Empress by Shan Sa

Winged Lion snorted and bucked, arching his back and launching himself into a full gallop only to stop dead in his tracks, throwing his rider to the ground.
    Cries of amazement and disappointment filled the air. Inflamed by this cruel game, the Emperor ordered for his sleeves to be rolled up and prepared to take up the challenge. The Great Ministers threw themselves to their knees:
    “His Majesty must take care of his divine self.”
    “It is not acceptable for the sovereign to put his life in danger.”
    “The sages would condemn such foolhardiness.”
    “Majesty, do not forget your responsibilities to the State!”
    Unsure how to proceed, the Emperor tapped his foot on the ground and looked around him.
    “Well, is there no one who can master this horse?”
    Hearing these words, I stepped forward and prostrated myself on the ground.
    “Your servant requests permission to try her luck!”
    For the first time, the sovereign turned his eye on me. Amazed and amused, he asked: “My generals were unable to control this beast. Young girl, are you not afraid to die beneath my mount’s flailing hooves?”
    I replied more calmly than I would have believed possible: “Majesty, creatures of violence must be mastered with violence. I shall make so bold as to ask for three tools: a whip, a hammer, and a dagger. First, I shall give him a lesson with the whip. If he disobeys me, I shall blow him on the head with the hammer. If he still rebels, I shall slit his throat.”
    The Emperor roared with laughter. He praised my attitude and told the Supreme Son that it was an excellent metaphor for the strategy he applied to the Tatar people. The very next day he summoned me to serve in his inner palace. Dressed in man’s robes, with my tablet and ink pot attached to my belt and my calligraphy brush through my topknot, I joined the ranks of the secretaries.
     
    THE PALACE OF Precious Dew was displaying its beds of irises and orchids. With its ceilings as high as the vault of the heavens, its curtains of pearls, its screens inscribed with calligraphy, and its succession of sinuous galleries, it was a labyrinth of intrigue. Its countless doors opened onto a little corner of sky, a sloping roof, a window in the shape of a crescent moon, a rockery smothered in the twisted limbs of a wisteria or an emerald pond around which white cranes flitted. Each of these ingenious touches meant that every guest felt that the Son of Heaven favored him alone.
    From my position behind screens of gauze and sliding doors, I could watch the endless streams of jealous concubines and princes hoping to find recognition. Taoist monks and doctors argued over the pile of immortality. When ministers and generals appeared and disappeared at the entrance to secret passageways, I knew that, somewhere in the Empire, rebel heads would roll.
    The poetess Xu was having difficulty standing up to the combined forces of her rivals. Following her miscarriage, the Delicate Concubine had withdrawn from the Emperor’s entourage and now led a sad and solitary life. The Gracious Wife was still struggling valiantly to maintain the sovereign’s favor. I was now half a head taller than the woman who had introduced me to the delights and horrors of love. Her eyes had lost their languid mistiness, and her leaden face exhaled an air of repeated debauchery. Her sugary words were sibilant nonsense. I could not believe that I had been enslaved to this monster.
    But I had learned to play games the way women do. So as not to have her as an enemy, I flattered her with well-placed lies. My promises kept her desires at bay, and I no longer abandoned myself to her. First love is a crossing to another world.
    I sometimes met Little Phoenix, who came to offer his greetings. He would manage to shake off the following of eunuchs and slip away with me behind a column or a tree. He would give me secret presents bought at peasant fairs: a wooden comb, a terracotta doll, a little horse made of sugar.