She summoned Mother with her tears and sent her to me as an emissary. I offered a cushion to the Lady of the Kingdom of Rong who had hardly made herself comfortable before she started describing the agonies of imposed sterility and begging for my clemency.
Determined not to give in, I told her: “Only concubines, wives, officiators, servant girls, and ladies in finery—in fact all the women inscribed on the register of the gynaeceum—may conceive for His Majesty. The Lady of the Kingdom of Wei is a relation from the outside. She has palaces outside the crimson walls of the Forbidden City. Her freedom means she could conceive a child by a man in the ordinary world. If, by mistake, the Emperor recognized the infant as his own, it would be a terrible blow to the imperial lineage.”
“Majesty,” Mother began, trying to move me with her words, “I have survived every hardship in life thanks to my children. Without you I would have let myself die of grief when my husband died. The most appalling suffering in life is to be alone in old age. I do not want Harmony to end her days alone. My granddaughter is prepared to give up her freedom and to accept all the constraints of the Inner Court. Give her a title as an imperial concubine; she could have a child quite legitimately…”
“Good lady,” I interrupted her sharply, “in every era of dynastic history, imperial children have been used as weapons by ambitious favorites. The births of princes have brought more disruption than happiness. That is why the sovereign and I have decided to control women’s fertility to serve him. It is their duty to entertain the Son of Heaven and mine to be responsible for procreation. This ruling is a guarantee of peace within the Palace and of stability in the Empire. At present I have brought four sons into the world: The continuation of the dynasty is guaranteed; the sovereign is satisfied of that. He does not need any more children. Harmony will be lucky not to risk her life in childbirth. She will live longer, and her beauty will be more easily sustained. She should understand my concern and be grateful for it!”
“Majesty,” Mother said, falling to her knees and sobbing, “I shall soon die, and I want Harmony’s future to be secured while I am still alive. She is your niece. She owes you her upbringing and her destiny. She will always be your servant, indebted to you. Majesty, she will never betray you. Please let her know the joys of motherhood!”
I held my anger in check and lifted her to her feet as I said playfully: “Madam, are you encouraging incest now? Do you no longer fear the wrath of the gods? If Harmony is so determined about this idea, then she must leave the Capital, secretly marry someone, and have children!”
In that year the Emperor handed over all his political affairs to me. His signature on the decrees that I wrote was now a mere formality. The fate of an entire people weighed on my shoulders, and I was submerged in affairs of state. In the frenzy of work, I mourned Elder Sister. I went to bed late at night and rose early in the morning, and I was no longer concerned about the sovereign who had stopped visiting my bedchamber.
My silence and indifference only increased Harmony’s resentment. She secretly accused me of having killed her mother with poison and claimed that she in turn was in danger. When I was informed of her strange complaints, I summoned her and reprimanded her fiercely. The favorite kept her head lowered, but there was a provocative irony in her prostration. News of my anger spread, and the next day the sovereign brought me a precious gift: The preface to The Orchid’s Pavilion written by the master calligrapher Wang Xi Zhi. My heart leapt with joy, but I was still wary and with good cause: He went on to express his wish to confer a vacant title of concubine on Harmony.
“Majesty,” I told him, “your servant has never forgotten that she was once a Talented One in your august father’s court, and she is still infinitely grateful to Your Majesty who defied custom by making her Empress. But would it be sensible for Your Majesty to turn his back on conventions twice in the same reign by receiving the niece of this Empress—whose legitimacy is still contested—into the Gyneaceum ten years later? Imagine the consternation of the Outer Court and the rest of the world! Future historians will not be able to distinguish between love and flippancy or sincerity and perversion. Their frivolous comments would cast a shadow over Your Majesty’s glorious reputation! Would Your Majesty deign to give me an answer: Is there a difference between an imperial wife and the favor the Lady of the Kingdom of Wei enjoys? Your Majesty’s generosity is boundless, and this favorite has not been neglected in any way. Why make a change for the worse when Your Majesty treads the path of righteousness?”
My celestial husband lost heart, and I spoke in a softer voice: “My mother, the honorable Lady of the Kingdom of Rong, has spoiled Harmony. This young woman belongs to a new generation that knows nothing of duty and sacrifice. Her boredom is the sickness that comes with a life of luxury and leisure. I shall put her to work! Would she like to conduct the Inner Institute of Letters?”
THE EUNUCHS’ CRIES shattered the calm of my palace. My intendant, still breathless from running frantically, threw himself at my feet: “His Majesty the Emperor has secretly called Great Secretary Shang Guan Yi to his offices. He has asked him to draw up an edict to have Your Majesty dismissed!”
I threw down the brush I was using to make notes on ministerial letters. I did not even wait for my litter to arrive but picked up the hem of my dress and strode out. I was crushed under a weight of conflicting emotions. I admired the poet Shang Guan Yi’s literary talent and his moral rectitude and had asked the sovereign to confer the seal of Great Secretary on him. Instead of showing gratitude, he was now plotting my downfall. His betrayal did not hurt me, but it cast doubt on my intuition about character. How could I have been mistaken? After Wu Ji’s death, when Loyalty was deposed as heir, I had eliminated all their close supporters, but, not wanting to see too much blood spilt, I had limited the scope of the persecutions. Was it the survivors of these events who were scheming for their revenge now? My role as advisor to the sovereign had shocked the dignitaries bristling with ancestral prejudices who relegated women to the ranks of animals and children. They had become increasingly anxious and dissatisfied as my authority grew. They saw my part in political life as nothing better than meddling. Was it they who were plotting to distance me from power? Harmony was the third possible threat within the Inner City. I realized that my own niece had become a dangerous rival. Without her slanderous words that had instilled doubts in my husband’s heart, would he have taken this step?
As I drew aside the door to his offices, I saw the color drain from the Emperor’s face. A scroll of paper was spread out on a low table before him; the ink was still wet. He tried in vain to cover it with the sleeves of his tunic. Behind him the Great Secretary Shang Guan Yi had backed away as I came in, and he had melted into the shadows.
I fell to my knees.
“Twenty five years of agreement and happiness, four imperial princes—the fruits of a union that I believed would last forever—is all this already coming to an end? Majesty, have you forgotten our daughter’s death, have you forgotten Future’s difficult birth, all the turmoil we have confronted? If I were sterile, I would be resigned to the dishonor of dismissal and the pain of abandonment without speaking out to defend myself. But the heir to the throne and the imperial princes will demand an explanation. What should I tell them? Ever since Your Majesty conferred the position of Empress on me, not one day, not one night has passed when I have not thought of my responsibilities and my duty: to incarnate celestial goodness, to help Your Majesty, to keep harmony in the Forbidden City, and to be a model to all Chinese women. If I have committed unforgivable errors, if I have failed in my commitments, if I have neglected my virtue as a woman, please tell me of these things before repudiating me!”
Unsure how to react, the Emperor stammered: “I have been told that you brought a Taoist into the palace and that you asked him to use evil magic. I have been told that you wanted to dispose of me and become regent. You know that the use of witchcraft is punishable by death.”
“I k
new Your Majesty,” I interrupted him, “when he still bore the title of King of Jin. Ever since then my fate has been tied up with his. I have followed Your Majesty as you have risen. Now I am like a wave carried by the power of the ocean. Without his support, without his generosity, I would be the froth on the beach that evaporates at dawn. I cannot help but wish Your Majesty ten thousand years of life. Have you already forgotten? When you were first struck with a migraine, you ordered me to find monks who might exorcise the demons haunting the Inner Palaces. The leader of the Taoist monks on the Mountain of the Celestial Terrace recommended Master Gou. To trick the evil spirits that manifest themselves a thousand different ways, he disguised himself as a eunuch and proceeded to pursue them with utmost discretion. I said nothing of this to not frighten Your Majesty. You could speak to him yourself and to the leader of the Taoist monks and to the eunuch who is Great Intendant of the Inner Court. The malicious rumors you have heard are trying to destroy the harmony between us, which is the envy of many, but lies can never stand up to the clarity of the truth. Majesty, please verify what your servant has told you before accusing her unjustly: Call for an enquiry! The facts and the witnesses will persuade you of my innocence.”
“It is true,” said the Emperor, scratching his head, “that the hatred and ambition people have attributed to you are unlikely from you. I do now remember that order…”
My anger and my indignation finally exploded: “Am I a usurper? Am I a plotter and an assassin? While empresses from previous dynasties tried to submit governments to the authority of their relations from outside the Palace, I exiled my own brothers to distant provinces to show the entire world my selflessness. What more could I ask for in this life when my husband is the Emperor, my son is the heir, and I carry twenty-four trees in blossom on my headdress? Granted, I read the political reports that Your Majesty entrusts to me, and I occasionally give the Court advice, but my position as Empress and my duties as Mother of the People grant me those responsibilities. How could I silence my opinions when Your Majesty has always encouraged me to express them? For ten whole years, I have been working constantly for the prosperity of the dynasty. How can my commitment to the greatness of the Empire be confused with ambition or my devotion to Your Majesty be distorted into crimes of a usurper?”
I moved toward him on my knees.
“Majesty, show me what you have written.”
The Emperor flushed with shame. He picked up the imperial decree and tore it to pieces.
“It was not I; it was Shang Guan Yi who wrote it. Do not hold this against me.”
“Shang Guan Yi,” I said, turning toward him, “when His Majesty raised you to the position of Great Secretary, it was so that you could act as his best adviser. Instead of showing gratitude and serving the cause of the Empire, you have manipulated his trust and sown discord through the Palace! Do you acknowledge your crimes?”
Silent and quaking with fear, the traitor struck his forehead on the ground.
Once back at my palace, I sent a letter to the Great Chancellor Xu Jing Zong, ordering him to lead an investigation into Shang Guan Yi and the eunuch Wang Fu Sheng who had slandered my name. In three days he untangled the threads of a dark plot: Ten years earlier Shang Guan Yi had been an advisor in the Eastern Palace of the heir Loyalty where the eunuch Wang Fu Sheng was in charge of running the palace affairs. When Loyalty lost his title and was banished from the Capital, the two vassals had sworn to ensure their master’s return. By pretending to be upright and loyal to the sovereign, they had earned his trust and duped the vigilance of the government.
On the morning of the thirteenth day of the twelfth moon, eunuch messengers ran constantly to and fro through the corridors of the Forbidden City bringing me news of the audience.
After the prostrations, the Great Chancellor’s resounding voice boomed: “Majesty, ever since her accession, the Empress’s virtue has illuminated the entire land of China. The fragrance of her reputation has been carried on the wind and spread to the furthest limits of the deserts and the very extremities of the oceans. Not one day has passed in which the Yellow People in this vast world under the heavens have not rejoiced in this favor granted them by the gods. Defaming the Mistress of the Empire and plotting against the Mother of the Supreme Son is to commit a crime against the sovereign who appointed her. Behind these traitors whose faces have been revealed today lurks the shadow of the commoner Loyalty, who was banished from Court for addressing disrespectful words to Your Majesty. Instead of meditating on filial piety, the banished commoner has disguised himself as a woman and trained in witchcraft; he intends to raise an army against the Court, clinging to the feverish hope that he will one day be Master of the World. He is behind this plot that stands to serve his ambitions! Here are his servants’ confessions and the intercepted letters between Shang Guan Yi and his former master.”
A good many ministers stepped forward from their positions and took turns to speak. Some praised me, and others denounced the conspiracy. The sovereign ordered the arrest of the guilty parties. The soldiers of the guard took up their arms and seized Shang Guan Yi, who protested his innocence in vain. They tore off his cap that had distinguished him as a scholar, his ivory tablet, and his dignitary’s belt. With his hair awry and his tunic torn, he was dragged from the audience hall.
It was not long before judgment was passed: Three ministers of justice unanimously called for the death sentence against the principle conspirators. The imperial decree fell, and Shang Guan Yi and Wang Fu Sheng were executed along with their entire families. In the house where he was living under close surveillance, Loyalty received orders to commit suicide. In Court, Liu Xiang Dao lost his title of Great Minister for having been a close friend to Shang Guan Yi. I exiled every politician about whom there was the least whiff of suspicion.
The sovereign was affected by the betrayal of those he had believed to be loyal. When he had ordered Shang Guan Yi to write the edict for my deposition, he had been acting out of anger. Now how appalled he was to realize that a marital quarrel had served the purposes of a huge conspiracy! When I had refused to grant Harmony a title as concubine, enraged, the Emperor had realized that my authority overshadowed his own.
After our reconciliation, I was more careful about how I behaved and expressed myself. I was annoyed with myself for neglecting a man’s pride and a sovereign’s sensibilities. The incident dulled Little Phoenix’s appetite for politics. He was tormented by arthritis and headaches; incapacitated by these difficulties, he could no longer concentrate on debates. On the grounds that peace and prosperity reigned over the Empire, he abolished the morning salutations held at dawn every day, and the officials now gathered only every other day. Soon, weary of asking questions and holding discussions in his audiences, he suggested having a gauze screen behind his throne and putting my seat there.
People had known for some time that the sovereign made no decisions without consulting me and that eunuch messengers went backward and forward between the Outer City and the gynaeceum during audiences. This shuttling lost a great deal of time for the government and delayed emergencies. Never in the history of the dynasties had an empress reigned behind a curtain while her husband was alive, but, since Shang Guan Yi’s execution, the dignitaries had been afraid of angering me. The plan received approval from the majority; I stepped outside the City of Women for the first time and attended the audience with my husband.
The first year of the Era of the Crowned Sky was marked by the consecration of Tai Mountain. The splendor of this event erased the shadow cast over Court by the traitors’ executions. Great Remission was granted to the world, and several banished officials saw their exclusion from the Capital reversed. My cousins in their distant postings immediately asked for permission to come and congratulate me. Half way through the seventh moon, both men, who had waited patiently for their turn in the imperial lodgings, were able to prostrate themselves at my feet. In keeping with custom, they offered me specialties from the regions in which
they were posted.
I deigned to invite them to a family feast with Mother, Harmony, and Intelligence in the Inner palace. The awnings were raised round the hall, letting darkness glide over our gowns. The wind rustled through the chrysanthemums and breathed its bitter perfume over us. Dancing girls waved their sleeves of orange and mauve brocade. Their melancholy voices sang of the wild geese leaving for far-off lands.
The eunuchs carried in lychee wine brought by my cousins. The elder of the two brothers stood up, poured the wine into my goblet, and offered it to me. I ordered Harmony to test the temperature because, according to legend, this wine was drunk very cold. The Lady of the Kingdom of Wei stood up and emptied the glass.
“Delicious.”
Her voice strangled in her throat. She was gripped by a violent convulsion, and she rolled to the ground, groaning terribly. Then she suddenly stopped moving. Eunuchs and servants ran in. I screamed murder and had my cousins seized. Mother fainted. Intelligence turned over his sister’s stiffened body: Black blood was flowing from the five orifices of her face. She was dead.
The following day the moon was full. The banquet celebrating the middle of autumn was cancelled. The Emperor dined alone with me. He drowned his heartbreak in drunken tears and promised to condemn to death the two men who had failed in their attempt to poison me.
The moon in all her immaculate purity hung in the sky, laughing at this world of dust. She congratulated me for my carefully considered maneuvers and invited me to share in her eternal solitude.
AT THE AGE of ninety-one, Mother abandoned our sullied earth. The thought of her parting had tormented me for so long that once it had become a reality, it distressed me less. During her lifetime, she had never completely understood me. Now that she was dead, she had joined the divinities that brightened my nights with their gentle shining. Her funeral arrangements provided an opportunity for an extraordinary display of wealth and esteem. The sovereign abstained from appearing at the morning audience three times, and the Court and government followed their master’s example by observing the deep mourning usually reserved for empresses. The Chinese people dressed in linen and hemp to weep her august passing. Monasteries at the four corners of Earth rang their bells and prayed for her celestial journey. The glorious apotheosis that Mother enjoyed after her death was proof of my power. On the day of her burial, the funeral cortege processing out of the town stretched for more than one hundred lis. After the Emperor’s parade and the parade of kings and princesses, came the ministers, foreign princes, dignitaries, and crowds of common people. Over and above all this pomp and splendor, I wanted the woman who had brought me into the world to be paid special homage. The imperial regiments played their horns, blew their war bugles, and beat their battle drums. Like the Princess of the Sun of Ping, an exceptional woman who had fought to found the dynasty, Mother was to leave our world with the military honors granted only to men.