The Last Empress - Anchee Min [115]
My son sat idle in his chair for hours on end. I no longer wished that he would come to me or beg me to talk with him. I lost the courage to face him. A distance settled between us. It was frightening. The more Guang-hsu read the newspapers, the deeper he withdrew. When asked to resume his audiences, he refused. He could no longer look me in the eye, and I could no longer tell him that I loved him despite everything that had happened.
Yesterday I found him sobbing after reading Kang Yu-wei's newest calumny: "There is a sham eunuch in the palace who has practically more power than any of the ministers. Li Lien-ying is the sham eunuch's name ... All the viceroys have secured their official positions through bribing this man, who is immensely wealthy."
If I ever were to forgive my son, what happened next made it impossible. I was given no chance to defend myself, while Kang Yu-wei was free to harm me by calling himself the spokesman of the Chinese Emperor and me a "murderous thief" and "the scourge of the people."
The world's reputable publishers printed Kang's malicious accusations detailing my life. They were then translated into Chinese and circulated among my people as the discovered truth. In teahouses and at drinking parties stories of how I had poisoned Nuharoo and murdered Tung Chih and Alute spread like a disease.
The underground publication of Kang Yu-wei's version of the Hundred Days reform became a sensation. In it Kang wrote: "In combination with one or two traitorous statesmen, the Dowager Empress has secluded our Emperor and is secretly plotting to usurp his throne, falsely alleging that she is counseling in government ... All the scholars of my country are enraged that this meddling palace concubine should seclude [the Emperor]...She has appropriated the proceeds of the government's Good Faith Bonds to build more palaces to give rein to her libidinous desires. She has no feelings for the degradation of the state and the misery of the people."
My son shut himself inside his Ying-t'ai office. Outside the door lay piles of newspapers he had finished reading. Among them were reports of Kang Yu-wei's life in Japanese exile and his glad-handing Cantonese rebel leader Sun Yat-sen, whom the Genyosha had hired to be a front man for my assassination. In the name of the Emperor of China, Kang asked the Japanese Emperor to "take action to remove the Dowager Empress Tzu Hsi."
Over the next eight years, even as my son issued repeated edicts condemning his former mentor, Kang Yu-wei would continue to plot my murder.
Now I begged Guang-hsu to open the door. I said I had lost Tung Chih and I could not go on living if I had to lose him.
Guang-hsu told me he was ashamed and would never forgive himself for what he had done. He said that he could see in my eyes that I no longer had any love for him.
Yet I could not tell him that my love for him hadn't been affected. "I am not myself because I am hurting," I confessed. I dared not speak further—I felt the anger beneath my skin. To give voice to that anger would only cause more harm. I was on the lookout to keep the damage to myself and those around me to a minimum.
Guang-hsu asked what I wanted from "a worthless skin-bag" like him.
I said that I was willing to work to mend our relationship. I let him know that his refusal to pick himself up hurt me more than anything. Yet I could feel myself giving up too. I knew that I had failed with this boy I had adopted and raised since the age of four. I had also failed to keep my promise to my sister Rong. "After Tung Chih's death, I invested my hope in you," I said to Guang-hsu. Not only had I lost hope, but also the courage to try again.
Some part of me would never believe that Guang-hsu meant to murder me. But he had made a grievous error, and it was too big even for me to fix.
Guang-hsu begged to be dethroned and said that