Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [136]
To my surprise, Nuharoo came to me before I went to her. She was dressed casually in an ivory gown. She brought fresh lotus flowers as a gift. She complained about my restrictions on Tung Chih’s diet. She insisted that he was too thin. I explained that I had no problem with his eating more, but that his diet must be balanced. I told her that Tung Chih sat for hours on the chamber pot without producing a single turd.
“I don’t see it as a problem,” Nuharoo said. “Children take their time when it comes to the potty.”
“The children of peasants never have that problem,” I argued. “They eat plenty of roughage.”
“But Tung Chih is no peasant’s child. It is insulting to make that comparison.” Nuharoo’s expression turned cold. “It is only right that Tung Chih follow the Imperial diet.”
I had personally hired a chef to prepare healthful meals, but Tung Chih complained to Nuharoo that the chef had served him rotten shrimp, giving him cramps. No one except Nuharoo believed the lie. However, to please Tung Chih, she fired the chef.
I had to restrain myself from fighting openly with Nuharoo. I made a decision to concentrate on Tung Chih’s studies first. Every morning I took a whip and escorted Tung Chih to his tutor.
He was being taught about the celestial globe. I asked the tutor for a copy of the text and said to my son that I would test him myself after he finished the lesson.
As I expected, Tung Chih couldn’t recall a word of what he had learned. He had just come from school and we were about to eat our dinner. I ordered his meal to be removed and took him by the hand. As we left I picked up the whip. I took him to a small shed in the back garden, away from the main halls and apartments. I told Tung Chih that he would not be released until he recited the full text.
He let out a loud cry to see if anyone would come to his rescue. I had prepared for this. An-te-hai had been told to keep the tutors away, and I had expressly ordered that no one inform Nuharoo of Tung Chih’s whereabouts.
“‘In very early times,’” I said, to start my son off. “Begin.”
Tung Chih sobbed and pretended not to hear.
I grabbed the whip and lifted my arm so that its length danced before him.
He started to recite. “‘In very early times, there were four huge star patterns in the starry sky. Along the Yellow River there were figures of animals …’”
“Go on. ‘A dragon …’”
“‘A dragon, a tortoise with a snake, a tiger and a bird, which rises up and then sets down …’” He shook his head and said that he didn’t remember the next line.
“Start over and read it again!”
He opened his textbook but stumbled over the words.
I read to him. “‘… One after another, arcing around the north celestial pole, flows an asterism called the Northern Dipper.’”
“This is too hard,” he complained, and threw down the text.
I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “This is for a spoiled boy who lives without laws and without any thought of the consequences!” I lifted him off the floor and stripped away his robe. I raised my arm and let the whip fall.
A clear red line settled on his little behind.
Tung Chih screamed.
My tears fell, but I struck again. I had to force myself to continue. I had let him run loose for too long. This was my punishment and my last chance.
“How dare you whip me!” His expression was incredulous. The little eyebrows met in the center of his frightened face. “No one hits the son of the Emperor!”
I whipped harder. “This is to make you hear the sound of foreign cannons. This is to make you read the treaties!” I felt the collapsing of an emotional dam. An invisible arrow shot through my head. Choking, I continued, “This … is … to make you look your father in the face … I want you to know how he turned into a hollow man.”
As if acting under its own power, the whip changed direction. Instead of landing on Tung Chih, it landed on me. The sound was loud and crisp. Like a hot snake, the leather wrapped around my body, leaving its bloody trace with every slap.
Intoxicated by