Mother was distraught. She gave me lessons in applying makeup and dressing myself. She crammed my head full of her recipes for cosmetics and medicines. She oversaw my trousseau and tried as best she could to explain the rules of Court to me. Her monologues would sometimes grind to a halt, and she would be unable to hold back her tears and sighs. Going to the kingdom of the divine Emperor would be a one-way journey; I was giving up the outside world forever. The sovereign had no fewer than ten thousand serving women in his gynaeceum. Only very few ever found favor with the Emperor and knew the joys of motherhood. I was too wild, not beautiful enough, and I did not have a powerful father behind me: I had no hope of standing out. I would live and die there, an ephemeral flower living one brief season and never truly blooming.
A delegation of imperial servants dressed in yellow and white tunics arrived. Their leader, a clean-shaven man with a voice like a woman’s, inspected the house, explained what form the ceremony would take, gave every detail of the codes of protocol, and ordered pavilions to be built to receive the imperial edict. The summer passed, and the red mulberries turned black behind their foliage. The day of my departure drew near. Mother gave me no peace with her frantic advice and warnings. Little Sister followed me everywhere. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of torpor; my desperate longing to leave the village made me immune to their pain.
An envoy of warriors arrived and presented me with the dowry offered by the Governor Delegate: bolts of brocade, jewelry, books, and fans. When they left, I drifted through the village. I could hear crickets and grasshoppers chirping in cracks of the walls. I felt sorry for those immutable houses: I could not wait to leave.
At dawn one morning, a troop of horsemen appeared on the horizon. All three hundred members of the clan greeted them on bended knee. The Palace envoy stepped down from his carriage, came into the courtyard, and climbed the steps. He unrolled a document and raised his voice: “The second daughter of Wu Shi Yue, descended from a respectable clan, has studied the rites since infancy and has learned to deport herself peacefully and graciously. Her fame has spread through all the gynaecea in the Empire. In keeping with ancient rulings, the Court now honors her with a position in the inner service, with the title of Talented One of the fifth impend rank. Accept the sovereign’s wish, his immeasurable glory and eternal light!”
A cheer of gratitude rang out: “Ten thousand years to the Emperor! Ten thousand years of well-being to the Emperor! Ten thousand and ten million years of well-being to the Emperor!”
My heart leapt with pride. As Talented One of the fifth rank, I immediately overtook my brothers in the imperial hierarchy; they were officials of the seventh rank. The next time we saw each other they would have to prostrate themselves at my feet!
Mother and Little Sister wept. To console them, I pronounced these words that had been tumbling round my heart for days: “My position at the Palace is our one opportunity. Have confidence in my destiny. Do not weep.”
Tears are the weapons of the weak and the condolence of the powerful. Little Sister ran behind my carriage. She was no longer a child; she had become a pale, slim adolescent. She waved her arms and was soon nothing but a dark shape in the vast blaze of autumn.
Lulled by the jolting carriage, I too cried. I hated myself for being cold and hard. Little Sister loved me more than I loved her. I was the tree that had stretched its foliage over the entire kingdom of her life. She was a stowaway who had huddled in the safety of my shade. Without me, she would wither and dry up.
ONE MORNING LONG Peace detached itself from the clouds on the horizon. Lit up by the sun, its tall ramparts topped with armed pavilions and surveillance towers looked like a celestial crown laid down on the Central Plain.
A crowd had gathered at the gates. The blues, reds, yellows, and greens of trousers and tunics jostled together, and the wind spread the smell of spices, incense, urine, and fruit. Under the willow trees along the moat, there were horses, oxen, and camels grazing, sneezing lazily, and dozing. There were men in turbans sitting on mats outside their tents. While they waited for a pass to go into the town, they sat eating and haggling amongst themselves. My carriage and its escort traveled past this hubbub of different languages and headed into a long tunnel carved out of walls.
I felt swamped by the sheer noise of the largest city on Earth. The loud cries of the street hawkers mingled with the clatter of horses’ hooves, the lowing of oxen, the din from various workshops, and the chiming of bells. From behind the curtain at my window, everything seemed to gleam. The trees vibrated. The air was full of silver clouds. I devoured every sight: the horses’ sumptuous bridles, their riders’ extravagant hats, the pilgrim monks in their ragged clothes, the trading stalls, and their heaps of wares. There was a succession of enclaves surrounded by high walls. I held tightly to a little purse that had a lock of Mother’s hair plaited together with Little Sister’s. I found comfort in the thought of all those aunts and cousins who had never left their corner of the countryside. I thought of my mother, who had given up all this; of Little Sister, who would marry a country peasant; of her square courtyard; her beasts of burden; and her fields. I swore to myself that one day I would give them new dignity.
My carriage was already traveling through eternity. I was tiny, alone, and naked. I was moving toward a man, a god, and an empire.
AT THE END of the Avenue of the Scarlet Bird, a crimson wall transformed into a thin line and then into a mountain chain. Having followed the moat around the Imperial City, the military escort came to a halt by a doorway; only carriages could go inside. After walking a short distance, the retinue also came to a halt. Some women held the curtain aside, and I saw a wide pathway paved with golden bricks in the middle of wood. An exquisite fragrance filled my nose. The bustle and noise of the world of men had stopped. I was surrounded by a perfectly unblemished ceremonial silence. I could hear my heart beating. How vulgar that beating sounded now!
A group of servant women greeted me respectfully. They were holding golden basins, silver containers, and towels of woven gold thread, and they asked me to wash my hands and face, then to climb into a litter. I was carried through the forest and then through more walls and gateways. As I made my way deeper and deeper into that sacred land, I began to hear almost imperceptible sounds, the whisper of the leaves, a plucking of stringed instruments, and the tinkle of waterfalls.
We stopped in front of a moon-shaped gate, and I was invited to step down and go into a pavilion. I sat waiting in the middle of a room decorated with frescoes, facing a doorway that looked out over a calm courtyard where a rockery was smothered by an ivy with red berries. Four young girls came toward me along a gallery, taking slow swinging steps and keeping their heads lowered. They came up the steps and into the room with soap, towels, glasses, jugs, and bowls. They washed my hands again and rinsed out my mouth. When they disappeared in a rustie of silk, four more girls appeared to set out a number of low tables and cover them with small dishes.
At home, eating heartily was a great pleasure. Under the gaze of these distinguished servants, I was afraid they might laugh at my manners, so I ate only a few mouthfuls. I was astonished by how refined the imperial dishes were: The vegetables were the texture of meat, the meat tasted like game, and the game looked like flowers.