Empress Orchid

walls, but I was not allowed to join the banquet. I was no longer permitted even to expose myself to light. I was shut in a room decorated with red and gold ribbons. Dry squashes painted with children’s faces were hung around the room, and I was told to stare at the faces to boost my fertility.

My mother brought me food and water, and my sister came to keep me company. My brother was being trained by the head eunuch to perform my father’s duty-to see me off when the day came. Every six hours, a messenger sent by the Emperor updated my family on what was going on in the Forbidden City.

I didn’t learn until later that Nuharoo had been the choice not only of the Grand Empress but of the clan elders as well. The decision that she would be the Empress had actually been made a year before. It had taken the court eight months of debate to reach the conclusion. The honorary treatment given Nuharoo’s family was five times what mine received. She was going to enter the Forbidden City through the center gate while the rest of us would go through a side gate.

Many years later people would say that I was jealous of Nuharoo, but I wasn’t at the time. I was overwhelmed by my own good fortune. I couldn’t forget the flies covering my father’s coffin and my mother’s having to sell her hairpin. I couldn’t forget the fact that I had been engaged to cousin Ping. I couldn’t thank Heaven enough for what was happening to me.

In the small red room I wondered what my future would hold. I had so many questions regarding how to live my life as Emperor Hsien Feng’s fourth concubine. But my biggest question was, who is Emperor Hsien Feng? As a bride and groom we hadn’t even spoken.

I dreamed about becoming His Majesty’s favorite. I was sure that all the concubines dreamed the same dream. Would there be harmony? Would it be possible for His Majesty to distribute his essence equally among us?

My experience growing up in the Yehonala household offered no help in preparing my way. My father had had no concubines. “He couldn’t afford one,” Mother once joked. In fact my father didn’t need one-he couldn’t get enough of my mother. I used to think that this was the way it should be, a man and a woman entirely devoted to each other. No matter how much they might suffer, having each other was happiness itself. This was the theme of my favorite operas. Characters survived to enjoy the rewards of a happy ending. My hopes had been high until Cousin Ping was pushed into my face. Now my life seemed to be gliding on a piece of watermelon skin-I had no idea where it would lead me. Trying to keep a balance was all I could do.

Big Sister Fann used to say that in real life, marriage was a market in which women competed for the highest bidder. And like any business, no one should confuse a rabbit with a squirrel-your worth says who you are.

The day my father died, I learned to separate wishful thinking from reality when his former friends turned up to reclaim a debt. I also learned something from my uncle by the way he treated us. Mother once told me that one had to lower one’s head when passing under low eaves in order to avoid injury. “Wishful thinking does not give me dignity,” Big Sister Fann used to say. “There is not one mother in the world who is happy to sell her child, but she sells her.”

My uncle and Cousin Ping came to see me, and they had to get down on their knees. When Uncle bowed and called me Your Majesty, Ping laughed. “Father, that’s Orchid!” The head eunuch slapped his face before Ping finished the phrase.

It was too late for Uncle to mend our relationship. He was nice only because he wanted to benefit from my status. He forgot too quickly what he had done. It was unfortunate, because I would have loved to help him.

Rong came to me as soon as Uncle and Ping stepped out. After rambling for a long time, she came to the point. “If you see any possibility, Orchid, I would like to marry a prince or a minister of the court.” I promised that I would keep my eyes open for her. She held me and wept. My parting was harder on her than on me.

June 26, 1852, had been announced as the wedding day of His Majesty Emperor Hsien Feng. The night before, Kuei Hsiang had taken a walk through the streets of Peking and was excited by what he saw.

“There are celebrations everywhere,” my brother reported. “Every family has hung a large ceremonial lantern in front of its door. Fireworks are being shot from the rooftops. People are dressed in bright red and green. The main boulevards are decorated with lanterns for miles and miles. All the couplets hanging in the air read, ‘We wish the Imperial union to be an everlasting one!’”

The Forbidden City started its celebration at dawn. Gate-to-gate red carpets were laid for receiving the brides and guests. From the Gate of Zenith to the Palace of Supreme Harmony, from the Palace of Heavenly Purity to the Palace of Universal Plenty, there were hundreds of thousands of red silk lanterns. The lanterns were decorated with the images of stars and battle axes. Also hung were umbrellas made of apricot-colored satin embroidered with lotus flowers. Columns and beams were draped with red silk embroidered with the character shee, happiness.

This morning tables were set in the cavernous Hall of Celestial Purity, where the Record Book of Imperial Marriages was placed. Two Imperial orchestras set up outside the hall-one to the east and the other to the west. Ceremonial flags filled the hall. From the Gate of Eternal Harmony to the Gate of Zenith, about a three-mile distance, twenty-eight palanquins waited, ready to fetch the brides from their homes.

The palanquin that was to carry me was the largest I’d ever seen. There were windows on three sides, covered with red cloth embroidered with a shee. The roof over the chair was laced with golden threads. On top of the roof were two small stage-like platforms. On one stood two golden peacocks, each holding in its beak a red brush-the symbol of the highest authority, intelligence and virtue. On the second stood four gold phoenixes-symbols of beauty and femininity. In the center of the roof was the Ball of Harmony-the symbol of unity and infinity. I was to be accompanied by one hundred eunuchs, eighty court ladies and two thousand guards of honor.

I woke before dawn and was surprised to see my room full of people. My mother was kneeling in front of me. Behind her were eight women. I had been notified of their coming the night before. They were manfoos, Imperial ladies of honor, the wives of well-respected clansmen. They came at Emperor Hsien Feng’s request to help me dress for the ceremony.

I tried to keep a cheerful face, but tears welled up in my eyes.

The manfoos begged to learn what was bothering me.

I said, “It’s hard for me to rise when my mother is on her knees.”

“Orchid, you must learn to get used to the etiquette,” Mother said. “You are Lady Yehonala now. Your mother is honored to consider herself your servant.”

“It’s time for Your Majesty’s bath,” one of the manfoos said.

“May I now rise, Lady Yehonala?” Mother asked.

“Rise! Please!” I cried, and jumped off the bed.

Slowly Mother rose. It was obvious that her knees were killing her.

The ladies of honor quickly moved to a side room and started to prepare my bath.

Mother led me to the tub. It was a giant bucket, which had been delivered by the head eunuch. Mother closed the curtain and dipped her hand into the water to feel the temperature.

The manfoos offered to undress me. I pushed them away and insisted that I undress myself.

Mother stopped me. “Remember, it will be considered an embarrassment to His Majesty if you do any labor yourself.”

“I’ll follow the rules once I am inside the palace.”

Mother wouldn’t listen, and the manfoos finally stripped me, then excused themselves and retreated quietly.

Mother applied the soap to my skin. She started to rub my shoul-ders and back and ran her fingers through my black hair. It was the longest bath I had ever had. By her touch it felt as if she were having me to herself for the last time.

I studied her face: her skin pale as a radish, her neatly combed hair, the wrinkles spreading around her eyes. I wanted to get out of the tub and embrace her. I wanted to say, “Mother, I am not leaving!” I wanted her to know that without her there would be no happiness.

But I uttered not one word. I was afraid of disappointing her. I knew that in her mind I represented my father’s dream and the honor of the entire Yehonala clan. The night before, the rules had been explained to me by the head eunuch. I would not be permitted to visit my mother after I entered the Forbidden City. Mother had to apply for and obtain permission to see me, but only in an emergency. The minister of the Imperial household had to verify whether the matter was urgent or serious enough before granting permission. The same rule applied if I wanted to