Part 2 (1/2)

Yung Lu shook his head. ”I agree with Tseng. You are the only person the warlords fear today.”

”But you know how I feel.”

”Yes, I do. But think of Tung Chih, Your Majesty.” I looked at him and nodded.

”Let me go and straighten out the matter for Tung Chih,” he said.

”It is not safe for you to go.” I became nervous and began to speak fast. ”I need your protection here.”

Yung Lu explained that he had already made the arrangements and that I would be safe.

I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye.

Without looking at me, he asked for forgiveness and was gone.

4.

It was the spring of 1868 and rain soaked the soil. Blue winter tulips in my garden began to rot. I was thirty-four years old. My nights were filled with the sound of crickets. The smell of incense fluttered over from the Palace Temple, where the senior concubines lived. It was strange that I still didn't know all of them. Visits were purely ceremonial inside the Forbidden City. The ladies spent their days carving gourds, raising silkworms and doing embroidery. Images of children appeared in their needlework, and I continued to receive clothing made for my son by these women.

My husband's younger wives, Lady Mei and Lady Hui, were said to have met with a secret curse. They spoke the words of the dead, and they insisted that their heads had been soaked in the rain throughout the season. To prove their point, they took down their headpieces and showed the eunuchs where water had seeped through to the roots of their hair. Lady Mei was said to be fascinated by images of death. She ordered new bed sheets of white silk and spent her days was.h.i.+ng them herself. ”I want to be wrapped in these sheets when I die,” she said in an operatic voice. She drilled her eunuchs in the practice of wrapping her in the sheets.

I dined alone after the day's audience. I no longer paid attention to the parade of elaborate dishes and ate from the four bowls An-te-hai placed in front of me. They were usually simple greens, bean sprouts, soy chicken and steamed fish. I often took a walk after dinner, but today I went straight to bed. I told An-te-hai to wake me in an hour because I had important work to do.

The moonlight was bright, and I could see the calligraphy of an eleventh-century poem on the wall: How many flurries or squalls can spring stand Before it will have to return to its fount?

One is afraid Spring flowers fade too soon.

They have dropped Petals Impossible to count.

Fragrant gra.s.s stretches As far as the horizon.

Silent spring leaves only fluff behind.

Spider webs catch but Spring itself would not stay.

An image of Yung Lu entered my mind, and I wondered where he was and whether he was safe.

”My lady,” came An-te-hai's whisper,”the theater is crowded before the show is even created.” Lighting a candle, my eunuch drew near. ”Your Majesty's private life has been the talk of teahouses throughout Peking.”

I didn't want to let it bother me. ”Go away, An-te-hai.”

”The rumors expose Yung Lu, my lady.”

My heart shuddered, but I couldn't say that I hadn't antic.i.p.ated this.

”My spies say it is your son who stirs up the rumors.”

”Nonsense.”

The eunuch backed himself toward the door. ”Good night, my lady.”

”Wait.” I sat up. ”Are you telling me that my son is the source?”

”It's just a rumor, my lady. Good night.”

”Does Prince Kung have a role in it?”

”I don't know. I don't think Prince Kung is behind the rumor, yet he hasn't discouraged it either.”

A sudden weakness ran through me.

”An-te-hai, stay awhile, would you?”

”Yes, my lady. I'll stay until you are asleep.”

”My son hates me, An-te-hai.”

”It is not you he hates. It is me. More than once His Young Majesty swore that he would order my death.”

”It doesn't mean anything, An-te-hai. Tung Chih is a child.”

”I've told myself that too, my lady. But when I look at him, I know he is serious. I am afraid of him.”

”Me too, and I am his mother.”

”Tung Chih is no longer a boy, my lady. He has already done manly things.”

”Manly things? What do you mean?”

”I can't say another word, my lady.”

”Please, An-te-hai, continue.”

”I haven't the facts yet.”

”Tell me whatever you know.”