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Empress Orchid: A Novel
Empress Orchid: A Novel
Empress Orchid: A Novel
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Empress Orchid: A Novel

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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“A fascinating novel, similar to Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha . . . A revisionist portrait of a beautiful and strong-willed woman” (Houston Chronicle).
 
A San Francisco Chronicle Best Book of the Year
 
From Anchee Min, a master of the historical novel, Empress Orchid sweeps readers into the heart of the Forbidden City to tell the fascinating story of a young concubine who becomes China’s last empress. Min introduces the beautiful Tzu Hsi, known as Orchid, and weaves an epic of the country girl who seized power through seduction, murder, and endless intrigue. When China is threatened by enemies, she alone seems capable of holding the country together.
 
In this “absorbing companion piece to her novel Becoming Madame Mao,” readers and reading groups will once again be transported by Min’s lavish evocation of the Forbidden City in its last days of imperial glory and by her brilliant portrait of a flawed yet utterly compelling woman who survived, and ultimately dominated, a male world (The New York Times).
 
“Superb . . . [An] unforgettable heroine.” —People
 
“A sexually charged, eye-opening portrayal of the Chinese empire . . . with heart-wrenching scenes of desperate failure and a sensuality that rises off its heated pages.” —Elle
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 11, 2005
ISBN9780547347202
Empress Orchid: A Novel
Author

Anchee Min

Anchee Min was born in Shanghai in 1957. At seventeen she was sent to a labor collective, where a talent scout for Madame Mao's Shanghai Film Studio recruited her to work as a movie actress. She moved to the United States in 1984. Her first memoir, Red Azalea, was an international bestseller, published in twenty countries. She has since published six novels, including the Richard & Judy choice Empress Orchid and, most recently, Pearl of China.

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Rating: 3.6809917047933887 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    J'aime beaucoup ces histoires romancées qui redonnent vie à l'Histoire et en animent les personnages. J'ai découvert ici la vie dans la Cité Interdite, ses us et coutumes, la succession de l'empereur Xianfeng, la régence de Dame Yehonala et vu un aperçu des guerres d'opium. Un tableau vivant de cette fin de dynastie lors d'une époque turbulante, ce roman ne tombe pas trop dans le piège de l'eau de rose et l'intrigue est bien dosée. Moyen agréable d'en apprendre plus sur cette période!
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This historical fiction vividly introduces you into the last empress' world. It affords an emotional and personal point of view that is often masked from the public. I would read more from this author.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Brilliant read and one I am looking forward to following up! Orchid is an endearing young woman trying to find a way to improve her lot and that of her family. The daughter of a minor official whose death threw the family on hard times, Orchid gets her break as the minor wife of the Emporer never thinking to rise any higher, grateful for the position. However her natural intelligence soon raises her above the others and she finds herself locked in a struggle for survival in a byzantian, machiavellian court setting.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Tzu Hsi (Orchid) enters the Forbidden City as one of thousands vying to be a concubine of Emperor Hsien Feng. Eventually she bears him a son and is elevated to rank of Empress. Her reputation in modern-day China is diabolical - she is blamed for the fall of the Qing dynasty. But reality is so much more! Certainly, she is flawed, but in a totally male dominated society she manages not only to survive but to wield enoormous power.The woman, the time and the place are all fascinating. After I'd read the book I came to understand that the author plans a trilogy, and that this is the first installment. That would explain the somewhat abrupt ending.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    A wonderful a first person historical novel based on the life of Dowager Empress Cixi, who ruled China in the waning days of the Qing Dynasty in the mid- and late-19th century. The novel actually only covers the first half of her life, as she rises up from an impoverished Manchu family to become the fourth level concubine to the Chinese Emperor; bearing his only son, she is able to become regent after her husband's untimely demise, probably due to stress because of his dire incompetence, as rebels and foreign powers invade the Empire. The book is well written and gives a relatively realistic look at life in the Imperial circle at the time, if somewhat simplified and occasionally pedantic, though not fatally so. The book reminded me of "Wicked", as Cixi has so often been cast as the evil Empress/Witch; this book seeks to humanize her, explain her motives in the given set of nearly impossible circumstances, though I think the author is a little more kind to her than Cixi is probably worthy. For instance, the history books say that Cixi performed a coup d'etat in overthrowing the Regent Su Shun, but in the book, Su Shun is the villain; I just don't know enough about the circumstances to judge, though it is probably certain that there were no innocents in that incident. The book leaves off as Orchid becomes Regent, and the following book, The Last Empress, tells the rest of the tale, and I can't wait to dive into that. This is the third novel by Anchee Min that I have read, and she is one of my favorites; if you like this, I highly recommend Becoming Madame Mao, who was a sort of 20th-century version of Cixi.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Written really well and I really cared for the characters, especially towards the end.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Empress OrchidEntertaining and Unputdownable 4.5 starsFrom an unlikely peasant girl to the Empress of China. The novel paints a not so pretty picture of what life was like for a concubine turned empress in the Forbidden City. Min's storytelling is beautiful. Her style of narrating and historical references pulled me in. If you enjoy beautiful storytelling and historical fiction, this is for you. Lastly, I didn't know that there was another story (The Last Empress) that follows, until I finished. I look forward to reading it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    China is being raped by foreigners. Her ports are being thrown open to trades with countries that hold a sword to her throat, and she is helpless to make any kind of reform that would protect her economy and her people. Within this tumultuous period of China's history is the story of a concubine called Orchid. History will remember her as the manipulative, scheming, power hungry, and ruthless Empress Tzu Hsi, but in Empress Orchid, she shares with us a story of desperation, of the shattering of innocence, of sharing a man with thousands of other woman who are also vying for attention and love, of helplessly watching a once proud and powerful country being torn apart, one traitorous breath after another. The Forbidden City is a fortress with walls that are meant to keep the outside world at arms length. Through Empress Orchid we are able to experience the culture and customs of a world thousands of years old and whom few have access. The historical richness from the descriptions of the grand palatial residents to the decadent costumes, invites us to enter into a world of unparallel luxury and grandeur. Tzu Hsi may forever be immortalized as the wicked ruler who brought an end to the last dynasty of Imperial China, but at the heart of it all is still a woman who navigated her way through an arena that has long served to be the battle ground for men, and men alone. Regardless of the means or method, undoubtably her legacy as the last Empress has been imprinted upon the annals of China's glorious past.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This is a fiction novel based on the last Empress of China. I don't read alot of fiction books lately, but this was the book of the month for the online China books group I am a member of. So, I read it. I LOVED it! It was a really good read. And I must say, I would never want to be the Emperors wife or concubine! I'm surprised they all didn't go nuts!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I adored this book and it began me on a spate of historical fiction novels set in China. Min creates a fully-developed, sympathetic (most of the time) portrait of Empress Orchid, a powerful and yet ultimately very human ruler of China. I look forward to reading Min's next book.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Anchee Min's Empress Orchid gives the reader a glimpse into the life of an ordinary girl picked to become one of the seven wives of Emperor Hsien Feng in 1852. Though initially picked because of her beauty, and forgotten by the emperor after the newness wears off, Orchid becomes the emperor's most important wife because of her ability to comprehend official documents when the emperor cannot. This book follows Orchid's rise to power through her son, while serving as his advisor when the emperor becomes sick. With her faithful eunuch, Antehai at her side, Orchid deals with betrayal by her brother-in-law and the upcoming battle with the British. Orchid truly triumphs in a story that's rarely told from the female point of view of the Forbidden City.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A nicely written bit of historical fiction, but I never felt completely happy with the main character. I passed through phases of feeling suitably sorry for her, to wanting to smack her. Not the best ending in the world either. But a good story.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    In 2005 I read Becoming Madame Mao by Anchee Min. Although I only gave it 4 stars then, I still remember quite a bit about it and recommend it so I should probably up it to 5 stars. I finally picked up Min's other well-reviewed novel, Empress Orchid. It is set 100 years earlier in the 1850s when foreigners are invading china for the first time in thousands of years. If you like historical fiction, especially surrounding royalty, this is for you. Similar to Madame Mao I had no knowledge or understanding of China or the role women played in the history. The traditions and lifestyle of the court are difficult to wrap my head around, specifically the lives and traditions of the thousands of wives and concubines of the emperor.I need to also read Min's autobiography about growing up during the Cultural Revolution.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Min was born in Shanghai and came of age in China during the Cultural Revolution, and still visits there regularly. Being able to read Chinese, Min was able to extensively research her period using primary sources, so I trust her depiction of late Ching dynasty China is fairly accurate. This is written as the first person account of one of China's last empresses, Tzu Hsi aka Red Orchid, who came to the Forbidden City as one of the Emperor's brides when she was seventeen in 1853. Min presents a sympathetic portrait of a woman that contemporary Chinese texts described as "a mastermind of pure evil and intrigue." It's a fascinating picture of a milieu of lavish riches, elaborate etiquette and palace machinations, a world where Orchid is one of 3,000 concubines and power, even survival, is dependent upon alliances with eunuchs such as her "first attendant" An-te-hai. Her era was that of the Opium Wars and the Boxer Rebellion and did much to shape the China we know.I was riveted from the first page and through the first half or so of the book describing life in the palaces of the Forbidden City, and Min writes with a solid style, but I thought it later devolved into a romance novel. Ultimately I thought in trying to redeem this historical figure, Min whitewashes her a bit too much--and it's not that I've read any conflicting historical account of her. But reading between the lines, Orchid commits some ruthless, cruel acts. They're a bit breezily passed over in the novel as necessary to set an example or done against her will, but I wished Min had been more unflinching in her portrayal of the strong-willed woman who ruled China at the turn of the 20th Century.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book drew me in mainly because of the interesting details about life in the Forbidden City. At times I had no idea where the book was going to take me, which helped to keep me interested. The story seemed a bit rushed towards the end and was by far my least favourite part but overall this was an interesting read that has me wanting to visit the Forbidden City. I was a tad confused by the very last part of the ending but I think that was because I was reading too much into it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A fascinating novel from the perspective of a concubine in the Forbidden City. I highly recommend it!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I really enjoyed this book. A very interesting look into chinese history and culture. the imagery created paints a beautiful picture of the forbidden city. Empress Orchid is portrayed as a strong woman who becomes a great ruler.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    'Empress Orchid' begins Anchee Min's two-part story of the life of the remarkable 19th Chinese dowager empress, Tzu Hsi, also known as Lady Yehonala and Empress Orchid. I profess no expertise in Chinese history, but Min's portrayal of Tzu Hsi is decidedly revisionist and more favorable than the standard history, which was apparently originated by English writers wishing to portray the empress and China in a negative light. Empress Orchid describes Tzu Hsi's sudden rise from low, but poverty-stricken nobility when she was chosen as a wife and one of the numerous concubines of emperor Hsien Feng. Orchid avoids fading into anonymity with the help of her eunuch slave who arranges for the emperor to visit her bed. Having prepared herself carefully for such a visit, she wins the emperor's attention long enough to bear him his only son. This event gives her the opportunity, but no more, to move near the reins of power. Anchee Min describes court customs and costumes in great detail, but the heart of the book focuses on Orchid's attempts to outwit her competition and ensure her son's place as heir to the title of emperor. While the court intrigue dominates the front story, China is under assault from the West and from the Tai Ping rebellion. The imperial party must flee the Forbidden City. As the story closes, Orchid's son is named emperor and she outmaneuvers her internal enemies in the regency. A humiliating peace is negotiated with the British and French to end the Second Opium War. One knows that Empress Orchid must have been a remarkable woman to achieve long-lasting political power in imperial China. Anchee Min's Orchid demonstrates persistence in fighting for her son's power (and thus her own as well). She is not portrayed as a sharp political operator, but rather a somewhat reluctant one. While this book was enjoyable and interesting in its own right, it mainly serves to set the table for the main course, the story of the long reign of the dowager empress which Min continues in The Last Empress: A Novel. As good historical fiction does, 'Empress Orchid' whets the appetite for more information. Some related works that appear quite interesting, which I have not yet read myself, include Dragon Lady: The Life and Legend of the Last Empress of China by Sterling Seagrave and "Flashman ; the Dragon from the Flashman Papers, 1860" featuring the irrepressible Harry Flashman.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    In Empress Orchid, Anchee Min sets out to restore the reputation Empress Tsu Hsi, the last and longest-reigning female ruler of China. The book's outstanding feature is its attention to detail. Min spent months in Beijing researching the furnishings, rituals and personalities of the Forbidden City and her vivid descriptions are what makes the book so absorbing. Equally important is Min's careful depiction of the political situation of the time. Faced with gradually more outrageous encroachments by foreign powers, the 5,000-year-old Imperial system teetered on the edge of collapse and Min's careful depiction of this historical period grounds the book in reality. Tsu Hsi herself is a compelling character and Min avoids portraying her as a saint. The Empress is a fair and even-handed ruler not because of her heart of gold but because her keen intellect allows her to recognize the good of the people is in her own best interest. And if the Empress-to-be rises above the brutal intrigues of her fellow concubines, she does so out of fear rather than innate goodness. Min strikes the right balance between moving and schmaltzy, so I had few reasons to complain till the final scene of the book. If the Emperess had been a slightly more ambiguous character, this might have been a great novel rather than a really good one; still, I don't hesitate to recommend it to anyone looking for some high-brow escapism.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    An interesting insight into the life of the Forbidden City and in particular the women's role. Orchid manages to become one of the Emporer's wives and in so doing manages to drag her family out of poverty, however she then has to live without even seeing her family and endures a lonely and frustrating life. She works hard to become one of the Emporer's favourites and manages to involve herself in 'men's buisness'. It is a little slow sometimes and as is often the case with books set in foreign countries it can be difficult to remember various characters because of their names. I enjoyed it but was quite glad to finish it too. Read in Dec2010
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    An interesting perspective on this period of Chinese history. An easy read....I am looking forward to the sequels.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    What a great story!!! And a great uncompromising ending. For those who like to immerse themselves into foreign cultures, this is a great read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Very well written! Many fascinating historical points but also a well-written and entertaining character base and story.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    If you like historical fiction set in Eastern Asia then you'll probably love this book. It's a fairly well written and fairly powerful novel about the life of a girl named Orchid, a poor girl from a country family who applies and is ultimately accepted as one of the Emperor's head wives. Very enjoyable, though slightly sticky in some places and ultimately not a great book. I liked it, and I was pleased with it but the tone was a bit awkward and I never felt the proper connection for the characters that I was meant to feel. The ending was also a bit strange. Granted that it's difficult to make a novel based on actual events do all you want it to if what you would like to write didn't happen in real life, but I think that this novel strays enough from truth to have admitted more room for creativity and entertaining lightening of the subject and tone.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    There are two basic schools of historical fiction, I think. The first kind wants you to understand what it was like to live in the time and place in question, and so drowns you in detail and asks you to learn to swim in it. (The platonic ideal of this school is Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series.) The second kind wants you to remember that the historical figures are people, just like you, and so makes everything as much like your own life as possible so that you can never forget this. This book is most emphatically of the second school. And I am not a fan.

    The writing is incredibly flat and emotionless - I appreciate the descriptions of all the beautiful gowns, but they should not be the most moving thing in a book about a woman who gives up an ordinary life in order to become first the Emperor's concubine and later the Empress herself. And then between trying to make all the characters seem as much like ordinary people as possible and the terrible flatness of the prose, Tzu Hsi comes off as very, very passive. I don't claim to be an expert, but from what I have read about the woman from history, "passive" is not the word.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    "Love is survival, seduction is power, and treachery a way of life.."In this wonderful piece of historical fiction, we get a fictional account of the life of Orchid, the last empress of China. We follow her journey from poverty, to one of thousands of concubines, and eventually becoming one of the Emperor's seven wives. Life in the Forbidden City is tough and ruthless, and the way to the Emperer's attention and affection near impossible. As China's foreign problems increase, Orchid finds her life of loneliness getting even harder as she helplessly watches her country falling to pieces at her feet. I loved this book. I greatly enjoy reading about different cultures, and I especially enjoy reading about Asian culture. This combined with my love for historical fiction and romance made this novel a perfect fit for me.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book held my attention quite well, though it suffered slightly from telling more than showing. The writing was beautiful anyway. I'll definitely read the sequel, in any case.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Empress Orchid tells the tale of the early life of Empress Dowager Cixi, the last empress of China. She is a controversial figure, often blamed for the downfall of the Qing dynasty and Imperial China. It is somewhat accepted now that she may not have been as despotic as comtemporary press made her out to be, but she was definitely of a conservative and nationalistic political stance. Anchee Min's dramatisation of her early life is largely sympathetic and somewhat romantic.Orchid enters the Forbidden City at a long age, having been selected through open competition to be a concubine and wife to the Emperor Hsien Feng. Her early time in the compound are filled with loneliness and desolation as she remains unselected for the Imperial bed. She begins to play the system, resulting in becoming a favourite of the emperor, bearing him a male heir, and gaining exposure to the political and foreign pressures faced by the emperor.The book follows Orchid's life as the health of both the emperor and China itself decline. Orchid is forced to come into a more open role in order to secure the future of her son. We are treated to glimpses of a sympathetic, yet driven and manipulative character. Upon finishing the book, you aren't too sure who Orchid really was, whether she was truly a person capable of manouvers, or whether life in the Forbidden city had turned her into such a person.This is an excellently colourful book, packed with descriptions of the costumes and courts of the era. However, it also captures the sense of decline and confusion that must have been rampant in the China of the time.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    "Empress Orchid," which combines a tale of a powerful empire crumbling and a powerful empress rising, transported me back in time to 1852 China, and provided sharp insight into the life of Empress Dowager Cixi.Orchid is just an ordinary girl in China, dreading her upcoming arranged marriage, until she makes it into a very selective group of girls who will have a chance to become royal concubines, or perhaps even Empress. After passing, Orchid's life changes forever. She learns that beneath the mask of beauty in the Forbidden City lies treachery and betrayal. As she makes her way in and out of danger, Orchid observes and takes part in the politics of her country, and finds herself rising to power.This book was absolutely fascinating - one of my favorite books that I have ever read on historical China. I knew little of the infamous empress Cixi, so I came away from this feeling like I had learned much.Anchee Min describes the setting of the Forbidden City, which is present-day Beijing, in wondrous, lush detail. I felt that I could picture the gardens Orchid walks in, the fat koi in her ponds, the chambers filled with unimaginable wealth. I also felt the dark undertone to such ostentatious beauty as Orchid learns about the complex, unforgiving undercurrent of her new home. Betrayal, deceit, and spies are everywhere. The customs of the Chinese people at this time were very interesting to me as well. There is a sense of honor to some, arrogance to others, and utter frivolity to others. Min truly gives you a sense of the culture, and she takes the time to explain customs that would no doubt seem confusing or pointless to modern day, Western readers.And besides a setting and a culture, the author also weaves strong, memorable characters for us.There is the emperor, of course, a blatantly proud and spoiled man who has been handed an entire nation when he is so entirely undeserving of such power. He exercises his absolute influence with harsh punishments and decrees, but we see through Orchid's eyes that he is in fact simply a frightened, simple, and altogether weak man. Even though the author did not delve into his story all that much, she did a good job of making the reader both hate and sympathize with him.Niuhuru (spelled Nuharoo in the book, which is how her name is pronounced) was a character that I also found interesting. She is the beautiful, high born queen, the first chosen of the emperor, and therefore a rank above Orchid. She is stunningly beautiful, and while for most of the story she was a sweet, compassionate, and timid creature, there is a dark side to her as well. For example, a day after she speaks jealously with Orchid, Orchid's beloved cat is murdered. She schemes to take the Emperor away from Orchid, and she even attempts to have Orchid whipped while pregnant, which would most certainly have resulted in the unborn child's death. I wondered how much Niuhuru pretended, and what her nature truly was. And then there was An-te-hai, Orchid's forever faithful eunuch and personal attendant. His unwavering, selfless loyalty to his mistress is touching and at times heartbreaking, and the relationship between them is a very well written one. They depend on each other, and they love each other. Toward the end, when he tells Orchid about his dreams, we see further into his pain. He was a well written character without having to be mentioned all that much.There were other strong characters as well, but above them all stands our narrator, Orchid herself. She is a strong, intelligent, and insightful woman who at time seems wiser than all of the other governors and advisers and emperors. The phases of her life were recounted eloquently - her adjustment to the newfound wealth of being a royal concubine, her agonizing wait to be noticed by her husband, her love and loss of a king, her painful love for her son even after he is taken from her and raised to be everything she despises, and her desperate longing for someone to love her. I felt, by the end of the book, that I knew her. She will not be a character that I will soon forget, and Min's story has inspired me to research Empress Cixi in greater detail.This is a lovely, epic tale of China, through the eyes of one woman who ruled it.Highly recommended.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I loved it. The story of a girl overcoming hardships, set in the Forbidden City. She goes from nothing to becoming one of the most formidable women in China at the time. It's a work of fiction but is based on a real character, the Empress Dowager. This book only takes us through her early life though, before she becomes the Dowager empress and the story continues with the sequel. It was wonderful to soak up the atmosphere, pomp and ceremony from the pages and I can't wait to read what happens to her next.

Book preview

Empress Orchid - Anchee Min

First Mariner Books edition 2005

Copyright © 2004 by Anchee Min

All rights reserved

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to trade.permissions@hmhco.com or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

hmhbooks.com

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Min, Anchee, 1957—

Empress Orchid / Anchee Min.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references (p.).

ISBN 0-618-56203-6 (pbk.)

ISBN 0-618-06887-2

1. Cixi, Empress Dowager of China, 1835-1908—Fiction.

2. China—History—Guangxu, 1875–1908—Fiction.

3. Empresses—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3563.14614E47 2004

813'.54—dc22 2003056891

Frontispiece illustration by Jacques Chazaud

eISBN 978-0-547-34720-2

v4.0419

Author’s Note

All of the characters in this book are based on real people. I tried my best to keep the events the way they were in history. I translated the decrees, edicts and poems from the original documents. Whenever there were differences in interpretation, I based my judgment on my research and overall perspective.

For my daughter, Lauryann, and all the adopted daughters from China

Acknowledgments

My thanks go to my husband, Lloyd Lofthouse, to Sandra Dijkstra and the team at the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency, to Anton Mueller and the team at Houghton Mifflin, and to the Museum of Chinese History, the China National Library, the Shanghai Museum and the Forbidden City Museum in Peking.

My intercourse with Tzu Hsi started in 1902 and continued until her death. I had kept an unusually close record of my secret association with the Empress and others, possessing notes and messages written to me by Her Majesty, but had the misfortune to lose all these manuscripts and papers.

—SIR EDMUND BACKHOUSE, coauthor of China Under the Empress Dowager (1910) and Annals and Memoirs of the Court of Peking (1914)

In 1974, somewhat to Oxford’s embarrassment and to the private dismay of China scholars everywhere, Backhouse was revealed to be a counterfeiter . . . The con man had been exposed, but his counterfeit material was still bedrock scholarship.

—STERLING SEAGRAVE, Dragon Lady: The Life and Legend of the Last Empress of China (1992)

One of the ancient sages of China foretold that China will be destroyed by a woman. The prophecy is approaching fulfillment.

—DR. GEORGE ERNEST MORRISON, London Times China correspondent, 1892–1912

[Tzu Hsi] has shown herself to be benevolent and economical. Her private character has been spotless.

—CHARLES DENBY, American envoy to China,1898

She was a mastermind of pure evil and intrigue.

—Chinese textbook (in print 1949–1991)

The Forbidden City

Orchid’s palace

Imperial Gardens

Nuharoo’s palace

Lady Soo’s palace

Grand Empress’s palace

Lady Mei’s palace

Lady Hui’s palace

Lady Yun’s palace

Lady Li’s palace

Palace of Celestial Purity

Emperor’s palace

Senior concubines’ palace and temple

Hall of Preserving Harmony

Hall of Perfect Harmony

Hall of Supreme Harmony

Gate of Supreme Harmony

Prelude

THE TRUTH IS that I have never been the mastermind of anything. I laugh when I hear people say that it was my desire to rule China from an early age. My life was shaped by forces at work before I was born. The dynasty’s conspiracies were old, and men and women were caught up in cutthroat rivalries long before I entered the Forbidden City and became a concubine. My dynasty, the Ch’ing, has been beyond saving ever since we lost the Opium Wars to Great Britain and its allies. My world has been an exasperating place of ritual where the only privacy has been inside my head. Not a day has gone by when I haven’t felt like a mouse escaping one more trap. For half a century, I participated in the elaborate etiquette of the court in all its meticulous detail. I am like a painting from the Imperial portrait gallery. When I sit on the throne my appearance is gracious, pleasant and placid.

In front of me is a gauze curtain—a translucent screen symbolically separating the female from the male. Guarding myself from criticism, I listen but speak little. Thoroughly schooled in the sensitivity of men, I understand that a simple look of cunning would disturb the councilors and ministers. To them the idea of a woman as the monarch is frightening. Jealous princes prey on ancient fears of women meddling in politics. When my husband died and I became the acting regent for our five-year-old son, Tung Chih, I satisfied the court by emphasizing in my decree that it was Tung Chih, the young Emperor, who would remain the ruler, not his mother.

While the men at court sought to impress each other with their intelligence, I hid mine. My business of running the court has been a constant fight with ambitious advisors, devious ministers, and generals who commanded armies that never saw battle. It has been more than forty-six years. Last summer I realized that I had become a candle burnt to its end in a windowless hall—my health was leaving me, and I understood that my days were numbered.

Recently I have been forcing myself to rise at dawn and attend the audience before breakfast. My condition I have kept a secret. Today I was too weak to rise. My eunuch came to hurry me. The mandarins and autocrats are waiting for me in the audience hall on sore knees. They are not here to discuss matters of state after my death, but to press me into naming one of their sons as heir.

It pains me to admit that our dynasty has exhausted its essence. In times like this I can do nothing right. I have been forced to witness the collapse not only of my son, at the age of nineteen, but of China itself. Could anything be crueler? Fully aware of the reasons that contributed to my situation, I feel stifled and on the verge of suffocation. China has become a world poisoned in its own waste. My spirits are so withered that the priests from the finest temples are unable to revive them.

This is not the worst part. The worst part is that my fellow countrymen continue to show their faith in me, and that I, at the call of my conscience, must destroy their faith. I have been tearing hearts for the past few months. I tear them with my farewell decrees; I tear them by telling my countrymen the truth that their lives would be better off without me. I told my ministers that I am ready to enter eternity in peace regardless of the world’s opinions. In other words, I am a dead bird no longer afraid of boiling water.

I had been blind when my sight was perfect. This morning I had trouble seeing what I was writing, but my mind’s eye was clear. The French dye does an excellent job of making my hair look the way it used to—black as velvet night. And it does not stain my scalp like the Chinese dye I applied for years. Don’t talk to me about how smart we are compared to the barbarians! It is true that our ancestors invented paper, the printing press, the compass and explosives, but our ancestors also refused, dynasty after dynasty, to build proper defenses for the country. They believed that China was too civilized for anyone to even think about challenging. Look at where we are now: the dynasty is like a fallen elephant taking its time to finish its last breath.

Confucianism has been shown to be flawed. China has been defeated. I have received no respect, no fairness, no support from the rest of the world. Our neighboring allies watch us falling apart with apathy and helplessness. What is freedom when there has been no honor? The insult for me is not about this unbearable way of dying, but about the absence of honor and our inability to see the truth.

It surprises me that no one realizes that our attitude toward the end is comical in its absurdity. During the last audience I couldn’t help but yell, I am the only one who knows that my hair is white and thin!

The court refused to hear me. My ministers saw the French dye and my finely arranged hairstyle as real. Knocking their heads on the ground, they sang, Heaven’s grace! Ten thousand years of health! Long live Your Majesty!

One

MY IMPERIAL LIFE began with a smell. A rotten smell that came from my father’s coffin—he had been dead for two months and we were still carrying him, trying to reach Peking, his birthplace, for burial. My mother was frustrated. My husband was the governor of Wuhu, she said to the footmen whom we had hired to bear the coffin. Yes, madam, the head footman answered humbly, and we sincerely wish the governor a good journey home.

In my memory, my father was not a happy man. He had been repeatedly demoted because of his poor performance in the suppression of the Taiping peasant uprisings. Not until later did I learn that my father was not totally to blame. For years China had been dogged by famine and foreign aggression. Anyone who tried on my father’s shoes would understand that carrying out the Emperor’s order to restore peace in the countryside was impossible—peasants saw their lives as no better than death.

I witnessed my father’s struggles and sufferings at a young age. I was born and raised in Anhwei, the poorest province in China. We didn’t live in poverty, but I was aware that my neighbors had eaten earthworms for dinner and had sold their children to pay off debts. My father’s slow journey to hell and my mother’s effort to fight it occupied my childhood. Like a long-armed cricket my mother tried to block a carriage from running over her family.

The summer heat baked the path. The coffin was carried in a tilted position because the footmen were of different heights. Mother imagined how uncomfortable my father must be lying inside. We walked in silence and listened to the sound of our broken shoes tapping the dirt. Swarms of flies chased the coffin. Each time the footmen paused for a break the flies covered the lid like a blanket. Mother asked my sister Rong, my brother Kuei Hsiang and me to keep the flies away. But we were too exhausted to lift our arms. We had been traveling north along the Grand Canal on foot because we had no money to hire a boat. My feet were covered with blisters. The landscape on both sides of the path was bleak. The water in the canal was low and dirt-brown. Beyond it were barren hills, which extended mile after mile. There were fewer inns to be seen. The ones that we did come upon were infested with lice.

You’d better pay us, the head footman said to Mother when he heard her complaint that her wallet was near empty, or you will have to carry the coffin yourselves, madam. Mother began to sob again and said that her husband didn’t deserve this. She gained no sympathy. The next dawn the footmen abandoned the coffin.

Mother sat down on a rock by the road. She had a ring of sores sprouting around her mouth. Rong and Kuei Hsiang discussed burying our father where he was. I didn’t have the heart to leave him in a place without a tree in sight. Although I was not my father’s favorite at first—he was disappointed that I, his firstborn, was not a son—he did his best in raising me. It was he who insisted that I learn to read. I had no formal schooling, but I developed enough of a vocabulary to figure out the stories of the Ming and Ch’ing classics.

At the age of five I thought that being born in the Year of the Sheep was bad luck. I told my father that my friends in the village said that my birth sign was an inauspicious one. It meant that I would be slaughtered.

Father disagreed. The sheep is a most adorable creature, he said. It is a symbol of modesty, harmony and devotion. He explained that my birth sign was in fact strong. You have a double ten in the numbers. You were born on the tenth day of the tenth moon, which fell on the twenty-ninth of November 1835. You can’t be luckier!

Also having doubts regarding my being a sheep, Mother brought in a local astrologer to consult. The astrologer believed that double ten was too strong. Too full, the old hag said, which meant too easily spilled. Your daughter will grow up to be a stubborn sheep, which means a miserable end! The astrologer talked excitedly as white spittle gathered at the corners of her mouth. Even an emperor would avoid ten, in fear of its fullness!

Finally, at the suggestion of the astrologer, my parents gave me a name that promised I would bend.

This was how I was called Orchid.

Mother told me later that orchids had also been the favorite subject of my father’s ink paintings. He liked the fact that the plant stood green in all seasons and its flower was elegant in color, graceful in form and sweet in scent.

My father’s name was Hui Cheng Yehonala. When I close my eyes, I can see my old man standing in a gray cotton gown. He was slender with Confucian features. It is hard to imagine from his gentle look that his Yehonala ancestors were Manchu Bannermen who lived on horseback. Father told me that they were originally from the Nu Cheng people in the state of Manchuria, in northern China between Mongolia and Korea. The name Yehonala meant that our roots could be traced to the Yeho tribe of the Nala clan in the sixteenth century. My ancestors fought shoulder to shoulder with the Bannerman leader Nurhachi, who conquered China in 1644 and became the first Emperor of the Ch’ing Dynasty. The Ch’ing had now entered its seventh generation. My father inherited the title of Manchu Bannerman of the Blue Rank, although the title gave him little but honor.

When I was ten years old my father became the taotai, or governor, of a small town called Wuhu, in Anhwei province. I have fond memories of that time, although many consider Wuhu a terrible place. During the summer months the temperature stayed above one hundred degrees, day and night. Other governors hired coolies to fan their children, but my parents couldn’t afford one. Each morning my sheet would be soaked with sweat. You wet the bed! my brother would tease.

Nevertheless, I loved Wuhu as a child. The lake there was part of the great Yangtze River, which drove through China carving out gorges, shaggy crags, and valleys thick with ferns and grasses. It descended into a bright, broad, richly watered plain where vegetables, rice and mosquitoes all thrived. It flowed on until it met the East China Sea at Shanghai. Wuhu meant the lake of a luxuriant growth of weeds.

Our house, the governor’s mansion, had a gray ceramic-tile roof with the figures of gods standing at the four corners of the tilted eaves. Every morning I would walk to the lake to wash my face and brush my hair. My reflection in the water was mirror-clear. We drank from and bathed in the river. I played with my siblings and neighbors on the slick backs of buffalo. We did fish-and-frog jumps. The long bushy weeds were our favorite hiding places. We snacked on the hearts of sweet water plants called chiao-pai.

In the afternoon, when the heat became unbearable, I would organize the children to help cool the house. My sister and brother would fill buckets, and I would pull them up to the roof where I poured the water over the tiles. We would go back to the water afterward. P’ieh, bamboo rafts, floated by. They came down the river like a giant loose necklace. My friends and I would hop onto the rafts for rides. We joined the raft men singing songs. My favorite tune was Wuhu Is a Wonderful Place. At sunset Mother would call us home. Dinner was set on a table in the yard under a trellis covered with purple wisteria.

My mother was raised the Chinese way, although she was a Manchu by blood. According to Mother, after the Manchus conquered China they discovered that the Chinese system of ruling was more benevolent and efficient, and they adopted it fully. The Manchu emperors learned to speak Mandarin. Emperor Tao Kuang ate with chopsticks. He was an admirer of Peking opera and he hired Chinese tutors to teach his children. The Manchus also adopted the Chinese way of dressing. The only thing that stayed Manchu was the hairstyle. The Emperor had a shaved forehead and a rope-like braid of black hair down his back called a queue. The Empress wore her hair with a thin black board fastened on top of her head displaying ornaments.

My grandparents on my mother’s side were brought up in the Ch’an, or Zen, religion, a combination of Buddhism and Taoism. My mother was taught the Ch’an concept of happiness, which was to find satisfaction in small things. I was taught to appreciate the fresh air in the morning, the color of leaves turning red in autumn and the water’s smoothness when I soaked my hands in the basin.

My mother didn’t consider herself educated, but she adored Li Po, a Tang Dynasty poet. Each time she read his poems she would discover new meanings. She would put down her book and gaze out the window. Her goose-egg-shaped face was stunningly beautiful.

Mandarin Chinese was the language I spoke as a child. Once a month we had a tutor who came to teach us Manchu. I remember nothing about the classes but being bored. I wouldn’t have sat through the lessons if it hadn’t been to please my parents. Deep down I knew that my parents were not serious about having us master the Manchu language. It was only for the appearance, so my mother could say to her guests, Oh, my children are taking Manchu. The truth was that Manchu was not useful. It was like a dead river that nobody drank from.

I was crazy about Peking operas. Again, it was my mother’s influence. She was such an enthusiast that she saved for the entire year so she could hire a local troupe for an in-house performance during the Chinese New Year. Each year the troupe presented a different opera. My mother invited all the neighbors and their children to join us. When I turned twelve the troupe performed Hua Mulan.

I fell in love with the woman warrior, Hua Mulan. After the show I went to the back of our makeshift stage and emptied my wallet to tip the actress, who let me try on her costume. She even taught me the aria Goodbye, My Dress For the rest of the month people as far as a mile from the lake could hear me singing Goodbye, My Dress.

My father took pleasure in telling the background to the operas. He loved to show off his knowledge. He reminded us that we were Manchus, the ruling class of China. It is the Manchus who appreciate and promote Chinese art and culture. When liquor took hold of my father’s spirit, he would become more animated. He would line up the children and quiz us on the details of the ancient Bannerman system. He wouldn’t quit until every child knew how each Bannerman was identified by his rank, such as Bordered, Plain, White, Yellow, Red and Blue.

One day my father brought out a scroll map of China. China was like the crown of a hat ringed by countries eager and accustomed to pledging their fealty to the Son of Heaven, the Emperor. Among the countries were Laos, Siam and Burma to the south; Nepal to the west; Korea, the Ryukyu Islands and Sulu to the east and southeast; Mongolia and Turkestan to the north and northwest.

Years later, when I recalled the scene, I understood why my father showed us the map. The shape of China was soon to change. By the time my father met his fate, during the last few years of Emperor Tao Kuang, the peasant revolts had worsened. In the midst of a summer drought, my father didn’t come home for months. My mother worried about his safety, for she had heard news from a neighboring province about angry peasants setting their governor’s mansion on fire. My father had been living in his office and trying to control the rebels. One day an edict arrived. To everyone’s shock the Emperor dismissed him.

Father came home deeply shamed. He shut himself in the study and refused visitors. Within a year his health broke down. It didn’t take him long to die. Our doctor bills piled up even after his death. My mother sold all of the family possessions, but we still couldn’t clear the debts. Yesterday Mother sold her last item: her wedding souvenir from my father, a butterfly hairpin made of green jade.

Before leaving us, the footmen carried the coffin to the bank of the Grand Canal so we could see the passing boats, where we might get help. The heat worsened and the air grew still. The smell of decay from the coffin grew stronger. We spent the night under the open sky, tormented by the heat and mosquitoes. My siblings and I could hear one another’s stomachs rumbling.

I woke at dawn and heard the clattering of a horse’s hooves in the distance. I thought I was dreaming. In no time a rider appeared in front of me. I felt dizzy with fatigue and hunger. The man dismounted and walked straight toward me. Without saying a word he presented me with a package tied with ribbon. He said it was from the taotai of the local town. Startled, I ran to my mother, who opened the package. Inside were three hundred taels of silver.

"The taotai must be a friend of your father’s!" Mother cried. With the help of the rider we hired back our footmen. But our good luck didn’t last. A few miles down the canal we were stopped by a group of men on horses led by the taotai himself. A mistake has been made, he said. My rider delivered the taels to the wrong family.

Hearing this, Mother fell to her knees.

The taotai‘s men took back the taels.

Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed me and I fell on my father’s coffin.

The taotai walked to the coffin and squatted as if studying the grains of the wood. He was a stocky man with rough features. A moment later he turned to me. I expected him to speak but he didn’t.

You are not a Chinese, are you? he finally asked. His eyes were on my unbound feet.

No, sir, I replied. I am Manchu.

How old are you? Fifteen?

Seventeen.

He nodded. His eyes continued to travel up and down, examining me.

The road is filled with bandits, he said. A pretty girl like you should not be walking.

But my father needs to go home. My tears ran.

The taotai took my hand and placed the silver taels in my palm. My respects to your father.

I never forgot about the taotai. After I became the Empress of China I sought him out. I made an exception to promote him. I made him a provincial governor, and he was given a handsome pension for the rest of his life.

Two

WE ENTERED Peking through the south gate. I was amazed at the massive rose-colored walls. They were everywhere, one behind another, winding around the entire city. The walls were about forty feet high and fifty feet thick. At the hidden heart of the sprawling, low-lying capital sat the Forbidden City, the home of the Emperor.

I had never seen so many people in one place. The smell of roasting meat fluttered in the air. The street before us was more than sixty feet wide, and for a mile went straight to the Gate of Zenith. Along each side were rows of deep huddled mat-constructed booths and shops festooned with flags announcing their wares. There was so much to see: rope dancers twirling and spinning, fortunetellers throwing interpretations of the I Ching, acrobats and jugglers performing tricks with bears and monkeys, folksingers telling old tales in fanciful masks, wigs and costumes. Furniture craftsmen were busy with their hands. The scenes were right out of classic Chinese opera. Herbalists displayed large black dry fungi. An acupuncturist applied needles to a patient’s head, making him look like a porcupine. Repairers mended porcelain with small rivets, their work as fine as embroidery. Barbers hummed their favorite songs while shaving their customers. Children screamed happily while sly-eyed camels with heavy loads strutted elegantly by.

My eyes were drawn to sugar-coated berries on sticks. I would have felt miserable if I hadn’t seen a group of coolies carrying heavy buckets on bamboo poles across their bare shoulders. The men were collecting feces for the night-soil merchants. They moved slowly toward waiting boats by the canal.

A distant relative whom we called Eleventh Uncle received us. He was a tiny-framed, sour man from my father’s side. He wasn’t pleased with our arrival. He complained about his troubles running a dry-food shop. There hasn’t been much food to dry in recent years, he said. All eaten. Nothing left to sell. Mother apologized for the inconvenience and said that we would leave as soon as we got back on our feet. He nodded and then warned Mother about his door: It falls out of its frame

Finally we buried our father. There was no ceremony, because we couldn’t afford one. We settled down in our uncle’s three-room house, in a kinsman’s compound in Pewter Lane. In the local dialect, the compound was called a hootong. Like a spider web, the city of Peking was woven with hootongs. The Forbidden City was at the center, and thousands of hootongs made up the web. My uncle’s lane was on the east side of a street near the canal of the Imperial city. The canal ran parallel to the high walls and served as the Emperor’s private waterway. I saw boats with yellow flags travel down the canal. Tall trees were thick behind the walls like floating green clouds. The neighbors warned us not to look in the direction of the Forbidden City. There are dragons, the guardian spirits sent by the gods, living inside.

I went to the neighbors and peddlers at the vegetable market hoping to find work. I carried loads of yams and cabbages, and cleaned the stalls after the market closed. I made a few copper pennies each day. Some days no one hired me and I would come home empty-handed. One day, through my uncle, I landed a job in a shop specializing in shoes for wealthy Manchu ladies. My boss was a middle-aged woman called Big Sister Fann. Fann was a heavyset lady who liked to apply her face paint as thick as an opera singer’s. Her makeup flaked off in bits as she talked. Her oily hair was combed back tightly against her skull. She was known to have a scorpion mouth but a tofu heart.

Big Sister Fann was proud that she used to serve the Grand Empress of Emperor Tao Kuang. She had been in charge of Her Majesty’s dressing room, and she considered herself expert in court etiquette. She dressed magnificently but had no money to clean her clothes. During lice season, she would ask me to pinch off the lice around her neck. She would scratch herself raw under her armpits. When she caught the creatures, she crushed them between her teeth.

In her shop I worked with needles, waxed thread, twisters, pliers and hammers. First I decorated a shoe with strings of pearls, encrusting it with stones, then raised the sole on a central wedge, like a streamlined clog, which added extra height to the lady who would wear the shoe. By the time I got off work, my hair would be coated with dust and my neck painfully sore.

Nevertheless I liked to go to work. It was not only for the money, but also to enjoy Big Sister Fann’s wisdom about life. The sun doesn’t just hang on one family’s tree, she would say. She believed that everybody had a chance. I also loved her gossip about the royal families. She complained that her life had been ruined by the Grand Empress, who awarded her to a eunuch as a figurehead wife, dooming her to childlessness.

Do you know how many dragons are carved around the Hall of Heavenly Harmony in the Forbidden City? Above her misery she bragged about the glory of her time in the palace. Thirteen thousand eight hundred and forty-four dragons! As always, she answered her own question. It was the work of the finest craftsmen over generations!

It was from Big Sister Fann that I learned about the place where I would soon live for the rest of my life. She told me that the hall’s ceiling alone housed 2,604 dragons, and each had a different meaning and significance.

It took her a month to finish describing the Hall of Heavenly Harmony. I failed to follow Big Sister Fann and to keep count of the number of dragons, but she made me understand the power they symbolized. Years later, when I sat on the throne and was the dragon, I was very much afraid that people would find out that there was nothing to the images. Like all my predecessors, I hid my face behind the gorgeous carvings of dragons and prayed that my costumes and props would help me play the part right.

Four thousand three hundred and seven dragons inside the Hall of Heavenly Harmony alone! Gasping, Big Sister Fann turned to me and asked, Orchid, can you imagine the rest of the Imperial glory? Mark my words: a glimpse of such beauty makes one feel that one’s life has been worthy. One glimpse, Orchid, and you will never be an ordinary person again.

One evening I went to Big Sister Fann’s place for dinner. I lit a fire in the hearth and washed her clothes while she cooked. We ate dumplings stuffed with greens and soybeans. Afterward I served her tea and prepared her pipe. Pleased, she said that she was ready to tell me more stories.

We sat into the night. Big Sister Fann recalled her time with her first Majesty, Empress Chu An. I noticed that when she mentioned Her Majesty’s name, her voice had a worshipful tone. Chu An was scented with rose petals, herbs and precious essences since she was a child. And she was half woman and half goddess. She exhaled heavenly aromas as she moved. Do you know why there was no announcement and ceremony when she died?

I shook my head.

It had to do with Her Majesty’s son Hsien Feng and his halfbrother Prince Kung. Big Sister Fann inhaled deeply and continued. It took place about ten years ago. Hsien Feng was eleven and Kung was nine. I was part of the servant group who helped raise the boys. Among the nine sons Emperor Tao Kuang had, Hsien Feng was the fourth and Kung the sixth. The first three princes died of illness, which left the Emperor six healthy heirs. Hsien Feng and Kung showed the most promise. Hsien Feng’s mother was my mistress, Chu An, and Kung’s mother was the concubine Lady Jin, who was the Emperor’s favorite.

Big Sister Fann lowered her voice to a whisper. Although Chu An was the Empress, and as such enjoyed the greater power, she was extremely insecure about her son Hsien Feng’s chances for succession.

According to tradition, the elder son would be considered the heir. But Empress Chu An indeed had reason to worry. As the greater physical and intellectual talents of Prince Kung began to declare themselves, it gradually became obvious to the court that if Emperor Tao Kuang had good sense, he would select Prince Kung over Hsien Feng.

The Empress arranged a plot to get rid of Prince Kung, Big Sister Fann continued. My mistress invited the two brothers for lunch one day. The main meal was steamed fish. The Empress had her maid Apricot put poison on Kung’s plate. Now I would say that Heaven must have meant to stop this act. Right before Prince Kung lifted his chopsticks, the Empress’s cat jumped onto the table. Before the servants were able to do anything, that cat ate Prince Kung’s fish. Immediately the animal showed signs of poisoning. It wobbled, and in minutes it fell flat on the floor

Much later I would learn the details of the investigation conducted by the Imperial household. The first suspects were the people who worked in the kitchen. The chef, especially, was questioned. Knowing that he had little chance to live, he committed suicide. The next to be interrogated were the eunuchs. One eunuch confessed that he saw Apricot speak secretively with the chef on the morning of the incident. At that point Empress Chu An’s involvement was exposed. The matter was brought to the Grand Empress.

‘Fetch me the Emperor!’ Big Sister Fann mimicked the Grand Empress. Her voice echoed through the hall. I was attending my mistress and thus witnessed Her Majesty’s face turn from red to white.

Empress Chu An was found guilty. At first Emperor Tao Kuang didn’t have the strength to order her execution. He blamed the servant girl Apricot. But the Grand Empress stood firm and said that Apricot wouldn’t act alone even if she borrowed a lion’s guts. Eventually the Emperor gave in.

When Emperor Tao Kuang entered our palace, the Palace of Pure Essence, Her Majesty sensed that she had reached the end of her life. She greeted her husband on her knees and was unable to rise afterward. His Majesty helped her up. His swollen eyes showed that he had been crying. Then he spoke, expressing his regret that he could no longer protect her, and that she must die.

Big Sister Fann sucked on her pipe, unaware that it had gone out. As if accepting her fate, Empress Chu An stopped weeping. She told His Majesty that she knew her shame and would accept the punishment. Then she begged for a last favor. Tao Kuang promised to grant anything she wished. She wanted to keep the true reason for her death a secret. When the wish was granted, the Empress bade her husband farewell. She then sent me to fetch her son for the final time.

Tears began to well up in Big Sister Fann’s eyes. "Hsien Feng was a fragile-looking boy. From his mother’s face he sensed tragedy. Of course he wouldn’t have guessed that in the next few minutes his mother would be gone from the face of the earth. The boy brought his pet, a parrot. He wanted to cheer his mother up by making the bird talk. Hsien Feng recited his new lesson, one he had been having trouble with. She was pleased and hugged him.

"His laughter brought more sadness to the mother. The boy took out his handkerchief and wiped her tears. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She wouldn’t answer. Then he stopped playing and became scared. At that moment the sound of drums came from the courtyard. It was the signal to hurry Empress Chu An on her way. She held her son again. The drumbeat got louder. Hsien Feng looked terrified. His mother buried her face in his little vest and whispered, ‘I shall bless you, my son.’

The voice of the minister of the Imperial household echoed in the hallway. ‘Your Majesty the Empress, on your way, please!’ To protect her son from seeing the horror, Empress Chu An ordered me to take Hsien Feng away. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I stood like a dead tree trunk. Her Majesty came and shook me by the shoulders. From her wrist she took off a jade bracelet and tucked it in my pocket. ‘Please, Fann!’ She looked at me pleadingly. I woke to my senses and dragged the screaming Hsien Feng away from his mother. Outside the gate stood the minister. He was holding a piece of folded white silk—the hanging rope. Behind him were several guards.

I wept for the young boy Hsien Feng. Years later he would become my husband, and I kept a tender spot for him in my heart even after he abandoned me.

A tragedy foreshadows good luck. Let me tell you, Orchid. Big Sister Fann took the pipe from her lips and knocked the ashes out on the table. And this applies exactly to what happened next.

In the shadows of the candlelight, the story of my future husband continued. It was autumn, and the aging Emperor Tao Kuang was ready to choose a successor. He invited his sons to Jehol, the Imperial hunting ground in the north, beyond the Great Wall. He wanted to test their abilities. Six princes joined the journey.

The father told the sons that Manchus were known as great hunters. When he was their age he had killed more than a dozen wild animals in half a day—wolves, deer and boar of all sorts. Once he took home fifteen bears and eighteen tigers. He told the sons that his great-grandfather Emperor Kang Hsi was even better. Every day he rode six horses to exhaustion. The father then ordered the sons to show him what they could do.

Knowing his own weakness, Hsien Feng was depressed. Big Sister Fann paused for a beat. He knew that he wouldn’t survive the competition. He decided to withdraw but was stopped by his tutor, the brilliant scholar Tu Shou-tien. The tutor offered his student a way to turn defeat into victory. ‘When you lose,’ Tu said, ‘report to your father that it was not that you couldn’t shoot. Say that it was your choice not to shoot. It was for a virtuous reason such as benevolence that you refused to perform your hunting skills to their fullest.’

In Big Sister Fann’s words, the autumn hunting scene was grand. The bushes and weeds were waist high. Torches were lit to flush the wild animals. Rabbits, leopards, wolves and deer ran for their lives. Seventy thousand men on horseback formed a circle. The hunting ground thundered and quaked. The men slowly closed in. Imperial guardsmen followed each prince.

On top of the highest hill stood the father. He was on a black horse. His eyes followed his two favorite sons. Hsien Feng was dressed in a purple silk robe and Prince Kung in white. Kung charged back and forth. The animals fell one after another before his arrows. The guards cheered.

The sound of a trumpet called the hunters back at noon. The princes took turns presenting their father the animals they had shot. Prince Kung had twenty-eight. His handsome face was marked by the scratch of a tiger claw. The wound was seeping blood. His white robe was stained. He smiled with elation knowing that he had performed well. The other sons came. They showed their father the animals tied under the bellies of their horses.

Where is Hsien Feng, my fourth son? the father asked. Hsien Feng was summoned. He carried nothing under the belly of his horse. His robe was clean. You didn’t hunt. The father was disappointed. The son replied as the tutor had instructed: Your humblest son had trouble killing the animals. It was not because I refused Your Majesty’s order or lacked skill. It was because I was moved by the beauty of nature. Your Majesty taught me that autumn is the time when the universe is pregnant with spring. When I thought about all the animals that would be caring for their young, my heart felt for them

The father was stunned. Instantly, he made a decision on his heir.

The candle had gone out. I sat quietly. The moon was bright outside the window. The clouds were thick and white, like giant fish swimming across the sky.

It is my view that Empress Chu An’s death played a big part in the selection of the heir too, Big Sister Fann said. Father Emperor Tao Kuang felt guilty that he took the mother away from her child. The fact that he never granted Lady Jin the wish to be titled Empress after Chu An was the proof. My mistress got what she wanted after all

Isn’t Lady Jin the Grand Empress today? I asked.

"Yes, but she didn’t get that title from Tao Kuang. Hsien Feng gave it to her when he became the Emperor. Again it was Tu’s advice. The act helped to add greatness to Hsien Feng’s name. Hsien Feng understood that the public knew that Lady Jin was Chu An’s enemy. He wanted people to

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