The Last Empress - Anchee Min [59]
"Oh, yes, Empress Nuharoo."
A half hour later, Nuharoo ordered that she be left alone with me.
When the room was cleared, I pulled over two thick pillows and sat her up. Her neck, her hair and her inner robe were sweat-soaked.
"Will you," she began, "forgive me?"
"For what?"
"For ... for driving Hsien Feng out of your bed."
I asked if she meant the concubines whom she had brought in to seduce Hsien Feng during my pregnancy.
She nodded.
I told her not to worry. "It was only a matter of time until Hsien Feng abandoned me."
"I will be punished in my next life if you don't forgive me, Lady Yehonala."
"All right, Nuharoo, I forgive you."
"Also, I plotted your miscarriage." She wouldn't stop.
"I knew. You didn't succeed, though."
A tear streamed down from the corner of her eye. "You are kind, Yehonala."
"No more, please, Nuharoo."
"But there is more I'd like to confess."
"I don't want to hear it."
"I must, Yehonala."
"Tomorrow, Nuharoo."
"I might not ... have the chance."
"I promise to come tomorrow morning."
She decided to go ahead anyway. "I ... gave permission for An-te-hai's murder."
Her voice was almost inaudible, but it hit me.
"Tell me you hate me, Yehonala."
I did, I hated her, but I couldn't say it.
Her lips trembled. "I need to depart with a clear conscience."
She squeezed my fingers. Her expression was sad and helpless. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
"Offer your mercy, Yehonala."
I was not sure I had the right to forgive. I took my hand out of hers. "Get some rest, Nuharoo. I will see you tomorrow."
Using all her might she yelled, "My departure is irreversible!"
I pulled away and headed toward the door.
"You have wished my disappearance, Lady Yehonala, I know you have."
I stopped and turned around. "Yes, but I changed my mind. We haven't been the best partners, but I cannot imagine having no partner at all. I am used to you. You are the most wretched fucking demon I know!"
A faint smile crossed Nuharoo's face, and she murmured, "I hate you, Yehonala."
Nuharoo died the next morning. She was forty-four years old. Her last words to me were "He didn't touch me." I was stunned because I was sure she meant that Emperor Hsien Feng did not make love to her on their wedding night.
I followed Nuharoo's burial instructions and covered her with gardenias. Her coffin was carried to the royal tomb site and she was laid next to our husband. Luckily, it was April, the season for gardenias. I had no trouble shipping tons of flowers from the south. The farewell ceremony was held in a sea of gardenias in the Hall of Buddha Worshiping, attended by thousands. Hundreds of wreaths in all shapes and sizes arrived from around the country. The eunuchs piled them up, filling the hall.
Nuharoo's passion for gardenias was new to me. The plant was not native to Peking; it was popular in southern China. From her eunuchs I learned that Nuharoo had never seen gardenias before her final illness. She had requested that gardenias be planted around her tomb, only to be told that they wouldn't survive the harsh northern weather. And the desert soil was unsuitable for them.
Nuharoo had surprised me with her feelings after all. I remembered how content she was when I first met her at sixteen. She believed that the world outside was a shabby thing compared to the "Great Within." I could only wonder how excited she would have been if she had traveled to the south and saw with her own eyes the green fertile plain—the land of gardenias.
Two thousand Buddhist monks attended the burial ceremony. They chanted around the clock. Guang-hsu and I stayed up late for the "soul ceremony," when Nuharoo's spirit was said to ascend to Heaven. Eunuchs placed the candles in folded-paper boats and floated them on Kun Ming Lake. Guang-hsu ran along the shore, following the drifting candles.
I sat on a flat boulder by the lake. Quietly I read a poem to wish Nuharoo a good journey to Heaven.
Gardenias fill the courtyard free from dust
By climbing the trumpet vine, its fragrance reinforced;
Softly they heighten