The Emperor's secret meetings with Ito provoked a backlash among the court's conservatives. Led by Prince Ts'eng, the Iron-hats pressed me to replace Guang-hsu on the throne. At the same time, Ts'eng prepared his Moslem troops in the northwest to move toward Peking. I was caught in the middle, unable to decide and unable to get out.
When the minister of the royal cemetery requested my presence for an inspection, I used it as a pretext to escape the Forbidden City. Li Lien-ying hired a carpenter to make an adjustable seat for my horse carriage so I could ride in a reclining position. I bounced and dozed through the three-day journey covering 125 kilometers from Peking to Hupeh province.
By the time I arrived at the cemetery it was early morning. The sky was overcast and a fine mist fell over the blue rivers. White bridges, golden roofs, red walls and cypress trees formed breathtaking views.
The cemetery minister greeted me at the Grand Sacred Way. An elderly man who was hard of hearing, he apologized for the dirt and mud and said that Nuharoo's tomb was being repaired.
"Wild animals dug up the ground and damaged the drainage system," the minister explained. "A few of the tombs, including Empress Nuharoo's, flooded during the last storm."
I thought about how Nuharoo would have hated the flood and asked, "How soon will the repairs be completed?"
"I am embarrassed to say that I can't give you an exact date," he replied. "The work has been sporadic. Sometimes we have to stand idle for weeks while we appeal for more funds."
I was led to my own tomb, which seemed well maintained.
"It flooded too, but I gave the repair work top priority." The minister was not humble about claiming credit.
My tomb stood next to Nuharoo's like a twin sister. When Tung Chih ascended the throne in 1862, he ordered construction to begin on our tombs. It took thirteen years to complete the outer tomb and another five years to finish the interior.
Having reached the age of sixty-three, I had become familiar with the process of death. I continued to attend sacrificial ceremonies whenever I could. I honored the gods of all religions, not just Buddha. I believed in paying attention to the force of energy inside me. Not everyone would be lucky enough to achieve the Great Void, but I understood that the point was to try. I struggled to balance yin and yang, however difficult it seemed to be.
While the nation applauded Guang-hsu's dismissal of so-called corrupt officials, few of the throne's edicts had been executed, which meant no significant progress in reform had taken place. Guang-hsu expected to harvest his reforms by the end of the year, but the only thing that seemed to be coming was war with Japan.
"Young women in Japan are offering their virginity to soldiers willing to volunteer for service in China," one Peking newspaper reported.
Guang-hsu kept his door closed and worked with his reformer friends in the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing until "the wild geese flew across the dawn sky," according to the eunuchs. The country was on the brink of chaos. The ministers and officers who were fired continued to kneel at my front gate while the Ironhats trained their Moslem troops.
I looked at myself in the mirror and a saying came to mind: "The ship sinks when a female goes on board." I had never believed it before. On the contrary, I had intended to offer myself as proof that it wasn't true. But the thought persisted: Hsien Feng's ship sank! Tung Chih's ship sank! And now Guang-hsu's-all with you on board!
When I recounted my recent trip to the royal cemetery, Guang-hsu showed little interest. It was time to begin construction on his own tomb, but I had been told that funds were unavailable. When I implored my son to find a way to fund the project, he replied, "There were Manchu emperors who were not buried at the royal cemetery."
"It was circumstance, not their choice." I told Guang-hsu that it hurt me to think that he would be excluded from the family cemetery. "If I raise any money, it will go toward reform," Guang-hsu said.
Through the transparent curtain I observed Ito Hirobumi. I was sitting on the side of the Grand Hall, where I could see the guest but he couldn't see me.
Ito sat in front of my son dressed in a plain blue Japanese garment, which reflected his position as Li Hung-chang had described it, that of "a private citizen in his leisure time." Ito's hands rested on his knees. His back was straight and his chin was low.
My son, although dressed in the golden dragon robe of the Emperor, sat like a pupil, leaning forward, listening. An ensemble of strings and gongs softly played ancient music in the background. The gongs were meant to evoke distant peaceful times, but to my ear it sounded like explosives-Japanese cannons destroying our fleet. I fought to separate the humble man in front of me from the murderer of Queen Min. I tried to view Ito through my son's eyes.
The two men exchanged words about the weather and each other's health. My son asked whether Chinese food would suit his guest. Ito replied that there was no better cuisine in the world than Chinese cuisine.
I expected a conversation of political significance to follow, but it did not occur.
The guest began to talk about his favorite Chinese poets, and recited, "While moonbeams danced on the crest of waves where the water touches the sky…"
My son smiled and took a sip of tea.
"In Japan," Ito said, in a gentle voice, "only the children of the privileged class are taught Chinese poetry, and only the nobility can read and write Mandarin." His voice was full of admiration.
Guang-hsu nodded respectfully, slouching his shoulders and then sinking back into his chair.
When the clock struck four times, the minister of the interior appeared and pronounced that the Imperial reception was over.
I withdrew quietly before the two men rose.
The minister of national security, who worked directly for Yung Lu, sent me a memorandum. He asked for permission to issue Kang Yu-wei a Warning of Violation. Our spy had discovered that the reformer had gone to the Japanese embassy, where he supposedly met with Ito.
My son would be offended was the thought that came to mind. Guang-hsu would take such a warning as Yung Lu's as a personal attack on him.
I sent for Yung Lu and asked whether he was aware of the connection between the Board of National Security and Prince Ts'eng's Iron-hats, whose goal was to replace my son on the throne.
Yung Lu said that he knew of the connection. He agreed with me that "in trying to shoot the fly, we might end up shattering the vase instead."
I asked what we should do.
"It must be your decision, Your Majesty."
I protested and said that my priority was to avoid jeopardizing the Emperor's reform plan. "My son should be the one to issue Kang a warning. I cannot talk him into doing that until you provide solid evidence that Kang's activities threaten the nation's security."
"It is impossible to obtain the full facts at this stage," Yung Lu said.
"Then I cannot grant your minister the permission."
Quietly Yung Lu said that if he was not allowed to do his job, he would resign.
"You would not abandon me" was my reply.
We sat staring at each other for a long moment.
"You let Li Hung-chang go," he said.
"You are not Li Hung-chang."
"I can't work with your son. He doesn't respect me and he thinks he doesn't need me!"
"I need you!" My tears came. Yung Lu sighed, shaking his head.
My son let me know that reformer Kang Yu-wei claimed that he was the friend of ambassadors all over the world.
"What about Li Hung-chang?" I asked my son. "Li has actually met the 'real tigers' and has negotiated with them for years."
"Sure, Li negotiated, but for himself, not for China."
"Li Hung-chang has been behind every major reform." I tried to keep calm.
"But he won't call for complete political reform!" My son could no longer keep his voice down.
"Guang-hsu, calling for such radical change could mean your dethroning…"
The Emperor laughed. "As it is, I am an emperor without an empire! I have nothing to lose."
"Let me ask you this. Do you know why Japan stopped the Allies from setting fire to the Forbidden City back in 1861?"
Guang-hsu shook his head.
"Because the Japanese Emperor plans to live here one day."
"Another clever story from Li Hung-chang and Yung Lu!" "I have evidence, my son."
"Mother, nothing I say will convince you that Ito is not a monster. All I ask for is your patience. Please judge me by results. My plans are yet to take effect."
There was a resounding confidence in Guang-hsu's voice. I remembered the days when he feared the sound of thunder, when he trembled in my arms. What more could or should I ask of him?