Once we are back in the Lodge of Ritual and Ceremony, Midwife Quon insists that Meiling’s childbirth gate be packed with clean gauze to stem the bleeding. I offer a roll of brand-new bindings made by the spinster aunts that I brought with me from home. “What a waste of something so precious,” Midwife Quon comments when I hand her the untouched roll. Later, as I walk her to the door, I ask how she thinks Meiling is doing. The midwife looks away and says, “It’s such a shame.”
The next night when Midwife Quon stops by her lips stay clamped and she won’t meet my eyes. I take this to be a bad sign. I think of all the times Meiling has taken care of me. Now it’s my turn. She’s lost a tremendous amount of blood, and her cheeks and lips have turned as white as marble. I dose her with a combination of herbs, trying to prevent infection and fever. Over the next two days, my fingers are constantly busy, monitoring the pulses in Meiling’s wrists. I ask questions: Is she in pain? Is she hungry? Will she take a sip of tea? I get no response. Not a nod or shake of her head. Not a squeeze of my hand. She keeps her eyes closed even when I can tell from her breathing that she’s awake. I don’t sleep. I barely eat. I’m terrified that if I let down my guard for one minute, Meiling will slip away. And I still have no understanding of how this could have happened when I’d been so vigilant in my care of her.
“Meiling needs you to be strong,” Miss Zhao says on the fifth day. “You should try to rest.” I refuse, but Miss Zhao is insistent. “I’ll be here. I’ll watch over both of you.”
I take Meiling’s limp hand in mine and rest my head on the quilt. I’m drifting off when four men burst into the room. Two of them take positions with their backs to the door, spears planted on the ground. The other two come at Meiling and me. One of them pushes me aside. Then they grab Meiling by her elbows and drag her from the bed.
“What are you doing?” I scream, terrified, as Miss Zhao edges into a corner, her hands folded over her mouth.
Meiling tries to free herself, but she’s small in stature and weak from all she’s been through. From outside the room come cries of distress—the shrill tones from the eunuchs easily distinguishable from those of the midwives and wet nurses. Meiling’s legs give out, and she sags in the guards’ arms. The burlier of the two men motions to me and Miss Zhao. “You’re coming too.”
I can barely breathe, my fear is so great. Miss Zhao and I support each other as we’re herded outside to two waiting palanquins instead of the usual carriage. Lin Ta stands with his hands hidden in his sleeves, his eyes averted. Meiling is pushed into the first palanquin. I’m about to follow her when one of the guards grabs my arm and holds me back. I don’t dare try to shake myself loose, but I won’t be separated from Meiling.
“Lin Ta,” I say with a deep bow. “Please…”
He releases a hand from his sleeve and wordlessly waves away the guard. Before he can change his mind, I climb in next to Meiling, who’s slumped against a corner of the palanquin. My body pulses, alive with an energy I’ve never experienced before, but Meiling is barely conscious.
By now I’m quite familiar with the journey that leads to the Great Within. This time we go in a different direction.
“Where are they taking us?” Meiling’s voice is as insubstantial as a blossom left on a stone under the summer sun.
I shake my head.
The ride is extremely rough, with bumps and lurches, as if the bearers have intended to add to our suffering. When the palanquin lands with a hard thump, Meiling is nearly thrown from the seat. The door swings open, and a pair of hands reaches in and yanks her out. When I exit, I see we’re in a courtyard before the entrance to a hall unknown to me. Miss Zhao descends from her palanquin and joins me as we follow the guards dragging Meiling. The back of her sleeping gown is blotted with fresh blood. She’s too feeble to walk on her own, and the bare tops of her feet drag along the paving stones with her soles facing skyward. None of the men even bothers to glimpse at this profound nakedness, which tells me just how grave the situation is.
We enter the hall. Men in formal robes stand lined against the walls. In front of us on a raised platform are two thrones, one of which is occupied. The emperor…
Miss Zhao and I are pushed forward. When the man holding my shoulder lets go, I drop to the ground—Miss Zhao beside me—in total submission.
“I have striven to make the palace a place of good thought and proper acts.” The emperor’s voice is not at all what I might have imagined, if I’d ever given a moment’s thought to it. He sounds like a regular man—like my husband or my grandfather—only the words he forms with his ordinary voice make my body shiver. “I have but one wife. Empress Zhang is the moon to my sun. One day long from now she will become the empress dowager, helping our son as he rules China. But you”—he lifts a finger to gesture at Meiling—“have offended her eyes with your vile act. I am outraged on behalf of the empress, who had to witness such pollution in the Great Within.”
Meiling soundlessly weeps.
“I have discussed the offense with my counselors at the Board of Punishments, as well as with those who oversee the Lodge of Ritual and Ceremony,” the emperor continues. “Together they have recommended that the offending party be immediately put to death. Since you are a woman, I see no reason to prolong your suffering in the ways that might serve as a caution to others. Decapitation will be swift and painless.”
Just then a pair of double doors opens. The empress enters, followed by Lady Liu, Widow Bao, and some of the other ladies who provide company in the Great Within.
“Husband,” Empress Zhang says with a formal bow. Then she mounts the royal dais and sits on her throne. One of the ladies arranges the empress’s robes so they splay about her, making her look simultaneously small in the ocean of embroidered brocade and equal in dignity and power to the emperor. The other women fan out on either side of Miss Zhao and me.
“You should be with our son,” the emperor says. “You should be doing the month.”
“Yes, Husband” comes Empress Zhang’s reply. “I have left my bed so I might appeal to you.”
“Please continue.”
When Empress Zhang begins, I realize she’s about to reveal the side of herself known as the Compassionate One. I pray that it works.
“The midwife put the birth of the next emperor above the safety of herself and her child,” the empress says.
“What does this matter when she insulted your eyes?”
“I beg you to show benevolence.”
The emperor is not swayed. “I have made my decision.”
Empress Zhang gestures to the line of women before her. “Each one of us implores you—”
With those words spoken, I find my courage. “I would like to say a few words on the midwife’s behalf.”
The emperor looks startled. Some of the men in their grand robes grumble their displeasure.
“Empress Zhang truly is the Compassionate One,” I say. “And you are the Hongzhi emperor—the Emperor of Great Governance.”
“Who is this?”
The emperor’s question is not addressed to me, but I answer anyway. “I am Tan Yunxian, the doctor who oversaw the delivery of your son. I come from Wuxi. My father, grandfather, great-grandfather, as well as my uncle, have served the empire loyally for generations.”
The emperor motions to someone, who approaches to receive instructions. This man then quickly scurries from the hall. I suspect he’s gone to confirm all I’ve said, but I can’t wait for verification before I’m allowed to continue speaking.
“I ask the Hongzhi emperor to consider this woman before you,” I say, pointing to Meiling. “Imagine how she must have felt. Imagine how the Compassionate One must have felt.” I put my hands on my belly, and his eyes widen in recognition of what’s hidden beneath the draping of my gown and robe. “See yourself as one of us in this condition. For one moment, imagine the creature inside ripping its way out of your body.”
The emperor winces and looks away.
“That was happening to the midwife just as it was happening to me,” the empress adds to stress the point.
“But the midwife continued her duties,” I go on, “never once abandoning her responsibility to the empress. The midwife was prepared to give her life and that of her own baby. One did not survive. Do you now punish this woman who has already paid so much to do what was right and proper?”
The emperor has the grace to weigh my words, but I doubt they will change his mind.
Behind me, a small voice says, “Let the midwife live.” I glance back to see who spoke and discover Lady Liu dropping to her knees and putting her forehead on the floor.
“Yes, let the midwife live.” Widow Bao comes to her daughter-in-law’s side. The widow is old. She has little to lose.
Then the other women are calling out. “Let the midwife live! Let the midwife live!”
A thin smile spreads across the emperor’s face. Once silence falls over the hall, he says, “The midwife may live, but she must still be punished.” He lets his words hang in the air. “She will be flogged thirty strokes. I also banish her from the capital for her remaining years. Last, the rewards she was to be given will be revoked.”
The empress nods. “Let those transfer to Doctor Tan.”