Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [168]
“Was Su Shun behind this?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Where is the assassin?”
Yung Lu pointed his chin back at the ditch. The dead man there had half his face buried in the dirt, but I recognized the fat body. It was the head monk.
I asked where Tung Chih and Nuharoo were. Yung Lu told me that they had been rescued as well and were continuing their journey to Peking. Yung Lu had already sent messengers to Su Shun with news that I had been found dead, but it would take days for that false report to reach him, which was all part of Prince Kung’s plan.
Yung Lu placed me in a carriage and escorted me himself. We took a shorter route and arrived in Peking well ahead of Su Shun and his procession.
Twenty-three
WAITING FOR ME inside the Forbidden City, Prince Kung was relieved when he saw that I was unharmed. “Rumors of your death traveled faster than our messengers,” he said, greeting me. “I have been tortured by worry.”
In tears, we bowed to each other.
“Maybe your brother did want to take me with him,” I said, still feeling a bit hurt.
“But he changed his mind at the last minute, didn’t he? He might have aided your rescue in Heaven.” Prince Kung paused. “I am sure he was not in his right mind when he appointed Su Shun.”
“True.”
Prince Kung looked me up and down and then smiled. “Welcome home, sister-in-law. You’ve had a tough journey.”
“You too,” I said, and noticed that his hat looked too big for him. He kept pushing back the brim with his hand so the hat wouldn’t cover his eyebrows. “I lost weight, but I didn’t expect my head to shrink.” He laughed.
When I asked about the head monk, Prince Kung explained that the assassin was known as the Buddha’s Palm—his power had been as unlimited as the palm of Buddha, said to be capable of “covering everything.” In folklore, when the Monkey King of Magic thinks he has escaped after cartwheeling thousands of miles, he finds that he has landed in that almighty palm. My head was the only one the assassin had failed to collect in his ornamental box.
Prince Kung and I sat down to talk—and so began our long working relationship. He was a man of broad perspective, although his temper would continue to flare over the years. He had been raised like Hsien Feng and could be just as spoiled and impatient. Many times I had to ignore his insensitivity and selfishness. He unintentionally humiliated me more than once in front of the court. I could have protested, but I told myself that I must learn to take Kung’s flaws along with his virtues. His strengths were greater than his brothers’, and not insignificant. He respected reality and was open to different opinions. We needed each other at this moment. As a Manchu he had been taught that a woman’s place was in her bedroom, but he couldn’t ignore me totally. Without my support he would have no legitimacy.
As Prince Kung and I got to know each other better, we were able to relax. I let him know that I had no interest in power itself, and that all I wanted was to help Tung Chih succeed. It was wonderful that we shared the same vision. We fought at times, but we always managed to come out of our battles united. To stabilize the new court, we became each other’s figurehead and decoration.
Dancing around Prince Kung’s pride, I encouraged his enthusiasm and ambitions. I believed that if Nuharoo and I were humble with him, he would be humble with Tung Chih. We practiced the Confucian principles of the family and both benefited.
I played my part, although I would grow tired of putting on a theatrical mask every day. I had to pretend that I was absolutely helpless without the court. My ministers functioned only when they believed that they were my saviors. My ideas would not have gone far if I hadn’t presented them as their “five-year-old lord’s idea.” In order to direct, I learned to offer an image that I was being directed.
It took Nuharoo, Tung Chih and the rest of the Parade of Happiness five more days to arrive in Peking. By the time they reached the Gate of Zenith, the men and horses were so exhausted