Anchee Min: Empress Orchid

Finally we buried our father. There was no ceremony, because we couldn’t afford one. We settled down in our uncle’s three-room house, in a kinsman’s compound in Pewter Lane. In the local dialect, the compound was called a hootong. Like a spider web, the city of Peking was woven with hootongs. The Forbidden City was at the center, and thousands of hootongs made up the web. My uncle’s lane was on the east side of a street near the canal of the Imperial city. The canal ran parallel to the high walls and served as the Emperor’s private waterway. I saw boats with yellow flags travel down the canal. Tall trees were thick behind the walls like floating green clouds. The neighbors warned us not to look in the direction of the Forbidden City. “There are dragons, the guardian spirits sent by the gods, living inside.”

I went to the neighbors and peddlers at the vegetable market hoping to find work. I carried loads of yams and cabbages, and cleaned the stalls after the market closed. I made a few copper pennies each day. Some days no one hired me and I would come home empty-handed. One day, through my uncle, I landed a job in a shop specializing in shoes for wealthy Manchu ladies. My boss was a middle-aged woman called Big Sister Fann. Fann was a heavyset lady who liked to apply her face paint as thick as an opera singer’s. Her makeup flaked off in bits as she talked. Her oily hair was combed back tightly against her skull. She was known to have a scorpion mouth but a tofu heart.

Big Sister Fann was proud that she used to serve the Grand Empress of Emperor Tao Kuang. She had been in charge of Her Majesty’s dressing room, and she considered herself expert in court etiquette. She dressed magnificently but had no money to clean her clothes. During lice season, she would ask me to pinch off the lice around her neck. She would scratch herself raw under her armpits. When she caught the creatures, she crushed them between her teeth.

In her shop I worked with needles, waxed thread, twisters, pliers and hammers. First I decorated a shoe with strings of pearls, encrusting it with stones, then raised the sole on a central wedge, like a streamlined clog, which added extra height to the lady who would wear the shoe. By the time I got off work, my hair would be coated with dust and my neck painfully sore.

Nevertheless I liked to go to work. It was not only for the money, but also to enjoy Big Sister Fann’s wisdom about life. “The sun doesn’t just hang on one family’s tree,” she would say. She believed that everybody had a chance. I also loved her gossip about the royal families. She complained that her life had been ruined by the Grand Empress, who “awarded” her to a eunuch as a figurehead wife, dooming her to childlessness.

“Do you know how many dragons are carved around the Hall of Heavenly Harmony in the Forbidden City?” Above her misery she bragged about the glory of her time in the palace. “Thirteen thousand eight hundred and forty-four dragons!” As always, she answered her own question. “It was the work of the finest craftsmen over generations!”

It was from Big Sister Fann that I learned about the place where I would soon live for the rest of my life. She told me that the hall’s ceiling alone housed 2,604 dragons, and each had a different meaning and significance.

It took her a month to finish describing the Hall of Heavenly Harmony. I failed to follow Big Sister Fann and to keep count of the number of dragons, but she made me understand the power they symbolized. Years later, when I sat on the throne and was the dragon, I was very much afraid that people would find out that there was nothing to the images. Like all my predecessors, I hid my face behind the gorgeous carvings of dragons and prayed that my costumes and props would help me play the part right.

“Four thousand three hundred and seven dragons inside the Hall of Heavenly Harmony alone!” Gasping, Big Sister Fann turned to me and asked, “Orchid, can you imagine the rest of the Imperial glory? Mark my words: a glimpse of such beauty makes one feel that one’s life has been worthy. One glimpse, Orchid, and you will never be an ordinary person again.”

One evening I went to Big Sister Fann’s place for dinner. I lit a fire in the hearth and washed her clothes while she cooked. We ate dumplings stuffed with greens and soybeans. Afterward I served her tea and prepared her pipe. Pleased, she said that she was ready to tell me more stories.

We sat into the night. Big Sister Fann recalled her time with her first Majesty, Empress Chu An. I noticed that when she mentioned Her Majesty’s name, her voice had a worshipful tone. “Chu An was scented with rose petals, herbs and precious essences since she was a child. And she was half woman and half goddess. She exhaled heavenly aromas as she moved. Do you know why there was no announcement and ceremony when she died?”

I shook my head.

“It had to do with Her Majesty’s son Hsien Feng and his half-brother Prince Kung.” Big Sister Fann inhaled deeply and continued. “It took place about ten years ago. Hsien Feng was eleven and Kung was nine. I was part of the servant group who helped raise the boys. Among the nine sons Emperor Tao Kuang had, Hsien Feng was the fourth and Kung the sixth. The first three princes died of illness, which left the Emperor six healthy heirs. Hsien Feng and Kung showed the most promise. Hsien Feng’s mother was my mistress, Chu An, and Kung’s mother was the concubine Lady Jin, who was the Emperor’s favorite.”

Big Sister Fann lowered her voice to a whisper. “Although Chu An was the Empress, and as such enjoyed the greater power, she was extremely insecure about her son Hsien Feng’s chances for succession.”

According to tradition, the elder son would be considered the heir. But Empress Chu An indeed had reason to worry. As the greater physical and intellectual talents of Prince Kung began to declare themselves, it gradually became obvious to the court that if Emperor Tao Kuang had good sense, he would select Prince Kung over Hsien Feng.

“The Empress arranged a plot to get rid of Prince Kung,” Big Sister Fann continued. “My mistress invited the two brothers for lunch one day. The main meal was steamed fish. The Empress had her maid Apricot put poison on Kung’s plate. Now I would say that Heaven must have meant to stop this act. Right before Prince Kung lifted his chopsticks, the Empress’s cat jumped onto the table. Before the servants were able to do anything, that cat ate Prince Kung’s fish. Immediately the animal showed signs of poisoning. It wobbled, and in minutes it fell flat on the floor.”

Much later I would learn the details of the investigation conducted by the Imperial household. The first suspects were the people who worked in the kitchen. The chef, especially, was questioned. Knowing that he had little chance to live, he committed suicide. The next to be interrogated were the eunuchs. One eunuch confessed that he saw Apricot speak secretively with the chef on the morning of the incident. At that point Empress Chu An’s involvement was exposed. The matter was brought to the Grand Empress.

“‘Fetch me the Emperor!’” Big Sister Fann mimicked the Grand Empress. “Her voice echoed through the hall. I was attending my mistress and thus witnessed Her Majesty’s face turn from red to white.”

Empress Chu An was found guilty. At first Emperor Tao Kuang didn’t have the strength to order her execution. He blamed the servant girl Apricot. But the Grand Empress stood firm and said that Apricot wouldn’t act alone “even if she borrowed a lion’s guts.” Eventually the Emperor gave in.

“When Emperor Tao Kuang entered our palace, the Palace of Pure Essence, Her Majesty sensed that she had reached the end of her life. She greeted her husband on her knees and was unable to rise afterward. His Majesty helped her up. His swollen eyes showed that he had been crying. Then he spoke, expressing his regret that he could no longer protect her, and that she must die.”