named Robert Hart.
After the greetings, servants came with mats and positioned them at our feet. Prince Kung threw himself down on his mat and kowtowed to his brother all over again. His wife followed. After he was pardoned, he called for his children and concubines, who had been waiting, all dressed up, for their summons. Fujin made sure that the children performed their greetings to perfection.
I was relieved when the ritual was finally over and we were led to the sitting room. Fujin excused herself and exited. Before I sat down, Prince Kung asked if I would like to have Fujin give me a tour of the garden.
I told him that I preferred to stay, if he didn’t mind.