Anchee Min - Empress Orchid

“Rise,” I said. “Leave me now, An-te-hai.”

He rose and quietly stepped back toward the door.

I noticed that he was limping a bit, and I remembered that he was the one Chief Eunuch Shim had kicked in the courtyard.

“Wait,” I called. “From now on, An-te-hai, you’ll be my first attendant.”

I changed into a beige robe before I was ushered to my eating chair. My dining table was as big as my gate. The carvings on its surface and legs were remarkable. As I was waiting to be served, I learned the names of my eunuchs and ladies in waiting.

My eunuchs had unique names. They were Ho-tung, River of the East; Ho-nan, River of the South; Ho-tz’u, River of the West; Ho-pei, River of the North; Ho-yuan, Riverhead; and Ho-wei, River End. Although their names began with ho, which meant “river,” they were by no means related. The names of several of my ladies in waiting began with chun , meaning “spring.” They were Chun-cheng, Spring Dawn; Chun-hsia, Spring Sunset; Chun-yueh, Spring Moon; Chun-meng, Spring Dream. All of them were reasonably good-looking and clean. They answered my calls promptly and demonstrated no particular characteristics. Their hair was done in a uniform style. While the eunuchs wore queues, the ladies wore buns on the back of their heads. In my presence, they kept their hands by their thighs and their eyes fixed on the floor.

I sat at the giant table for so long, surrounded by eunuchs and ladies in waiting, that my stomach started grumbling. Dinner was still nowhere to be seen. I turned my attention to the hall. It was large and empty of warmth except for the opposite wall, where hung a painting depicting a village family. A lovely poem was written in its upper right corner.

Who had lived here before me? I wondered. She must have been one of the Imperial concubines of the late Emperor Tao Kuang. She must have loved paintings. The style was simple, refreshing. I marveled at the contrast between the grand setting and the humble image.

The painting reminded me of the warmth of my own family. I remembered when my sister, brother and I would gather at the dinner table to await our father’s arrival. I remembered a time when our father cracked a joke. When we all burst into laughter, rice sprayed out our mouths. Rong choked on her tofu soup, and my brother fell under the table and broke his ceramic bowl. My mother failed to maintain her composure. She too burst into laughter, calling her husband “a crooked beam that leads the house to fall.”

“Your dinner’s here, my lady.” An-te-hai’s voice woke me from the memory.

As if in fantasy, I saw a parade coming out of the kitchen. A line of eunuchs, each holding a steaming dish, moved gracefully toward me. The pots and terrines were covered with silver lids. Soon the table was full of dishes.

I counted the dishes. The number was ninety-nine!

Ninty-nine dishes just for me?

An-te-hai announced what I was served: “Stewed bear claws, vegetables mixed with deer liver, fried lobster with soybean sauce, snails with cucumbers and garlic, marinated quail roasted with sweet-and-sour sauce, shredded tiger meat wrapped in pancakes, deer blood with ginseng and herbs, crispy duck skin dipped in spicy onion sauce, pork, beef, chicken, seafood…”

There were dishes I had never seen or heard of.

The parade went on. My servants’ expressions told me that this was ordinary. I tried to hide my shock. After the plates were set down, I waved my hand. The servants retreated and stood quietly against the walls.

I felt awkward facing the monstrous table.

“We wish you a great meal!” my servants sang in one voice.

I lifted my chopsticks.

“Not yet, my lady.” An-te-hai rushed to my side.

The eunuch went around the table with a pair of chopsticks and a small plate. He picked pieces from every dish and stuffed them into his mouth.

As I watched An-te-hai chewing, I was reminded of the story Big Sister Fann had told me about Emperor Hsien Feng’s mother, Chu An, who attempted to poison Prince Kung. The thought took away my appetite.

“It’s safe to dine now.” An-te-hai wiped his mouth and stepped away from the table.

“Am I supposed to eat all this by myself?” I asked.

“You are not expected to, my lady. It is the court’s etiquette that you are served with ninety-nine dishes at each meal.”

“But it is a big waste!”

“No, you won’t waste a thing, my lady. You can always reward dishes to your attendants. The slaves are hungry, and they are never given enough to eat.”

“Will people mind?”

“No. They will feel honored.”

“Doesn’t the kitchen prepare food for you as well?”

“We eat what horses eat, only the amount is meager by comparison. Three yams a day is my share.”

I finished as much as I could. I heard the sound of my jaw crunching cucumbers, chewing bear tendons and sucking on pork ribs. The servants continued to look at their feet. I wondered again what was cooking inside their heads. As I became full, I put down my chopsticks and picked up my dessert, a sweet bun made of red beans and black sesame.

An-te-hai came near, as if he knew I had something to say.

“I don’t feel like having people staring at me while I am eating,” I said. “Is there any way I can dismiss them?”

“No, my lady, I am afraid not.”

“Are mistresses of other palaces being served the same way?”

“Yes, they are.”

“By the same kitchen?”

“No, by their own kitchens. Each palace has its own kitchen and chefs.”

“Please get a stool and come and keep me company while I am eating.”

An-te-hai obeyed.

When I picked up a cup, An-te-hai reached for the teapot on the far corner of the table. He filled my cup with chrysanthemum tea.

It didn’t take long for me to see that An-te-hai had a gift for anticipating my needs. Who was he? I wondered. What had caused a sweet and clever boy like him to become a eunuch? What was his family like? How had he grown up?

“My lady.” As I finished the last bite of the bun, An-te-hai leaned over. His voice was soft. “It might be a good idea for you to send a message to Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Nuharoo to wish them a good dinner.”

“Wouldn’t Nuharoo want her time with Emperor Hsien Feng undisturbed?” I asked.

From An-te-hai’s silent response, I realized that I’d better follow his advice.

“It is not about sending a good wish,” An-te-hai explained after a beat. “It is to make an impression. It is to have your name appear on one of Emperor Hsien Feng’s bamboo message chips. It is to remind His Majesty of your existence. The other ladies in their palaces are doing the same.”

“How do you know?”

“I have sworn brothers who report to me from all the palaces.”

I rinsed my mouth with a cup of green tea. I was supposed to nap after a meal, but my mind wouldn’t relax. I visualized a battle in which every concubine was a soldier in disguise. According to An-te-hai, my rivals had already started to build defenses. Many of them had presented the Grand Empress with small but thoughtful gifts, thanking her for selecting them.

I hoped that Emperor Hsien Feng was a man of fairness. After all, he was called the wisest man in the universe. I would be satisfied if he would summon me once a month. I would never expect to have him all to myself. I would take pride in helping him build the dynasty, like the virtuous women displayed in the Imperial portrait gallery. Providing His Majesty with a harmonious home was an appealing idea. I would like to see the seven of us unite against the rest of the court-lady population. As the chosen wives I saw us respecting and helping one another in the interest of making the household a home for us all.