gourds, blossoms and leaves carved in high relief. Years later I would learn that the container was used to hold tribute gifts to the Emperor.
The seven of us performed the kowtow ceremony and stayed on our knees. It seemed as if I had just stepped onto a stage. Although I kept my head down, I could see the beautiful vases, the magnificently carved legs of water basins, the floor lanterns with tail lace touching the ground and large good-luck locks draped with silk around the corners of the walls.
I ventured a glance at the Son of Heaven.
Emperor Hsien Feng looked younger than I had imagined. He seemed to be in his early twenties and had a fine complexion. His large eyes tilted upward at the corners. His expression was gentle and con-cerned, but without curiosity. He had a typical Manchu nose, straight and long, and firm lips. His cheeks were feverishly red. He did not smile when he saw us enter.
It felt like I was dreaming. The Son of Heaven was dressed in a fulllength golden robe. Sewn into the fabric were dragons, clouds, waves, the sun, the moon and numerous stars. A yellow silk belt rounded his waist. Hanging from this belt were green jade, pearls, precious stones and a little embroidered bag. His sleeves were the shape of a horse’s hoof.
The boots His Majesty wore were the most magnificent I had ever seen. Made of tiger skin and dyed tea-leaf green, they were inlaid with tiny gold good-luck animals: bats, four-legged dragons and
chee-lin—
a mixed lion and deer, the symbol of magic.
Emperor Hsien Feng did not appear to be interested in meeting us. He shifted in his seat as if bored. He leaned to the left and then to the right. He glanced repeatedly at two plates placed between him and his mother. One was made of silver and the other gold. On the silver plate were bamboo chips that bore our names.
The Grand Empress Lady Jin was a plump woman with a face like a dried-up squash. Although she was only in her early fifties, wrinkles hung from her forehead to her neck. As Big Sister Fann had told me, she was the favorite concubine of Tao Kuang, the Emperor before His Majesty. Lady Jin was said to have been the most beautiful woman in China. Where had her beauty gone? Her eyelids drooped and her crooked mouth was pulled toward the right side of her face. The rouge dot on her lip was painted so large that it looked like a giant red button.
The robe Her Majesty wore was made of radiant yellow satin decorated with a cornucopia of natural and mythological symbols. Sewn onto the dress were egg-sized diamonds, jade and precious stones. Flowers, rubies and jewels dangled from her head and covered half her face. Her gold and silver necklaces must have been heavy, for Her Majesty seemed to lean forward under their weight. Bracelets were stacked from her wrists to her elbows, locking both of her forearms in place.
The Grand Empress spoke after a long and silent observation. Her wrinkles danced and her shoulders went back as if she was tied to a post. “Nuharoo,” she said, “you have come highly recommended. I understand that you have completed your study in the history of the Imperial household. Is it true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nuharoo answered humbly. “I studied for several years under tutors introduced by my granduncle Duke Chai.”
“I know Duke Chai, a very accomplished man.” The Grand Empress nodded. “He is an expert on Buddhism and poetry.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Who are your favorite poets, Nuharoo?”
“They are Li Po, Tu Fu and Po Chuyi.”
“Of the late Tang and early Sung dynasties?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“They are my favorites too. Do you know the name of the poet who wrote ‘Awaiting Husband Stone’?”
“It is Wang Chien, Your Majesty.”
“Would you recite the poem for me?”
Nuharoo rose and began:
Where she awaits her husband,
On and on the river flows.
Never looking back,
Transformed into a stone.
Day by day upon the peak,
Wind and rain revolve.
Should
The seven of us performed the kowtow ceremony and stayed on our knees. It seemed as if I had just stepped onto a stage. Although I kept my head down, I could see the beautiful vases, the magnificently carved legs of water basins, the floor lanterns with tail lace touching the ground and large good-luck locks draped with silk around the corners of the walls.
I ventured a glance at the Son of Heaven.
Emperor Hsien Feng looked younger than I had imagined. He seemed to be in his early twenties and had a fine complexion. His large eyes tilted upward at the corners. His expression was gentle and con-cerned, but without curiosity. He had a typical Manchu nose, straight and long, and firm lips. His cheeks were feverishly red. He did not smile when he saw us enter.
It felt like I was dreaming. The Son of Heaven was dressed in a fulllength golden robe. Sewn into the fabric were dragons, clouds, waves, the sun, the moon and numerous stars. A yellow silk belt rounded his waist. Hanging from this belt were green jade, pearls, precious stones and a little embroidered bag. His sleeves were the shape of a horse’s hoof.
The boots His Majesty wore were the most magnificent I had ever seen. Made of tiger skin and dyed tea-leaf green, they were inlaid with tiny gold good-luck animals: bats, four-legged dragons and
chee-lin—
a mixed lion and deer, the symbol of magic.
Emperor Hsien Feng did not appear to be interested in meeting us. He shifted in his seat as if bored. He leaned to the left and then to the right. He glanced repeatedly at two plates placed between him and his mother. One was made of silver and the other gold. On the silver plate were bamboo chips that bore our names.
The Grand Empress Lady Jin was a plump woman with a face like a dried-up squash. Although she was only in her early fifties, wrinkles hung from her forehead to her neck. As Big Sister Fann had told me, she was the favorite concubine of Tao Kuang, the Emperor before His Majesty. Lady Jin was said to have been the most beautiful woman in China. Where had her beauty gone? Her eyelids drooped and her crooked mouth was pulled toward the right side of her face. The rouge dot on her lip was painted so large that it looked like a giant red button.
The robe Her Majesty wore was made of radiant yellow satin decorated with a cornucopia of natural and mythological symbols. Sewn onto the dress were egg-sized diamonds, jade and precious stones. Flowers, rubies and jewels dangled from her head and covered half her face. Her gold and silver necklaces must have been heavy, for Her Majesty seemed to lean forward under their weight. Bracelets were stacked from her wrists to her elbows, locking both of her forearms in place.
The Grand Empress spoke after a long and silent observation. Her wrinkles danced and her shoulders went back as if she was tied to a post. “Nuharoo,” she said, “you have come highly recommended. I understand that you have completed your study in the history of the Imperial household. Is it true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nuharoo answered humbly. “I studied for several years under tutors introduced by my granduncle Duke Chai.”
“I know Duke Chai, a very accomplished man.” The Grand Empress nodded. “He is an expert on Buddhism and poetry.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Who are your favorite poets, Nuharoo?”
“They are Li Po, Tu Fu and Po Chuyi.”
“Of the late Tang and early Sung dynasties?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“They are my favorites too. Do you know the name of the poet who wrote ‘Awaiting Husband Stone’?”
“It is Wang Chien, Your Majesty.”
“Would you recite the poem for me?”
Nuharoo rose and began:
Where she awaits her husband,
On and on the river flows.
Never looking back,
Transformed into a stone.
Day by day upon the peak,
Wind and rain revolve.
Should
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