I walked up to her and bent down so we could see eye to eye. “You must be Hulan,” I said. She nodded. “I am very happy to meet you. Do you know who I am?”

  “Are you my new teacher?” she asked.

  I looked up to Prince Gong, who nodded. Most likely he and Lady Tang had stuck to the story that Hulan was simply coming to the palace to train as an apprentice. She probably had no idea she had just spent two months traveling with her father.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am Mistress Yang, your new master. Did you embroider your outfit yourself?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Even though I had requested Hulan be brought to me because she was my daughter and not based on her embroidery skills, she did show great promise. I couldn’t fight it anymore and pulled her to me in a hug. The girl was apprehensive at first, but she eventually relaxed and hugged me back. I mouthed “thank you” to the prince, who gave me a small nod as he left us alone.

  21

  The Forbidden City, 1875 – 1884

  With the death of the Tongzhi Emperor and the appointment of the Guangxu Emperor, life seemed to return to normal. Cixi, both out of grief and necessity, returned to running the empire while Empress Ci’an focused on raising the next emperor. I couldn’t help but think that this arrangement had contributed to the fact that Tongzhi had been a very ineffectual ruler who could have completely undone all of his mother’s work. The next emperor could greatly benefit from the firm hand of Cixi and learn much more about running an empire from someone who had done it as opposed to a disinterested empress and scholars who spent all their days reading ancient texts. But I was not in a position to comment on such matters. Instead, I used this time of peace and calm to focus on my daughter and my embroidery.

  Hulan was my daughter by blood only, though, and not really by any action. At the age of ten, Hulan was a fully developed person who hardly needed to be raised. She could dress and feed herself. She already had her own likes and dislikes and opinions. She was smart and creative and obedient. She didn’t need me to wake her up in the morning or tuck her into bed at night. She was a young lady who already had responsibilities and her own work to do, and she fulfilled her expectations dutifully. I did see her almost every day, but only in the capacity of master and student, and she was an excellent student.

  The only thing we argued about was the fact that I would not teach her the double-sided embroidery techniques. She believed it was because I was selfish and wanted to keep the technique to myself, that I didn’t want anyone else to have the honor of being able to bring this coveted work to life. But that wasn’t it at all.

  I had come to the Forbidden City nearly twenty years before as the brightest young embroidery girl in the country. With continued progress and training, I was certain to become the best in the land, maybe the world. My double-sided embroidery would become a new art form and everyone would shower me with gold just for the chance to own a piece. At least, that is what was supposed to have happened. In reality, I had spent so much time working as an embroiderer I’d had very little time to practice embroidery. In many ways, my embroidery skills were stunted, never improving beyond the skills possessed by that little girl from Hunan.

  Perhaps I am being too hard on myself. After all, people loved my work. The empress, who considered herself somewhat of an embroidery expert, often praised my work and made sure I oversaw all her important pieces. My pieces sold for a lot of money, when I had the chance to make anything to sell. Cixi’s new head eunuch, Li Lianying, would help me sell the few pieces I could part with to rich families in the city, even to foreigners. I had saved quite a bit of money, but I have no idea what for since I didn’t have any expenses.

  I had risen high enough among the court artisans to hire a small team of embroiderers to work under me in the Forbidden City, all from Lady Tang’s school, and I had hundreds of embroiderers at my command in Suzhou. As such, I finally had the time and freedom to work on embroidery for myself. Hulan thought I was being selfish for not teaching her double-sided embroidery; the truth is that I was still teaching myself.

  I think that I was never meant to be a mother. I grew to love Hulan, but it would have made no difference to my life if she had not been born. I really don’t know why I felt the need to have her brought to me after the death of the Tongzhi Emperor. An emotional response, I suppose. And, of course, I didn’t have to suffer through the growing pains of putting up with a child. The crying, the neediness, the restless nights. She wasn’t a daughter to me, just a student, but that seemed to have worked out perfectly well.

  * * *

  One day I was summoned to see the little emperor, which was quite out of the ordinary. I was told to bring my embroidery supplies with me as well as several samples. I was taken, not to the audience hall, but to a large, informal room in the emperor’s private residence. The emperor must have been around seven years old at this time. He sat on his throne, which was much too big for him, and watched me, without smiling, as I entered the room and kowtowed before him.

  “Your Majesty,” I said.

  The emperor motioned for me to come and sit on a stool by his side.

  “Your work is pretty,” he said to me.

  I smiled. “You are too kind, Your Majesty,” I said.

  He picked up a framed piece that had been sitting beside his immense chair. “I like this tiger,” he said. “I like how it is growling and looks angry.”

  “Your Majesty has a good eye,” I said. “This is a very well done piece. See here how I used a split stitch to create the wrinkles around his nose? And overall I used directional stitches to make the tiger look both furry and sleek. Doesn’t he look soft enough to pet?”

  The emperor nodded and ran his finger down the tiger’s back.

  “I am very pleased that you appreciate my work, Your Majesty,” I said. “All artisans appreciate some recognition from time to time.”

  “You work for my Papa Dearest?” he asked. “Papa Dearest” was what Empress Cixi had instructed the little emperor to call her. From the moment he entered the palace, she had no intention of being a mother to him. She was the acting emperor and he was her heir, nothing more.

  In truth, I suspect that Empress Cixi never liked children at all. Oh, she loved her son, but loving your own child is much different from putting up with the children of others. And, like me and Hulan, she didn’t have to raise Tongzhi. Almost immediately after his birth, he had been given to a wet nurse and was moved to his own palace. Legally, he had been the child of Empress Ci’an, Emperor Xianfeng’s head wife, not Cixi, who was only a lowly concubine at the time. Empress Ci’an had been in charge of his upbringing while court tutors had been in charge of his education. Cixi had watched from a distance as her son was raised by other people. Perhaps she preferred this as I did.

  But Tongzhi and Guangxu were not the only children in her life that she shunned. Emperor Xianfeng also had a daughter. After that girl’s mother died, Princess Rong’an had been brought into the household of Empress Cixi. Cixi paid the girl hardly any mind, married her off as quickly as possible, and didn’t mourn her when she died shortly after Tongzhi. Cixi also kept wet nurses in her employ so their milk could be used to flavor her tea. The women often had to bring their children with them into her presence. As soon as one of these children started to whine or fuss, Cixi would order them away and would be a sour mood for the rest of the day.

  Now, little Emperor Guangxu was experiencing the same indifference as other children in her life. But as Cixi’s adopted son, he felt the lack of a strong and attentive parent more than others. He had been ripped away from his own doting parents and Empress Ci’an’s health was not good. When the boy asked me about his Papa Dearest, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Hope for what, I didn’t know.

  “I do work for your Papa Dearest,” I said. “But I call her ‘Your Majesty’, just like I call you.”

  “Can you take me to see her?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” I said. “But I don’t think I can take you out of your palace.”

  The boy sighed and looked down at the powerful tiger in his hands. “If I was a tiger, no one could tell me what to do.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yes. I would growl and bite them and do whatever I wanted.”

  “Well, violence is not always the answer,” I said. “After all, no one keeps a tiger in their home. But a gentle house cat can sleep on even an empress’s bed. Sometimes being gentle can get you closer to someone that being mean.”

  “So if I do something nice for Dearest Papa, maybe she will come to see me?”

  I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not only was Empress Cixi indifferent to the boy’s affections, she was very busy. She was once again rising with the sun to meet with the grandees by the gong at the hour of the rabbit. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t possess much leisure time to spend with the child. But I couldn’t completely dash his hopes away either.

  “She might,” I said. “But I cannot make any promises. She is very busy keeping your kingdom safe for you.”

  “I can’t wait to be emperor,” he said. “Then everyone will listen to me.”

  “They certainly will,” I said.

  “Will you help me make a pretty picture for my Papa Dearest?” he asked.

  “I would be honored, Your Majesty,” I said.

  For several days, I visited the little emperor and helped him make his own embroidery. This took me away from my own work and my own pupil, so I started taking Hulan with me. She was quite good and she had a real knack for teaching the emperor. She seemed to take after Lady Tang that way. I was gifted at embroidery, but it was clear in watching Hulan with Guangxu that I was not a gifted teacher. She had a patience and a grace about her that captured Guangxu’s attention. I let her take over his lesson while I sat to the side and did my own work. Our lessons eventually ended because embroidery work was simply not a suitable skill for a boy. After he completed a rudimentary piece of a pink peony, Hulan and I were asked by his head teacher, Tutor Weng, not to return. We acquiesced, but the emperor gave me the piece he had been working on and asked me to present it to his Papa Dearest on his behalf. One of the pink strings was loose, so I removed it and kept it for myself. I then made some minor changes to the piece to make it look like the boy was more skilled than he was. It ended up being a perfectly acceptable first piece of embroidery by any standard.

  That evening, after the empress had finished her dinner and was reading some reports from the day, I approached her and offered her the little piece of embroidery.

  “The young emperor has spent many days making this gift for you,” I said. “He is a very sweet boy who loves you very much.”

  She took the piece from me, glanced at it, and then laid it to one side. “There is a reason boys don’t do embroidery work,” she said with a sigh.

  I gave a small chuckle. “Yes, he certainly lacks any embroidery skills, but he very much wanted to make something pretty for Your Majesty, so he asked me for help. He wants so much to please you.”

  “He does please me,” she said. “Tutor Weng says that he is already quite skilled at calligraphy and recites his lessons perfectly. He just might be the future emperor we need.”

  “You should tell him that,” I said. “I am sure he would love to hear some kind words from you. He really thinks of you as his Papa Dearest. He doesn’t call you that only out of duty, but affection.”

  “I might have to talk to Tutor Weng about the boy being too soft,” she said.

  “Well, he is only a boy,” I said. “Still gentle and kind. Still craving motherly affection.”

  “He is not only a boy,” she said. “He is already an emperor, and he better start acting like one. Lianying!” she called.

  Li Lianying appeared. Lianying had come into her service while An Dehai was still her head eunuch and had filled many of his roles since his death.

  “Tell Grand Tutor Weng that I wish to see him first thing tomorrow morning,” she commanded.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow.

  I looked at my hands to keep from rolling my eyes and said nothing. Clearly my attempt at getting Cixi to spend some time with her adopted son had failed.

  “What is it?” she asked, annoyed by my silence.

  “Nothing, Your Majesty,” I said. I was not in a position to criticize her parenting.

  Not long after that, Empress Dowager Ci’an collapsed during audiences. She was rushed to her chambers and Empress Dowager Cixi and the little emperor did not leave her side until she died a few days later. The whole of the Forbidden City grieved her. Even though she was not the strong ruler that Cixi was, she was a good empress. Empress Dowager Cixi made sure that Ci’an was given all the funeral rites she was entitled to, and she mourned the loss of her friend, her co-ruler, and the woman who helped her take control of China twenty years before. The little emperor was inconsolable. After being ripped away from his own mother and ignored by Cixi, Ci’an was the closest thing he had to a mother inside the palace walls. Even long after Empress Ci’an was buried, the little emperor would weep for her and order incense burned in her name.

  * * *

  When Hulan was about sixteen, we were working on a piece of embroidery together, but it was clear her mind was not on her work. She was very slow and kept making mistakes and sighing.

  “What is wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to bother you with it,” she said.

  “You are bothering me with it when you keep making mistakes in your embroidery. Better to tell me and get it out so you can get back to work.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I just…I am not sure where my life is going. I know I am your apprentice and I was supposed to follow you as a court artisan, but I am not sure that is my path anymore.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What has changed?”

  “The emperor,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “He said he loves me,” she said.

  “What?” I asked, putting down my work. “When? How? How did this happen?”

  “We have grown very close over the years,” she said. “I often do my work in his presence and we talk and he has even kissed me.”

  “He is but a boy!” I said.

  “I heard that when Tongzhi was his age his consorts had already been chosen.”

  She was right about that. The preparations for Tongzhi’s wedding had begun when he was only thirteen, and his wives had been chosen by the time he was fourteen. He was married at sixteen. Guangxu was already fourteen, but there had been no mention of preparations being made for his wedding or for him to assume power. I began to wonder what was going on in Empress Cixi’s court. Surely they wouldn’t allow a woman to rule forever.

  “But still, how did this happen? You have been going there without my knowledge?”

  “You introduced us,” she said. “Years ago.”

  “You have been going to see him this whole time?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, plainly.

  I didn’t know how this could happen. How I couldn’t have known. Had I been so absorbed in my work and my art that I hadn’t seen my daughter grow into a young woman who had caught the eye of the Son of Heaven?

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t seem important. His eunuchs know. I’m sure the council knows. They have often seen us together.”

  “And they haven’t tried to stop you?”

  “No. I think they see him the way you do, as a boy. As if we are mere childhood playmates. But he is a young man. He wants to be emperor. He wants to take his rightful place on the throne.”

  “Stop talking of such things,” I said. “It is not your place to speak on such matters.”

  She sighed and looked back at her work.

  “But you said that he loves you. That you are uncertain about your path. What did you mean? What does he want from you?”

  “He said he wants me to be one of his consorts, when the time comes.”

  “You know that is impossible,” I said. “You are Han. The emperor can only take Manchu consorts.”

  “But I am half Manchu,” she said.

  I stared at her and she stared back. I had heard what she said, but I was uncertain that she meant to say what I heard. We stared, as if daring the other to speak first. I realized then that my daughter was far more bold than I imagined.

  “I know my father is Manchu,” she finally said.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I have always known,” she said. “Ever since he first brought me here…to my mother.”

  I felt my face grow hot. I was…angry? Embarrassed? Ashamed? If she knew I was her mother, then she also knew I was the worst mother who ever existed. I abandoned her, only to call her back to me in a moment of weakness, and then continued to neglect her. I had never played the role of mother to her and I didn’t give her a substitute in my place. I found myself unable to respond so I looked down and began fidgeting with my embroidery.

  “I’m not angry,” she said. “I know that you couldn’t claim me without risking your own life.”

  “Did he tell you?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I just…I knew. The way he looked at me. The fact that we have the same nose. How gentle he was with me. I’m not sure. I just knew.”

  “And me?” I asked. “How did you know I was your mother and not just your teacher?”

  “It is clear how much he loves you,” she said.

  My eyes welled up. I didn’t want to know what she meant by that. Was it in the way he spoke of me? Looked at me? I didn’t want to know because it didn’t matter.