The banquet’s courses were endless. As people tired of eating, they moved to the west wing, where Nuharoo was presented with her gifts. She sat like a Buddha receiving worshipers.
Emperor Hsien Feng’s gift was the first presented. It was a giant box wrapped with red silk and tied with yellow ribbons. It was brought into the hall on an ivory table carried by six eunuchs.
Nuharoo’s eyes glowed like those of a curious child.
Beneath six layers of wrapping, the gift revealed itself. Inside the box was a monstrous peach the size of a wok, carved out of wood.
“Why a peach?” Nuharoo asked. “Is it a jest?”
“Open it,” the Emperor urged.
Nuharoo left her seat and walked around the peach.
“Expose the pit,” His Majesty said.
A hush fell over the room.
After Nuharoo made a few rounds of touching, pinching and shaking, the peach fell open, splitting down the middle. At its heart was a creation that was the very essence of beauty, bringing gasps of admiration from the spectators-a pair of wondrous shoes.
If she hadn’t suffered in her childhood, she had suffered long and hard enough as a neglected wife to earn the right to this reward. The Manchu shoes with high heels were in the very best of taste, covered with sparkling gems like the dew on the petals of a spring peony. Nuharoo wept with happiness. During the months when Emperor Hsien Feng and I had lost count of our days, Nuharoo had become a walking ghost. Each night her face must have been the color of moonlight, and she must have chanted Buddhist prayers in order to sleep. Her jealousy was put to rest now that I had fallen from grace and become the same backyard concubine as she.
I complimented Nuharoo for her beauty and luck, and I asked if the shoes fit. Her reply surprised me. “His Majesty has granted his Chinese women palaces, pensions and servants in his will.”
I looked around, fearing what would happen if His Majesty heard this. But he had fallen asleep.
Nuharoo packed the shoes back into the peach and sent her eunuch to store the box. “Disregarding his own health, His Majesty has no intention of giving up the bound-feet women, and I am upset.”
“Indeed, His Majesty should take care of himself,” I echoed in a small voice. “For the sake of your birthday, Nuharoo, forget about it for a moment.”
“How?” Her tears welled up. “He hides the whores in the Summer Palace. He has spent taels building a water canal around his little ‘town of Soochow.’ Every shop along the river has been furnished and decorated. The teahouses now present the best operas, and the galleries the most famous artists. He has added stalls for artisans and fortunetellers, just like a real town-except there are no customers! His Majesty has even given names to the whores! One is called Spring, another Summer, and then there is Autumn and Winter. ‘Beauties for all seasons,’ he calls them. Lady Yehonala, His Majesty is sick of us Manchu ladies. One of these days he will collapse and die in the middle of his flagrant activities, and the embarrassment will be too great for us to bear.”
I took out my handkerchief and passed it to Nuharoo to wipe her tears. “We cannot take this personally. It is my feeling that His Majesty is not sick of us, but of his responsibility toward his country. Maybe our presence reminds him too much of his obligations. After all, we have been telling him that he is disappointing his ancestors.”
“Do you see any hope that His Majesty will come back to his senses?”
“Good news from the frontier would improve His Majesty’s mood and clear his thoughts,” I said. “In this morning’s court briefs, I read that General Tseng Kuo-fan has launched a campaign to drive the Taiping rebels back to Nanking. Let’s hope he succeeds. His force should be near Wuchang by now.”
She stopped me. “Oh, Yehonala. Don’t put me through this torture. I don’t want to know!”
I sat down on a side chair and took the tea An-te-hai passed to me.
“Well.” Nuharoo composed herself. “I am the Empress, and I need to know, correct? All right, tell me what you have to say, but keep it simple.”
I patiently tried to give Nuharoo some sense of the matter. Of course she couldn’t help but know a little already-that the Taipings were peasant rebels, that they had adopted Christianity, and that their leader, Hong Hsiu-chuan, claimed he was the younger son of God, the brother of Jesus. But Nuharoo had little knowledge of how successful they had been in battle. Although Hsien Feng would not publicly acknowledge the situation, the Taipings had taken the south, the country’s farming region, and had begun to press northward.
“What do these Taipings want?” Nuharoo blinked her eyes.
“To bring down our dynasty.”
“It is unthinkable!”
“As unthinkable as the treaties the foreigners have forced on us.”
Nuharoo’s expression reminded me of a child who had discovered a rat in her candy box.
“Free trade plus Christianity is how the foreigners would ‘civilize’ us.”
“What an insult!” Nuharoo sneered.
“I couldn’t agree more. The foreigners say they are here to save the souls of the Chinese.”
“But their behavior speaks for itself!”
“Very true. The British have sold nine million pounds’ worth of goods in China this year alone, of which six million was opium.”
“Don’t tell me that our court is doing nothing, Lady Yehonala.”
“Well, as Prince Kung said, China is prostrate and has no choice but to do what it is told.”
Nuharoo covered her ears. “Stop it! There is nothing I can do about this.” She grabbed my hands. “Leave these matters to men, please!”
Yung Lu, the commander in chief of the Imperial Guards, was summoned by Nuharoo. She believed that as long as she had someone guarding the gates of the Forbidden City, she was safe. I couldn’t argue with her. A few days earlier Nuharoo had conducted the wedding ceremony of Rong and Prince Ch’un. It was a lengthy event that wore me out. But Nuharoo was full of energy and spirit. During the proceedings, she changed dresses thirteen times, more than the bride.
I followed Nuharoo to a quiet chamber in the west wing where Yung Lu had been waiting. As we entered, I saw a man of strong physique rise from a chair.
“Yung Lu at Your Majesties’ service.” The man’s manner was humble and his voice firm. He got down on his knees and bowed deeply. He completed the ritual by performing the traditional kowtows, his head knocking on the ground.
“Rise,” Nuharoo said, and gestured for the eunuchs to bring tea.
Yung Lu was in his late twenties and had a pair of scorching eyes and weather-beaten skin. He had sword-like eyebrows and the nose of a bull. His jaw was large and square, and his mouth was the shape of an ingot. His broad shoulders and the way he stood reminded me of an ancient warlord.
Nuharoo began to chat of small things. She commented on the weather, while he asked about His Majesty’s health. When questioned about the Taipings, Yung Lu answered with patience and precision.
I found myself impressed by his manner, which was reserved and honest. I studied his clothes. He was in a three-piece cavalry brigade uniform, a skirt covered by a sleeveless court gown. Held together by toggles and loops, it was padded and encrusted with copper studs. The plain weave indicated his rank.
“May I look at your crossbow?” I asked.
Yung Lu took it off his belt and passed it to Nuharoo, who then held it out to me.
I examined the quiver, which was made of satin, leather, swan’s-down, silver and sapphires, with vulture feathers on the arrows. “And your sword?”
He passed the blade to me.
It was heavy. As I ran my fingertip along the edge, I felt him watching me. My cheeks ran hot. I was ashamed of the way I was paying attention to a man, although I couldn’t name the nature of my sudden interest.