My carriage was already traveling through eternity. I was tiny, alone, and naked. I was moving toward a man, a god, and an empire.
AT THE END of the Avenue of the Scarlet Bird, a crimson wall transformed into a thin line and then into a mountain chain. Having followed the moat around the Imperial City, the military escort came to a halt by a doorway; only carriages could go inside. After walking a short distance, the retinue also came to a halt. Some women held the curtain aside, and I saw a wide pathway paved with golden bricks in the middle of wood. An exquisite fragrance filled my nose. The bustle and noise of the world of men had stopped. I was surrounded by a perfectly unblemished ceremonial silence. I could hear my heart beating. How vulgar that beating sounded now!
A group of servant women greeted me respectfully. They were holding golden basins, silver containers, and towels of woven gold thread, and they asked me to wash my hands and face, then to climb into a litter. I was carried through the forest and then through more walls and gateways. As I made my way deeper and deeper into that sacred land, I began to hear almost imperceptible sounds, the whisper of the leaves, a plucking of stringed instruments, and the tinkle of waterfalls.
We stopped in front of a moon-shaped gate, and I was invited to step down and go into a pavilion. I sat waiting in the middle of a room decorated with frescoes, facing a doorway that looked out over a calm courtyard where a rockery was smothered by an ivy with red berries. Four young girls came toward me along a gallery, taking slow swinging steps and keeping their heads lowered. They came up the steps and into the room with soap, towels, glasses, jugs, and bowls. They washed my hands again and rinsed out my mouth. When they disappeared in a rustie of silk, four more girls appeared to set out a number of low tables and cover them with small dishes.
At home, eating heartily was a great pleasure. Under the gaze of these distinguished servants, I was afraid they might laugh at my manners, so I ate only a few mouthfuls. I was astonished by how refined the imperial dishes were: The vegetables were the texture of meat, the meat tasted like game, and the game looked like flowers.
A bronze bathing tub was brought in; it had a bas-relief design of a huge water lily surrounded by leaves. The bath water was blended with fragrant oil and scented tree bark. Two servants scrubbed me, soaped me, rinsed me, and dried me. Their moves were precise and practiced.
An elderly woman arrived escorted by a legion of young women in men’s dress. She wore the tunic of a woman of letters, a man’s headdress, and shoes with square toes that curled backwards. She introduced herself and then took my pulse and inspected my hair, my eyes, my tongue, and my breath. In a high, curt voice, she dictated to two scribes the color, smell, and shape of my orifices. She asked me to undress, then measured my hands, arms, shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs, ankles, feet, and toes. “Round, square, triangular, bony…” she described. “Red, pink, white…” She asked me to lie down on my back and spread my legs. I obeyed but not without blushing. She made them write down the width and length of my parts, and she penetrated my belly with an ice-cold instrument. “Virgin!” her inspection concluded.
Toward the end of the day, I was visited by a man in a yellow tunic and a lacquered black hat; he was accompanied by many servant women and young men. He had a large belly and a double chin, and, in the powder and rouge of his face, his eyes were just two long slits emphasized by black lines. He greeted me deferentially, complimented me on my appearance, and asked me to follow him. As I walked there were groups of servants going the other way, carrying pink and mauve lanterns. Apart from the rustle of footsteps and clothing, all of them remained absolutely silent.
Gardens and pavilions slipped in and out of my field of vision. Above the gathering darkness, the sky was the color of blood. I thought of Mother, of our dilapidated house. Back there, they would have started the harvest. At this time in the evening, the women would be walking with their children under the cypress trees, the men would be drinking rice alcohol, and great-uncle would be telling ghost stories.
I was frozen by the perfumed air of the Forbidden City.
THREE
Heaven and Earth, sun and moon, day and night, man and woman… in this world where yin and yang repel and attract each other, the energy of duality is all-powerful. The heart of the Empire, the Absolute Master’s estate, did not escape cosmic law. The Outer City, which was dedicated to administration, was the very opposite of the Inner Palace, which was devoted to pleasure. In the former, where there were no women, the Son of Heaven governed as leader of all the officials and generals and fulfilled his duties as high priest by performing rites throughout the year. In the second, the male sex was banished, and only the sovereign, relieved of his sacred duties, drank of the exquisite loveliness of the ten thousand beauties.
In the Outer City, there were soldiers from guards’ regiments stationed beneath awnings, each with his brocade tunic under a bronze breastplate, his saber in his leather belt, his bow bound with rattan, and his arrows dipped in crimson stain. The successions of magnificent buildings with tiles of glazed turquoise and green were a solemn, majestic sight. Their imposing proportions represented celestial harmony, their clean lines symbolized earthly fertility. The architecture in the Inner Palace was less conventional. The more gifted master-builders had tried their hand at fantasy and had ventured into exuberance. Martial strength had stepped down; grace and indolence pervaded everything. My eyes, so accustomed to the dimensions of our rustic homes, had to adapt to the excesses here. My nose, which knew the smells of the countryside, could not recognize the subtle fragrances of exotic fruits and rare flowers. There were birds whose cages were like palaces of gold, dispensing their trills with virtuosity. I discovered the heady pleasures of touch: silk, crepe, satin, brocade, velvet, muslin, gauze, fine porcelain, the coolness of jade dishes, the warmth of lacquered trays, the shimmer of golden goblets, and showers of petals.
There were two long narrow courtyards attached to the Inner City, like two arms protecting a body: The Eastern Palace, the residence of the Imperial Heir and his close government; and on the western side, the Side Quarters reserved for the Court ladies.
The Side Court was a kingdom within the Empire, a painted box inside a golden trunk; it was a labyrinth of tiny rooms separated by walls of adobe clay, bamboo hedges, and narrow passageways. Official pavilions, little gardens, tunnels of wisteria, and countless bedrooms were linked by long covered galleries. Thousands of women came and went with a rustling of sleeves and a murmuring of fans, without ever exposing themselves to the sun or the rain. Imperial hierarchy was scrupulously respected despite the confines of that overpopulated world. The further down someone was on the social scale, the smaller her room, the simpler the decor, and the more modest the furniture. The slave quarter was packed with ramshackle little houses, gloomy rooms, and cold beds; the women there were like insignificant stitches in a vast embroidery.
Nestling under ancient trees, my room was dark; it gleamed with draperies and opened onto a veranda. From my ivory bed I could look through the gauze curtains held up by gold hooks and watch the square of sky marked out by the little courtyard I shared with three other Talented Ones. At dusk, when the sun lingered behind the double ramparts, I could see scattered sparrows spiraling through the inky blueness.
* *
IN KEEPING WITH my rank, the Court granted me two servants and a governess-a strict, cold woman who managed to give me orders while still entrenched in her inferior position. Ruby and Emerald were twins. They were the daughters of a poor family, and their father had entrusted them to a dealer called Zhang who ran a flourishing trade in the West of the Capital that supplied the Court and dignitaries’ families with the prettiest young girls. In the evening, as they uncoiled my hair, they whispered the secrets of the Palace to me. This was how I learned that the imperial servants were not real men: Their parents had cut off their virile parts before selling them to Court. I also discovered that Governess, who was of noble birth, had been the wife of a lord who fought under the standard of the Sui dynasty. After their defeat, the men of her clan had been executed, and she had to become an imperial slave.
In the Palace of Celestial Breath, I followed the training given to new women at Court. The great curtsey, the minor curtsey, greetings of respect, greetings of condescension, greetings from equal to equal, the quick walk, the slow walk… there was no spontaneity in the Forbidden City. Natural responses were considered the premise of the people and of Barbarians; all the elegance of our movements derived from the height of restraint. Looking, eating, drinking, sitting down, sleeping, rising, speaking, listening-the most elementary acts in life were meticulously regulated by superstitious and aesthetic codes.
Inner thoughts had to be impregnated with the same rigorous austerity. Moral observance exemplified delicacy of mind; perversion was a crime that could lead to death. One hundred prohibitions were written in fine calligraphy on a ten-panel screen. The study of Inner Law was supplemented by reading
Behaviour of a Lady at Court
by the Empress of Learning and Virtue.
I was improving my skills in music and dance. The directives for clothing taught me to distinguish between the nine official hierarchies-thanks to the variations in colors and the way things were worn.
The moon filled out and wasted away. The trees had already lost their leaves. I lamented my awkwardness, and I envied the more lowly servants who seemed to move around me with such grace and ease. Despite my efforts, my muscles were still taut; I walked too quickly; I could not distribute my weight between my toes and my heels; my inclinations, my prostrations, and my stride lacked reserve-I could not shake off a rough-hewn animal brutality.
The Palace of Celestial Breath grew busier as more new recruits to inner service arrived. These included Talented Xu, whose reputation preceded her: She was the daughter of a learned family and had started talking at just five months. At four she could already comment on Confucius’
Discussions
and recite the poems in the
Anthology.
At eight she started writing and created this verse in the style of songs favored by the ancient kingdom of Chu: “I contemplate the deep, luxurious forest; caressing the branches of the blossoming cinnamon tree, I address the mountain that has lived a thousand years and ask: why this loneliness?”
One winter morning, she finally appeared. Buried in a cape of mauve satin lined with silver fox, her face looked tiny and extraordinarily pale. Her eyes were so long and slanting they reached her temples and were like two timid dashes of calligraphy. She coughed a good deal, and her sickly beauty softened even the surliest of the instructors. From the very first day, she was granted the privilege to withdraw when she deemed that she was tired. According to rumor, she was the one in our group who would be favored by the Emperor. She was a year older than me and had a quiet, learned way about her and all the mysterious charm of a woman who is already promised to someone. She had no difficulty carrying out the Court movements accurately and with a delicate grace. A good many girls buzzed around her, and she soon had a devoted band of admirers as well as a collection of rivals who were quick to criticize her. Not knowing how to approach her, I kept my distance; I feigned indifference.
At night, in my dreams, my former life went on. I walked those strange corridors of time and went back to my childhood. On the banks of the River Long, the wind danced with the huge waves. On my horse, I would fly higher and freer than the seagulls. Waking was brutal. My heart would stop. I was so dazed I would forget who I was and where I was. Then, gradually, the distress would intensify and become harrowing. The chill of the Forbidden City would overrun me.
The pages of life that had already turned could not be opened again.
SINCE THE DEATH of the Empress of Learning and Virtue two years previously, the title of Mistress of the World was still unclaimed. In the Side Court, it was said that Great Chancellor Wu Ji, who was the brother of the noble deceased, had such a tight hold on the government that he would never allow another family to sully her throne. The sovereign had in fact wanted to invest Precious Wife, the daughter of Emperor Yang of the overthrown dynasty and already the mother of two princes, but the ministers of the Outer Court refused to swear loyalty to a descendant of the enemy clan. Then the Emperor’s favorite, Yang, was singled out and promoted to Gracious Wife after giving birth to a son. Once again the ministers criticized her because, while in the gynaeceum, she had served the King of Qi who was later killed in a coup. A sullied woman would never be sovereign of China.
But even the most powerful of men could not contain the ambitions of women obsessed with childbearing and fascinated by the dignity of rank. The ten thousand women in the Side Court were ten thousand flowers desperately dreaming of spring. Whether carefully planted out in pots or crudely sown in wasteland, they wilted in the harsh atmosphere of constant waiting, the deprivation of an endless winter. A sniffle, a shiver, a migraine, or a stomachache was enough to cull these souls so worn down with hoping. There were no old women with white hair in the Side Court. Every day the dead were left by the North Gate. Somewhere, far from the ramparts of the Capital, in the cemetery for Imperial Serving Women, slumbered adolescents who had never seen anything of the world and mature women who, poor creatures, had been too familiar with melancholy.
The pathways in the Side Court wound around like the never-ending threads of a vast spider web. Our pavilions were like dead insects, and the survivors still believed in miracles. Princesses, nobles, and commoners had lost their names and were recognized only by the titles they had been given. I was Talented One Wu, an intruder in the land of gods, a pebble on a tray of fine pearls. I too aspired tentatively to the imperial bed, to be favored by the Son of Heaven.