The Last Empress - Anchee Min [46]
"Why do you have to go to the frontier yourself? Isn't the capital more important?"
He did not answer.
"Nuharoo and I can't do without you."
"My men are already scheduled to depart, Your Majesty."
"Self-imposed exile, that's what it is!"
He stared straight at me.
"You don't care that I have lost my son..." I shut my eyes, trying to press back the tears. My mind knew that he was doing the right thing.
"As I said, it will be good for the future," he murmured.
"You will not have my permission." I turned away from him.
I heard the sound of Yung Lu's knees hitting the floor. I wasn't able to look back at him.
"I'll get the court to support me, then."
"What if I reject the court's decision?"
He got up and marched toward the door.
"Never mind, Yung Lu!" My tears ran down my cheeks. "I ... I will grant you permission."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
I sat down on my chair. My handkerchief was brown and black with smeared makeup.
"Why does it have to be Sinkiang?" I asked. "It is a harsh land of sickness and death. It is a place ruled by religious fanatics. Where will you get a doctor if you become ill? Where will you get help if you lose a battle to the Moslems? Where will you station your reserve troops? Who is in charge of your supply lines? How will you possibly keep me informed?"
She was a Manchu but had the Han name of Willow. She treated her eunuchs and maids as if they were her own family. That alone told me she was not of the royal bloodline. A royal would treat her eunuchs and maids as slaves. She was Yung Lu's young bride. Mrs. Yung Lu—my tongue was yet to get used to Willow—was in her late twenties. The age difference caused whispers; Yung Lu was old enough to be her father. But Willow kept smiling and her lips remained sealed. For her wedding she wore a light blue silk gown embroidered with water hibiscuses. Like her name, she had a slender figure and moved gracefully.
I was glad Nuharoo made an excuse not to attend the wedding. Her dominance would have distracted me from observing the celebration, especially the newlyweds.
When Yung Lu introduced his bride to me, she couldn't have been any sweeter. She took a bold look at me, which surprised me. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life.
Many years later, after we became friends and after her husband's death, Willow would tell me that she knew the truth all along—Yung Lu had never hid it from her, which made her an extraordinary character in my eyes. She was the daughter of a warlord friend of Yung Lu's, the leader of a Mongol tribe. Yung Lu's exploits had repeatedly been the topic at the family's table when she was growing up. Whenever Yung Lu visited her father, young Willow would find reasons to linger. She was in love with him before she met him.
Willow would eventually tell me that I had been the subject of her study before she began her relationship with her husband. In fact, I was the only subject she was interested in during Yung Lu's visits. She asked many questions and was impressed with his answers. She said that it was their mutual interest in me that led to letter writing, friendship and the discovery of a deeper feeling for each other. She was the only person to whom he confided his secret.
It was only after Willow had turned away numerous matchmakers that Yung Lu woke to her love. Her devotion and openness touched him. He proposed and she accepted. He knew that he would not be able to maintain a healthy relationship with his wife if he continued to see me at audiences.
Willow didn't fool me with her pretended innocence. The moment we met, I felt as if someone had peeked through a window into my soul. There was a strange and mysterious understanding between us. Years later, Willow would recall my receiving her at the wedding celebration. She remembered me as being warm and sincere. She asked how I was able to keep my