Like a singing river You break out to flow freely I am the mountain behind Happily I watch you Memory of us Full and sweet

My memories were full and sweet indeed. They were all I had, and I was taking them with me. As soon as I felt that the palanquin was moving steadily, I opened a slit in the back curtain and looked out.

My family was no longer in sight. Dust and ceremonial guards blocked my view.

Suddenly I saw Kuei Hsiang. He was still on all fours with his head glued to the ground.

My heart betrayed me and I cracked like a Chinese lute broken in the middle of its happy playing.

Six

I DIDN’T GET TO SEE much of the celebration the day I became an Imperial concubine. I sat inside my palanquin and heard the bells struck from the towers of the Gate of Zenith.

Nuharoo was the only one who went through the Gate of Celestial Purity, the main entrance into the Imperial backyard. The rest of us were carried through courtyards from side gates. My palanquin crossed the Golden Water River on one of the five bridges that spanned it. The river marked the boundary of the forbidden landscape; the bridges each represented one of the five Confucian virtues: loyalty, tenacity, honesty, modesty and piety. I then passed through the Gate of Correct Conduct and entered another courtyard, the largest in the Forbidden City. My palanquin skirted the Throne Hall, whose enormous carved columns and magnificent tiered roof rose above the pure expanse of white marble of the Dragon Pavement Terrace.

I was let off at the Gate of Heavenly Bustling. By this time it was midafternoon. Other palanquins had arrived. They were the chairs of Ladies Yun, Li, Soo, Mei and Hui. The girls got out quietly. We acknowledged one another’s presence and then waited.

Eunuchs came to tell us that Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Nuharoo had begun the wedding ceremony.

It felt strange. Although it had been made more than clear to me that I was only one of Emperor Hsien Feng’s three thousand ladies, I couldn’t help but wish that I were in Nuharoo’s place.

Soon the head eunuch reappeared and informed us that it was time to go to our own living quarters. Mine was called the Palace of Concentrated Beauty, where I would live for many years. It was here that I learned that Emperor Hsien Feng would never distribute his essence equally among his wives.

The Palace of Concentrated Beauty was embraced by age-old trees. When the wind blew, the leaves would roar. The sound reminded me of my favorite poetic line: “The wind shows its body through the trembling leaves.” I tried to locate the gate I had come through. It was on the west side and seemed to be the only entrance. The building in front of me was like a temple, with a wing-like roof and high walls. Under the yellow glazed tiles the beams and columns were brightly painted. The doors and window panels were carved with symbols of fertility: round-shaped fruit, vegetables, Buddha’s hand, budding flowers, ocean waves and clouds.

A group of well-dressed men and women quietly appeared in the courtyard. They threw themselves at me and got down on their knees.

I looked at them and didn’t know what was expected of me.

“The lucky moment is here, Lady Yehonala,” one of them finally said. “Please allow us to help you into your chamber.” I realized that they were my servants.

I lifted my robe and was about to take a step when I heard a tremendous noise beyond the walls.

My legs nearly gave out and the servants rushed to hold me up. I was told that the sound was from a Chinese gong. This was the moment when Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Nuharoo entered the Grand Nuptial Chamber.

I had heard about Imperial wedding rituals from Big Sister Fann. I was familiar with the nuptial bed and its sun-colored gauze curtain, covered with fertility designs. I remembered Fann’s description of the bright yellow satin quilt, which was embroidered with a hundred children playing.

Many years later Nuharoo told me that the scent in the Imperial chamber was the sweetest she had ever known. The smell came from the nuptial bed itself, which was made of fragrant sandalwood. She described how she was received. She had three golden phoenixes on her head, and she was accompanied by Chief Eunuch Shim, who carried her insignia.

After she stepped down from her palanquin, she walked through the Hall of Maternal Blessing. She then entered the nuptial chamber, which was in the Palace of Earthly Tranquility. It was in this sweet-smelling room that Nuharoo changed her costume from cool yellow to warm. With a piece of sun-colored silk over her head and eyes, she pledged herself to Emperor Hsien Feng and drank from the wedding cup.

“The walls of the chamber were so red that I thought something had gone wrong with my eyes,” Nuharoo recalled years later, smiling. “The room felt empty because it was extremely large. On its north side were the thrones, and on the south a great red brick bed was warmed by a fire underneath.”

I had correctly imagined it all. The setting and ritual matched Nuharoo’s account. But while I was living it, I merely tried to survive the moment. I was not prepared for my own disappointment.

I told myself that I had no reason to weep. I told myself that it was greedy of me to feel that I needed more than what was granted. Yet sadness refused to leave me. I tried to picture Ping and his disgusting opium-stained teeth. But my mind went on its own path. It brought me the melody of my favorite opera, The Love of Little Jade-the story of a housemaiden and her soldier lover. When I thought of how the soldier brought his bride a piece of soap as a wedding gift and how happy it made her feel, my tears ran.

Why did my eyes fail to find pleasure in this room filled with treasure? My servants dressed me in a gorgeous apricot-colored satin robe dotted with sweet plum blossoms-a dress I had worn many times in my dreams. I walked toward the dressing mirror and saw an astonishing beauty. On my head was a dragonfly hairpin inlaid with rubies, sapphires, pearls, tourmalines, tiger-eyes and kingfisher feathers. I turned around and looked at the room’s furnishings, its mosaic panels of gems and abundant harvests. On my left were cabinets of red sandalwood ornamented with jade and precious stones, on my right a rosewood washstand inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Behind me were bed screens made of the most valuable ancient paintings.

My heart shouts: What else would you, could you, dare you want, Orchid?

I was cold, but I was told to leave my door open during the day. I sat down on my bed, covered with a beige spread. Eight folded comforters made of the finest silk and cotton were stacked against the wall. The floor-length bed curtains were embroidered with white wisteria. The red border had pink and green peonies on it.

I saw Chief Eunuch Shim walk by my window with a group of young eunuchs following him. “Why are the lanterns not lit?” He was displeased. Then he saw me through the window. With a humble smile on his face Chief Eunuch Shim got down on his knees and said, “Lady Yehonala, your slave Shim at your service.”

“Rise, please.” I stepped out into the yard.

“Have the slaves introduced themselves, Lady Yehonala?” Shim asked, still on his knees.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“They should be punished, then. It is their duty.” He rose and snapped his fingers.

Two large-framed eunuchs appeared, each holding a leather whip longer than a man.

I was confused. I didn’t know what Chief Eunuch Shim intended to do.

“The guilty ones, line up!” he ordered.

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