Empress Orchid

“Leave it,” he said, pulling away the sheet. “I enjoy what I see.”

“My death sentence?”

He grinned. “You’ll have a chance to live if you help me get a good night’s sleep.”

Sunlight filtered through my heart’s darkest chamber, and I smiled.

“The smile is back!” he cried happily, like a child discovering a shooting star.

“Is it time for Your Majesty to sleep?”

“It is no longer an easy job.” He sighed.

“It will help if you let go of your thoughts.”

“Impossible, Orchid.”

“Does Your Majesty like games?”

“Games no longer interest me.”

“Does Your Majesty know ‘Joy at Meeting’?”

“That is an old song. By Chu Tun-ju of the Sung Dynasty?”

“What an excellent memory Your Majesty has!”

“Let me warn you, Orchid, no doctor has succeeded in helping me with my sleep.”

“May I have your qin?”

He reached for the instrument and passed it to me.

I plucked the strings and began to sing.

I lean on the western railing of the city wall
Of Ching-ling in the fall.
Shedding its rays over the land, the sun hangs low
To see the great river flow.

The central plain is a mess,
Officials disperse in distress.
When to recover our frontiers?
The winds of Yang-chou came to blow away my tears.

Emperor Hsien Feng listened quietly and started to weep. He asked me to sing another song. “If you were an actor from the royal troupe, I would reward you with three hundred taels,” he said, taking hold of my hand.

I sang. I no longer wanted to think about how strangely things had turned out. After I finished “Farewell, Black River” and “The Drunken Concubine,” His Majesty wanted more. I begged his pardon and explained that I was not prepared.

“One last song.” He held me close. “Anything that comes to your mind.”

My fingers wandered over the strings. A moment later a tune came to me.

“It is called ‘Immortal at the Magpie Bridge,’ composed by Ch’in Kuan.” I cleared my throat and started.

“Wait, Orchid. ‘Immortal at the Magpie Bridge’? Why have I never heard of this? Is it popular?”

“Was.”

“That’s not fair, Lady Yehonala. The Emperor of China should be informed about everything.”

“Well, that’s why I am here, Your Majesty. For me, this lyric eclipses all other love poems. It tells the old legend of the Cowherd and the Maiden-or the Weaver-two stars separated by the Milky Way. They were to meet on the Magpie Bridge once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, when the autumn wind embraces the dew.”

“The pain of separation is known to many,” the Emperor said quietly. “The story reminds me of my mother. She hanged herself when I was a child. She was a beautiful woman, and we are separated by the Milky Way.”

I was moved to hear him say this, but managed not to comment. Instead, I sang.

Clouds float like works of art,
Stars shoot with grief at heart.
Across the Milky Way the Cowherd meets the Maiden.
When autumn’s golden wind embraces the dew of jade,
All the love scenes on earth, however many, fade.

Their passion flows like a stream.
This happy date seems but a dream.
Can they bear a separate homeward way?
If love between both sides can last,
Why need they stay together night and day?

Before my last note ended, Emperor Hsien Feng was asleep.

I put the instrument down beside the bed, wishing that this moment would go on forever. But it was time for me to depart. According to custom, I had to be sent back to my own palace at midnight. The eunuchs would soon come and remove me. Would I be summoned again? Most likely Emperor Hsien Feng would forget about me when he woke up.

A sense of melancholy descended. Fortune had not led to intimacy. I tried not to think about my ruyi and my lost hairpin and the energy and hope that went into my preparation. I hadn’t been given a chance to perform my fan dance. If Emperor Hsien Feng had desired me, I felt I could have made him happy.

Lying next to him, I watched the candles inside the red lanterns die out one after another. I tried not to feel beaten. What good would it do if I allowed myself to break down? The Emperor would only be irritated.

Sorrow drowned me in silence. My heart floated in an ocean strangled by seaweed. The candle in the last lantern flickered and went out. The room turned black. I hadn’t noticed until now that the clouds had blocked the moon completely. The singing of the yoo-hoo-loos was joined by other insects. The symphony of this night was marvelous. I lay in the dark and watched Emperor Hsien Feng breathing peacefully in his