The Powerful Eunuch

Xie Yilu returned home from the Ministry to a plate of bamboo shoots and a plate of tofu for dinner. While helping him wash his hands, Da-Tian bombarded him with questions about the situation outside the city that Xie Yilu could only manage a few exhausted, half-hearted responses to. Afterwards, he sulked straight into his study. Folded neatly upon the desk was a letter that he had forgotten to take with him this morning; seeing it now brought a surge of warmth to his heart. He took a peek at the sky outside, then tucked the letter into the folds of his robe with the intention of setting out for Lingfu Temple.

He had just pushed the study door open when sounds of crying floated in through the window — distantly, perhaps from one or two streets away. It was the heart-rending wail of a woman. Xie Yilu sighed and made to step outside, but before he could, another person began crying in the street just ahead. As if in competition with one another, the cries that followed quickly coalesced into a single maelstrom.

Xie Yilu knew, without a doubt, the reason why they cried — it was all because of those trees. Crestfallen, he retreated back into the study with the letter now weighing heavily on his chest. Drawing it out, he unfolded a corner to come face to face with the tiny, delicate characters he had all but engraved onto the paper: …Is this to thy pleasure? When the third month days of Grain Rain come, all the flowers in the garden shall bloom, their beauty splendid, their scent… 

All of a sudden, he scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it into the brazier. There were people being ruined out in the streets, and yet here he was, losing himself in the pleasures of fine correspondence. But where else could he give voice to the bitterness now trapped inside his heart? He snatched up a piece of paper at random and, large brush in hand, swept up some strong ink to write down four great characters in a single stroke: 尔惟盐梅1.

Thou art the salt and plum. The former was salty, the latter sour — with either missing, the food in one’s mouth becomes tasteless. These daily letters into which he confided the innermost feelings of his heart had become, in much the same way, the only traces of flavour to Xie Yilu’s life in Nanjing. He carelessly folded the paper without waiting for the ink to dry, clenching it in his hand as he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Da-Tian, who was busy sorting through wicker baskets in the courtyard, hurried to stand upon seeing him. 

“Open the door.” Xie Yilu tightened his hair net. 

Da Tian threw down the wicker basket in his hands and sprinted in front of Xie Yilu to remove the door bar. Yet when the door swung open, there was a person in a wusha hat2 already standing outside, one hand raised in preparation to knock. Xie Yilu recognised him — it was the Manager of the General Services Office3 from the Ministry. “Can I help you?” 

The Manager performed a yi salute4. “Director5 Ye asks to see Your Excellency straight away.” 

So it’s a work matter. Xie Yilu turned and saw that, without instruction, Da-Tian had already fetched him his official’s hat6 from inside the house. He accepted it and put it on, asking as he walked alongside the Manager, “Who’ll be there?”

“His Excellency the Lord Minister, Vice Minister Liu and Director Ye. And finally, Your Excellency.”

These were all big names in court — and ones that had been missing from Zheng Xian’s banquet table the other night. Xie Yilu paused his footsteps. “Is something the matter?” 

The Manager chuckled lightly. “How is this lowly one to know?” 

Xie Yilu laughed along with him. This fellow is in on the details. “Manager, where are you from?” 

“This lowly one is from Qian’an.” 

“Qian’an.” Xie Yilu pondered for a moment. “Same country as His Excellency Ye?” 

The little bureaucrat put on a face of profound discretion. “This lowly one doesn’t dare claim any relationship to His Excellency.” After a pause, however, he broke out whispering again as if he could not resist. “I live right across from the Ye household — just one street between us.” 

Xie Yilu extended his hand very ceremoniously, inviting the Manager to walk in front while he himself fell half a step behind. The Manager’s face lit up instantly with a smile, and he made a very affected show of yielding the spot back to Xie Yilu. Occupied as they were with the back and forth, they reached the Ministry of War in what felt like no time at all. Xie Yilu thought that he would have to wait inside his office, but much to his surprise, the Manager led him straight to the Lord Minister’s door with the simple instruction to “please wait a moment”. His companion then slipped inside to announce their arrival. 

The door had just closed behind the Manager when it opened again for Director Ye, who came out rolling up his sleeves. He gazed piercingly at Xie Yilu for a moment or two, then finally spoke out loud. “The Imperial Weaving Bureau cutting down trees — have you heard about it?” 

Xie Yilu bowed his head. “I have.” 

Director Ye stepped closer. “Suppose I were to give you five thousand men and tell you to stop them by force — would you dare to do it?” 

Xie Yilu jerked his head up, staring incredulously at his superior. Director Ye’s fingertip snuck out of his robe sleeve and pointed lightly in the direction of Xie Yilu’s home. “Have you been deaf to the cries that fill the city?”

Xie Yilu made no response. The Nanjing Eunuch Superintendent of the Imperial Weaving Bureau was the grand chamberlain of grand chamberlains, wielding the power of an imperially sanctioned seal of office7. To go against him was an offence punishable by death. “When do I move?” 

“Dawn, as soon as they start cutting.”

“There’s not enough time to prepare.” 

“Troops have already been mustered. They’re waiting right outside Shence Gate.” 

Xie Yilu could not suppress the shiver that travelled up his spine. He understood why they had chosen him for this task; it was because he was a total newcomer, because he had lost his previous position at the hands of corrupt eunuchs, because he was desperate to establish himself in Nanjing. 

“Director, Your Excellency!” The doorman came running from afar with a calling card clutched in his hand. Director Ye was visibly annoyed at his interruption, but he took up the card with his lips curled nonetheless. One glance was all it took for his expression to change immediately. 

Xie Yilu paid no mind to the scene that unfolded before him. He only knew that, regardless of whether he accepted the mission or not, there would be no chance of his leaving the grounds tonight. 

Director Ye began pacing where he stood, round and round in circles, then suddenly turned and disappeared back inside his room. After spending a long time in what was likely joint discussion, he sent out a command, “Let him in!” 

The doorman went to escort the new visitor, and Xie Yilu was left standing awkwardly in the same spot. In only a few moments, however, he found that their caller had arrived. He was a young, solitary eunuch, tall enough to resemble a celestial tree from afar. He wore a turquoise-blue half-collared zhiduo8, a moon-blue tieli9 and flat-ribboned black boots. Though he cut an unassuming figure at first glance, one single look was all Xie Yilu needed to take note of the little palace fan10 in his hand, the kind that went for fifty taels of silver apiece. 

The Manager came out to receive the stranger, whom Xie Yilu was surprised to hear him address as “Your Excellency Mei.” In the moment that they brushed past each other, the one surnamed Mei gave Xie Yilu quite an amiable glance; it was clear, however, that those eyes saw no need to linger on a lowly sixth-rank like himself. 

Having guided the visitor inside, the Manager himself exited the room to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Xie Yilu. This, Xie Yilu knew, was for the express purpose of keeping an eye on him. “Who was that just now?” 

The Manager, evidently, had no wish to say too much, but it was hard for him to stall the question after the two had chatted so well on the way here. “I suppose you’ll have to know about him sooner or later,” he said, tightening his voice to a whisper. “That’s Liao Jixiang’s grand steward at the Imperial Weaving Bureau, Mei A’Cha.” 

“Mei… A’Cha?” Such a strange name. 

“Some say he’s Miao11 and others say he’s Yi12, but at the end of the day, no one knows for sure.” 

Xie Yilu thought back to his experiences of the past few days. “Why does the Imperial Weaving Bureau…”

“That’s right. Most of its eunuchs are foreigners.” 

Before, there was that Zhang Cai of Gaoli and the Annan eunuch Ruan Dian. Now there’s a Mei A’Cha from the southwest, and let’s not forget the tall one, Yishiha, whose name sounded Jurchen13. 

“Is Liao Jixiang not Han?” 

“He is Han,” the Manager replied adamantly. “Before he came to Nanjing, he was stationed in Gansu14. He served for ten years as Armoury-Inspecting Eunuch15 at Jiayu Pass16. Haven’t you noticed that all his subordinate eunuchs carry sabres?”

Xie Yilu snorted. “What eunuch can do battle? For all their lording over others in times of peace, they flee rather quickly at the first sight of war.” 

“Ah, but Gansu is a harsh place.” The Manager rubbed his hands involuntarily. “In winter, the snowfall is so heavy that it looks like goose feathers are falling from the sky, the weather cold enough to freeze your limbs off. And if you’re unlucky enough to be there when the dazi17 raid the city at night — well, be you man or sheep, no one’s safe from getting disembowelled!” 

He was just getting his story off the ground when the Lord Minister’s door opened for Director Ye, who was accompanying Mei A’Cha on his way out. There was something off about the pair’s demeanour — particularly the Director, who had the embarrassed look of someone wanting to speak but having no place to do so. 

Mei A’Cha did not say a single word of farewell, only cupping his fist before turning to leave the way he came. It was, ironically, Director Ye who stared after his receding figure and gave an impetuous call: “Take care, Your Excellency Mei!” 

Xie Yilu was shocked to the extreme. Calling a eunuch “Your Excellency” was already a step beyond convention, but to treat him with such courtesy and respect… Director Ye turned around with a face drawn deeply in thought. Seeing Xie Yilu, he spoke mildly: “You can go home now.” 

Xie Yilu’s eyes went round. “Your Excellency?”

“Go home,” the Director repeated, waving a hand in great impatience. “The troops are being withdrawn from Shence Gate as we speak.” 

Xie Yilu’s stubborn streak reared its head. “Why?” 

The Director’s lips curved in amusement, setting the hairs of his moustache into motion. “And why do I have to tell you?” 

Xie Yilu smiled coldly in response. “That eunuch must’ve come with a gift registry!” 

Director Ye was finally incensed, and with a violent toss of his sleeves, he stalked away. 

Mei A’Cha did have a gift registry stashed in his robe, but it was not for the Ministry of War. Coming out from the street of the Six Ministries, he rode on horseback past Hongwu Gate straight for Zheng Xian’s official residence on Taiping Lane. Seeing it was him, the gatekeeper did not ask any questions, only greeting him meekly as “Your Excellency Mei” before inviting him politely inside. 

Zheng Xian’s reception pavilion was famous throughout the Nanjing officialdom for its coloured-glaze screens, agate rockery, woven Hui18 floral rug and a pair of red Siamese parrots tied down with pure gold chains. Mei A’Cha seated himself right below the parrots’ perch, sipping leisurely at his tea. He had been waiting for half a shichen or so when Zheng Xian finally appeared, wrapped in an underrobe19 with his long hair let loose. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Zheng Xian grumbled, looking as if he were about to lose his temper. He sat down sloppily next to Mei A’Cha and propped one bare foot onto the edge of his chair. “What do you want, Qi-ge20?” 

Mei A’Cha peered at him from the corner of his eye. He set down his tea. “Sit up straight.” 

Zheng Xian did not immediately do as he said. One snow-white hand combed back and forth through his long locks, and he demanded, “If you’ve something to say, say it quickly. If you’ve a shit to take, take it quickly.” But slowly, as he spoke, he put his foot down from the chair. “Hurry up, I’m going back to sleep.” 

His slack, languid attitude, always hovering on the edge of anger, made the perfect picture of a grand chamberlain, but Mei A’Cha had long grown used to it. He reached out to swipe lightly against the fresh bite mark on Zheng Xian’s chin, still wet from whoever had just left it. “Looks like you won’t be sleeping either way?” 

Zheng Xian’s brow twitched imperceptibly, and he smiled like a blooming jasmine. “Qi-ge, is this really fun for you…?” 

“Lend me some men,” Mei A’Cha said abruptly. 

Zheng Xian froze. He straightened his posture, and with his hands stroking his hair, spoke very, very slowly. “If it’s for you, I can give as many as you want.” Then, all of a sudden, he chortled humourlessly. “But if it’s for anyone else…”

Mei A’Cha knew well whom he was referring to. He fished the gift registry out from his robe and, placing it on the table, pushed it right under Zheng Xian’s nose — but to no avail. “What does he need men for?” 

“He’s scared that the civilians might riot.” Mei A’Cha rubbed his temples wearily. “Too many people in this city own pear trees.” 

Zheng Xian was delighted to hear of that person’s troubles. “It’s all his own fault!” He swept up Mei A’Cha’s cup of tea, but rather than drinking it, swirled it idly in his palm. “Why’s he cutting trees?”

Mei A’Cha was silent. Zheng Xian waited a few beats, dipping one long finger into the cup and mischievously wetting his lips with the half-drunken tea of his guest. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me.” 

He was moving to stand when Mei A’Cha pulled him back down. “It’s because Qi Wan is coming.” 

Zheng Xian was beside him in a flash, as bright-eyed as a nosy girl. “That old thing is coming to… procure tributes for the Lord of Ten Thousand Years?” 

Mei A’Cha nodded. Zheng Xian understood right away, and the expression in his eyes took on a different character.  “Then tell Liao Jixiang to get troops from the Ministry of War. Why bother with me?”

“I went,” Mei A’Cha sighed. “The Ministry of War knows about the situation, but they aren’t willing to get involved.” 

“Oho,” Zheng Xian mocked, seeming almost a little angry. “When everything is smooth-sailing, they never shut up about the good of the people, but come time to really put them to use, they all fucking hide in their shells!” 

Mei A’Cha replied darkly, “They just don’t want to have anything to do with eunuchs.” Then, at length, he drawled out a plea: “Lao-jiu21…” 

“Alright, Qi-ge,” Zheng Xian interrupted. “You’ll always be my brother no matter what, but Liao Jixiang…” he shook his sleeves viciously, his resolute expression carrying a touch of cold beauty. “When he’s riding high on success, I don’t ask to share in his light. But the day his ship capsizes22…” Zheng Xian laughed. “I’d be the first to step on him.” 

Mei A’Cha latched onto his wrist. “We all came out from the Palace — what’s the point in holding this grudge?” 

“It’s not me holding a grudge against him.” Zheng Xian paused, then continued. “It’s because he looks down on me.” 

Mei A’Cha was about to reply when an old maidservant came rushing out the back, murmuring something into Zheng Xian’s ear and thereby giving him the opportunity to shake Mei A’Cha’s hand away. “Enough talking. The one inside is getting impatient.” 

Mei A’Cha relaxed his body and arched his spine, leaning just barely against the back of his seat. With one eyebrow raised, he accused, “You’re hiding from me.” 

Zheng Xian smiled like he could not care less. “I was in a good mood today, so I used some drugs…” He pressed close and winked roguishly. “ That woman must be feeling it right about now.” 

At that, Mei A’Cha had nothing more to say. He took back the gift registry, patted Zheng Xian on the shoulder and stood up to leave. “Go have your fun.” 

Xie Yilu headed straight for Lingfu Temple from the Ministry of War. Having safely deposited his letter in the stone lantern stand, he gazed left and right, unable to bring himself to leave. He knew that it was just a hole in the stone, eroded by the elements, and a stranger he had met only in writing. But like a prisoner in a net, or perhaps a man possessed by a demon of the mind, he stood there murmuring to himself until the morning chill crept into his body; only then did he turn reluctantly home. 

Lantern in hand, he had just stepped onto the main road when the sound of hoofbeats rose up behind him. Before he could step aside for a closer look, however, the galloping horse had drawn near at the speed of a whirlwind, and on that horse was a familiar flash of turquoise-blue. 

Mei A’Cha! Xie Yilu was certain it was him. He’s headed in the direction of Jubao Gate, but why’s he leaving the city so late at night? 

A sudden gust of wind blew up from under his feet, and the candlelight flickered to the swinging of the lantern. Just as Xie Yilu was hurrying to steady the flame, a powerful clanging ensued from halfway up the hills north of the city. The Imperial Weaving Bureau had begun cutting trees.

Translator’s Notes:

By now, some readers might be feeling quite overwhelmed by the sheer amount of eunuch offices and agencies mentioned, so I’ll give a brief crash course on the Ming eunuch system. 

Firstly, there were 24 eunuch yamen (agencies) based in the Palace: 12 Directorates (监), 4 Offices (司) and 8 Services (局). They ranged from ones task with menial labour like “The Palace Toilet Paper Service” to politically powerful ones like “The Directorate of Ceremonial”, which I talked about in my first translator’s note. 

Outside of these 24 yamen, eunuchs served as personal attendants to the emperor and his consorts, children and imperial clansmen. They could also serve in agencies based outside the Palace like the Eastern Depot and the Imperial Weaving Bureau, as well as in supervisory roles in areas like mining, trade, diplomacy, expeditions and so on. 

They were also involved in military matters, although not as a part of the regular military system. Take the office of the Eunuch Grand Defender for example. It oversaw the appointment of Defenders in strategically crucial areas who were responsible for coordinating with and supervising the normal military stationed there, but were not strictly within the regular military hierarchy. I haven’t been able to find much about the “Armoury-Inspecting Eunuch” mentioned in this chapter, but it appears that they were also part of the military system. 

Footnotes

1. From《古文尚书·说命》. This phrase is also a historical easter egg. Remember it for later. 

2. 乌沙, literally “black gauze”. A shorthand for a Ming official’s hat that is part of the guanfu uniform. Visual reference.

3.  司务, in charge of signing people into work, examining work delays etc

4. 揖, a traditional Han greeting. The version performed might be this one (if he and XYL are of the same generation), but I’m not familiar with the proper protocol so I might be wrong. 

5. 郎中, a position any of 4 bureaus in the Ministry of War, but the text doesn’t specify which one.

6. 官帽, this would be the same as the wusha hat the Director is wearing.

7. 关防, a rectangular governmental seal that originated in early Ming.

8.  直裰, a men’s straight robe. Visual reference. This entire set of clothing is taken from a late Ming/early Qing novel《醉醒石》, which describes a eunuch to be wearing this outfit. However, I have no idea what a “half-collared” zhiduo is after a whole year of researching Ming menswear. 

9.  Once again, this is directly taken from《醉醒石》. But, I don’t understand how a tieli (which is puffy) can be worn with a zhiduo (which is straight) since the tieli usually goes inside the outer robe. Combined with original context in《醉醒石》, I feel that the eunuch’s clothing was purposefully written to be very strange/even wrong to show he lack of education and taste. Overall, I’d say take this tieli and zhiduo combination with a massive grain of salt. 

10. 官扇, a folding fan painted with scenes of palace life . Very expensive but it might be a Qing thing though. 

11.  苗, a group of linguistically related peoples living in southern China and southeast Asia. 

12. 彝, an ethnic group living in south-western China and Vietnam. 

13. 女真, an ethnic group living in north-eastern China (aka Manchuria). They were later renamed as Manchu and founded the Qing Dynasty that followed Ming. 

14. 甘肃, region in northwestern China that borders the Gobi desert. 

15. 监抢太监, couldn’t find this exact term in my dictionary but I found 监抢内臣, which is pretty much a synonym. 

16. 嘉峪关, the 1st frontier fortress along the western end of the Ming Great Wall. Most traffic between China and Central/West Asia passed through Jiayu Pass. 1 of the 3 major passes of the Wall. 

17. 鞑子, a historical derogatory term for ethnic groups living in Central/Western Asia. 

18. 回回, an old term for the Hui people, an ethnic group living in north-western China.

19. 亵绊, still uncertain if this is a full length robe or a shirt and pants set.

20. 七哥, literally “7th elder brother”. 

21. 老九, literally “old nine”. “Old” is added to a name to show familiarity. “Nine” refers to Zheng Xian being the 9th brother. 

22. 翻船, idiom for suffering failure which results in a fall from grace.