Empress

Without Little Phoenix, his migraines, and his turbulent emotions, the I

The shadows had taken Little Phoenix, my father, my mother, my sisters, my niece, and my rivals. For the time being, I had learned to forget my body, which was “resting.” I grew accustomed to the lofty height of the throne on which I now sat alone. Alone, I manipulated the pawns on the vast chessboard of an empire orphaned by its master. I was nothing more than a mind, a mind contemplating the world below with chilled compassion.

POLITICAL AFFAIRS KEPT me breathing. I extended the time I dedicated to my work on into the evening to avoid my palace, my prison, my tomb.

The transition in reigns was an opportunity for plots to be revealed, for hidden ambitions to betray themselves. These little problems that needed resolving distracted me and occupied my solitude.

One night, a strange dream disturbed me. Someone was scratching at the door to my pavilion. As there seemed to be no servant on duty, I went to open the door myself. It was dark outside, and there was a little boy standing on the steps. A man! Who had let him into the gynaeceum where all males were forbidden? The child held up both his hands, holding a tiny box. “Could you give me some salt? Please?” Behind me, the room was deserted. In front of me, beyond the threshold, the dark rooftops of the Imperial City spread out to infinity. The wind blew, and I was gripped by an uncontrollable fear. Was he a professional killer, a hired assassin? And yet I could not find the resolve to close the door on him. Perhaps he needed my help? How could I refuse him a few grains of salt? I shook with fear, but in that agonizing moment of hesitation, I decided, in spite of myself, to let him in. As the stranger stepped over the threshold, my fear suddenly dissolved, and I woke feeling amazed and happy.

I confided this dream to the Princess of Gold, the youngest daughter of Emperor Lordly Ancestor, and my friend for thirty years. The princess thought for a while and then smiled at me mischievously: “Does your Supreme Majesty not think that salt gives food its taste? When there is no salt, life is bland and flavorless!”

I could not help myself sighing. In my dream, it had not in fact been a little boy asking for salt, but I, Supreme Empress, begging for the savor of life! The previous sovereign had given me back my freedom. Whatever I wished was now granted. In all of China, I had no other master but myself; I had become my own jailor, and I was my own prisoner.

My distress did not go u

Intrigued, I asked her what it was.

“Supreme Majesty,” she said, blinking slowly, “the yin element must be mixed with the yang element, and the combined force of these two primordial energies creates the seasons, makes the flowers bloom, raises up the wind, and brings forth the rain. Even though Your Supreme Majesty’s soul is as virile as a warrior’s, your body remains that of a woman. Since our Celestial Sovereign was called to the heavens, the dark exhalations of yin have accumulated in your organs. The weight of them darkens your mood, causes gloominess, diminishes your strength, and beckons old age! Majesty, your servant has in her possession a remedy full of the power of the sun, the remedy you so need. It will recapture forever the freshness of your features, the suppleness in your limbs, and the elation in your spirit!”

Her charlatanism made me smile: the Princess of Gold-a great bulky woman who was impossible to age-was a constant whirlwind of celebrations and pleasure. Born into a jade cradle, raised in the closed universe of the Imperial Court, she maintained a constant battle against the extinction of desire that threatens all such high-born creatures. Strangely, I who loved sobriety, exactitude, and profundity, had become fond of her guileless eagerness, her desperate frivolity, and her debauched escapades that overflowed with joy and tears.

“Come then, princess, do not toy with my impatience, make out the prescription!”

She waved her painted silk fan and breathed these words: “It is late now. I shall go home and find the formula. May Your Majesty reserve the night of the next full moon for me, I shall return with my medication!

WHEN THE NIGHT of the full moon came, I dined with the Princess of Gold. She became a little drunk and told me stories that would have caused any respectable woman to blush: princesses and their passing fancies for officers of the guard, princes and their attachments to their pages. She laughed as she related all these fatal encounters, all these terrible separations that had torn apart those silken hearts.

It was only after di

I waited on my bed, with my head lying along my arm. In accordance with my instructions, the blinds were left raised every night of the full moon. Outside, the celestial mirror projected the motionless shadows of the bamboos and the mille

I lay full length on my front. Two strong hands applied slow pressure to the acupuncture points at the nape of my neck. They slid into my hair and rubbed my head, wearied from the constant wigs and golden hair pins. Then they moved down over my shoulders and settled on my spine. The fingers were supple and charged with pleasing energies; wherever they applied pressure, my muscles were eased, and a life-giving warmth spread through my body. I was overcome by a hazy sleepiness and a sense of exaltation. I suspected that the masseuse was herself part of the magic remedy the princess had given me: She was not like any of those I already had. Her palms were wide and vigorous, and they relaxed me while at the same time reawakening ardors that had been extinguished since my husband’s death.