Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [32]
I was let off at the Gate of Heavenly Bustling. By this time it was midafternoon. Other palanquins had arrived. They were the chairs of Ladies Yun, Li, Soo, Mei and Hui. The girls got out quietly. We acknowledged one another’s presence and then waited.
Eunuchs came to tell us that Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Nuharoo had begun the wedding ceremony.
It felt strange. Although it had been made more than clear to me that I was only one of Emperor Hsien Feng’s three thousand ladies, I couldn’t help but wish that I were in Nuharoo’s place.
Soon the head eunuch reappeared and informed us that it was time to go to our own living quarters. Mine was called the Palace of Concentrated Beauty, where I would live for many years. It was here that I learned that Emperor Hsien Feng would never distribute his essence equally among his wives.
The Palace of Concentrated Beauty was embraced by age-old trees. When the wind blew, the leaves would roar. The sound reminded me of my favorite poetic line: “The wind shows its body through the trembling leaves.” I tried to locate the gate I had come through. It was on the west side and seemed to be the only entrance. The building in front of me was like a temple, with a wing-like roof and high walls. Under the yellow glazed tiles the beams and columns were brightly painted. The doors and window panels were carved with symbols of fertility: round-shaped fruit, vegetables, Buddha’s hand, budding flowers, ocean waves and clouds.
A group of well-dressed men and women quietly appeared in the courtyard. They threw themselves at me and got down on their knees.
I looked at them and didn’t know what was expected of me.
“The lucky moment is here, Lady Yehonala,” one of them finally said. “Please allow us to help you into your chamber.” I realized that they were my servants.
I lifted my robe and was about to take a step when I heard a tremendous noise beyond the walls.
My legs nearly gave out and the servants rushed to hold me up. I was told that the sound was from a Chinese gong. This was the moment when Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Nuharoo entered the Grand Nuptial Chamber.
I had heard about Imperial wedding rituals from Big Sister Fann. I was familiar with the nuptial bed and its sun-colored gauze curtain, covered with fertility designs. I remembered Fann’s description of the bright yellow satin quilt, which was embroidered with a hundred children playing.
Many years later Nuharoo told me that the scent in the Imperial chamber was the sweetest she had ever known. The smell came from the nuptial bed itself, which was made of fragrant sandalwood. She described how she was received. She had three golden phoenixes on her head, and she was accompanied by Chief Eunuch Shim, who carried her insignia.
After she stepped down from her palanquin, she walked through the Hall of Maternal Blessing. She then entered the nuptial chamber, which was in the Palace of Earthly Tranquility. It was in this sweet-smelling room that Nuharoo changed her costume from cool yellow to warm. With a piece of sun-colored silk over her head and eyes, she pledged herself to Emperor Hsien Feng and drank from the wedding cup.
“The walls of the chamber were so red that I thought something had gone wrong with my eyes,” Nuharoo recalled years later, smiling. “The room felt empty because it was extremely large. On its north side were the thrones, and on the south a great red brick bed was warmed by a fire underneath.”
I had correctly imagined it all. The setting and ritual matched Nuharoo’s account. But while I was living it, I merely tried to survive the moment. I was not prepared for my own disappointment.
I told myself that I had no reason to weep. I told myself that it was greedy of me to feel that I needed more than what was granted. Yet sadness refused to leave me. I tried to picture Ping and his disgusting opium-stained teeth. But my mind went on its own path. It brought me the melody of my favorite opera, The Love of Little Jade—the story of a housemaiden and her soldier lover.