The Last Empress - Anchee Min [44]
During an especially heated argument that nearly came to blows, Nuharoo ordered me to go, and I stormed out. She took over Guang-hsu's care, which for her meant leaving the young boy to her eunuchs. Nuharoo wasn't one to devote time and energy to a child. As it happened, her frustrated eunuchs did what Guang-hsu feared most: they locked him inside a closet, then scared him by knocking loudly on the closet door.
When Li Lien-ying learned what had happened, and protested, Nuharoo's chief eunuch responded, "His Young Majesty has fire in his chest. Give him a chance to sing and he will douse it."
For the first time, and without getting permission from Nuharoo, I ordered her chief eunuch whipped. As for the rest of the servants, they got no food for two days. I knew it was not the servants' fault; they were merely doing what they were told. But the beating was necessary to warn Nuharoo that I had reached the limit of my patience.
Nuharoo told Li Lien-ying that in all our years together she had never seen me act with such wild rage. She called me a village shrew and then retreated. Deep down, she must have known that as much as I held myself responsible for Tung Chih's death, I held her responsible as well. Nuharoo's wisdom told her that it would be foolish to sprinkle salt over my wound.
I wanted to spend as much time with Guang-hsu as possible, but over the next couple of years I felt like an acrobat spinning plates on thin sticks, desperately trying to keep a dozen dishes in the air, knowing that whatever I did, some would come crashing down.
China's economy was collapsing under the weight of forced war compensations. The foreign powers threatened to invade because our payments were late, or so they said. My audiences were devoted to discussions of how best to play the foreigners against each other so we could gain time. News of peasant uprisings and calls for help from local officials arrived daily.
I did not even have time to bathe properly. My hair got so dirty that the roots hurt. I could not wait for elaborate meals to be prepared for me; I usually ate my food cold at my writing table. I kept my promise to always read my son a bedtime story, but I often fell asleep before the end. He would wake me up to finish, and I would kiss him good night and go back to work.
By the time Guang-hsu was seven years old, I had developed chronic insomnia, which was soon followed by a persistent pain in my abdomen. Doctor Sun Pao-tien told me that I suffered from a liver ailment. "Your pulse is telling me that your fluids are not in proper balance. The risk to your system could be dire."
One day I felt too exhausted to work. Nuharoo let me know that she would take over the audiences until I regained my strength.
This made me happy, because I was able to concentrate on what I most desired: raising Guang-hsu. Several times my tongue slipped and I called him Tung Chih. Each time, Guang-hsu would take out his handkerchief and wipe my tears with amazing patience and sympathy. His inborn tenderness touched me. Unlike Tung Chih, Guang-hsu was growing into a sweet and affectionate child. I wondered if it was because he was weak himself, and so understood what it was like to be in pain.
As time went on, Guang-hsu also began to reveal a strong sense of curiosity. Although he was never able to completely defeat his fears, his self-confidence became more robust. He had lovely manners and delighted visitors with his enthusiastic questions about the outside world. He loved to read, write and listen to stories.
For years the minister of Imperial etiquette had protested against my allowing Guang-hsu to sleep in my room. I insisted on keeping him with me until he was ready to face his enormous bedroom without fear. I was accused of coddling him, and worse, but I didn't care. "To the court Guang-hsu was never a child to begin with," I complained to Nuharoo.
Guang-hsu soon developed interests of his own. He fell in love with clocks and spent endless hours in the palace's Grand Clock Room, where clocks