"Yes."

"Tell me how, then."

"Your Majesty could tell me my name."

"Your name?"

"Do you know my name?"

"What a wicked question! No, of course I don't."

"I am your wife. I am your consort of the fourth rank."

"Indeed?"

"My name, Your Majesty?"

"Would you kindly remind me?"

"Would I? Has anyone in this realm had the luck to hear the Son of Heaven say 'Would you kindly'?"

"What's your name? Come on!"

"Why bother?"

"His Majesty wants to bother!"

"He'd better not. It'll give him nightmares."

"How so?"

"I have no idea whether I shall turn into a good ghost. And a bad ghost chases after the living. I a.s.sume you are aware of that."

"I see." He got up and walked barefoot to a golden tray on his desk. On the tray was a bamboo chip with my name on it. "Lady Yehonala." He picked up the chip and cupped it in his hand. "How does your family call you, Yehonala?"

"Orchid."

"Orchid." He nodded and murmured the name repeatedly as he dropped the chip back onto the tray. "Well, Orchid, maybe you'd like to ask me to grant you a last wish."

"No, I would like to get my life over with as soon as possible."

"I shall certainly honor that. Anything else?"

"No."

"Well then," the Emperor said, "perhaps before you die you may wish to know how you came to be here tonight." The Emperor's effort to appear stern could not hide a faint smile.

"I wouldn't mind, no," I managed.

"Well, it all began with Chief Eunuch Shim telling me a story ... Come, Orchid, lie here with me. It wouldn't hurt, would it? Maybe this will turn you into a good ghost."

As I climbed into the bed, my gown became tangled.

"Off, take your dress off." Emperor Hsien Feng pointed his finger at my gown.

I revealed my body with embarra.s.sment. What a strange play to be part of!

"It was a story about the Emperor Yuan Ti of the Han Dynasty." His Majesty's tone was warm and charged with energy. "Like myself he owned thousands of concubines whom he never saw. He had time only to pick them from their portraits, which were painted by the court artist, Mao Yen-shou. The concubines showered gifts on the painter in the hope that he would make them look as desirable as possible. The loveliest of all the concubines was an eighteen-year-old girl named w.a.n.g Ch'ao-chun. She possessed a strong character and didn't believe in bribery. She thought that it would be all right if the artist painted her as she really was. But of course Mao Yen-shou painted a terrible portrait of her. The painting failed to do justice to her beauty. As a result, Emperor Yuan Ti knew her not.

"In those days many dignitaries came to pay homage at the court, among them Shang Yu, the Great Khan, who reigned over the Turkomans of the Huns. Wishing to strengthen the ties of friendship with this powerful neighbor, Emperor Yuan Ti offered him one of his own concubines as a wife. And Emperor Yuan Ti gave him w.a.n.g Ch'aochun, whom he had never seen.

"When the bride, who had come to bid farewell, appeared before Yuan Ti, the Emperor was struck dumb by her beauty. He had not known that his harem contained a maiden of such transcendent loveliness. He desired her right on the spot, but it was too late-w.a.n.g Ch'ao-chun was his no longer.

"As soon as the couple departed, Yuan Ti ordered Mao Yen-shou's beheading. Even so, the Emperor was forever haunted by the memory of the maiden and by regret for the happiness that might have been his."

Emperor Hsien Feng gazed at me. "I summoned you because I didn't want to suffer the regret Yuan Ti did. You are as beautiful as Chief Eunuch Shim described. You are w.a.n.g Ch'ao-chun's incarnation. But Shim failed to tell me that you are also a lady of character. You are better than the orange-peel tea they make me drink. It is delicious, but I find no pleasure in its taste.

"It is the same with everything these days. I wouldn't be able to enjoy w.a.n.g Ch'ao-chun even if she existed. And I am wondering about you. All I can think of, I'm afraid, is the shrinking map of China. Enemies are coming from all directions. They have grabbed me by the throat and spit in my face. I am beat up and shot through. Why should I-how can I-sleep with you or any concubine? To pa.s.s on a living man's worst nightmare? I am incapable of producing an heir. I am no different from a eunuch."

He began to laugh. There was a wrenching sadness in his manner and voice, which touched me. I knew the map he was talking about. It was the same map my father had shown me. The man in front of me reminded me of my father. He too had desperately desired to bring back the honor of the Manchus, and yet he ended up deserting his post. I felt the shame His Majesty bore. It was the same shame that killed my father.

I looked at Hsien Feng and thought that he was a true Bannerman. He could have sat back and enjoyed the garden and the feast of concubines, but he chose to worry himself to impotency.

An urge to comfort him overcame my fear. I moved to sit on my knees. I opened my arms and pulled him to my chest as a mother would an infant. He offered no resistance, and I held him this way for a long time.

He sighed and drew back to look at me.

I reached for the sheet to cover my exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Leave it," he said, pulling away the sheet. "I enjoy what I see."

"My death sentence?"

He grinned. "You'll have a chance to live if you help me get a good night's sleep."

Sunlight filtered through my heart's darkest chamber, and I smiled.

"The smile is back!" he cried happily, like a child discovering a shooting star.

"Is it time for Your Majesty to sleep?"

"It is no longer an easy job." He sighed.

"It will help if you let go of your thoughts."

"Impossible, Orchid."

"Does Your Majesty like games?"

"Games no longer interest me."

"Does Your Majesty know 'Joy at Meeting'?"

"That is an old song. By Chu Tun-ju of the Sung Dynasty?"

"What an excellent memory Your Majesty has!"

"Let me warn you, Orchid, no doctor has succeeded in helping me with my sleep."

"May I have your qin qin?"

He reached for the instrument and pa.s.sed it to me.

I plucked the strings and began to sing.

I lean on the western railing of the city wall Of Ching-ling in the fall.

Shedding its rays over the land, the sun hangs low To see the great river flow.The central plain is a mess, Officials disperse in distress.

When to recover our frontiers?

The winds of Yang-chou came to blow away my tears.

Emperor Hsien Feng listened quietly and started to weep. He asked me to sing another song. "If you were an actor from the royal troupe, I would reward you with three hundred taels," he said, taking hold of my hand.

I sang. I no longer wanted to think about how strangely things had turned out. After I finished "Farewell, Black River" and "The Drunken Concubine," His Majesty wanted more. I begged his pardon and explained that I was not prepared.

"One last song." He held me close. "Anything that comes to your mind."

My fingers wandered over the strings. A moment later a tune came to me.

"It is called 'Immortal at the Magpie Bridge,' composed by Ch'in Kuan." I cleared my throat and started.

"Wait, Orchid. 'Immortal at the Magpie Bridge'? Why have I never heard of this? Is it popular?"

"Was."

"That's not fair, Lady Yehonala. The Emperor of China should be informed about everything."

"Well, that's why I am here, Your Majesty. For me, this lyric eclipses all other love poems. It tells the old legend of the Cowherd and the Maiden-or the Weaver-two stars separated by the Milky Way. They were to meet on the Magpie Bridge once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, when the autumn wind embraces the dew."

"The pain of separation is known to many," the Emperor said quietly. "The story reminds me of my mother. She hanged herself when I was a child. She was a beautiful woman, and we are separated by the Milky Way."

I was moved to hear him say this, but managed not to comment. Instead, I sang.

Clouds float like works of art, Stars shoot with grief at heart.

Across the Milky Way the Cowherd meets the Maiden.

When autumn's golden wind embraces the dew of jade, All the love scenes on earth, however many, fade.Their pa.s.sion flows like a stream.

This happy date seems but a dream.

Can they bear a separate homeward way?

If love between both sides can last, Why need they stay together night and day?

Before my last note ended, Emperor Hsien Feng was asleep.

I put the instrument down beside the bed, wishing that this moment would go on forever. But it was time for me to depart. According to custom, I had to be sent back to my own palace at midnight. The eunuchs would soon come and remove me. Would I be summoned again? Most likely Emperor Hsien Feng would forget about me when he woke up.

A sense of melancholy descended. Fortune had not led to intimacy. I tried not to think about my ruyi ruyi and my lost hairpin and the energy and hope that went into my preparation. I hadn't been given a chance to perform my fan dance. If Emperor Hsien Feng had desired me, I felt I could have made him happy. and my lost hairpin and the energy and hope that went into my preparation. I hadn't been given a chance to perform my fan dance. If Emperor Hsien Feng had desired me, I felt I could have made him happy.

Lying next to him, I watched the candles inside the red lanterns die out one after another. I tried not to feel beaten. What good would it do if I allowed myself to break down? The Emperor would only be irritated.

Sorrow drowned me in silence. My heart floated in an ocean strangled by seaweed. The candle in the last lantern flickered and went out. The room turned black. I hadn't noticed until now that the clouds had blocked the moon completely. The singing of the yoo-hoo-loos yoo-hoo-loos was joined by other insects. The symphony of this night was marvelous. I lay in the dark and watched Emperor Hsien Feng breathing peacefully in his sleep. Like a pen, my eyes traced the contours of his body. was joined by other insects. The symphony of this night was marvelous. I lay in the dark and watched Emperor Hsien Feng breathing peacefully in his sleep. Like a pen, my eyes traced the contours of his body.

A shaft of moonlight cut the floor. The color was white with a touch of yellow. It recalled my mother's complexion as she watched my father die. Each day the wrinkles chewed away a bit of her, biting deeper into her skin. Then suddenly one day the lines changed the entire landscape of her face. Her skin hung as if pulled by the earth. My mother was no longer a young woman.

Slowly and silently, I removed myself from the bed. I placed the qin qin on the table against the wall. I put on my gown and looked out the windows. I stared at the moon and saw myself in it-a large tear-washed face. on the table against the wall. I put on my gown and looked out the windows. I stared at the moon and saw myself in it-a large tear-washed face.

Hsien Feng lay curled in sleep, a man dreaming a man's dreams. Like everyone in China, I used to think of the Son of Heaven as a G.o.d-like figure, the dragon who penetrated the universe. Today I saw a man whose delicate shoulders were having trouble carrying the nation's burden; I saw a man who sobbed over my songs, a man who grew up without a mother's love. What was misfortune if this was not? How terrible it must have been for him when his mother hanged herself in shame and everyone lied to him while all along he knew the truth! The irony was that he would never get to be the simple man he desired to be. Tomorrow morning, in front of his audience, he had to fake himself.

Tonight had been worthy of my ruyi ruyi and my hairpin. I was glad for what I had achieved. If His Majesty forgot me tomorrow, he couldn't erase my memory of tonight. It belonged to me. If I were to see my grave tomorrow, I would carry this night with me. and my hairpin. I was glad for what I had achieved. If His Majesty forgot me tomorrow, he couldn't erase my memory of tonight. It belonged to me. If I were to see my grave tomorrow, I would carry this night with me.

The moonlight shifted and now shone through the carved window frames. The shadows looked like embroidery spilling onto the floor. I put my cheek against the soft silky sheet of the Imperial bed and my skin against the body of the Son of Heaven. I wanted to thank him for stripping us of our t.i.tles and allowing us to touch each other the way common souls did.

At this thought I relaxed, although my fear still lingered. I prepared myself to leave the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing and never return.

Emperor Hsien Feng turned. His left arm was exposed. In the moonlight it looked as thin as a young boy's. I would let him sleep. He was facing me now. His eyebrows were no longer furrowed. His dream must be sweet.

The yoo-hoo-loos' yoo-hoo-loos' singing had become discordant. It was a sign (so An-te-hai told me) that the males were finished mating and were now struggling to leave the females' bodies. The high-pitched sounds, those of the females, were disturbing. The longer I sat, the harder they were to bear. I was forced to admit that I had fallen in love with the moment, and was dreading its end. An ache started to take hold of me. I grew more desperate with each fleeting instant. singing had become discordant. It was a sign (so An-te-hai told me) that the males were finished mating and were now struggling to leave the females' bodies. The high-pitched sounds, those of the females, were disturbing. The longer I sat, the harder they were to bear. I was forced to admit that I had fallen in love with the moment, and was dreading its end. An ache started to take hold of me. I grew more desperate with each fleeting instant.

I could kiss him, I thought. I could kiss him the way I had learned at the House of Lotus. I wished that His Majesty were the same as the customers who visited that house, for they knew pleasure and sought it at every opportunity. I wondered if Emperor Hsien Feng had ever experienced true pleasure. I sensed that he hadn't. He didn't seem familiar with affection. But how could I blame him? He had to rule the country, and every night it was his duty to deposit his seeds in womb after womb. Wouldn't I be impotent too?

I heard soft footsteps. The eunuchs were coming for me.