Tseng.'
Tung Chih was entertained by tales of Tseng's exploits and asked whether the general was a Manchu. 'No, he is Han Chinese.' I took the opportunity to drive my point home. 'You will see how the court discriminates against the Han.'
'As long as he can fight and win for me,' my son responded, 'I don't care what race he is.'
I was proud of him and said, 'That is why you are the Emperor.'
The court accepted my appointment of Tseng Kuo-fan, which made me think that someone must believe that Tseng was corrupt. I made it a condition that Tseng's findings would be part of the public record.
Within a month, Tseng delivered his findings before the assembled court, which pleased me greatly:
Although there were no paper documents left for my investigators to obtain, since the governor's mansion was burned down by the Taipings, the fact remains that Governor Ho Kui-ching failed in his duty to guard his provinces. Beheading would not be an inappropriate treatment, as it is the law of the Imperial government. Whether it was true or not that he was persuaded by his subordinates to desert is, in my opinion, rather irrelevant.
The hall was silent after Tseng Kuo-fan's statement was announced. And I knew I had won.
I resented the fact that it was I who had to give the final word for the execution. I may not have been as devout a Buddhist as Nuharoo, but I believed in the Buddha's teaching that 'to kill is to decrease one's virtue.' Such an awesome act would throw off one's inner balance and diminish one's longevity. Unfortunately, I was unable to avoid carrying out the sentence.
The second man to be prosecuted was General Sheng Pao, who was not only my friend but had also made significant contributions to the dynasty. I lost sleep over his case, although I never doubted my actions.
The trees outside my windows tossed violently in a sudden storm, like bare arms crying for help. Rain-soaked and wind-battered branches broke and fell on the yellow roof tiles of my palace. The large magnolia tree in the yard had started budding early this year, and the storm would surely ruin its blooming.
It was midnight and Sheng Pao was on my mind as I stared at the raindrops streaming down the windowpanes. There was no way to prepare myself. My thoughts couldn't silence an inner voice:
Sheng Pao was a fearless Manchu Bannerman, a fearless soldier, who grew up in poverty and was a self-made man. He had been the commander in chief of the northern Imperial forces for many years and had great influence in the court. He was feared by his enemies, so much so that his name alone could make any Taiping rebel shudder. The general loved his soldiers and hated war, for he knew the cost. Choosing to negotiate with rebel leaders, he had been able to take back many provinces without the use of force.
Sheng Pao had sided with me in my action against the former grand councilor Su Shun back in 1861. The coup that had occurred after my husband's death was a defining moment for me, and Sheng Pao had been the only military man to come to my aid.
The problems with Sheng Pao began after our return from Jehol, the Imperial hunting ground, to Peking with the body of my husband, Emperor Hsien Feng. As a reward for his service, I had promoted the general, securing for him unrivaled power and wealth. Before long, however, complaints of Sheng Pao's abuses were sent from all parts of the country. The letters were first delivered to the Board of War. No one dared to challenge Sheng Pao himself.
Prince Kung ignored the complaints and hoped that Sheng Pao would control himself. It was wishful thinking. It was even suggested that I turn a blind eye as well because Sheng Pao was too important.
I tried my best to be patient, but it reached a point where my son's authority as ruler was being questioned. I went to Prince Kung and asked him to sue Sheng Pao for justice.
Prince Kung's investigators discovered that the general had inflated casualty figures in order to receive additional compensation. He also claimed false victories to secure promotions for his officers. Sheng Pao demanded that the court grant all his requests. Raising local taxes for his personal use had become common practice for him. It was known that he indulged in excessive drinking and prostitution.
Other governors had started to follow Sheng Pao's example. Some of them stopped paying Imperial taxes. The soldiers were drilled to be loyal to the governors instead of to Emperor Tung Chih. A mocking slogan was becoming popular on the streets of Peking: 'It is not Tung Chih but Sheng Pao who is the Emperor of China.'
The extravagance of Sheng Pao's wedding became the latest news. And the fact that his bride was the former wife of a known Taiping rebel leader.
Shortly after sunrise, the sun broke through the clouds, but the rain hadn't stopped. A mist rose in the yard, climbing the trees like white smoke.
I was sitting in my chair, already dressed, when my eunuch An-te-hai entered, and with excitement in his voice he announced, 'My lady, Yung Lu is here.'
My breath halted at the sight of him.
Looking tall and strong in his Bannerman's uniform, Yung Lu entered the chamber.
I tried to get up to greet him but my legs felt weak, so I remained seated.
An-te-hai came between us with a yellow velvet mat. Taking his time, he put the mat down a few feet away from my chair. This was part of the ritual required for anyone meeting the Imperial widow in the second year after her mourning period. The etiquette felt ridiculous, because Yung Lu and I had seen each other many times at audiences, although we were forced to act like strangers. The purpose of the ritual was to remind us of the distance between Imperial men and women.
By now my eunuchs, servants and ladies in waiting stood against the walls with their hands folded. They stared at An-te-hai as he put on his show. Over the years, he had become a master of illusion. With Yung Lu and me as his actors, he staged a clever drama of distraction.
Yung Lu threw himself on the mat and knocked his forehead lightly on the ground and wished me good health.
I uttered, 'Rise.'
As Yung Lu stood, An-te-hai slowly pulled away the mat, attracting all the attention to himself while Yung Lu and I exchanged glances.
Tea was served while we sat like two vases. We began to talk about the aftermath of the prosecution of Governor Ho and exchanged opinions on the pending Sheng Pao case. Yung Lu assured me that my decisions had been sound.
My mind leapt as I sat beside my love. I could not forget what had happened four years before, when the two of us shared our only private moment, inside the tomb of Hsien Feng. I longed to know if Yung Lu remembered the event as I did. I could find no evidence as I looked at him. A few days earlier, when he took a seat at an audience and looked straight in my direction, I questioned whether our shared passion had ever taken place. As Emperor Hsien Feng's widow, I would have no future with any man. Yet my heart refused to stay in its tomb.
Yung Lu's position as the commander of the Bannermen constantly took him away from the capital. With or without his troops he moved where he was needed, making sure China's armies were fulfilling their duty to the empire. As a man of action, it was a life that suited him; he was a soldier who preferred the company of other soldiers over the ministers at court.
Yung Lu's frequent absences made my longing easier to bear. Only with his return would I realize the depth of my feeling. Suddenly he would be in my presence, reporting on some urgent matter or offering counsel at a critical moment. He might stay in the capital for weeks or months, and during those times would dutifully attend court. Only during these periods could I say that I looked forward to the daily audience.
Outside the audiences, Yung Lu avoided me. It was his way of protecting me from rumor and gossip. Whenever I expressed a desire to see him privately, he would decline. I kept sending An-te-hai anyway. I wanted Yung Lu to know that the eunuch was available to lead him through the back door of the audience hall to my chamber.
Although Yung Lu had reassured me of the rightness of my decision regarding Sheng Pao, I still worried. True, the evidence against him was damning, but the general had many allies in court, among them Prince Kung, who I'd noticed was keeping his distance. When Sheng Pao was finally escorted to Peking, my brother-in-law suddenly reappeared in my presence, insisting that Sheng Pao be sent into exile instead of being executed. I reminded Kung
