The Last Empress

'Will Prince Ts'eng's idea become yours?'

'It depends. I will look foolish if it has to happen. I want the world to think that I knew what I was doing when I picked you to be the Emperor of China.'

'And moving the capital to Shanghai?'

'Who would be responsible for your safety in Shanghai? After all, it is closer to Japan. Queen Min's assassination and Li Hung-chang's being shot certainly were no accident.'

'It will not happen to me, Mother.'

'What would I do if it did? I only know what Japan would demand in exchange for your life. Ito would get to collect the architectural splendor of the Forbidden City.'

'Kang Yu-wei has assured me of my safety.'

'Moving the capital to Shanghai is a bad idea.'

'I have given Kang Yu-wei my word to do whatever it takes to achieve reform.'

'Let me meet with Kang Yu-wei myself. It's time.'

34

Either afraid that Kang Yu-wei would not get a fair hearing from me or unsure about the reformer himself, my son ordered him to move to Shanghai and run a local newspaper. This Imperial edict Kang disobeyed. The reformer would later tell the world that the Emperor was forced to send him away and that he, 'despite the danger, remained in Peking in order to rescue the throne.'

In any event, I didn't pursue a meeting with Kang Yu-wei because something more pressing demanded my attention. An attack on foreign missionaries by inland peasants quickly became an international incident. I guessed that Prince Ts'eng's Ironhats were secretly encouraging the peasants. Since I denounced neither the prince nor the troublemaking peasants, the foreign papers soon labeled me a 'suspected murderer.' In the meantime, the so- called conflict between my son and me, which was created and trumped up by Kang Yu-wei, led the masses to believe that there was a 'Throne Party' and a 'Dowager Party.' I was beginning to be described as a 'mastermind of evil.'

I was naive to think that the tension whipped up by the incident could be defused without the use of force. I spoke to my ministers about the power of superstition among Chinese farmers, and that we must not joke about their belief that the rusty water that dripped from oxidized telegraph wires was 'the blood of outraged spirits.' I emphasized that only by our respect and understanding could we begin to educate the peasants.

I summoned Li Hung-chang to Peking again. The railroad he him self had championed and built delivered him almost in no time. On my behalf Li spoke before an audience of the court about how to influence the provincial feng shui experts. 'Only money will flip their tongues' was his conclusion. 'That is the only way we can continue to build railroads and raise telegraph poles throughout the country.'

I also encouraged Li to send word to foreign officials and missionaries. 'I want them to know that the killings might have been avoided if the foreigners had learned how to communicate with our people.'

On the last day of the audience, the minister of historical records gave a presentation on the history of Christian missionaries in China. 'The root of the problem is that these missionaries built their churches on the outskirts of villages, often on land already consecrated as a cemetery,' the minister explained. 'The foreigners did not mean to disturb the spirits or the locals, but ended up doing just that.

'Farmers had never seen churches in their lives,' the minister went on. 'They were awed by how tall they were. When the missionaries explained that the height enabled their prayers to reach God, the locals panicked. In their eyes, the long, sword-like shadow crossing the cemetery cast a spell, and the cursed spirits of their ancestors would come to haunt them.'

For half a century Chinese peasants had been demanding that the missionaries relocate their churches. The peasants believed that the enraged Chinese gods would surely wreak revenge and punishment. Whenever a severe drought or flood came, the peasants feared that unless the churches were removed and missionaries expelled, they would starve to death.

Prince Ts'eng had been in the north stirring up the peasants' fear and superstition. Every memorandum he sent back to Peking repeated the same message: 'The conduct of the Christian barbarians is irritating our gods and geniuses, hence the many scourges we are now suffering… The iron road and iron carriages are disturbing the terrestrial dragon and are destroying the earth's beneficial influences.'

I knew I couldn't afford to turn Prince Ts'eng into an enemy. He was my husband's only remaining brother. I was also aware that he had a growing number of rebels at his command and at any moment could attempt to overthrow Guang-hsu. My strategy was to keep peace and order so that Li Hung-chang and the court's moderates could buy some time in which to modernize the country.

'When farmers lose their land, they lose their soul,' I said to my son, trying to make him see how difficult it was for Li Hung-chang to keep the railways and telegraph wires running. 'If it hadn't been for Li's Northern Army, we wouldn't have been able to keep up with the local rebels' destruction.'

Only a few years after the building of the railroad, towns had sprouted around the stations. When these towns grew prosperous, the peasants were transformed from 'robbers' to 'guards': they would do anything to protect the tracks that brought them a better life. But the towns that hadn't benefited saw themselves as victims of modernization. The townspeople viewed Li Hung-chang as the foreigners' spokesman and his business efforts 'part of the spell the foreigners had cast upon China.'

As a result, violent gangs and secret societies formed and grew. Serious crime spread. The rebels not only destroyed the tracks and sabotaged the rolling stock but also raided churches and took missionaries as hostages. The situation became so dire that even Li Hung-chang could no longer contain it. Signs posted on city gates threatened to hang the 'rice Christians'-the locals who converted to obtain needed food.

I was in the middle of a dream. I was watching my mother getting dressed in the morning. Her bedroom faced Lake Wuhu and had a large window. Sunlight splashed on the woodcarvings and over the floral-patterned window panels. The small bamboo and golden trumpet trees in her room were green even in winter.

Mother stretched like a cat, her long, bare arms extended over her head. She ran her fingers through her silky black hair. Pulling on a peach-colored cotton shirt over her head, she smoothed it down. She took her time buttoning the shirt, and then she turned around and looked at me.

'My daughter had a good night's sleep, I can tell,' she said. 'You are the prettiest girl in Wuhu, Orchid.'

I laid my head on her pillow and buried my face in her sheets to smell her scent.

I had the same dream the following morning. It was when my mother's fingers softly touched my cheeks that I woke up.

There was a loud noise in the hallway. Something heavy fell to the floor. It was followed by a eunuch's ear- piercing cry.

I sat up, still in a fog. Then the image of the dead Queen Min flashed before my mind. I pulled open my curtains.

Yung Lu, in full uniform and with a sword in his hand, rushed toward me.

I thought I was still dreaming.

Before he could reach me, Li Lien-ying jumped him from behind. The eunuch's weight pulled Yung Lu down along with the bed curtains.

In one motion Yung Lu pinned Li Lien-ying to the ground like a bug.

'Assassins, my lady!' Li Lien-ying screamed.

I froze, unsure of what was happening.

Yung Lu ordered his men to search the entire palace. 'Every moving object, human and animal! Every tree and bush!'

My hands were shaking and I could not find my clothes. All my attendants were down on their knees on the floor. I reached for a sheet and wrapped myself in it.

Several of Yung Lu's men entered and told him that all was clear.