The Powerful Eunuch

It was yet another banquet. Xie Yilu sat at a corner of the long table, staring blankly at the sumptuous spread before him. The centrepiece was a roasted goose surrounded by four large plates of tangchan sweets1 . The wine was Autumn Dew White2 from Jinan; on the side were young army fish from Xinghua, siskins from Linjiang, pufferfish from Jiangyin and bitter bamboo shoots from Jianji Temple, all of them first-rate delicacies.

Since his arrival in Nanjing more than ten days ago, every night had been filled with eating and playing — playing with prostitutes3, playing with singing-boys. Seemingly, this was all the Nanjing Ministry of War ever did. When Xie Yilu let his gaze drift over these colleagues of his, it felt as though he were watching a farce play out on stage. 

“What are you thinking about?” From the side, Qu Feng poked at him with his elbow. “The goose is quite good. Have some.” 

Xie Yilu lifted his chopsticks. They were made of silver, with caps of elephant ivory. “Such extravagance,” he marvelled. Hearing this, Qu Feng drained his cup in one gulp and turned it out for him to see. “There are cups of gold-inlaid lacquer4 too.” 

The banquet tonight was Zheng Xian’s, so the showing was considerable. Yet it had been more than a shichen5 since the feasting began, and Zheng Xian himself had so far failed to appear. He was not the only one missing, either, because the Minister of War was also absent. “The Lord Minister is late as well,” Xie Yilu muttered.

Qu Feng did not even bother to look up. “He won’t be here tonight.” Saying so, he sidled over and angled his face to press up against Xie Yilu’s neck. “He was never invited in the first place.” 

It was the scent of that anxi incense again. Xie Yilu retreated. “What do you mean?” 

“Have a look for yourself. He’s not the only one missing tonight.” 

Only at Qu Feng’s prompting did Xie Yilu take a proper count of the guests. It was true — Vice Minister Liu, Secretary He, Director Ye — there were some people who had not come. “Could it be…” 

“Exactly so.” Qu Feng pressed even closer, and his voice fell softer. “If it were me, I’d only invite my own men too.” 

Xie Yilu was immediately overtaken with anxiety. “Then what about us?” 

Qu Feng grasped his hand under the table and patted it comfortingly. “We can still choose whether to join the Eunuch Faction6 or not.” 

Xie Yilu felt that he could not remain a second longer at this banquet. Qu Feng understood his impulse and flashed an easy smile at him. “And that’s why I say to eat quickly. Going forward, we won’t have such culinary fortune again.” 

Just as he spoke, the entire table stood up with a whoosh. Xie Yilu and Qu Feng rose to bow also, thinking that Zheng Xian had arrived, but the newcomer was no eunuch at all. Rather, it was a tall man in his early thirties sporting a short, tidy moustache. He wore a Buddha-head-blue double-layered silk jacquard7 robe with zhuanghua brocade8 flying fish patterns9 across the tops of its sleeves10, as well as a martial official’s futou11 . It was a Battalion Commander12 of the Brocade Uniform Guard13.  

“Your Excellency Tu!” All cupped their fists in greeting. 

The man surnamed Tu only nodded casually. He did not even bother to take a seat before pushing up his sleeves and asking, “Has the Lord Supervisor14 arrived?” 

Upon hearing “no”, he simply walked straight through the banquet to wait in the side hall. 

Everyone returned to their seats once more. Xie Yilu furrowed his brow, asking, “Who is he?” 

“Tu Yue. Zheng Xian’s sworn follower.” Qu Feng had just raised his chopsticks when he heard chaotic footsteps from outside. He sighed and set his chopsticks down. “The master of the house is here.” 

Zheng Xian should have been a bloated old man, but as he came into view with a dozen or so junior eunuchs clustered around him, bearing his jade belt in his hands and walking at the slow, dignified pace of high officials, Xie Yilu was left speechless. To do that face justice using ordinary descriptors would be a challenge, but if he had to make an attempt, only the words “radiant as the peach and plum”15 came to mind.

He wore a lion tongbei16 robe of lychee-red shot silk with a douniu17 serpent buzi, his snow-white fingertips just barely peeking out from his sleeves. The room of officials from the Ministry of War, no matter their rank or status, rose solemnly in unison. They stood in waiting as a junior eunuch lifted up the hem of his robe and watched in silence as he sat askew, saying lazily, “I’m late.” 

Xie Yilu’s palms seemed to have begun sweating, and he could not tighten his fists. In a moment of distraction, a poem by Wei Zhuang surfaced in his mind: “Secretly I ponder what words may describe her beauty? She is like a twig of plum blossoms frozen in the springtime snow, her fragrance a halo of the rosy dawn.”18

Zheng Xian pursed his redder-than-lychee lips, then stretched them into a sudden smile. He spoke in a voice of extreme softness, the kind unique to men of importance that obliged one to listen closely. “I’m19 in a good mood today, so I’ll make a toast to everyone.” 

A junior eunuch immediately presented him with a full cup of wine, which he accepted with a lift of his hand and downed with a tilt of his neck. The two rows of officials, all standing straight as an arrow, followed him by raising their own cups and competing with each other to shout, “Thank you, Lord Supervisor, for bestowing us wine!”

“Good, all of you are very good,” Zheng Xian nodded in satisfaction. “Eat, everyone.” 

He’s only twenty-seven or twenty-eight? Xie Yilu guessed, but he speaks and acts like an old veteran. Setting his cup down and raising his head, Zheng Xian just so happened to see this lowly sixth-ranked Beijing demotee staring dumbly at himself. He shifted slightly to face Xie Yilu and asked in a voice dripping with the condescension that comes with old age, “Xie-tanhua20, is the Nanjing food to your liking?” 

Every pair of eyes darted towards him. Xie Yilu was startled; the fact that he was the tanhua of the jiashen class was known to all in the Ministry of War, but no one had ever brought it up because there was a world of difference between himself and them. “It is.” He hurried to stand and bow. “Thank you, Lord Supervisor, for your care.” 

“Alright, alright,” Zheng Xian said, rising. Without another word, he extended a hand for a junior eunuch to support and leisurely made his way towards the side hall. “Gentlemen, eat your fill.” 

He’s going to find Tu Yue. Xie Yilu sat down slowly. As soon as he had taken his seat, Qu Feng advised, “Don’t let him subdue you. At the end of the day, he only has those same few phrases to repeat. He’s gilded on the outside, but inside, he’s got no substance.” 

“What’s his background?” Xie Yilu wiped his hands dry on his handkerchief. 

“He had always been in the Palace. When he left, he spent his first two years supervising mines in Guangxi. Probably didn’t hold back from reaping a hefty profit for himself,” Qu Feng mocked. “Otherwise, where would he have found the silver to buy this office of Eunuch Grand Defender?” 

Dry-mouthed, Xie Yilu poured himself a cup of tea but spotted Guo Xiaozhuo in the meantime. The boy was dressed in a white ao21 shirt and, beneath, an ornate gold-embroidered skirt gathered into many narrow pleats at the waist that swayed steadily like water ripples at his every movement. He had likely arrived with Zheng Xian, but Xie Yilu had failed to notice him at all. This only seemed to prove true the old adage, “When the peony blooms, who can still see the crabapple?”  

Guo Xiaozhuo smiled coquettishly as he floated between a few familiar officials. He did make for a pretty sight, as utterly brimming with liveliness as he was. Xie Yilu lowered his head to take a sip of tea, but before he had even swallowed it, someone called from behind. Turning around, he saw that it was a child eunuch hunched over respectfully. “The Lord Supervisor extends his invitation.” 

Xie Yilu was wholly uninterested, so he shot a look at Qu Feng. “Just me?” 

The little eunuch was very quick-witted, with a good grasp of decorum. He let his gaze drift coldly over Qu Feng, then said, “Your Excellency Xie comes from Beijing. The Lord Supervisor wishes to reminisce about his homeplace with you22.” 

And with that, there was nothing more for Xie Yilu to say, so he followed the boy away. The hall was quite small and extremely dark, with only a single candle burning on a desk. Zheng Xian sat askew in the official’s hat chair, leaning rather carelessly on one arm. Tu Yue stood behind him with his waist bent and his face pressed close, as if whispering secrets to him. All of a sudden, Zheng Xian gave him a push and broke into loud laughter. 

Tu Yue seemed to be quite pleased at having made him laugh, but when he looked up to see Xie Yilu, his expression immediately froze over. He turned his back and walked over to play with the paperweights on the desk. Zheng Xian, still trembling with laughter, raised a hand at Xie Yilu. “Oh, Chunchu, come.” 

“Chunchu” was Xie Yilu’s courtesy name. He felt a little uncomfortable at hearing someone address him so familiarly. “This subordinate23 dares not to.” 

Zheng Xian’s demeanour shifted in the space of a second. Gone was his laughter, and neither did he continue to speak. As if angered, he only sat there in unbroken silence. Xie Yilu quickly caved under the oppressive atmosphere and hastened forward.

Zheng Xian did not tell him to sit, but rather tapped gently on a corner of the desk with his finger. “Is your family here too?” 

“My parents died early. My humble wife stayed in Beijing.”  

Zheng Xian’s lashes, long as sweet grass, batted languidly. “Then you could’ve brought your concubines with you.” 

Xie Yilu glanced at Tu Yue from the corner of his eye. “This subordinate has no concubines.” 

This seemed to catch Zheng Xian by surprise, and he even turned his head to look directly at Xie Yilu for a moment or two. But just as he was about to speak, a junior eunuch carrying two scrolls of paintings entered the hall to report, “Deng Jiong gifts two splashed-ink landscapes by Mi Fu.”  

Zheng Xian hummed his acknowledgement without sparing a glance at the paintings. He returned to questioning Xie Yilu: “You like beautiful children24?” 

It was like a hard slap to the face. Xie Yilu was insulted, but he dared not let his anger show. “This subordinate is slow-witted and knows only how to study, not how to indulge in pleasure.” 

Zheng Xian raised a single brow, clearly unhappy with his response. Yet even with the look of displeasure upon his face, he was still dazzling to behold. Xie Yilu glanced greedily at him — once, twice — then buried his gaze. 

A short while later, another eunuch came in holding two red-billed pigeons with red string tied to their feet. “Wang Ziren gifts one pair of black-tailed, jade-feathered, coral-billed ‘jue yunr’25.”

Zheng Xian’s eyes were immediately drawn to the pigeons. “Quick, light the lanterns.” He stood up from the official’s hat chair, his excitement childlike as he instructed, “Note down this one surnamed Wang.” 

A eunuch through and through, Xie Yilu thought to himself. Likes pigeons, likes extravagance — might even like horse riding and cockfighting. To one side, Zheng Xian and Tu Yue took breathless turns appraising the pigeons; to their other, Xie Yilu waited in silence without joining or even regarding their exchange. Every so often, Zheng Xian would turn back to give him a glance. Seeing such an icy, unapproachable man, he thought that he had gathered as much as he needed to know about Xie Yilu’s personality. 

“Oh, Chunchu,” Zheng Xian put down his pigeons and walked over. “I’ll stop beating around the bush with you.” He accepted a towel from a servant and gave his hands a wipe. “I want to sponsor you.” 

Xie Yilu declined: “This subordinate is lacking in both virtue and talent.” 

Zheng Xian gave a cold laugh, a deadly beauty seeming to exude from out under his imperially bestowed douniu serpent robes. “Back in Beijing, you would not thank the Great Ancestor for his favour. For this alone, I will sponsor you.” 

Xie Yilu could not grasp his meaning, so he summoned the courage to look straight up at Zheng Xian. 

Zheng Xian smiled very faintly. “There is only one sun in the sky above the Forbidden City, but the clouds that sustain it are numerous. You’ve already pushed away his shade, so why not come rest under mine?” 

Xie Yilu suddenly saw the light. So it appeared that the cloud above Zheng Xian’s head was not the Great Ancestor’s after all. Rather, he was walking a different path in Beijing. “This subordinate doesn’t understand the affairs of eminent men.” 

Saying as much, he still glanced rapidly at Tu Yue. The man stood beyond the reach of the candlelight, his face obscured, only visible by the vibrancy of his flying fish robe and the two male pigeons fluttering ceaselessly in his arms. If he followed this trail upstream… could it be that the path they’ve chosen is the Directorate of Ceremonial’s Eunuch Director of the Eastern Depot26? 

Just as his heart was thumping in trepidation, Guo Xiaozhuo wafted into the room with his richly decorated skirt swaying to the rhythm of his footsteps. Zheng Xian had no airs to put on in his presence. Annoyed, he took his anger out freely: “Why did you come in? We’re discussing serious matters here!” 

But Guo Xiaozhuo did not show the slightest hint of fear. Placing his dainty white hand against Zheng Xian’s chest, he pushed him down onto the chair and deposited himself onto his thigh, burrowing into the Zheng Xian’s arms. He then raised his own left hand for inspection, asking, “Isn’t it pretty?”

Upon his middle finger was a massive white jade ring, newly acquired. Fearing that he might slip off, Zheng Xian wrapped an arm around his waist. “You already have so many rings…” 

The rest of their conversation became inaudible as they whispered cloyingly with their mouths against each other’s ears. Even as he stood nearby, Xie Yilu disdained to listen in. It was Zheng Xian who gave in first a short while later, promising, “Alright, alright, I’ll note him down and promote him tomorrow.” 

With that, Guo Xiaozhuo exited the hall, practically preening with self-satisfaction. If Xie Yilu had anything left to say now, Zheng Xian would no longer listen. His face was pinched with impatient exhaustion, and he waved his hand to dismiss Xie Yilu. “Stew over your words for a while,” he said, as if in warning. “Once you’ve thought them over, we’ll have plenty of time to talk again.” 

When Xie Yilu left the side hall, he really was in no mood to remain at the banquet. He began his journey home on foot after bidding Qu Feng farewell. On the way back, he made a detour to pick up letters from the stone lantern stand at Lingfu Temple. His correspondent was an anonymous friend who, since his presumptuous reply of 谛听27, had become like the other half that Xie Yilu never knew he was missing28. They had been exchanging letters for more than ten days now, and when he occasionally did not receive any, Xie Yilu found himself mysteriously disappointed. 

Only when he held the newest letter in his hand did he regain his peace of mind. Upon his return home, he immediately shut himself in his study to read the letter. It was not long, written in neat small regular script29 characters each the size of a fly’s head: 

“Last night was a cloudless eve, the wind blowing occasionally, and I thought of thee30. Thus, a poem《Offerings to a Friend》was composed.” 

What followed was his poem — rather average, but it was his calligraphy that was truly outstanding. From those brushstrokes alone, Xie Yilu made up his mind that this person must be as clean as still waters, free from any desire for fame or wealth. For him especially, Xie Yilu had prepared jasmine paper and an artisan wocan inkstone31, and he used brushes from Huzhou to write out his painstaking reply: 

Clear breeze or bright moon, is no match for a word from thee.

Yesterday was the Awakening of Insects32; I33, dressed in a short shirt, worked in my garden, planting one flowering peach tree below the stairs, two corn poppies, butterfly chrysanthemums34, red water immortals, exotic orchids, opium poppies and rainbow pinks innumerable, with a midget crabapple beneath the eaves. Is this to thy pleasure? When the third month days of Grain Rain35 come, all the flowers in the garden shall bloom, their beauty splendid, their scent fragrant, a scene I hope to enjoy with thee. 

Xie Yilu laid down his brush. He did not sign his name, but pushed the paperweights aside and lifted the page to inspect his writing from all angles. A comparison with his new friend’s only left him smiling in equal parts shame and admiration. He opened his letter case and carefully stashed the one he had just received. 

“Master,” his attendant called from outside, “are you still heading out?”

“No, you can draw water now.” Xie Yilu folded his reply letter and placed it neatly on his desk. He would deliver it to the stone lantern stand on his way to the yamen36 early next morning. 

Translator’s Notes

This chapter introduces some big names in Ming China, namely the Brocade Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot. While the two are often both described as secret police or secret agents, this is not quite true to history. 

Firstly, the EUG has been portrayed in popular media as Ming Dynasty secret agents, but this isn’t actually true. The Guard originated as an elite personal regiment of the 1st Ming emperor. Yet as the dynasty grew older, the Guard became less and less of a battle-ready unit. Eventually, the vast majority of the Guard served as sentries in the Palace, while some were tasked with city policing or involved in construction projects. Those who worked in surveillance only did so under the supervision of the Eastern Depot. 

The Eastern Depot was initially formed by the 3rd emperor, Yongle, to survey the EUG, but its powers gradually expanded until it overtook the Guard as the primary Ming intelligence agency. Although it was headed by eunuchs, its field personnel were members of the Guard and other military organisations. Its tasks included surveying officials, imperial clansmen and civilians, but also things like keeping stock of the price of foodstuffs. 

Then there is the Guard’s association with ‘flying fish’ robes. Once again, popular media has given us the impression that all its members wore flying fish robes as if they were a uniform, but in reality, only very high-ranking Guard leaders could wear these robes, and only in special circumstances since flying fish robes were an imperial gift — almost analogous to the western concept of medals. 

Additionally, I am basing my translations of the various types of silk textiles off the publications of the China National Silk Museum. Since they translate 锦 as “brocade”, I have chosen to translate 锦衣卫 as “Brocade Uniform Guard” rather than the commonly used “Embroidered Uniform Guard”.

Finally, a quick note on Xie Yilu’s wife. Yes, he’s married. He is around 26 in the novel, so it would be almost impossible for him to be unmarried. This will be addressed later on.

Footnotes

1. 糖缠, literally “sugar wrap”. Its dictionary definition is a confectionery made mainly of sugar and fruit  but I haven’t succeeded in finding a photo of it. 

2. 秋露白, a type of rice wine from Shandong (where Jinan is) that has now been lost. It would have been a milk-white colour and tasted dryish-sweet. 

3. 妓女, specifically female prostitutes. Male prostitutes were known differently. 

4. 戗金, a technique where lacquer is carved and gold wire is pressed into the divots. Visual reference. 

5. 时辰, tradition hour, equal to 2 modern hours. 

6. 阉党, literally “castrated faction”. A derisive term that most famously refers to followers of mega-powerful eunuch Wei Zhongxian during the Tianqi era (late Ming). [Back]

7. 改机, specially refers to silk fabrics woven by the 改机 loom invented by Lin Hong (林洪) during the Ming Hongzhi period. 

8. 妆花, the most complex weaving technique used in Nanjing yunjin brocade (云锦), an extremely expensive and difficult to make fabric that used gold, silver and feathers in silk weaving. This video shows the yunjin weaving process as a group of artisans from the Nanjing Yunjin Research Centre recreate a dragon robe excavated from the tomb of the Ming Wanli Emperor. 

9. 飞鱼服, actually refers to the “flying fish” design rather than a particular style of robe. This design was bestowed on people as a sign of imperial favour and has been associated with the Brocade Uniform Guards, though it WAS NOT their uniform. See next note for visual reference. 

10.  通袖, refers to the length from one wrist to another when a robe is laid out in a T shape. When decorations are described as 通袖, it means that they run from one wrist to another at the upper part of their sleeves. Visual reference. 

11. 幞头, a class of head coverings that changed drastically from dynasty to dynasty. A rough visual reference (worn by the man) of what it might look like since the novel isn’t specific.

12. 千户, literally “[leader of] a thousand households”. 

13. 锦衣卫, a Ming unit that were the quasi-imperial bodyguards. 

14. 督公, a respectful address to eunuchs who are the head of some agency.

15. 艳如桃李, idiom, describes a resplendent, flamboyant sort of beauty. 

16. 通背, not sure what this is. I’ve researched extensively but still can’t find anything remotely related to hanfu with this name. The author may have mistaken this for something else.

17. 斗牛, a serpent that appears like a dragon expect it has bull’s hooves instead of dragon claws. This design, along with python and flying fish designs, were specifically bestowed on individuals as a sign of imperial favour. Visual reference for a Ming douniu buzi robe from the Wanli era. 

18.  暗想玉容何所似？一枝春雪冻梅花，满身香雾簇朝霞: from Tang poem《浣溪沙·惆怅梦余山月斜》by 韦庄 (Wei Zhuang). Pronoun ‘she’ was added because the original subject is female. 

19. 咱家, a first-person pronoun used by eunuchs. 

20. 探花, literally “searching [for the] flower”. The special title conferred on the examinee who came 3rd in the final stage (殿试, “palace exam”) of the Imperial civil service examinations. 

21. 袄, a woman’s shirt. The combination worn likely looks similar to this: Visual Reference. 

22. 您, respectful form of “you”. Will be denoted with an underline. 

23. 下官, literally “lower official”. Humble ‘I’ used by officials in the presence of superiors. 

24. 姣童, keeping children for sexual purposes was sadly very popular during that time.

25. 决云儿, literally “exquisite clouds” or “cloud-breaker”. Apparently a name for birds of prey that dates back to the Five Dynasties period. 

26. 提督东厂太监, alternate name for the leader of the Eastern Depot. The Eastern Depot was a spy agency run by eunuchs. This office was usually held by 2nd in command in the DoC, right under the “Great Ancestor”. 

27. “Someone is listening carefully…”. 

28. 知音, literally “[someone who] knows [my] tune”. 

29. 小楷, literally “small kai”. 楷 refers to 楷书 which is a 1 of the 4 main calligraphy scripts, more or less equivalent to western ‘print letters’. Small regular script is a subset of regular script.  

30. 君, classical second-person pronoun.

31. 卧蚕小墨, literally “plump lower eyelid little ink”. From what I can gather, this specific name refers to a line of inkstones produced by famed early Qing ink-making master 曹素功 (Cao Sugong), but he was an successor of the style of late Ming ink master 吴叔大 (Wu Shuda), see article here. 

32. 惊蛰, 3rd of the 24 solar terms. Usually occurs around March 5 and ends around March 10. 

33. 吾, classical first-person pronoun. 

34. 蛱蝶菊, originates from《熹庙拾遗杂咏》. The exact plant is unknown but we know it was an exotic species from Guangdong/Guangxi that eunuchs planted for the emperor to see. The next two plants, 红水仙 and 番兰, are also from《熹庙拾遗杂咏》and their exact species is unknown.

35. 谷雨, 6th of the 24 solar terms. Usually occurs around April 20 and ends around May 9.

36.  衙门, a government office in imperial China. A general term only that’s not specific to any agency.