Over ten days or so, I saw a governor, several ministers, and other great men making their way into the Audience Hall. But although people went about quite freely in the open grounds of the Summer Palace, I never once in that time caught a glimpse of the Son of Heaven.
* * *
—
Until I made a new friend. Though the other palace people were all pleasant in their manner towards me, they all knew I shouldn’t be there, so I couldn’t expect any of them suddenly to become my new best friend. But Mr. Ma was different.
I discovered him by accident when I was walking by myself one afternoon and noticed a fenced enclosure. Being inquisitive, I looked in.
The space reminded me of the lacquer workshop where I’d first gone as an apprentice. Along each side were long, low sheds. The middle was filled with tables upon which stood dozens of miniature trees in shallow pots. And when I say miniature, I mean that many were hardly two feet high. But they’d been bound with ropes, to constrict their growth and twist them into curious shapes.
I’d found the nursery of the penzai trees. And Mr. Ma was their keeper.
He was very old and bent. He’d been a gardener all his life. His face was rather hollow and his eyes watered, but when they peered up at you, they were surprisingly clear.
Since I like the finer things of life and always want to know how works of art are made, it wasn’t long before I got to talking to Mr. Ma. I don’t think he welcomed visitors to his domain, but once he saw I was genuinely interested, he decided to tolerate me.
“You’ve heard of the land of Japan, across the sea?” he asked, and I said I had. “Well, they have trees like this. They call them bonsai. But they didn’t think of the idea themselves, you know. They stole the idea from us. Almost everything those people have comes from us.”
“Of course,” I said. “We’re the center of the world.” This answer seemed to satisfy him.
“I put the trees out on tables during the summer, and they go into the sheds for the winter. All the penzai trees in the Summer Palace and the Forbidden City come from my nursery.”
“May I return?” I asked, and he didn’t say no.
A few days later I looked in there again. Mr. Ma was busy adjusting the ropes on one of the trees. I watched him from a distance but didn’t interrupt him.
When he’d finished, he beckoned me over. “What do you notice about this tree?” he asked me.
“You have made the branches grow horizontally,” I answered.
“What else?”
“The crown of the tree spreads out like a fan,” I said.
“Good. That is the Beijing style.” He nodded. “When we bind the penzai tree with ropes, we do not stop it growing, but we compress the tree’s growth into a small space. As a result, the tree looks delicate, but it is very strong. All its essence, all its energy, is held contained.”
“That is like a work of art,” I told him. “All the natural energy is forced into a pattern from which it can never escape.”
He’d just started to nod his approval when something else caught his eye. His thin hand grabbed my arm and dragged me down with him as he fell to his knees. Looking towards the entrance, I saw that a single man was standing there, accompanied by two eunuchs. Mr. Ma began the kowtow, so I knew who it must be.
I suppose I’d expected the emperor to be richly dressed in imperial yellow, the way one sees emperors in official portraits; but he wasn’t dressed like that at all. Actually, he was in a loose brown robe tied with a girdle, like a monk or scholar, with a simple red conical hat on his head, the same as the two eunuchs accompanying him. He was still quite a young man, not even thirty, but his face looked strained, his eyes hollow. Was there a nervous tic by one eye? I wasn’t sure. I’ve seen similar expressions on ragged poor people in the street. But to see a youthful emperor in such a state? That was a bit of a shock.
As soon as we were on our feet, I drew back while the emperor addressed himself to the old gardener.
“We need three or four more trees in the apartments, Mr. Ma,” he said very pleasantly. “Will you help me choose them?”
They spent several minutes selecting the trees, the emperor asking questions, and old Mr. Ma answering in a soft voice. I heard the old man say, “They’ll be delivered directly, Majesty.”
Then I heard the emperor sigh. “It’s so peaceful in here,” he said. “I always feel better when I come to see you.”
It seemed a strange thing to say when, as far as I was concerned, the entire paradise of the Yuanmingyuan was a haven of peace. But I suppose it wasn’t the same for him.
The emperor left, and after waiting until he was well out of the way, I scurried off myself.
The next day, for the first time since I’d been at the Summer Palace, just as I was entering the eunuchs’ quarters beside the imperial residence, I found myself face-to-face with head eunuch Liu. I really didn’t want to encounter him, but there was nothing I could do, so I bowed low.
“Ah,” he said. “Are the palace people being nice to you?”
“Yes, Mr. Liu,” I answered. “It’s very kind of you to ask.”
“Have you made any friends?”
“Your servant has only just arrived,” I said. “But I have had the honor of making the acquaintance of Mr. Ma. He is good enough to talk to me when I visit his tree nursery.”
“You always find the interesting people, don’t you?” he remarked. He sounded almost friendly. “Have you seen the emperor yet?”
“Your humble servant saw the emperor yesterday, when he was visiting Mr. Ma,” I replied.
“And what did you think of him?”
Was it a trap? Was he hoping I’d say something bad about the Son of Heaven that he could report?
“His Majesty was very kind to Mr. Ma,” I said carefully. “Your servant had the impression that he was fond of the old gentleman.” After all, it was true.
And just for a moment Mr. Liu’s face seemed to soften. “He is. Ma’s a dear old man, no question. What else did you notice?”
“His Majesty said he felt at peace there. Was His Majesty tired, perhaps?”
“He’s a wreck. He’s still young, of course. I suppose he might live for years.” As on previous occasions, I wasn’t quite sure if Mr. Liu was talking to me or to himself. “Well, I must go,” he said briskly, and left me.
So now I had another thing to worry about. Not only did my life depend on the Noble Consort Yi, but on whether the Son of Heaven continued to live. And it didn’t sound as if the prospects were too good.
What would happen to me if he died? I had no idea.
* * *
—
Several days later I went to see Mr. Ma again. I followed him around in silence, leaving it to him to speak to me if he wished. After a while he showed me an unusually complex little tree and told me it was the same age as he was. I didn’t like to ask what age that might be, so I just nodded politely.
“They can grow to be centuries old, you know,” he remarked. Then he turned and looked up at me with his watery eyes. “I am not yet centuries old,” he added.
I laughed and bowed. “Not yet, master,” I said. I was pleased that he had shared a little joke with me, and I called him master because, to me, that’s what he was. He noticed the compliment and silently accepted it.
This emboldened me, a few minutes later, to venture a question concerning myself. “I am so happy to be in this place, master,” I told him. “But I am only here because of the favor of the Noble Consort Yi. Without that favor, Mr. Liu would send me away at once.”
“So I have heard,” he said.
“Yet sometimes I think that despite his opposition, Mr. Liu likes me,” I went on. “I’ve also noticed that all the palace people have been very kind to me, and I don’t think they would be without his instructions. Can you tell me
what all this means? Is it possible that one day, even if I lost the Noble Consort’s patronage, he might change his mind and be my friend?” One might say I was grasping at straws, but I was so anxious to find some way of staying in that paradise.
The old man didn’t answer at once. After I’d waited a bit, I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all.
But in the end, he asked me a question. “Why would Mr. Liu tell the palace people to be nice to you?” When I couldn’t answer, he continued: “If the palace people were unfriendly towards you, the Noble Consort would hear about it, wouldn’t she?”
“I suppose so,” I said. “Actually, she asked me if they were being kind to me.”
“Exactly. And if they weren’t nice to you, she’d blame Mr. Liu and be angry with him. And powerful though he is, he’d avoid that. But there’s another reason he wants everyone to be kind to you. Can you guess why?”
“No,” I confessed.
“He wants you to be happy.”
“You mean he likes me?”
“You’re intelligent, so he may. But that’s got nothing to do with it. He wants you to be happy so that one day, when he sends you away, your pain and humiliation will be greater.”
“Why?”
“To show his power.” He paused to let that sink in. “No one will have driven you out. For fear of him, all the palace people have smiled at you so that, when the day comes, you will fall by his hand alone, while they all watch. It’s like a ritual. He has to sacrifice you to save his own face, even if he does like you.”
“I’ve been very foolish,” I said.
“It’s a palace. You rose too fast. If you want to rise in the world, you need a lot of friends.”
“Has anything like this ever happened to you?” I asked him.
“No, I stuck to gardening.” He gave a wry smile. “Only my trees obey me.”
* * *
—
People sometimes complain about the summer weather in Beijing. I never do. First, in the month of May, as the barbarians call it, comes the fifteen-day period we know as Summer’s Coming. Then Full Grain; then Ear of Grain; then Summer Solstice. Some sixty days in all—mostly calm and clear. Is the heat uncomfortable? Is it too humid? Not up in Beijing.
After the fifteen days of the Summer Solstice come the Lesser and then the Greater Heat. Here, I grant you, it’s hot and humid. A few thunderstorms at first, downpours later. Our clothes stick to our skin. But we shouldn’t complain. The land needs the water.
For just as the Winter Solstice is the male season of the yang—when the emperor must be in the Forbidden City to make the sacrifices for the return of the sun to the sky—so the Summer Solstice is the time of the female yin, when the earth brings forth her fruits and is nourished by the rain.
In fact, out in the hills and lakes of the Summer Palace, I hardly felt the humidity. And when the thunder did come rolling in and the curtains of rain drew across the sky and the flashes of lightning lit up the nine islands in the lake…those were some of the most exciting moments I ever experienced in my life.
As for the outside world, by the Solstice that year, I’d almost forgotten about it. The Taiping were far away. There was no sign of the barbarians returning. After my duties tending to the nails of the Noble Consort Yi and her ladies, she often told me to remain in attendance, and I’d find myself one of a party visiting the islands in the afternoon or evening. Sometimes the eunuchs put on little plays to amuse everybody. Several were notable musicians. One old man was a master of the twenty-one-string guzheng zither; another of the bamboo flute; another of the lute. Though the most magical moments of all, for me, were listening to the mournful song of the two-string erhu drifting over the lake as the sun went down.
I discovered another thing about the Summer Palace, too. It wasn’t only the most beautiful park in the world. It was a gigantic treasure house.
Every villa, every temple, was full of the most wonderful objects—porcelain, lacquer, statues of gold, furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl and precious gems, gorgeous silk tapestries, jade stones, paintings…collections built up over centuries. Even in the eunuchs’ quarters there were beautiful old beds and chairs and carpets. In the passage by the main entrance there was a gleaming antique sword, its hilt encrusted with rubies, just hanging on the wall within easy reach. I should think it was priceless. I daresay someone, maybe a hundred years ago, had hung it there temporarily and then forgotten about it.
At Summer’s Coming, the Noble Consort Yi had told me I should go to see my family for a day or two. This was very thoughtful of her. I informed Mr. Liu, who gave me my wages.
My little family was pleased to see me. I’d bought presents for my parents and the two children and a beautiful painted fan for Rose. Naturally, they wanted to know all about the Summer Palace, and I gave them detailed descriptions of everything I’d seen. My father was especially amazed at all the treasures I told him about.
“They must have a lot of soldiers to guard everything,” he said, “or it’ll get stolen.”
“First of all,” I reminded him, “though there are a few soldiers at the guard post by the outer gates, they can’t enter the Summer Palace precincts because they aren’t eunuchs. Secondly, none of us would ever steal anything. It’s unthinkable.”
“What are you talking about?” he said. “What about the eunuchs who take bribes? Or the people like Mr. Chen who take a cut out of every contract? Isn’t that what you want to do?”
“That’s totally different,” I told him. “Those are the perquisites that go with the job. Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t see much difference,” he said. “It’s still grabbing something for yourself.”
“You think I’d steal a work of art from the palace?” I cried. “I’d sooner be dead.”
Of course, that’s what he’d done, really, when he stole the lacquer box that got me in trouble in the first place. And he knew it. So perhaps I shouldn’t have said it. That was disrespectful. But I didn’t care.
“Well, we won’t quarrel,” he said.
“No,” I said. “We won’t.” But that was the only unpleasantness during my visit home, I’m glad to say. I played with my little children; I spent a delightful night with my wife; and she said she hoped I would come back again soon.
* * *
—
I began to see the emperor and the Noble Consort Yi together quite often during those summer months. Perhaps because there was less business to occupy him, he quite often joined the parties on the nine islands, together with the empress, the Noble Consort Yi, and the other women of the court. He never spoke to me in person, but I could tell he knew who I was, and he even gave me a smile one evening while we were listening to music.
So was there trouble brewing between him and the Noble Consort? Naturally, I watched them whenever I got the chance, but the Solstice came and went and I didn’t see any sign of it. They seemed happy in each other’s company, and I heard they quite often shared a bed.
As for his health, it was hard to say. Some days he looked a little better, some days he didn’t. I wanted to ask how the state would be governed if something happened to him, but that’s a dangerous question inside a palace, so I kept my curiosity to myself.
The only clue I did get came from old Mr. Ma one morning. We were walking back from his tree nursery towards the eunuchs’ quarters when a carriage drew up by the entrance to the Audience Hall. We bowed low when we saw the four figures that got out of it.
Every so often, some prince of the royal clan would come to see the emperor. Sometimes they’d join the evening party and stay overnight at one of the guest villas. There were quite a number of these princes, mostly the descendants of former emperors’ brothers. Some of these cousinships went back centuries. Their exact rank depended on what great deeds their ancestors had done and their present importan
ce in the office they held themselves.
The first two to get out of the carriage were the tall figure of Prince Sushun and his brother Prince Zheng, both royal clansmen and advisors of the emperor.
The second pair were two of the emperor’s half-brothers, the princes Chun and Gong. For the emperor had several half-brothers by various concubines, all younger than he was.
Prince Chun was a very handsome young military officer, only twenty years old, I think, but just married to the Noble Consort Yi’s sister—probably a shrewd career move on his part, though the young couple were already devoted to each other. He was mostly busy with his military duties and did not often come to court.
The one who counted was Prince Gong, who was nearly the same age as the emperor, though he had a different mother. He wasn’t impressive to look at, and he had a little cicatrix on his cheek, from a boil that had been badly lanced, I believe. He had a high domed forehead, his eyes were set very wide apart, and he was wise for his years.
I’d seen Prince Gong a few times before. Not only was he close to the emperor, but there was a retired lady of the court he often came to visit who had quarters in a villa near the lake. She was yet another of his late father’s imperial concubines, and when his own mother had died young, this lady had become like a second mother to him. He called her Auntie and was quite devoted to her.
Old Mr. Ma wasn’t looking at Prince Gong, though, but at Sushun and his brother. “Here come the vultures,” he murmured. I think it was just a trick of the light, but Prince Sushun and his brother did look strangely like birds of prey just then.
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