frailer than before. He was concerned about the size of his son. Why was he so small, and why did he sleep all the time?
“Who knows?” I teased. How could the Son of Heaven be so innocent?
“I went to the park yesterday.” His Majesty passed the baby to a maid and sat down beside me. His eyes wandered from my eyes to my mouth. “I saw a dead tree,” he said in a whisper. “On top of its crown grew human hair. It was very long and draped down like a black waterfall.”
I stared at him.
“Is it a good sign or a bad sign, Orchid?”
Before I could answer, he went on. “That’s why I came to see you. If there is a dead tree on the grounds of your palace, have it removed immediately, Orchid. Will you promise me?”
His Majesty and I spent some time in the courtyard looking for dead trees. There was not one, and we ended up watching the sunset together. I was so happy I wept. His Majesty told me that he had learned from the gardener that the hair he saw in the park was a rare kind of lichen that grew on dead trees.
I didn’t want to talk about dead trees, so I asked about his days and his audiences. He had little to say, so we walked quietly for a while. He rocked the baby to sleep. It was the sweetest moment in my life. Em-peror Hsien Feng didn’t stay the night, and I dared not beg him to.
I told myself that I should be glad that my delivery had gone smoothly. I could have died under Chief Eunuch Shim’s whip, or a hundred different ways. The Imperial concubines had lost, and I regained His Majesty’s attention because of the newborn.
The next day Hsien Feng came again. He lingered after holding the baby. I made it a rule not to ask him any questions. He began to visit me regularly, always in the afternoon. Gradually we started to talk again. We chatted about our son, and he described the goings-on at court. He complained about how long everything took and the impotence of his ministers.
I listened most of the time. Hsien Feng seemed to enjoy our discussions and started to arrive earlier in the day. We were never intimate, but we were close.
I tried to be content with what I had. But part of me wanted more. After His Majesty had gone for the night, I couldn’t help imagining him with his Chinese women-surely they performed better tricks than my fan dance. I became miserable trying to understand why he was no longer attracted to me. Was it the change in my body shape? My red eyes? My milk-enlarged breasts? Why did he avoid coming near my bed?
An-te-hai tried to convince me that His Majesty’s lack of interest had nothing to do with me. “He isn’t in the habit of returning to women he has slept with. It doesn’t matter how much he praised their beauty or how satisfied he was in bed.”
The good news for me was that I had heard no report of any other pregnancy.
From Prince Kung’s letters I learned that Emperor Hsien Feng had been avoiding audiences since he had signed a new treaty with the foreigners, which acknowledged China’s defeat. Ashamed and humiliated, His Majesty spent his days alone in the Imperial gardens. At night, bodily pleasures had become his escape.
Sick as he was, he demanded round-the-clock entertainment. An-te-hai found out the details from a new friend, His Majesty’s chamber attendant, a eunuch named Chow Tee, a boy from An-te-hai’s hometown.
“His Majesty is drunk most of the time, and he is unable to perform his manhood,” An-te-hai told me. “He enjoys watching his women and orders them to touch themselves while dancing. The parties last all night while His Majesty sleeps.”
I recalled our last visit together. Hsien Feng couldn’t stop talking about his fall. “I have no doubt that I will be shredded into ten thousand pieces by my ancestors when I meet them.” He laughed nervously and coughed. His chest sounded like a wind box. “Doctor Sun Pao-tien has prescribed opium for my pain,” he said. “I don’t really mind dying, because I look forward to being released from my troubles.”
It was no longer a secret to the nation that the Emperor’s health had once again begun to decline. His pale face and empty eyes concerned everyone. Since we had moved back to the Forbidden City, the court’s ministers were ordered to report their state matters to him in his bedroom.
It broke my heart to see Hsien Feng giving up hope. Before he left my palace he said, “I am sorry.” Raising his face from his son’s cradle, he smiled sadly at me. “It is not up to me anymore.”
I looked at my child’s father putting on his dragon robe. He had no strength even to lift his sleeves. It took him three long breaths to get into his shoes.
My son, who was born on May 1, 1856, was officially named Tung Chih.
The celebration started the day after his birth and lasted an entire month. Overnight the Forbidden City was turned into a festival. Red lanterns hung from all the trees. Everyone was dressed in red and green. Five opera troupes were invited to the palace to perform. Drums and music filled the air. The shows went on day and night. Drunkenness was rampant among men and women of all ages. The most asked question was “Where is the chamber pot?”
Unfortunately, all the gaiety didn’t stop bad news. No matter how many symbols of good luck and victory we wore, we were losing to the barbarians at the negotiating tables. Minister Chi Ying and Grand Secretary Kuei Liang, Prince Kung’s father-in-law, were sent to represent China. They came back with another humiliating treaty: thirteen nations, including England, France, Japan and Russia, had formed an al-liance against China. They insisted that we open more ports for opium and trade.
I sent a messenger to Prince Kung inviting him to meet his newborn nephew, but secretly I hoped he would also be able to persuade Hsien Feng to attend his audiences.
Prince Kung came immediately, and he looked agitated. I offered him fresh cherries and Lung Ching tea from Hangchow. He drank the tea in gulps as if it was plain water. I felt that I had chosen a bad time for the visit. But the moment Prince Kung saw Tung Chih, he picked the little thing up. The child smiled, and his uncle was completely taken. I knew Kung meant to stay longer, but a messenger came with a document for his signature, and he had to put Tung Chih down.
I sipped my tea as I rocked the cradle. After the messenger was gone, Prince Kung looked tired. I asked if it was the new treaty that weighed on him.
He nodded and smiled. “I don’t feel twenty-three, that’s for sure.”
I asked if he could tell me a bit about the treaty. “Is it really as awful as I hear?”
“You don’t want to know” was his reply.
“I already have some ideas about it,” I ventured to say. “I have been helping His Majesty with court documents.”
Prince Kung raised his eyes and looked at me.
“Sorry to surprise you,” I said.
“Not really,” he said. “I only wish that His Majesty would take a greater interest.”
“Why don’t you talk to him again?”
“His ears are stuffed with cotton balls.” He sighed. “I can’t shake him.”
“I might be able to influence His Majesty if you could inform me a bit,” I said. “After all, I need to learn for the sake of Tung Chih.”
The words seemed to make sense to Prince Kung, and he started talking. I was shocked to learn that the treaty allowed foreigners to open consulates in Peking.
“Each country has selected its own site, not far from the Forbidden City,” he said. “The treaty allows foreign merchant ships to travel along the Chinese coast, and missionaries are given the government’s protection.”
Tung Chih cried in my arms. He probably needed changing. I gently rocked him and he became quiet.
“Also, we are expected to agree to hire foreign inspectors to run our customs, and worst of all”-Prince Kung paused, then continued-“we are given no choice but to legalize opium.”
“His Majesty will not allow it,” I said, imagining Prince Kung coming for his brother’s signature.
“I wish it were up to him. The reality is that the foreign merchants are backed by the military powers of their
