Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [155]
Nuharoo stood. “I must go to Hsien Feng’s coffin and pray. His Majesty should be told about this so that his spirits will help us in Heaven.”
The night guard beat his drum three times. It was three o’clock in the morning. The darkness was still deep. Lying in bed, I thought about what Nuharoo had said. Indeed, Su Shun was our husband’s choice. Hsien Feng had trusted him. Was I wrong to doubt Su Shun? Would it help if I expressed my willingness to work with him regardless of our differences? After all, we were both Manchus. Weren’t we trying to hold up the same sky?
I was unable to convince myself. Nuharoo and I were Tung Chih’s acting regents, appointed by Emperor Hsien Feng. But Su Shun regarded us as nothing but figureheads. We had no say over the edicts and decrees. A few days before, he had even refused to revise a draft that we had given our permission to issue after a few small changes. Orders and requests from us in the voice of Tung Chih made their way through the court hierarchy and came back without a response, while Su Shun’s words were carried immediately into action.
Nuharoo suggested that we make one last offer to work things out with Su Shun. I agreed.
The next morning, dressed in our official robes, Nuharoo and I summoned Su Shun for an audience in the name of the young Emperor. We went to the hall where Hsien Feng’s coffin sat behind a panel. As we waited, Tung Chih climbed on top of the coffin and lay on his stomach.
I watched my son as he knocked on the coffin. He whispered to his father about his new friend, the red-eyed rabbit. He invited his father to come out and see it. “I will hold the lid up for you.”
“Explain why the decree to Prince Kung was sent without our seals,” Nuharoo demanded when Su Shun appeared.
Su Shun stood arrogantly in his full-length brown satin robe with gold stripes on the bottom. He was wearing a hat decorated with a red button and a flamboyant peacock feather. He took off the hat and held it in his hands. His head was shaved and his braid oiled. His chin was tilted so high that he was practically facing the ceiling. He looked at us with half-opened eyes. “The court has the right to issue documents of an urgent nature without your seals.”
“But this violates our agreement,” I said, trying to control my anger.
“As His Young Majesty’s regents,” Nuharoo followed, “we object to the content of the last decree. Prince Kung has a right to come to Jehol to mourn his brother.”
“We would like to see Prince Kung get his wish,” I pressed.
“Fine!” Su Shun stamped his foot. “If you want my job, it is yours. I refuse to work until you learn not to take my kindness for granted!”
He made a sloppy bow and walked out. In the courtyard the rest of his board members, whom we had not invited, received him.
The documents piled up, creating walls in my room. All requested immediate attention. Nuharoo regretted that we had challenged Su Shun.
I tried not to panic. I reviewed the documents as I had when working for Emperor Hsien Feng. I had to prove to Su Shun that I was equal to the job. I needed to earn the respect, not of Su Shun, but of the court.
As soon as I began to work, I realized that the task was more than I could handle. Su Shun had set me up.
Many of the cases were impossible to solve. Under the circumstances, it would be irresponsible to issue a judgment; only injustice and unnecessary pain would come of it. I lacked necessary information and was prevented from gathering it. In one case, a regional governor was accused of embezzlement and more than a dozen homicides. I needed to gather evidence and ordered an investigation, but I received no reports. Weeks later, I discovered that my order had never been acted on.
I called Su Shun and demanded an explanation.
He denied any responsibility and said that he wasn’t the one in charge. He referred me to the justice ministry. When I questioned the head minister, he said he had never received