Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [141]
Nuharoo was on her knees by the bed, dressed in a beige robe. She was sobbing silently.
Everyone else was also on his or her knees. Time seemed to be frozen.
There was nothing glorious about the heavenly departure. The Emperor had visibly shrunk. His features had collapsed, with his eyes and mouth pulled toward the ears. His dying didn’t feel real to me. The night when he had first summoned me was as vivid as yesterday. I remembered the time when he had teased me boldly in front of the Grand Empress. I remembered his naughty but charming expression. I remembered the sound of the bamboo chips dropping onto the tray and his fingers touching mine when he passed me the ruyi. The memories saddened me, and I had to remind myself of why I was here.
From the whispering of the ministers I learned that Hsien Feng had briefly stopped breathing several times today, only to revive with a cavernous rumble deep in his chest. Two pillows supported the Son of Heaven. His eyes were open, but they hardly moved. The court was waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t seem capable.
Although Tung Chih was the natural heir apparent, it was not specified in Ch’ing Dynasty law that the throne be passed by the right of primogeniture. The Emperor’s last words would be the only thing that counted. There would be an official box that contained His Majesty’s living will. Still, his words would override whatever he had written. Many people believed that the finality of death changed a person’s perception, and therefore his wishes in the box might not be his true ones. What worried me was what Su Shun might do. With his wickedness, he could manipulate Emperor Hsien Feng to say what he did not mean to say.
A few hours passed. The waiting continued. Food was set out in the courtyard. Hundreds of people sat on their heels, scooping up rice from bowls, staring into space. Tung Chih was bored and irritated. I knew that he had been doing his best to be obedient. Finally he had had enough. When I told him he must stay, he threw a tantrum. He kicked the bowls out of people’s hands.
I grabbed Tung Chih. “One more act of destruction and I’ll have you shut in a bee house!”
Tung Chih quieted down.
Night came. All was in darkness except for the Hall of Fantastic Haze. It was lit as brightly as a stage.
The court gathered again. A number of the Emperor’s seals were brought out of their chambers and laid out on a long table. They were beautifully carved and mounted. The room was so quiet I could hear the sound of the sizzling candles.
The grand secretary and scholar Kuei Liang, Prince Kung’s father-in-law, was in a gray robe. He had arrived from Peking that morning and was expected to go back as soon as he recorded His Majesty’s last words. Kuei Liang’s white beard hung down his chest. He was on his knees holding a giant brush pen. Every once in a while he dipped his brush in the ink to keep it moist. In front of him was a stack of rice paper. Chow Tee, standing next to him, picked up an ink stick, which was as thick as a child’s arm, and rubbed the stick against the stone.
Su Shun’s eyes were on the seals. I wondered what was on his mind. In China all Imperial documents, from His Majesty’s on down, were valid only if stamped with an official seal on top of a personal signature. A seal meant lawful authority. The most important could render all other documents worthless. That Tung Chih hadn’t received his father’s promise to own these seals filled me with despair.
Was Hsien Feng already on his way to Heaven? Had he forgotten his son? Was Su Shun here to see Tung Chih’s end? Su Shun paced slowly beside the table where the seals were lined up. He looked like he was already their owner. He picked up each seal and ran his fingers over the stone surfaces.
“There are many ways to alter one’s destiny,” Su Shun said, tilting his chin upward like a sage. “His Majesty must be walking through the dark halls of his soul. I imagine him following a red wall, taking slow steps. He is not dying in actuality. He is going