by Zoey Gong
“What else can I give them?” I ask.
“Time with the emperor, of course,” Chunhua says, and I blush. I know that Guozhi sleeps with all the women of the harem, but it is not something I like to dwell on, and certainly not talk about openly.
“I don’t have anything to do with that,” I say. “His eunuchs and the domestic affairs office schedules such matters.”
“But you can encourage him to select certain women too,” Huiyin says. “It is one of your duties, actually.”
I look at her, confused. I was not aware of this, nor is it something I want to do.
“As the head of the harem, you know the ladies best. And as empress, you know his majesty best. As such, you are in the best position to know which of us the emperor might find most…pleasing.”
Her words make sense, but they still give me unease. I think back to the one time I did try to influence his majesty to show favor to someone else. Lady An. As the mother of his first daughter, I thought she would stand a good chance of giving the emperor a son. I also knew how despondent she was and wished to help her.
But my meddling backfired. The emperor despised Lady An and we had a terrible fight over the matter. I shake my head. That is something I certainly do not wish to repeat.
“I don’t know…” I say. “I…I…I suppose I should get to know all the ladies better first. I cannot make any recommendations until I learn more about each of them.” The ladies all nod in agreement.
“You are very wise, my lady,” Shulan says, looking at me adoringly. I blush.
“Hardly,” I say. “I’m quite stupid. I’m not nearly as educated or cultured as most of the ladies in the harem.”
“That is not true,” Wangli says. “You would not be where you are today if you were stupid.”
“You knew to give the prince a gift,” Shulan says.
“You saved Empress Caihong’s life,” Chunhua says.
“I heard that you saved her twice,” Yanmei says. “First when you alerted the guards to the assassin, and then again when she thought she was having a miscarriage. You kept her calm and knew what to do to save the baby…at least at the time.”
My eyes water at the memory. I had been honored to save Caihong’s life. She had been a kind woman and a good empress. It is so unfair that she died. And such a horrible death at that.
“I just feel as if everything that has happened to me has been pure chance,” I say. “My name was selected randomly from a bowl. It could have been anyone else.”
“But it wasn’t anyone else,” Huiyin says. “It was you. Heaven willed it, don’t you see? You were meant to be here.”
I look around the table at all the smiling faces agreeing with her. I’m the only one who thinks—knows—she’s wrong. I lied to get here. Took Lihua’s place. Pretend every day to be someone and something I’m not. I have wondered many times if Heaven has a plan for me. If I am meant to be here. It would be a comforting thought, but I simply can’t believe it. Eventually, I will be discovered. I’m sure of it.
But I can’t tell anyone any of this. I can only smile and nod and agree. “Thank you,” I say.
Finally, one by one, the ladies take their leave—and a few teacups, chopsticks, and extra snacks as well. I don’t stop them, though. What is a teacup or extra steamed bun to me? I have far more of everything than I could ever need. And if I were to catch any of the girls stealing, I’d have to punish them. I’d rather them rob me blind than have to do that.
But when I am alone again, I feel a sense of emptiness. I miss my family. No one here really knows me, and I will have to always be careful about what I say or do. I wish I could reach out to my parents and sisters. Just make sure they are okay. Let them know that I am safe…relatively. I am at least safe for the moment. The empress of China, favored by the emperor. Of course, I could lose all of it in a moment.
I remember how I was once so desperate to see my family that I dared to climb over the red walls of the Forbidden City. That had been stupid, dangerous. If I could go back and tell myself not to do it, I would. And yet the pull to see my family, to try and find them, is so strong, I might be heading for a similar mistake. I have no plan for how I might be able to reach out to them, but if the opportunity were to present itself, I would not hesitate to take it.
4
It is the first night that the emperor has sent for me since I was crowned empress. I’m surprisingly nervous! I pace the room as I wait for the sedan chair to arrive. I have been in the emperor’s bed more times than I can count, but we have not been together for weeks. We fought, and then Caihong died. The emperor has not even visited my palace during the day since I became empress. I have tried not to let it bother me. He is a busy man, and I have had plenty to focus on, so I am hardly bored or lonely.
Still, in the back of my mind, it seems strange. Has he forgotten me? Is he still angry with me? Did he only name me empress because tradition dictated it even if he did not want to?
I am sure I am worrying needlessly. I am heartened by the fact that the emperor has not called any woman to his bed since Caihong died. No one else has taken my place in his heart or his bed, it seems.
Now that I am empress, I no longer have to be taken to the emperor naked, but am carried in my nightclothes by sedan chair. It is far more dignified, and if I could change the rules to allow the other women to be carried in such a manner when they are summoned by the emperor, then I would do it. But change is a difficult thing, and I will need to choose my battles wisely.
I sit on the emperor’s bed, twirling my long hair between my fingers as I wait for him to appear. Several times, I hear voices or a door open and close, but the emperor does not appear. He has never kept me waiting before. He is usually in the room, already in the bed, when he sends for me. It seems as though everything has changed since I became empress, even the smallest things.
Finally, the door to the bed-chamber opens and the emperor breezes in. I jump to my feet, and then I kneel. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it as he helps me stand.
“Lihua,” he says, “how good it is to see you.”
I smile up at him and cannot help but notice that his face has changed since I saw him last. There are wrinkles around his eyes and dark circles under them. His skin is dry, as if he has not been taking care of himself as he should. But the most apparent change is the heavy sadness that hangs on his every feature like a cloud. I suppose I let my concern show on my own face because he turns away from me.
“Leave us!” he orders his eunuchs. “Are you not happy to see me?”
“Of course I am!” I say. “I have missed you terribly.”
“Then why is your face so grave?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say, “but I already know the answer.”
He opens his mouth to say something, as if to protest, but he then closes it and shakes his head. He sits on the bed with a long exhale. I sit lightly beside him.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” I say after a moment. “She was not merely the woman you had been ordered to marry, was she? She was much more than that.”
He leans forward on his knees. “Do you know how she came to be empress?”
I shake my head, but he’s not looking at me, so I say, “No. I only know that she was a princess, so I had once thought it was a political marriage. But after seeing the two of you together, and the way you grieve, I know she was more to you than that.”
“Our relationship with the Mongolians has been stable for some time,” he says. “We may squabble over borders or trade occasionally, but we are allies.
“I accompanied my father on a routine visit to the region. He was teaching me all there was to know about being emperor, and maintaining our friendship with Mongolia was part of it. That was the first time I saw her, sitting by her father’s side as he welcomed us into his yurt.
“She was exquisite. She wore a hat edged with fur and large, turquoise earrings. Her clothes were yellow and heavily beaded down
the front. She looked down her long nose at me as we were introduced…and I was utterly captivated by her.
“Over the next week, I took every opportunity to see her. She loved to ride her horse, so every day, I would accompany her on long rides over the steppes at the foot of these great, white mountains.”
I marvel at this. I have never seen a Manchu or Han woman ride a horse. I would never have imagined Caihong riding along the plains, her hair—still long—waving in the breeze.
“What a sight she must have been,” I say breathlessly.
Guozhi nods. “She was. So, when it was time for me to marry, I wanted no one else in the world but her. But her father was not in favor of the match. He wanted her to marry a Mongolian lord. I could understand that since Manchu emperors usually only marry Manchu women. But I had to have her. So, every time his price for her went up in an attempt to dissuade me, I agreed to it.” He laughs. “If it had been up to her father, we would still be squabbling over her price today. But eventually the number grew high enough that his lords and advisors pressured him to accept the terms.”
“That’s why her bride price was so high,” I say.
“Oh? What do you know about it?” he asks me.
“Only that it was a lot of money,” I say. “Some of the other ladies told me as much, but that was all. It was never shared why it was so high. I just assumed that as a princess, her price was naturally more than most.”
“That was a very small part of it,” he says. “But I believed she was worth it. Spread out over a life together of fifty years or so, the money would not seem like much. That is how long I thought we would be together. A lifetime.”
He goes quiet again. A lifetime. Fifty years. I am now only eighteen years old, and to me, fifty years is beyond my reckoning. Is there even anyone in the palace who is fifty years old? Much less nearing seventy? Nuwa seems old to me and she is only in her thirties.
“The worst part,” Guozhi says, breaking into my thoughts, “is that had she never gotten pregnant, she would still be alive today.”
“You can’t dwell on that,” I say. “She wanted to give you a son. It was her duty; she told me as much.”
Guozhi stands and paces. “I know that childbirth has an element of risk for a woman. That the chance of death is high. But…but I never thought it would happen to her. Was she not the daughter of Heaven? I was prideful, foolish. I should have put her safety first.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “The only way you could have kept her from falling pregnant would be to…to not summon her to your bed.”
“If I had known that she was going to die, it would have been a small price to pay. That she died and our son with her, her death was meaningless.”
I have to wonder at this. For a moment, I think about Honghui, the emperor’s brother. The man I foolishly fell in love with and took as a lover for a short time. If we could marry, would I give up the physical joy of lovemaking in order to not fall pregnant? I’m not sure I would. Even after my mother’s miscarriage, she eventually fell pregnant again, and I know my father loved her. Love and desire go hand in hand, I think.
“You can’t think that way,” I say. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is,” he says, his voice rough. “I should have put my empress ahead of my vanity. I have a hundred other women to give me children. But my empress—” He shakes his head. “—she was more precious to me than all of them put together.”
All of them. That includes me. Just one of a hundred concubines waiting at the emperor’s pleasure. I meant nothing more to him than any other woman. For some reason, the knowledge hurts. Or maybe it is only him saying the words out loud that hurts. He is not saying anything that isn’t true. But still…for some reason, I thought I was different.
“That is why I have not called you back to my bed before now,” he says, and the breath flies out of me.
“What?” I somehow manage to ask.
He sits down on the bed next to me again and takes my hands. “I do not want to lose another empress. I will not.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, my emotions in turmoil. I never wanted this. Never wanted to be empress. Never wanted to be called to the emperor’s bed at all. But now that I am here, now that I am empress, I feel gravely insulted that he would not want me as a proper wife.
“I…care deeply for you, Lihua,” he says, petting my hair down the side of my face. “You have been a great comfort to me, a fine companion. And a pleasurable lover. It is my honor to have made you my empress. But I’ll not lose you as I lost Caihong.”
Tears run down my cheeks. “Am I never to know you as a wife again? Am I never to be a mother?”
“All of my children will be your children. That is your reward as my empress.”
“It’s not the same,” I say, trying to explain but not finding the words.
“Is it not better to know that you will live?” he asks me.
“No!” I tell him. “It is a risk I was born to take. It is my right as a woman to have children of my own.” I have never been particularly passionate about the idea of having children. I always just assumed that they would come when it was time and I would love them. That is the way of things. But to be told that I will never be allowed to have children? I’m horrified. Disgusted even. “How dare you take this from me?”
He looks shocked, but the more I think about it, the more incensed I become. I gave up everything to be here. I have no idea what has become of my family, and I probably will never know. I am alone in the world. If I had a child, at least I would have a family again that was all my own. I love the emperor’s other children, of course. Jiangfei and Dongmei are very precious to me. But they are not my children.
“I-I-I thought you would be pleased to know that I care so much for you,” he stammers. “I only want to keep you safe. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“I’ll not be a bird in a cage,” I say. We stare at each other for a moment. My breath is hot and angry as it pours through my nostrils.
“Lihua…” he whispers.
I rush to him and press my lips to his. I remove my robe so that I am naked before him. Then I untie his sash and open his robe so that our bodies are pressed together. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me eagerly. Hungrily. He is already aroused. I push him back on the bed and straddle him as I take my pleasure.
I know it pleases him too.
5
“The emperor is coming here for dinner?” I ask.
“Yes, your majesty,” Fiyanggu tells me.
“Why?”
Fiyanggu chuckles. “The emperor usually eats the evening meal with one of his ladies. He used to eat with Empress Caihong most often, but this will be the first time he has eaten outside of his own room since her death.”
I was aware that the emperor often had dinner with Caihong, but I never thought much of it. He never ate with me, so I thought that such an honor was reserved for the empress… I close my eyes tight for a moment as I remember that I am now empress. All the rights and privileges that only Caihong once enjoyed are now my rights and privileges.
Fiyanggu retreats with a bow as I sink onto a stool and my servants surround me.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being treated like an empress,” I say.
Suyin giggles. “But you are the empress, my lady.”
“Am I?” I ask, shaking my head. “I suppose I am in name. But it feels… It feels as though the position is not really mine. That I am only holding it for a short time for someone else.”
“Who?” Suyin asks. “You cannot think that the emperor will replace you?”
“He could, of course,” I say. “But that is not what I mean. I don’t know. I suppose I feel as though Caihong is still the empress. That she was, and still is, the real empress. I am only playacting.”
“You know that isn’t true,” Suyin says. “Caihong was the first empress. You are empress now.”
I shrug. Of course, I am not
a real empress. I’m not who I claim to be at all. I could be discovered at any moment and… I shudder to think of what will happen to me if—when—that happens. Even now, my heart will not allow me to feel safe.
As Emperor Guozhi enters the courtyard, I and all my servants crouch before him in a bow.
“Welcome to my palace, your majesty,” I say. The emperor offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet.
“It is a pleasure to be here this evening,” he says. “I’m famished.”
I lead him into one of the many sitting rooms that has been set up for eating. There are only two seats at the large, round table, which quickly is covered with over a dozen dishes for us to choose from.
“I was so surprised when I heard that you wanted to eat with me this evening,” I say. I try to make conversation to cover the fact that I can hardly eat. My hands are shaking so badly, I don’t think I could get even a grain of rice into my mouth without dropping it. Not to mention how tight my stomach feels.
“I am sorry I did not come sooner,” he says, his voice a little sad. “I needed time.”
“I understand,” I say. “I’m sure I am not even half the company that Caihong was.”
He looks at me curiously before putting down his bowl and chopsticks and wiping his mouth. “Why do you always speak of yourself in such low terms? Humility is a charming trait in a woman. But you seem to think you have no worth at all.”
It is because I have no worth, I think. In my old life—my real life—I did not even have a single coin for a dowry. Only one of my many gowns is worth more money than I would have seen in a lifetime living in the hutongs. I cannot say any of this, of course, so I push the words and feelings into a deeply hidden part of my heart. He looks at me expectantly, though, so I must say something.
“I am here quite by accident,” I say. “You drew my name from a bowl. I was not chosen on merit, and neither because you desired me. I feel as though any other concubine in the Forbidden City would be a more capable empress than myself.”