“Three, and they have all nursed well.”
Three children is the required number. In fact, she’s met all the qualifications for a wet nurse: between the ages of fifteen and twenty, has proper deportment, married to someone in the military, has breasts that even through her clothes look plump with milk. She’s quite pretty but would never be considered a threat to the empress for her husband’s affections, not that the emperor is interested in anyone apart from Empress Zhang. Still, men are men…
“A wet nurse is considered a lifetime position,” I say.
“I’d be honored to have this appointment. I don’t know when or if I’ll see my husband again. It’s important that I provide for my family in case—”
“How lucky we are not at war,” I say, but I’ve grown cynical enough to realize that the death of her husband is not what’s on her mind. This assignment comes with even greater rewards than those bestowed on midwives and far more than are given to doctors.
Lin Ta enters, leans down, and whispers in my ear. I look at the woman across from me. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this another day,” I say, rising.
I hurry to my room to pick up the bag I prepared in advance of this moment. Then I follow Lin Ta as he leads the way to the carriage to take me the short distance to the Forbidden City. By the time I reach the Great Within, the empress’s room has been emptied of everyone except for Meiling, two helper-midwives—Midwife Quon and Midwife Guo—and a few boy eunuchs to bring in water to heat on the brazier to help with the birth, make tea, and brew herbs, if needed. Empress Zhang nestles in the arms of the two helpers, her face constricting in concentration. She seems to be doing well, but when I glimpse Meiling’s features, I sense something is wrong.
I kneel next to the women. My fingers seek the empress’s pulse. It feels fine.
Meiling, sitting next to me, suddenly rounds her shoulders and hunches over her belly. She takes a breath and holds it. She keeps her lips sealed together in a reassuring smile, but the muscles in her face twitch with the effort it takes to maintain it. A few seconds pass. She exhales, and then says in a tight voice, “The empress has been in labor for six hours. She has done so well that she felt no need for you to come, but I thought you might like to attend anyway.”
The empress grunts as a contraction hits her. As soon as it passes, she relaxes against the helper-midwives. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary and am unsure why Meiling felt the need to summon me.
“This will most definitely be a slippery birth,” Meiling says in that taut-as-string voice. “It won’t be long before I ask the empress to get into position and grab the rope.”
Again, Meiling bends forward. This time a hand goes to her stomach. I touch her shoulder to get her attention. She drags her eyes to mine. I see in them worry and fear.
“Compassionate One,” I say, addressing the empress, “let me borrow the midwife for a moment so we can consult. We will return shortly.”
I reach under Meiling’s elbow and help her to her feet. Only with difficulty is she able to straighten. She smiles at the empress, but as soon as we turn away, her face twists in pain. I take her behind the screen that’s been set up for me, and we sit on porcelain stools.
“You must be having teasing pains,” I whisper reassuringly. “Many women experience these before a baby is due to enter the world. I did—”
“I’m a midwife. What I’m feeling is not that. My contractions are coming closer together. And…” She breathes in unsteadily. “They’re getting stronger.”
“Our babies aren’t due for another two months,” I say. “Let me take your pulse. You’ll see. There will be nothing to worry about.”
My fingers barely touch Meiling’s wrist before I feel the galloping beat that signifies a woman already deep in labor. She closes her eyes as another spasm hits her.
“You need to go back to the lodge,” I say.
Meiling shakes her head. “Never. Let me deliver the empress’s baby and then we’ll return to our rooms.”
The empress groans. Meiling sets her face, rises, and returns to the empress. Breaking with tradition, I follow.
“Compassionate One,” I say, “we are all women here. Although it’s contrary to tradition, would you prefer I stay at your side? You are the empress and deserving of special treatment.”
Empress Zhang nods, which means now I can watch over Meiling. I keep going over in my mind what could be wrong when her pregnancy has, until recently, followed a fortuitous path. The formulas I made for her were perfect. I’m sure of it. What she’s experiencing now must be false labor. Once we get back to our room, I’ll examine her and make adjustments to her herbs if need be.
After another three hours, Meiling stoops behind the empress. “Please grab the rope,” she instructs. The empress, who is unused to obeying anyone apart from her husband, edges into position. In this moment, she’s like any other laboring woman on earth—squatting, the space between her legs bulging, pain draining color from her features. I’m able to see the baby’s head emerge, listen to Meiling’s encouraging words, and watch as first one shoulder then the other push out, followed by a final swoosh as the torso, legs, and feet slip into the world. Meiling cuts the cord and carries away the newborn before the empress can see its sex.
“Is it the future emperor?” Empress Zhang implores.
Before Meiling can answer, she falters, still holding the baby in her arms. I hurry to her side and take the baby before her knees buckle.
“It’s a boy,” Meiling manages to get out before her body contracts into a ball.
The baby’s arms jerk at their sudden freedom. His face twists into an expression of extreme unhappiness. His cry is healthy and strong. I quickly wrap him in swaddling, leave him on the table, and gesture for one of the boy eunuchs to come watch over the infant. The baby will be fine while I check on Meiling.
Across the room, the empress beseeches, “Let me see him. Let me see him,” even as one of the helper-midwives catches the placenta before it hits the straw bedding. The boy eunuchs are uncustomarily quiet, and I realize it’s because two of them have crept out of the room to relate the news of the birth to those with even bigger eyes and ears.
Meiling whimpers. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “This isn’t happening. Don’t let it happen.”
Her words are like fingers squeezing my throat. I was sure these were random pains… Maybe I should have insisted she stay in bed and keep her legs elevated… But she had to help the empress… There must be something I can do…
Meiling’s struggles attract the empress’s attention. “What are you doing over there?” Her voice obliges an answer, but I’m afraid to give it. “You! Find out what the fuss is about.”
Midwife Quon crosses the room to us. She understands the problem immediately. “We need to get you out of here,” she says as discreetly as possible. “Can you walk?”
“I’ll try.” But as Meiling rises, she screams as blood suddenly streams through her silk gown, and she collapses back to the floor.
“What is that commotion?” the empress demands.
Midwife Quon begins to pull away the layers of Meiling’s clothing. I remember every caution my grandparents gave me about the polluting qualities of blood. I should recoil, but my concern for my friend has even greater force. Meiling screams again, and I take her hand.
“Don’t let this happen, Yunxian,” she moans. “Please, please, please…”
But there’s nothing I can do to stop or even slow the inevitable.
“Help me sit up,” the empress orders. “I want to see—”
Meiling cries out.
The other helper-midwife is attending to the empress, and the boy eunuchs have no duty to Meiling. Midwife Quon locks eyes with mine, wordlessly sending instructions. I support Meiling with my arms as her baby falls from the childbirth gate in a river of blood. It’s a girl—a tiny blessing—and she is too small, too blue, and too still to be alive. I put a hand over Meiling’s eyes, but she’s already seen what cannot be unseen. Her body heaves with sobs.
Blood