Empress

  I felt my pulse pounding at my temples. I stopped and sneered: “My grandfather and my maternal uncle were Great Ministers. My mother is the Emperor’s cousin. We are noble, and you, you are commoners, barefoot and worthless, lowlier than dogs!”

  “The maternal line counts for nothing,” Sheep replied. “Who do you think you are? You’re a commoner just like us! Commoner!”

  The chorus went on all the louder: “Commoner! Commoner! The toad wants to think he’s an ox. He puffs himself up…and up…and bursts!”

  Ever since infancy, my identity had been modeled on Mother’s, and she never tired of describing how powerful the Yang clan had been in the days of the old dynasties. Her tales had communicated their pride to me and to be called a commoner by that gang of urchins was one insult I could not tolerate.

  I let go of Little Sister’s hand and threw myself at Sheep. With one swift blow of my head, I knocked him to the ground. No child from the village had ever dared insult this gang-leader who was known for his strength. Dumbstruck, the gang stepped back and let me roll on the ground with my opponent. Having recovered from the initial daze, he was now punching me. Strangely, this did not hurt; I screamed and struggled, making full use of my nails. Somewhere in the grass, my fingers brushed against a large stone. I picked it up and brought it crashing down on Sheep’s head.

  Back at home, Mother washed me, dressed my wounds, and did not scold me.

  “Venerable Mother,” I said as I lay on my bed, “Sheep said that your heritage counts for nothing. Only the father’s origins count. Am I a commoner like all my cousins?”

  She thought for a moment and replied: “Long ago the Emperor of Peace from the ancient Zhou dynasty had several sons. The lines on his second son’s hand featured the august word ‘warrior.’6 When he divided up the Empire, he gave him the domain of Wu, and all his descendants bear its name. Now, the kingdom and the palaces have disappeared, and wars have scattered the former inhabitants of the Yellow River region. A new people emigrated into the alluvial plain. Your origins have become a secret that ill-educated men will never know. It is true that in The Book of Identities your father’s clan, Wu, is classified as a Minor Name. But don’t forget that the source of your clan goes back to time immemorial. One of your ancestors is the Emperor of Peace, venerated by sovereigns from all the former dynasties!”

  As a punishment, the clan council voted to have me locked up. There was a dilapidated pavilion called Regret in the cemetery. An elderly guard passed food to me through a tiny window, and I lived in darkness with rats, fleas, and cockroaches. During the day I lay with my hands behind my head and drifted in and out of sleep. The silence of the cemetery was more deafening than the roar of a river. When the sun disappeared, the wind would wail mournfully like a woman. Footsteps, snapping twigs, someone breathing; all these sounds hovered round the walls. I closed my eyes and saw colored shapes, dancing flames, white figures and threads of red. When I opened my eyes, I could make out ghosts in the darkness. They wanted to strangle me, to drag me into the eternal shades, but I would chase them out of my room, furiously shaking a broom.

  Over the three months after my release from the pavilion, I secretly hoarded rat poison. When I had accumulated a large enough dose, I slipped into the stables.

  A few days later the horse that had been a gift from Great General Li Ji died. Eldest Brother blamed it on his groom who fled, fearing a fatal punishment. The men of the clan regretted this death for a long time. They would sigh and say: “He was a magnificent steed.”

  FIVE NIGHTS SPENT in the Ancestor’s cemetery—that was enough to impress all the children in the village. Sheep could not hide his admiration: His gang of urchins became my escort and my servants.

  The summer of my twelfth birthday was upon us. To the south of the River Long, the shy retiring hills shrank into a cloak of mist; to the north of the Yellow River, the shameless mountains revealed their forests and their peaks like open books.

  I came of age to serve the Goddess of Silk. Every morning, barefoot and without a ladder, I would climb the mulberry trees and pick the tenderest leaves to feed the silk worms. Up in the tops of the trees, I could sense their roots tunneling through the dark earth and see their gnarled arms embracing the sun. Their luxuriant foliage whispered the mysteries of an invisible kingdom. Sometimes I would glimpse the train of a mauve tunic or a green stole. The girls of the village said it was one of the Goddess’s servants coming to oversee our work.

  Out in the fields the sprouting wheat and maize, the sorghum and sugar cane creeped toward the sky. Soon they surrounded our village. At noon, when the adults were resting with straw hats over their faces, I would run through this ocean of green waves and play war games with the young boys of the clan.

  At dusk I would sit by the gate, resting my head on my hands, and watch the clouds bedecking themselves in shimmering colors. The cumulus clouds created faces, mountains, lakes, and drifting boats. Sometimes they would reveal palaces with roofs of crystal, embellished with gold columns and steps of lapis lazuli.

  The period of deep mourning came to an end. After the ceremony in which I first wore my hair in a topknot, I was ready to fulfill my destiny as a woman. The clan began having talks with a number of local families, but Father’s death had diminished my value, and my brothers were offering only a meager dowry. The few families that showed any interest in this alliance were those of minor landowners.

  Mother rejected these unworthy suitors. The Clan Council were impatient to find me a husband and decreed that they would forego her opinion. Mother, who had always been so conciliatory, then lost all her calm. She ordered that we should pack our things and go back to the Capital. The cousins confiscated our belongings and our carriages. I watched this conflict with detachment. At thirteen, I had lost my childish puppy fat; I was fine and slender and wore trousers like a boy. I was not afraid of marriage. Ever since Eldest Sister had left, I had understood that this banishment was every girl’s inevitable future. I could marry an untouchable, a dwarf, a madman, an old man…and it would be a pleasure to be exiled from that village. I pitied Mother for her blindness: The men of the clan would impose their authority. Sometimes, weary of the ridiculous arguments, I thought it might be simpler to set fire to the grain stores one windy night—the village would perish in the flames, and I would be done with this miserable world.

  One morning, an ordinary morning like any other, when I was sharing out the mulberry leaves to the silk worms, a military messenger arrived at the village and gave a letter to the head of the clan. As I swept the courtyard, the elderly uncle unrolled the letter and read it. I was wandering dreamily through the woods, listening to the birdsong, when the head of the clan went to see Mother and showed her the confidential communication. On my return I thought the village seemed strangely quiet; children stood watching for me in doorways; the men were drinking in the principal room; the women were behind curtains, sitting round Mother and smiling at me.

  The Great Uncle told me the news: Great General Li Ji, Governor Delegate of our province, had spoken highly of me at the Imperial Court. I was to be called for by a decree from the sovereign to go into service in the Forbidden City.

  DISCONCERTED BY THIS unhoped-for honor, the clan decided to move us into a larger, more comfortable house, although they did not actually return our belongings. The women looked at us differently: I could see indignation and envy in their eyes. I lost the freedom to run through the fields and the right to wear trousers. I was confined to my apartments and was subjected to treatments to lighten my skin, which had been tanned by the sun.

  Two years after our conversation over a cup of tea, I could only half remember the Great General’s face, which I had scarcely seen. But his voice still rang in my ears: It had a magnificent resonance, like some magical scale that allowed my imagination to climb toward a world of inaccessible heights.

  The Emperor was no common mortal! As the Son of Heaven, he had the celestial mandate to govern all men. He
was protected by the gods, taught by great philosophers, and watched over by benevolent spirits; he was a demigod. His mind was agile as an eagle, his body majestic as a dragon. In the Imperial City, he had the support of ministers and generals, the heroes of our world; in the Inner City, the most beautiful women took turns to fulfill his least desire. To serve the Emperor was to venerate Heaven and Earth, which blessed us with peace and prosperity.

  Mother was distraught. She gave me lessons in applying makeup and dressing myself. She crammed my head full of her recipes for cosmetics and medicines. She oversaw my trousseau and tried as best she could to explain the rules of Court to me. Her monologues would sometimes grind to a halt, and she would be unable to hold back her tears and sighs. Going to the kingdom of the divine Emperor would be a one-way journey; I was giving up the outside world forever. The sovereign had no fewer than ten thousand serving women in his gynaeceum. Only very few ever found favor with the Emperor and knew the joys of motherhood. I was too wild, not beautiful enough, and I did not have a powerful father behind me: I had no hope of standing out. I would live and die there, an ephemeral flower living one brief season and never truly blooming.

  A delegation of imperial servants dressed in yellow and white tunics arrived. Their leader, a clean-shaven man with a voice like a woman’s, inspected the house, explained what form the ceremony would take, gave every detail of the codes of protocol, and ordered pavilions to be built to receive the imperial edict. The summer passed, and the red mulberries turned black behind their foliage. The day of my departure drew near. Mother gave me no peace with her frantic advice and warnings. Little Sister followed me everywhere. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of torpor; my desperate longing to leave the village made me immune to their pain.

  An envoy of warriors arrived and presented me with the dowry offered by the Governor Delegate: bolts of brocade, jewelry, books, and fans. When they left, I drifted through the village. I could hear crickets and grasshoppers chirping in cracks of the walls. I felt sorry for those immutable houses: I could not wait to leave.

  At dawn one morning, a troop of horsemen appeared on the horizon. All three hundred members of the clan greeted them on bended knee. The Palace envoy stepped down from his carriage, came into the courtyard, and climbed the steps. He unrolled a document and raised his voice: “The second daughter of Wu Shi Yue, descended from a respectable clan, has studied the rites since infancy and has learned to deport herself peacefully and graciously. Her fame has spread through all the gynaecea in the Empire. In keeping with ancient rulings, the Court now honors her with a position in the inner service, with the title of Talented One of the fifth imperial rank. Accept the sovereign’s wish, his immeasurable glory and eternal light!”

  A cheer of gratitude rang out: “Ten thousand years to the Emperor! Ten thousand years of well-being to the Emperor! Ten thousand and ten million years of well-being to the Emperor!”

  My heart leapt with pride. As Talented One of the fifth rank, I immediately overtook my brothers in the imperial hierarchy; they were officials of the seventh rank. The next time we saw each other they would have to prostrate themselves at my feet!

  Mother and Little Sister wept. To console them, I pronounced these words that had been tumbling round my heart for days: “My position at the Palace is our one opportunity. Have confidence in my destiny. Do not weep.”

  Tears are the weapons of the weak and the condolence of the powerful. Little Sister ran behind my carriage. She was no longer a child; she had become a pale, slim adolescent. She waved her arms and was soon nothing but a dark shape in the vast blaze of autumn.

  Lulled by the jolting carriage, I too cried. I hated myself for being cold and hard. Little Sister loved me more than I loved her. I was the tree that had stretched its foliage over the entire kingdom of her life. She was a stowaway who had huddled in the safety of my shade. Without me, she would wither and dry up.

  ONE MORNING LONG Peace detached itself from the clouds on the horizon. Lit up by the sun, its tall ramparts topped with armed pavilions and surveillance towers looked like a celestial crown laid down on the Central Plain.

  A crowd had gathered at the gates. The blues, reds, yellows, and greens of trousers and tunics jostled together, and the wind spread the smell of spices, incense, urine, and fruit. Under the willow trees along the moat, there were horses, oxen, and camels grazing, sneezing lazily, and dozing. There were men in turbans sitting on mats outside their tents. While they waited for a pass to go into the town, they sat eating and haggling amongst themselves. My carriage and its escort traveled past this hubbub of different languages and headed into a long tunnel carved out of walls.

  I felt swamped by the sheer noise of the largest city on Earth. The loud cries of the street hawkers mingled with the clatter of horses’ hooves, the lowing of oxen, the din from various workshops, and the chiming of bells. From behind the curtain at my window, everything seemed to gleam. The trees vibrated. The air was full of silver clouds. I devoured every sight: the horses’ sumptuous bridles, their riders’ extravagant hats, the pilgrim monks in their ragged clothes, the trading stalls, and their heaps of wares. There was a succession of enclaves surrounded by high walls. I held tightly to a little purse that had a lock of Mother’s hair plaited together with Little Sister’s. I found comfort in the thought of all those aunts and cousins who had never left their corner of the countryside. I thought of my mother, who had given up all this; of Little Sister, who would marry a country peasant; of her square courtyard; her beasts of burden; and her fields. I swore to myself that one day I would give them new dignity.

  My carriage was already traveling through eternity. I was tiny, alone, and naked. I was moving toward a man, a god, and an empire.

  AT THE END of the Avenue of the Scarlet Bird, a crimson wall transformed into a thin line and then into a mountain chain. Having followed the moat around the Imperial City, the military escort came to a halt by a doorway; only carriages could go inside. After walking a short distance, the retinue also came to a halt. Some women held the curtain aside, and I saw a wide pathway paved with golden bricks in the middle of wood. An exquisite fragrance filled my nose. The bustle and noise of the world of men had stopped. I was surrounded by a perfectly unblemished ceremonial silence. I could hear my heart beating. How vulgar that beating sounded now!

  A group of servant women greeted me respectfully. They were holding golden basins, silver containers, and towels of woven gold thread, and they asked me to wash my hands and face, then to climb into a litter. I was carried through the forest and then through more walls and gateways. As I made my way deeper and deeper into that sacred land, I began to hear almost imperceptible sounds, the whisper of the leaves, a plucking of stringed instruments, and the tinkle of waterfalls.

  We stopped in front of a moon-shaped gate, and I was invited to step down and go into a pavilion. I sat waiting in the middle of a room decorated with frescoes, facing a doorway that looked out over a calm courtyard where a rockery was smothered by an ivy with red berries. Four young girls came toward me along a gallery, taking slow swinging steps and keeping their heads lowered. They came up the steps and into the room with soap, towels, glasses, jugs, and bowls. They washed my hands again and rinsed out my mouth. When they disappeared in a rustle of silk, four more girls appeared to set out a number of low tables and cover them with small dishes.

  At home, eating heartily was a great pleasure. Under the gaze of these distinguished servants, I was afraid they might laugh at my manners, so I ate only a few mouthfuls. I was astonished by how refined the imperial dishes were: The vegetables were the texture of meat, the meat tasted like game, and the game looked like flowers.

  A bronze bathing tub was brought in; it had a bas-relief design of a huge water lily surrounded by leaves. The bath water was blended with fragrant oil and scented tree bark. Two servants scrubbed me, soaped me, rinsed me, and dried me. Their moves were precise and practiced.

  An elderly woman arrived escorted by a
legion of young women in men’s dress. She wore the tunic of a woman of letters, a man’s headdress, and shoes with square toes that curled backwards. She introduced herself and then took my pulse and inspected my hair, my eyes, my tongue, and my breath. In a high, curt voice, she dictated to two scribes the color, smell, and shape of my orifices. She asked me to undress, then measured my hands, arms, shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs, ankles, feet, and toes. “Round, square, triangular, bony…” she described. “Red, pink, white….” She asked me to lie down on my back and spread my legs. I obeyed but not without blushing. She made them write down the width and length of my parts, and she penetrated my belly with an ice-cold instrument. “Virgin!” her inspection concluded.

  Toward the end of the day, I was visited by a man in a yellow tunic and a lacquered black hat; he was accompanied by many servant women and young men. He had a large belly and a double chin, and, in the powder and rouge of his face, his eyes were just two long slits emphasized by black lines. He greeted me deferentially, complimented me on my appearance, and asked me to follow him. As I walked there were groups of servants going the other way, carrying pink and mauve lanterns. Apart from the rustle of footsteps and clothing, all of them remained absolutely silent.

  Gardens and pavilions slipped in and out of my field of vision. Above the gathering darkness, the sky was the color of blood. I thought of Mother, of our dilapidated house. Back there, they would have started the harvest. At this time in the evening, the women would be walking with their children under the cypress trees, the men would be drinking rice alcohol, and great-uncle would be telling ghost stories.

  I was frozen by the perfumed air of the Forbidden City.

  THREE