“What-?” he began, so startled he didn’t even touch formalities.
“Who is listening?” Cixi interrupted, necessity also forcing rudeness.
Kung shut his mouth and pursed his lips. Then he reached under his desk and pulled a hidden lever. There was a cranking, grinding noise, followed by a series of small thumps. When they ended, Kung said, “The spy holes have been stopped up. We can talk freely.”
“Not even the emperor has such power,” Cixi said, impressed.
“I am not the emperor. Nor do I wish to be.” He gestured at a laden table. “Please, sit. There is food. You will have to feed yourself, I’m afraid. Even food spiders may carry messages. And you are safe here, Orchid.”
Cixi almost wept with relief at those words. She and Zaichun gratefully sank to the pillows and took up chopsticks. It felt so fine to be clean and sitting down, with food on a table and fresh clothes on her back. In that moment, if Kung had requested it, she would have offered herself to him as a concubine in his household.
“Please tell me what really happened at the Cool Hall in Jehol,” Kung said as they ate. He clearly wasn’t hungry, but he nibbled a cake and sipped tea to be polite. “I only hear official stories, and my spies are giving me conflicting information.”
Cixi obeyed, omitting no details. To her surprise, she found herself choking a little as she described the death of the emperor. She hadn’t realized she felt enough attachment to him to grieve. Zaichun stared fixedly into his lap, and a tear dropped onto his knee. Cixi ignored this breach, trying to keep herself under control. But as she told the story, her sorrow dissolved into an anger that hissed like a serpent, and then roared like a dragon. At one point, there was an odd snap, and she realized she had broken an ivory chopstick in two. Embarrassed, she set it aside and stopped eating.
“You acted with admirable forethought,” Kung said when she finished. “I can think of no concubine who would do what you have done.”
“Thank you,” she said, surprised at the praise.
“You may know that I have long felt that the empire’s policy of antagonism and isolationism toward the West has been a bad idea.”
“One has heard,” she murmured. Kung’s ideas about peaceful contact and exchange of ideas with the West were actually considered scandalous by Xianfeng’s advisers, and they had convinced Xianfeng to push his half brother to the margins, leave him with a largely administrative post in Peking, and all but banish him from the Forbidden City. However, over the years, he had cleverly consolidated his position into one of great power. The emperor ignored Peking itself in favor of the Forbidden City, which meant every time he left for Jehol or the Summer Palace, Peking was basically left in the charge of Prince Kung. He’d had little power within the Imperial Court, but outside it, he was arguably the most powerful man in China. He also did not get along with Su Shun, which was why Cixi had come to him in the first place.
“The continual conflict we have with Britain drains treasure and people on both sides,” Kung said. “Imagine what we could accomplish if we worked together! The British are making extraordinary leaps forward in the fields of medicine and public education, for example, but their people starve in the streets because British farmers are ignorant of agricultural secrets we have hoarded for centuries. Yet we fight and keep our people apart because we look different and act differently. Foolishness!”
“I met a few bar-Westerners when I was younger,” Cixi said. “They don’t have proper manners, you know. It makes it very difficult to talk to them.”
“They say the exact same thing about us,” Kung replied. “Do you think we Chinese are so stupid that we can build a wall halfway around the world but we cannot learn to talk to Englishmen? Or that the English are so stupid that they can build ships to fly through the air but cannot learn proper etiquette? No, both sides are narrow-minded, and it costs us dearly.”
“I do not disagree,” Cixi put in. “I lived on the streets of Peking as a child, and I have lived in the Imperial Court. From these vantage points I have seen how. . insulated our society has become. The emperor is-was-a symptom of that. We seal ourselves off as we sealed off the emperor, and the only thing that gets in is sickness.”
“Exactly! When the emperor is sealed off, he stagnates like bad water in a pond. You yourself saw the proof. We need someone to sit on the throne who is willing to listen to new ideas.”
“But not you,” Cixi said.
“By the heavens, no.” Kung drank tea in obvious distress. “I have more than enough difficulty with Peking, let alone an entire empire.”
“You would make a wonderful adviser to an emperor,” Cixi said. She hesitated a moment. Bluntness was never a part of politics. No one at the Court was ever able to speak in private, and everyone’s words were quickly spread by spies and servants throughout the Forbidden City, which meant all comments had to have multiple meanings-one for the spies and one for the actual recipient. It made for twisted, difficult negotiations that lasted days or weeks. But here there were no listeners, and the longer they delayed, the longer Su Shun had to consolidate his hold on the throne. She decided to plunge ahead. “You could also be an adviser to a regent. Even if that regent were, say, a mere woman.”
Kung looked at her for a long time. Cixi looked back. “Yes,” he said at last. “That’s true. I think that would be a fine idea. A woman who ruled from behind a silk curtain, as the saying goes.”
“But not alone,” Cixi added quickly. “As I said, this woman would need advisers, generals, trustworthy eyes and ears. No one can run an empire alone.”
“And this woman would want peace with the West, not war as Su Shun does.”
“I imagine she would.” Cixi found she couldn’t quite bring herself to be completely blunt after all. “Especially if working for peace meant she enjoyed the support of important people.”
“It would.” Kung drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “If we want to put the proper heir on the throne, we need proof that Xianfeng intended this heir to sit there.”
“Unfortunately,” Cixi said, “he made no such declaration. Many, many witnesses know this. And the Ebony Chamber”-she gestured at the sack on the floor beside her-“was empty.”
“Hm. And I am even farther from the throne than we knew. Did you know I was in charge of the army that defended Peking from the British?”
“I thought it was Prince Cheng.”
“It was. Su Shun wrested that honor away from me and gave it to that toad Cheng-”
“In order to take credit for it because Cheng always does as he is told and never speaks for himself,” Cixi finished for him. “Yes. I wondered at that.”
“For once Cheng will be rewarded.” Kung sighed. “Su Shun intends to give my position as governor of Peking over to Cheng. He is handing out many civil positions to military friends of his without regard to their skill at administration. I have been deliberately excluded. My influence at this new Imperial Court is nonexistent.”
“If we have no heir and no paper, we will need the Jade Hand,” Cixi mused. “Though acquiring the hand will be much the same thing as assassinating Su Shun.”
Kung nodded. “There is another factor. You know of the cure for the blessing of dragons.”
“The one carried by that Western woman, Lady Michaels. Yes. She is the main reason Su Shun has continued to seal the borders-he does not want the cure to enter and wreck the Dragon Men. She is the most dangerous person in the world right now after Su Shun himself. Su Shun has put out an enormous reward for her capture so he can personally ascertain her identity and see to her death.”