love you, son,” he brushed me away.
The ceremony marking Tung Chih’s official ascent to the throne began when Hsien Feng’s body was placed in its coffin. A decree was issued within the court to proclaim the new era, and Tung Chih was expected to issue a decree in honor of his mothers. As usual we received a lot of useless tributes and gifts.
I was aware that Su Shun had drafted this honor. But I was forbidden to learn what was written until the decree was announced. I was tense and nervous, but there was nothing I could do.
When the decree was announced, Nuharoo was honored as “the Empress of Great Benevolence Tzu An” and I as “the Empress of Holy Kindness Tzu Hsi.” To anyone who knew the subtleties of Chinese, the difference was obvious: “great benevolence” was more powerful than “holy kindness.” We may have both been honored as empresses of the same rank, but the message to the nation was that my position was not equal to Nuharoo’s.
The emphasis on her prestige over mine pleased Nuharoo. Although she had been the appointed Empress during Hsien Feng’s reign, that didn’t guarantee that she would hold the same title when the era changed. After all, I was the mother of the heir. The liability of my new title was that the nation was led to believe that Tung Chih considered Nuharoo above me-Su Shun got his way.
More alarming to me was that Su Shun had issued a decree again without obtaining both Nuharoo’s and my signature seals. Nuharoo didn’t want to raise the issue since she had what she desired. But to me this was a violation of principle-Su Shun was failing to properly execute Emperor Hsien Feng’s will. I had every right to challenge the decree. However, if I fought, it would give Su Shun a chance to damage my relationship with Nuharoo.
I contemplated the situation and decided to stay where I was.
After the announcement of the honor, Nuharoo and I were to be treated equally. I moved from my quarters to the west wing of the Hall of Fantastic Haze, called the Western Chamber of Warmth, which prompted the ministers to call me the Empress of the Western Chamber. Nuharoo moved to the Eastern Chamber of Warmth, and thus she was known as the Empress of the Eastern Chamber.
On September 2, 1861, the first official decree was formally published. It announced the new era to the nation and the boy Emperor’s coming. The decree included the new Emperor’s honors to his mothers. The nation was given a ten-day holiday to celebrate.
As the country learned about Nuharoo and me, Su Shun convened the Board of Regents for an audience of his own. He demanded that from now on Nuharoo and I must stamp the decrees that he drafted, without question.
This time Su Shun also offended Nuharoo. An argument flared while Tung Chih and the entire court were present.
“Females stay out of the court’s business; that is the Imperial tradition.” Su Shun emphasized that it was for the country’s benefit that his administration bypass us. He created the impression that Nuharoo and I were responsible for slowing down the court’s procedures and that I, especially, was a troublemaker.
“If we are not to take part in the court’s business,” Nuharoo said to the audience, “then why did His Majesty Emperor Hsien Feng bother to place the seals in our hands?”
Before Su Shun got a chance to respond, I echoed Nuharoo. “Emperor Hsien Feng’s purpose was more than clear. The two grand seals represent a balanced judgment. His Majesty wanted us to work side by side. The seals are to prevent autocracy and”-I raised my voice, speaking as clearly as I could-“to avoid the possible tyranny of any single regent. The eight of you are wise men, so I don’t have to remind you of those terrible lessons of the past. I am sure none of you wants to model yourself after Ao Pai, who went down in history as a villain because he allowed his desire for power to corrupt his soul.” I glanced at Su Shun before concluding, “Empress Nuharoo and I have decided that as long as we live, we will honor our commitment to our husband.”
Before the last word came out of my mouth, Su Shun stood up. His olive complexion had flushed a deep red. His eyes revealed great anger. “Originally I didn’t want to expose my private conversations with His Late Majesty, but you have left me with no choice, Lady Yehonala.” Su Shun walked toward his men and spoke loudly. “Emperor Hsien Feng had already seen through Lady Yehonala’s wickedness when he was alive. Several times he spoke with me about taking her with him. If she hadn’t taken advantage of His Majesty’s illness and manipulated him into changing his mind, we would be able to do our job today.”
“His Majesty should have insisted!” The Gang of Eight nodded.
I was so furious I couldn’t speak. I tried hard to hold in my tears.
Su Shun continued, his chest heaving. “One of the ancient sages of China foretold that China would be destroyed by a woman. I hope we do not hasten the day.”
Terrified by the expression on Su Shun’s face, Tung Chih jumped up from the throne. He threw himself first at Nuharoo and then at me.
“What’s wrong?” Tung Chih asked when he noticed that my arm was trembling. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, my son,” I said. “I am fine.”
But Tung Chih started to cry. I rubbed his back to calm him. I didn’t want to give my son and the court the impression that I was weak.
“Allow me to share my thoughts with you, gentlemen,” I said, composing myself. “Before forming your judgment-”
“Stop!” Su Shun interrupted me and turned to the court. “Lady Yehonala has just violated a house rule.”
I realized where Su Shun was heading. He was using a family rule against me. “Rule one hundred and seventy- four reads: ‘A lower-rank Imperial wife will be punished if she speaks without the permission of the higher-ranking wife.’” Glancing at Nuharoo, who stared blankly, Su Shun went on. “I am afraid that I must perform my duty.” He snapped his fingers. “Guards!”
Led by Chief Eunuch Shim, several guards rushed in.
“Seize the Empress of Holy Kindness and take her away for punishment!”
“Nuharoo, my elder sister!” I cried, hoping that she would come forward. All she had to do was to say that I had her permission to speak.
But Nuharoo was confused. She stared as if she didn’t understand what was happening.
The guards grabbed my arms and began to drag me away.
“Heaven above,” Su Shun said, beseeching in Peking-opera style, “help us get rid of an evil fox who has confirmed our ancestors’ worst predictions.”
“Nuharoo!” I struggled to push the guards away. “Tell them I had your permission to speak. Tell them I am the Empress and they can’t treat me like this. Please, Nuharoo!”
Su Shun walked up to Nuharoo, who was frozen in place. He bent down and whispered in her ear. His hands drew circles in the air. His broad frame blocked her view of me. I was sure what he was saying: the faster I was hanged, the better her life would be. He was describing a life for her without rivals. A life where only her words ruled. Nuharoo was too frightened to think. I knew she didn’t trust Su Shun, but she might not be able to resist his vision of her future.
The guards dragged me through the hallway. Everyone seemed caught up in the moment. If there were questions, nobody asked. I was lost in the crack of time, and I knew I would vanish before people could come to their senses.
I struggled to free myself from the guards. First my arms went limp, then my legs. As my body was tossed to the floor, my dress tore and my hairpins fell out.
“Halt!” A child’s voice pierced the air. “This is Emperor Tung Chih speaking.”
I was sure that I was hallucinating. My son stepped to the center of the room like a mature man. His manner reminded me of his father.
“Lady Yehonala has no less right to speak in this court than you, Su Shun,” my child said. “I shall order the guards to remove you if you cannot mend your behavior!”
In awe of the Son of Heaven, Chief Eunuch Shim dropped to his knees. The guards followed, and then the court, including Nuharoo and me.
The place grew as silent as a still pond. The clocks on the walls started to chime. For a long time no one dared move. The sun’s rays shot through the curtains, turning the tapestry into gold.
Standing tall by himself, Tung Chih didn’t know what to say next.
“Rise,” the child finally uttered, as if remembering a forgotten phrase from his lessons.
The crowd rose.
