Anchee Min - Empress Orchid

“He can do anything he wants, although his mother doesn’t encourage him to take courtyard sweepers,” I answered.

Rong turned to Mother. “Why would His Majesty want a maid when he has beautiful wives and concubines?”

“I can only say that the Emperor might resent the fact that he doesn’t get the chance to sleep every night with the woman he loves.”

We went quiet for a while. “His Majesty probably hates the ladies forced on him by his mother and the eunuchs,” Mother continued. “He must feel like a hog led by the nose.”

“Orchid, what are you going to do?” Rong asked. “If you obey the rules, you will attract no attention from the Emperor; but if you try to be alluring, and His Majesty desires you, the Grand Empress may remove your limbs!”

“Let’s go to the Temple of Mercy and consult your father’s spirit,” Mother said.

We had to climb hundreds of steps to reach the temple, on the top of Goose Mountain. We lit incense and paid the most expensive contribu-tion. But I didn’t receive any advice from my father’s spirit. My mind was troubled, and I was very aware that I was on my own.

Father’s grave was on the side of the mountain facing the northwest part of Peking. His coffin lay under knee-high grass. The graveyard keeper was an old man who smoked a clay pipe. He told us not to worry about robbers. “The dead are known for their debts in this area,” he said, and advised that the best way to pay our father respect was to purchase a lot higher up on the hillside, in the sunnier area.

I gave fifty taels to the man and asked him to guard my father from wild dogs, who dug up the bodies for food. The man was so shocked by my generosity that he dropped his pipe.

Gifts in huge boxes from the Imperial palace arrived. Every inch of our house was filled. The boxes were piled on the tables and beds. There was no place to sit or sleep. Still the gifts kept pouring in. One morning, six Mongolian horses were delivered. There were paintings, antiques, bolts of silk and embroidery from Soochow. Besides magnificent jewelry, splendid garments and headwear and shoes were given to me. My mother was given gold tea sets, silver pots and copper basins.

The neighbors were ordered to lend us their homes for storage. Large pits were dug in the ground around the neighborhood to serve as coolers, to stock meat and vegetables for the coming celebration banquet. Hundreds of jars of century-old wine were ordered, plus eighty lambs, sixty pigs and two hundred chickens and ducks.

On the eighth of the month the banquet was held. The head eunuch, who was in charge, invited a thousand people, among them nobles, ministers, court officials and Imperial relatives. Each guest was served twenty courses, and the meal lasted three days.

My time, though, was unbearable. I could hear the singing, laughing and shouting of drunkards through the walls, but I was not allowed to join the banquet. I was no longer permitted even to expose myself to light. I was shut in a room decorated with red and gold ribbons. Dry squashes painted with children’s faces were hung around the room, and I was told to stare at the faces to boost my fertility.

My mother brought me food and water, and my sister came to keep me company. My brother was being trained by the head eunuch to perform my father’s duty-to see me off when the day came. Every six hours, a messenger sent by the Emperor updated my family on what was going on in the Forbidden City.

I didn’t learn until later that Nuharoo had been the choice not only of the Grand Empress but of the clan elders as well. The decision that she would be the Empress had actually been made a year before. It had taken the court eight months of debate to reach the conclusion. The honorary treatment given Nuharoo’s family was five times what mine received. She was going to enter the Forbidden City through the center gate while the rest of us would go through a side gate.

Many years later people would say that I was jealous of Nuharoo, but I wasn’t at the time. I was overwhelmed by my own good fortune. I couldn’t forget the flies covering my father’s coffin and my mother’s having to sell her hairpin. I couldn’t forget the fact that I had been engaged to cousin Ping. I couldn’t thank Heaven enough for what was happening to me.

In the small red room I wondered what my future would hold. I had so many questions regarding how to live my life as Emperor Hsien Feng’s fourth concubine. But my biggest question was, who is Emperor Hsien Feng? As a bride and groom we hadn’t even spoken.

I dreamed about becoming His Majesty’s favorite. I was sure that all the concubines dreamed the same dream. Would there be harmony? Would it be possible for His Majesty to distribute his essence equally among us?

My experience growing up in the Yehonala household offered no help in preparing my way. My father had had no concubines. “He couldn’t afford one,” Mother once joked. In fact my father didn’t need one-he couldn’t get enough of my mother. I used to think that this was the way it should be, a man and a woman entirely devoted to each other. No matter how much they might suffer, having each other was happiness itself. This was the theme of my favorite operas. Characters survived to enjoy the rewards of a happy ending. My hopes had been high until Cousin Ping was pushed into my face. Now my life seemed to be gliding on a piece of watermelon skin-I had no idea where it would lead me. Trying to keep a balance was all I could do.

Big Sister Fann used to say that in real life, marriage was a market in which women competed for the highest bidder. And like any business, no one should confuse a rabbit with a squirrel-your worth says who you are.

The day my father died, I learned to separate wishful thinking from reality when his former friends turned up to reclaim a debt. I also learned something from my uncle by the way he treated us. Mother once told me that one had to lower one’s head when passing under low eaves in order to avoid injury. “Wishful thinking does not give me dignity,” Big Sister Fann used to say. “There is not one mother in the world who is happy to sell her child, but she sells her.”

My uncle and Cousin Ping came to see me, and they had to get down on their knees. When Uncle bowed and called me Your Majesty, Ping laughed. “Father, that’s Orchid!” The head eunuch slapped his face before Ping finished the phrase.

It was too late for Uncle to mend our relationship. He was nice only because he wanted to benefit from my status. He forgot too quickly what he had done. It was unfortunate, because I would have loved to help him.

Rong came to me as soon as Uncle and Ping stepped out. After rambling for a long time, she came to the point. “If you see any possibility, Orchid, I would like to marry a prince or a minister of the court.” I promised that I would keep my eyes open for her. She held me and wept. My parting was harder on her than on me.

June 26, 1852, had been announced as the wedding day of His Majesty Emperor Hsien Feng. The night before, Kuei Hsiang had taken a walk through the streets of Peking and was excited by what he saw.

“There are celebrations everywhere,” my brother reported. “Every family has hung a large ceremonial lantern in front of its door. Fireworks are being shot from the rooftops. People are dressed in bright red and green. The main boulevards are decorated with lanterns for miles and miles. All the couplets hanging in the air read, ‘We wish the Imperial union to be an everlasting one!’”

The Forbidden City started its celebration at dawn. Gate-to-gate red carpets were laid for receiving the brides and guests. From the Gate of Zenith to the Palace of Supreme Harmony, from the Palace of Heavenly Purity to the Palace of Universal Plenty, there were hundreds of thousands of red silk lanterns. The lanterns were decorated with the images of stars and battle axes. Also hung were umbrellas made of apricot-colored satin embroidered with lotus flowers. Columns and beams were draped with red silk embroidered with the character shee, happiness.