frame. He was in his magnificent ceremonial uniform and sat tall on his horse.
“I enjoyed your gifts,” he said. “It was very thoughtful of you.” He looked darker. His lips were dry and his eyes unsmiling.
I was determined to conquer my emotion, so I said, “I’m glad.”
“Do you expect me to say that I understand your sacrifice and am grateful?”
I wanted to say no, but my lips would not move.
“You are cruel,” he said.
I knew that if I relented, even a little bit, it wouldn’t be long before I lost control.
“Time for you to go back to your duty.” I let down the curtain.
With the fading sound of his horse’s hooves, I wept.
Nuharoo’s words came to me, “Pain does good things. It prepares us for peace.”
We were at Hsien Feng’s tomb the next dawn. I waited three hours until the moment arrived to move the coffin into place. I was served porridge for breakfast. Then three monks swung their incense burners and walked in circles around me. The thick smoke choked me. Drums and music played and the wind distorted the sound. The landscape was bare and vast.
The bearers pushed the coffin with their shoulders inch by inch toward the tomb. I sat on my knees and prayed for Hsien Feng’s spirit to gain peace in his next life. Two hundred Taoist monks, two hundred Tibetan lamas and two hundred Buddhists chanted. Their voices were strangely harmonious. I remained in a kneeling position before the altar until the others had completed their final farewells to Emperor Hsien Feng. I knew I should not resent An- te-hai, who was beside me telling me step by step what to do, but I still wished he would shut up.
I was to be the last one and would be alone with His Majesty before the tomb closed permanently.
The head architect reminded the ministers to keep their timing exact. The calculations demanded that the tomb be shut at noon, when the sun cast no shadow. “Otherwise, vital heavenly energy will begin to seep out.”
I waited my turn while watching people going in and out of the tomb. My knees started to feel sore and I missed Tung Chih terribly. I wondered what he was doing and if Nuharoo’s mood had changed. She was beside herself the day she found out that all her roses were dead-the barbarians had dug out the root balls in their search for “buried treasure.” The bones of her favorite parrot, Master Oh-me-to-fu, were also found in the garden. The bird was the only creature of its kind that could chant the Buddhist drill
My thoughts went to Rong. I was not sure that talking with her would help her cope with the death of her son. Rong frightened too easily, and I wouldn’t blame her for thinking that the Forbidden City was a terrible place to raise children. I could only pray that the new pregnancy would provide her with hope.
An-te-hai had been acting oddly today. He carried a big cotton sack with him. When I asked what was inside, he said it was his overcoat. I couldn’t understand why he insisted on bringing an overcoat when nothing but blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon.
People leaving the tomb surrounded me. They lined up to pay their respects to me, bowing and kowtowing. Each took minutes to complete the forehead-knocks on the ground. A couple of senior ministers were nearly blind and had difficulty walking. They wouldn’t accept my pardon and insisted on performing the entire protocol. No one asked if I was tired or hungry.
The temperature began to rise. My hands and body felt warm. Everyone seemed to have had enough and was eager to go back. Yet etiquette could not be ignored. The line of people before me continued to grow. It stretched from the entrance gate to the stone pavilion. I looked from the corner of my eye and saw that the bearers were sharing a joke and the guards looked bored. The horses kicked their hooves. The desert wind sent eerie whistles from afar. By the time the sun was above our heads, many ministers relaxed their manners and loosened their collar buttons. They sat on the ground waiting for the tomb to be shut.
Finally the court’s chief astrologer announced that all was ready. I was ushered toward the tomb while An-te- hai went ahead to check before I entered.
The astrologer told me that I had to proceed by myself, according to custom. “His Majesty is ready to have his last earthly moment with you.”
I suddenly became afraid and wished that Yung Lu were with me.
“Can… someone come with me?” I asked. “Can An-te-hai stay?”
“No, I am afraid not, Your Majesty.” The chief astrologer bowed.
An-te-hai came out and reported that all was ready inside.
My legs trembled, but I forced myself to move.
“Your Majesty,” I heard the architect call, “please come out before noon.”
The tunnel seemed long and narrow. It felt different from the place Nuharoo and I had seen the last time we were here together. I could hear the echoes of my own steps. Maybe it was the new furnishings and tapestries. A large gold table clock came into view. I wondered why His Majesty needed a clock. I knew little about life after death, but from what I was looking at now, I was convinced there must be a need for many things.
As I looked around, a tapestry caught my eye. It depicted an empty hut set in a mountainous landscape. A beautiful woman reclined with her
The light from the oil jar produced a sweet scent and orange rays. It added warmth to the red furniture. There were layers of comforters, blankets, sheets and pillows on top of a table by the corner. It was inviting, like a bedroom. I saw the familiar table and chair Hsien Feng had used. The tall chair back was carved with lilies. I remembered I once hung my dress on it while spending the night with him.
My eyes landed on the empty coffin with my name on it. It was set right next to Hsien Feng’s, as if I were already dead and buried inside -the way Su Shun had wanted, the way His Majesty almost ordered, the way my life might have been. This would be my resting place forever, away from sunshine, away from spring, away from Tung Chih and Yung Lu.
I was supposed to shed tears. It was expected of an empress. It was why I was left alone. But I had no tears. If I had had any, they would have been for myself. For my life was not much different from being buried alive. My heart was forbidden from celebrating its springs. It had died last night when I sent the whores to Yung Lu. The girl named Orchid from Wuhu wouldn’t have done anything like that.
I was not as brave as I would like myself to be. It was what An-te-hai seemed to understand. I was an ordinary woman and I loved Yung Lu.
I didn’t know how long I had been in the tomb. I had no desire to leave and reenter the light. I wouldn’t find the life I yearned for outside. The laughter I once knew wasn’t there. I couldn’t even look Yung Lu in the eye. What was the point of going on?
At noon the door to the outside world would shut permanently. Interestingly my fear was gone now. There was a strange kind of peace here, cozy and warm like a mother’s womb. It brought me relief to think that all my troubles would be at an end if I stayed here. I would no longer struggle in my dreams and wake up only to hear An-te-hai report that I had cried. I wouldn’t have to degrade myself by relying on a eunuch for comfort. I could say goodbye to Yung Lu right here in the tomb and be done with the pain and agony. I could turn tragedy into comedy. There would be nothing anyone could do to make me suffer again. The comic part would be that I would be honored for voluntarily accompanying Emperor Hsien Feng to the next world. History would praise my virtue, and a temple would be built so that future generations of concubines could worship me.
I stared at the door and the watermelon-shaped pit and the stone ball, ready to roll.
My coffin was covered with white lilacs. I went to see if it was open. It was not, and I couldn’t get it to open. Why had they locked it? The panels were not carved to my taste. The movements of the phoenixes were dull, the pattern too busy, the color too loud. If I were the artist, I would have added elegance and spirit to it. I would make the birds fly and the flowers bloom.
I noticed something that didn’t belong. It was An-te-hai’s overcoat. He had laid it here. My thoughts were interrupted by this earthly object. Why did An-te-hai leave it behind?
I heard hurried steps and then a man’s quick breathing.
