Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [95]
Prince Kung stood solemnly beside his mother. His sorrow made him look like an older man. He got down on his knees and performed a kowtow. His forehead remained on the ground for a long time. When he rose, a eunuch went up and carefully parted Lady Jin’s lips. The eunuch placed a large pearl strung on red thread in her mouth. Then he closed her mouth, leaving the end of the thread hanging by her chin. The pearl was the symbol of life’s essence and represented purity and nobility. The red thread, which would be tied by her son, served as a demonstration of his unwillingness to part with her.
Prince Kung tied the thread onto the first button of his mother’s robe. A eunuch handed him a pair of chopsticks with a wet cotton ball between them. Prince Kung gently wiped his mother’s eyelids with the cotton ball.
The guests brought in boxes of decorated steamed buns. The plates in front of the altars had to be changed every few minutes in order to receive more boxes. Hundreds of scrolls were also brought. They piled up and made the palace look like a calligraphy festival. Couplets and poems hung from every wall. Extra string was needed to tie more couplets from the beams. The kitchen served a banquet for more than two thousand guests.
The mourning troupe wailed when Prince Kung’s knees hit the ground again. The chanting mounted to a crescendo. The trumpets were deafening. I thought that this would be the end of the ceremony, but no: it had just officially started.
The seventh day was the time of the figure-burning ceremony. Three paper palaces and two mountains were to be set on fire. The palaces were twelve feet high, each with a golden pagoda at the top. One mountain was painted gold and the other silver. The ceremony was conducted outside the Forbidden City, near the North Bridge. The crowds that gathered exceeded the New Year’s Eve celebration. The paper palaces were modeled after examples of Sung Dynasty architecture. The tiles of the traditional wing roofs were painted ocean blue. From where I stood, I could peer into the palaces, which were completely furnished. The chair covers were painted in strokes and patterns that imitated embroidery. On a dining table piled with paper flowers, silver chopsticks and gold wine cups were neatly set out.
The mountains were covered with rocks, brooks, magnolia trees and waving grass, all done to scale. What amazed me even more was that there were tiny cicadas resting on the magnolia branches, butterflies on peonies and crickets in the grass. It took hundreds of craftsmen years to complete this paper world, and in minutes it would turn to ashes.
The chanting began and the fire was lit. As the flames shot high the monks, lamas and priests threw steamed buns over the heads of the cheering crowd. The buns were supposed to be consumed by homeless ghosts. It was a gesture of Lady Jin’s benevolence.
Emperor Hsien Feng was absent from the beginning to the end. He claimed to be ill. I knew that he hated this woman, and I didn’t blame him. Lady Jin was the one who had caused his birth mother’s suicide. By not attending the funeral, the Emperor was making a statement.
The guests and concubines made poor mourners. They ate and drank and chatted with one another. I even heard people talking about my pregnancy.
There was no way I could convince Emperor Hsien Feng that my rivals were plotting against me. I told His Majesty that the fish in my pond were dying, that the orchids in my garden had withered in the middle of a strong blooming. An-te-hai found that orchid-loving rodents had eaten the plants’ roots. Someone had to have smuggled them in.