After disappearing for a moment, Mama stepped back into the chamber, slow but steady, carrying an old, yellowed, round box. Gerel was about to get up to help Mama, but she remembered what Jane had told her before they’d entered the village: “Unless it becomes dangerous, don’t try to baby the old lady. She’s fiercely independent, tries to manage her day-to-day living by herself. She’d consider unwanted help condescending.” So Gerel restrained herself, letting Mama do things at her own pace.
Mama placed the box on the edge of the bed and lifted the lid. One by one, she took out the contents and set them on top of the table. A pair of white jade bangles, a floral and bird ornamental comb, a small photo album with a threadbare black fabric cover, and what looked like a ledger.
Satisfied with the way she’d displayed everything, Mama eased onto the edge of the bed, pivoted on her buttocks and maneuvered her legs into a cross-legged position.
As Gerel quietly marveled at Mama’s flexibility, she heard Jane speak softly in Chinese, almost as if to herself.
“What did you say?” Gerel asked, glancing at Jane who was eyeing the comb and bangles in front of her.
“Oh, I was just thinking that for as long as I’ve known Mama and heard some of the stories she’s told about her mother, I’ve never seen these before.” Jane plopped both hands on the table, inches away from the comb and bangles, but seemed afraid to touch them. “I’ve volunteered at the Palace Museum long enough to know a thing or two about artifacts from the imperial dynasties. If these are truly what I think they are, Mama could have been rich, living in Beijing in a house with modern facilities. Well, we’ll have to let Mama tell her stories.” Jane turned to Mama and exchanged a few words with her. “Mama said she’s ready to tell you everything about her mother and Meigui.”
Mama took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. Then she began to tell the story that Jane had said no one in this four-hundred-year-old village had taken seriously, pausing at times for Jane to translate.
“When my mother, Bai Yu—white jade in Chinese—entered the Forbidden City, she was not quite fourteen years old. During her first year at the palace she was assigned to serve as a chambermaid to a concubine whom the Emperor hardly visited. One day, auspicious news spread all around the back palace. The noble consort was about to give birth and the Emperor wanted to make sure that there were enough hands at the Rose Pavilion to meet Meigui’s needs. So, mother moved to the Rose Pavilion not long before Meigui’s daughter was born. For a while mother was more like a messenger girl between the Rose Pavilion and various quarters of the palace. She hardly even saw the noble consort. After the baby was born, mother was inundated with tasks such as dispatching thank you letters and reciprocating gifts to the hundreds of concubines who’d swamped the Rose Pavilion to congratulate Meigui on the birth of her daughter. Some of them were sincere, most of them phonies. It was not unusual for mother to spend a whole day running around the palace grounds. But she was a conscientious girl. She delivered everything quickly, never loitering around to gossip like a lot of maids did, and always made herself available when Meigui needed her. Trustworthiness seemed to be her character, and Meigui noticed it. Soon mother became the noble consort’s personal maid. She served Meigui in the most intimate way, from helping with various hairdos to elaborate makeup and beauty routines. The noble consort taught mother how to read and write—in secret, of course—and often confided in mother things she’d never told anybody, not even Eunuch Li whom Meigui trusted. Mother was always with Meigui wherever she went, they were body and shadow together.” Mama paused. She picked up one of the jade bangles and held it close to study the intricately carved flower pattern as if she were seeing it the first time. “Because my mother’s name meant white jade, Noble Consort Meigui offered her this pair of jade bangles as a gift for her fifteenth birthday. They were given to Meigui initially by the Emperor, of course.”
“Wow!” Gerel and Jane exhaled at the same time, glancing at each other knowingly. Gerel felt guilty that she was seeing numbers with quite a few zeros, but she couldn’t help it. She’d only seen items like this in auction catalogs and magazines or admired them in secured exhibit cases. But now, in this ancient small village severed from the modern world, she was closer than ever before to such treasures. She was able to touch them, hold them and study them, jewels that belonged to one of the most famous Qing Dynasty concubines.
And just think that she, Gerel Garnier, might be the decedent of Meigui, the noble consort of the Qing Dynasty. What Mama said earlier echoed in her mind, “I knew you’d come one day.” It made Gerel shiver. But still, the evidence was flimsy.
“And this comb, made of the bluest lapis, belonged to Meigui’s mother, who was Manchu, like most of the Qing Dynasty rulers.” Mama’s soft but steady voice nudged Gerel out of her own thoughts. “Mother said lapis was one of the gemstones favored by both Manchu and Mongols because it could help them converse with their ancestors.”
“Was Meigui’s mother alive at that time?” Gerel asked anxiously.
“Meigui said her mother died before she entered the palace.”
“What about her father? Did Meigui know about her father?”
“Meigui’s father died before she was even born. He was a priest from France.”
That’s why Mama asked where I came from. That might have something to do with why Meigui had a deep Christian faith.
“Too bad there are no photos of Meigui. All I’ve seen so far are drawings of her in the museum, not exactly realistic images. She must have quite a unique look being Eurasian,” Gerel lamented.
“The Palace Museum preserved quite a few photos of emperors and empresses, very few photos of concubines survived,” Jane said regretfully. “No photos of Meigui were ever found. Mother said Meigui was a very private person, maybe she didn’t want to have her picture taken. We’ll just have to settle for the drawings.”
“You’re both wrong,” Mama said, her face scrunched by a smile. “Meigui was photographed once.” She pulled off the rubber band that bound the black photo album and gestured for the two women to move closer to the table.
Mama opened the album and shifted it to the center of the table. The interior pages were also black, each sized for no more than one four-by-six-inch picture. Mama flipped through a few pages without commenting. Gerel noticed all the pictures were in black and white, though they had faded yellow and appeared more sepia.
“Here it is.” Mama came to a stop. “This is Meigui. Mother said that many in the palace called her ‘western devil’ behind her back because she had features that were more European than Manchu. But the Emperor loved her partly because of her unusual looks.”
Gerel and Jane angled their torsos and cocked their heads to study the picture. The woman was standing in front of a screen of shrub roses, wearing a light-colored long robe with flared dolman sleeves and a mandarin collar, hands resting on her lower abdomen. Her hair was a double bun up-do, with flowers pinned alongside her temples. The cracks and creases in the photo paper added a blurriness to the time-faded image. But the resemblance was unmistakable: the pointed chin, wide-set cheekbones, how the lips curved into a smile, the way she tilted her head as she gazed at the camera.
“Where’s your cell phone?” Jane turned to Gerel.
“What?”
“Get the cell.”
Gerel thrust one hand into the handbag next to her on the bed. “Pull up the pictures I took of you at the Enamel Hall,” Jane said as Gerel fished the phone from the bag.
A few swipes back and a picture of Gerel standing next to the Empress Seal display case popped up. “This one?” She handed the phone to Jane.
Jane dragged her fingers across the screen and expanded the image, eyes flickering between Meigui in the album and Gerel on the cell. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this,” she said, placing the phone next to the photo album.
Gerel had noticed the resemblance moments ago but convinced herself to dismiss it. Just because she and Meigui shared
some common European features didn’t mean they came from the same bloodline, it wasn’t hard proof.
“Well?” Jane sounded impatient. “Look at the way you posed and smiled, all you need is to put on Meigui’s dress and arrange your hair in that double bun and you could be twins.”
“I—I’m not sure . . . it’s just one picture,” Gerel stammered. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself but didn’t want to be a wet blanket on Jane’s enthusiasm.
“Let me ask you this. Have you ever seen a picture of your great-grandmother?” Mama seemed determined to solve the biggest mystery of the century.
“Yes, several, but none of them were taken in China.”
“Let’s see if fate is still on your side. So far she has been. You should look at the next few pictures, see if anything shows that your great-grandma and Meigui’s daughter were actually the same person,” Mama commanded, pushing the album closer to Gerel with knotted fingers.
Gerel gave Mama a thankful nod. Taking in a deep breath, she flipped to the next page—a chubby-cheeked baby asleep in somebody’s arms. Gerel couldn’t tell who was holding the baby. The description said it was Hehua at six months old. The next one showed three girls and a nun standing in front of a courtyard house with the sign “L’Oeuvre de la Sainte Enfance” above the gate. The girls were no more than seven or eight years old, wearing the traditional Chinese long dress that had knotted buttons fastened through loops running up the garments. The nun was in a black habit with a pectoral cross suspended from a chain around her neck. She stood directly behind the girl in the middle, her hands resting on the shoulders of the girls on the right and left, as if she was about to round up all three girls in her arms for a hug.
“The picture was taken in front of the Benevolence Hall in Beijing, a French missionary house for unwanted girls who were abandoned by their parents. The girl in the middle is Hehua, Meigui’s daughter,” Mama said.
“Gerel, may I see the picture?” Jane cut in, her expression a mix of doubt and disbelief. After close inspection of the photo she said, “Mama, all this time, you and your mother kept such secrets from everyone. You never told me that Meigui’s baby ended up at the Benevolence Hall.”
“I’m sorry, you’ll understand after you hear me out,” Mama said to Jane. “If it’s any consolation, my mother hid everything I’ve just showed you: the comb, the bangles, and the pictures of Meigui and her daughter. Mother only told me she was a chambermaid working for the noble consort Meigui. It wasn’t until mother became ill and the doctor said she didn’t have long to live that she decided to trust me with her secret. I’ll never forget that cold night. A sandstorm was blowing in from Mongolia. I could hear grit and gravel pitter-pattering on the paper-covered window. Mother was lying on this very bed, growing weaker by the hour. I was afraid she’d never open her eyes again, just drift slowly into death. But by midnight, she was awake, struggling to sit up. I used all the pillows we had to prop her up. She seemed better, her eyes were brighter. She told me there was something under the bench that she wanted me to fetch.” Mama gestured at the far corner across the room. “So, I went and pushed the bench aside, but there was nothing there. ‘The floor,’ said mother in her feeble voice. I pried at a piece of loose flagstone until I could remove it. Underneath the stone was a small package wrapped in oilpaper. Well, you probably can guess what was inside the package.” Mama gave Jane an apologetic smile. “I opened the package for mother, she held the bangles and comb for the last time. She wanted to look at the photo album so I flipped the pages for her, one after another. When we got to the picture of the baby, mother said she was going to tell me a secret and made me swear not to tell anybody except to the girl in the picture, if she ever came back one day. Somehow, mother believed Meigui’s daughter would come back.”
“So what’s the secret, Mama?” Jane was more anxious now than Gerel to get to the bottom of things.
“On the night Meigui killed herself, mother was in bed with the baby in the room next to Meigui’s chamber. Earlier that evening, Meigui wasn’t feeling well, so she went to bed early. In the middle of the night, mother woke up to a commotion in Meigui’s room, heavy footsteps and angry voices. Mother poked a hole in the paper-lattice sliding door connected to Meigui’s chamber. What she saw was so strange that mother thought she was dreaming. In the misty light from paper lanterns held by guards and eunuchs, mother saw Meigui in her white sleeping gown, kneeling on the floor in front of the Emperor and the Dowager Mother. Next to Meigui was a half-naked man, also kneeling, but mother couldn’t see his face, only his back. The Emperor was in a rage, pointing his finger at Meigui and the man next to her, shouting ‘whore, devil, ingrate’ while the Dowager Mother stood next to her son, quiet. Mother said she’d never forget the Dowager Mother’s face, it was like she was wearing a death mask.”
“So, the story was true, the Emperor caught Meigui in bed with another man,” Jane whispered.
“Not just another man,” Mama said. “When the Emperor ordered the guards to drag the man out, mother got a glimpse of his face. He was a western devil, with light hair and sideburns.”
“What happened to him?” Jane questioned. “It’s unbelievable that a westerner could sneak into the back palace of the Forbidden City.”
“Mother said nobody knew what happened to the devil and nobody mentioned it after that night, as if he’d never existed. But mother knew exactly what happened to Meigui. Before the Emperor and Dowager Mother left the Rose Pavilion, a sword was left on Meigui’s bed, an unspoken order from the Emperor that she should use it to kill herself.”
“But Meigui didn’t do that,” Gerel murmured.
“No, she didn’t use the sword. After the Emperor left, Meigui came to Bai Yu’s room. She told mother that she suspected the Dowager Mother had set her up and now baby Hehua might be in danger, too. She asked Bai Yu to bundle up the baby and escape the palace immediately. Minutes later, mother snuck out of the palace with Eunuch Li’s help. She never went back to the Rose Pavilion or the Forbidden Palace. Later, Eunuch Li told mother that Meigui had jumped in the well in the back courtyard of the Rose Pavilion and drowned herself—” Mama suddenly stopped talking. For a long moment she was silent, still sitting in the cross-legged position, eyes downcast, seemingly unaware of her guests.
“What happened to Meigui’s body?” Gerel asked gingerly.
Slowly, Mama raised her eyes and held Gerel’s anxious gaze. “The Empress Dowager refused to get Meigui’s body out of the well for days. She said she wouldn’t care if it rotted there. In the end, nobody really knows what happened to Meigui’s body. But at least the baby was saved. Mother secretly kept in touch with the nun who took care of Hehua in the missionary.” Mama gestured at the photo album on the table. “The nun even sent a picture of herself and Hehua, taken right before the girl was adopted by a French couple. It should be in the album, too,” Mama said, gesturing Gerel to turn the pages forward.
Gerel nodded and flipped to the next page. Right in front of her—without any doubt—was the same picture Gerel had first seen in one of the family photobooks at her grandfather’s house. Her great-grandmother Lis with Sister Bernadette in front of the L’Oeuvre de la Sainte Enfance in Paris. “Mon dieu, it’s great-grandmother Lis.”
“You’ve seen this picture?” Jane cried out.
Mama didn’t wait for Jane’s translation. Her trembling hand reached out and clutched Gerel’s arm. “Mother was right, she said Hehua would come back one day, and she has.”
“Does the name Hehua mean anything?”
“Water lily. What was your great-grandmother’s name?” Jane seemed to know exactly what Gerel was thinking.
“Lily, or Lis in French . . .” A lump swelled in Gerel’s throat, she couldn’t continue yet wasn’t able to cry, she just nodded. For a long moment, the three women just looked at one another in silence. Then they began to smile at each other through wet eyes.
When their emotions finally steadied, Mama said to Gerel,
“Now that we have no doubt that you’re related to Hehua and Meigui by blood, I have one more thing to tell you.”
Eyes wide, Gerel and Jane looked at Mama and then at each other.
More secrets?
“I know it’s a lot to take in now, but I have to tell you something about the seal.”
“What seal? The Empress Seal? What else is there to know?” Gerel had forgotten all about the seal.
Mama cast a mysterious look at Gerel. “You may know the story of the Empress Seal, but you don’t know where the face of the seal actually came from.”
Chapter 13
Normandy, present day
The small villa perched on a white-chalked cliff a mere few meters away from the edge which dropped thirty feet down to the sandy beach. The locals called it Maison Suspendu—the hanging house. Built in the seventeenth century, the stone and wood structure was a humble two-story box, but the enormous balcony on the second floor jutted out which rendered the optical illusion of a house precariously suspended on the edge of a cliff.
To Gerel, it was a safe haven.
The villa had been in the Garnier family for generations. Fifteen years ago, Gerel had her last words with her father and then left his grand apartment in Paris. Since then, Maison Suspendu belonged to her.
Gerel still remembered that it had been two days before her eighteenth birthday. Her father had said to her, “What would you like for your birthday? We have to celebrate, you’ll officially be an adult in two days.”
Except for the adult part, he’d said the same thing every year around her birthday for the past nine years since Gerel’s mother had died. And every year, Gerel answered her father the same way, “I don’t want anything, I want the truth.”
“Not that again, Gerel. I’ve told you, your maman suffered from depression for a long time. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain and we don’t know exactly why it happened.”
The Face of the Seal Page 14