In retrospect, I was denying a truth. I refused to admit that I desired more than bodily protection from Yung Lu the moment we met. My soul craved to stir and be stirred. When I touched the edge of his sword, my “right mind” fled.
The eunuch returned with fresh tea. Yung Lu poured the mug down his throat as if he had just walked the desert. But it was not enough to overcome his nervousness. His look reminded me of a man who had just made up his mind to jump off a cliff. His eyes widened and his uneasiness grew thick. When he raised his eyes again, I realized that we were both descendants of the Manchus’ toughest Bannermen. We were capable of surviving battles, external as well as internal. We were meant to survive because of our minds’ ability to reason, our ability to live with frustration in order to maintain our virtue. We wore smiling masks while dying inside.
I was doomed when I realized that my talent was not to rule but to feel. Such a talent enriched my life, but at the same time destroyed every moment of peace I had gained. I felt helpless toward what was being done to me. I was the fish on the golden plate, tied with the red ribbon. Yet no one would bring me back to the lake where I belonged.
Trying to keep up appearances exhausted me.
Yung Lu sensed it. The color of his face changed. It reminded me of the city’s rose-colored walls.
“The audience is over,” I said weakly.
Yung Lu bowed, turned and marched out.
Seventeen
IN MAY OF 1858, Prince Kung brought the news that our soldiers had been bombarded while still in their barracks. The French and English forces had assaulted the four Taku forts at the mouth of the Peiho. Horrified at the collapse of our sea defenses, Emperor Hsien Feng declared martial law. He sent Kuei Liang, Prince Kung’s father-in-law, now the grand secretary and the court’s highest-ranking Manchu official, to negotiate peace.
By the next morning Kuei Liang was seeking an emergency audience. He had rushed back the night before from the city of Tientsin. The Emperor was again ill, and he sent Nuharoo and me to sit in for him. His Majesty promised that as soon as he gathered enough strength he would join us.
When Nuharoo and I entered the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing, the court was already waiting. More than three hundred ministers and officials were present. Nuharoo and I were dressed in golden court robes. We settled in our seats, shoulder to shoulder, behind the throne.
Minutes later Emperor Hsien Feng arrived. He dragged himself onto the platform and landed breathlessly on the throne. He looked so frail that a breeze might have caused him to fall. His robe was loosely buttoned. He hadn’t shaved, and his beard had sprouted like weeds.
Kuei Liang was summoned to come forward. His appearance shocked me. His usual placid and benevolent expression was replaced by extreme nervousness. He seemed to have aged a great deal. His back was hunched and I could barely see his face. Prince Kung had come with him. The dark shadows under their eyes told me that neither had slept.
Kuei Liang began his report. In the past I recalled his countenance as one full of intelligence. Now his words were inarticulate, his hands palsied, his eyes dimmed. He said that he had been received with little respect from the foreign negotiators. They used the Arrow incident, in which Chinese pirates were caught sailing under a British flag, as an excuse to shun him. No evidence had been provided to substantiate their claims. It all could have been a conspiracy against China.
Emperor Hsien Feng listened grave-faced.
“In the name of teaching us a lesson,” Kuei Liang continued, “the British launched an assault on Canton, and the entire province was brought down. With twenty-six gunboats between them, the British and French, accompanied by Americans-‘impartial observers,’ they said-and by Russians who joined for the spoils, have defied Your Majesty.”
I didn’t have a full view of my husband’s face, but I could imagine his expression. “It is against the terms of the previous treaty for them to sail upriver toward Peking,” Emperor Hsien Feng stated flatly.
“The winners make the rules, I am afraid, Your Majesty.” Kuei Liang shook his head. “They needed no more excuse after attacking the Taku forts. They are now only a hundred miles from the Forbidden City!”
The court was stunned.
Kuei Liang broke down as he offered more details. As I listened, an image pushed itself in front of my eyes. It was from the time I witnessed a village boy torturing a sparrow. The boy was my neighbor. He had found the sparrow in a sewage pit. The little creature looked like it was just learning to fly and had fallen and broken its wing. When the boy picked the bird up, the feathers dripped with dirty water. He placed the bird on a steppingstone in front of his house and called us to come and watch. I saw the tiny heart pumping inside the bird’s body. The boy flipped the sparrow back and forth, pulling its legs and wings. He kept doing it until the bird stopped moving.
“You failed me, Kuei Liang!” Hsien Feng’s shout woke me. “I had put my faith in your success!”
“Your Majesty, I pathetically presented my death warrant to the Russian and American envoys,” Kuei Liang cried. “I said that if I yielded one more point, my life would be forfeited. I told them that my predecessor, the viceroy of Canton, was ordered by Emperor Hsien Feng to commit suicide because he had failed in his mission. I said the Emperor had ordered me to come to a reasonable and mutually advantageous peace and that I had promised him that I would agree to nothing that will be detrimental to China. But they sneered and laughed at me, Your Majesty.” The old man collapsed on his knees, sobbing in shame. “I… I… deserve to die.”
To witness the tears of the respectable Kuei Liang was heart-breaking. The French and English demanded indemnities and apologies for wars against us started on our soil. According to Prince Kung, they had declared that recent events had rendered the previous agreements null and void. Grand Councilor Su Shun, who was dressed in a red court robe, warned that this was the pretext for the barbarians’ next move, which would be to hold a gun to the head of Emperor Hsien Feng.
“I have failed myself, my country and my ancestors,” Hsien Feng cried. “Because of my inadequacy, the barbarians have preyed on us… China has been violated, and the guilt is mine alone to bear.”
I knew I had to ask for permission in order to speak, but anger overcame me and I said, “Foreigners live in China by the good grace of the Emperor, yet they have harmed us in more ways than we can find words to express. They are causing our government to lose prestige in the eyes of our people. They leave us no choice but to despise them.”
I wanted to continue, but choked on my own tears. Only a few weeks earlier I had sat behind Hsien Feng as he thundered about war and ordered “death to the barbarians.” What was the use of more words? As events played out, the Emperor of China would soon be forced to make an apology for the “treachery of his troops who had defended the Taku forts against the British the previous year.” China would be forced to agree to pay to its invaders an enormous amount of taels as compensation.
The Emperor needed to rest. After a short recess, Kuei Liang spoke again. “The Russians have come to join the thievery, Your Majesty.”
Hsien Feng took a deep breath and then asked, “What do they want?”
“To redraw the northern border by the Amur and Ussuri rivers.”
“Nonsense!” Hsien Feng yelled. He began to cough, and his eunuchs rushed to him and wiped his neck and forehead. He pushed them away. “Kuei Liang, you have allowed this to happen… you! ”