The Setting: A Palace Ritual and a Memory

In the hushed halls of the Palace of Eternal Spring, a ritual unfolds. It is the twenty-eighth day of the second lunar month, a date marked by solemn remembrance. Eunuchs, robed as lamas, chant sutras in the front hall, their voices weaving through the incense-heavy air. This ceremony, established in the first year of the Xianfeng Emperor’s reign, honors two pivotal dates: the death anniversary and birthday of Empress Xiaojingcheng, the emperor’s birth mother. She had once resided in these very chambers, and her untimely passing left a young emperor—only ten years old at the time—to navigate a court fraught with intrigue and sorrow. He would remain here until he turned seventeen, a period that shaped his cautious and contemplative nature.

Empress Dowager Ci’an, though she had never met her mother-in-law, observed these rites with unwavering devotion. On these days, she abstained from meat, sat in silent reverence, and reflected not only on the departed empress but also on the son she left behind: the Xianfeng Emperor. It was on one such occasion, the twenty-eighth of February, that a memory stirred—a document, long tucked away, resurfaced in her mind. She dismissed her attendants, unlocked a chest, and by lamplight, unrolled a piece of history. The vermilion ink had faded to a pale yellow, yet its words held a weight that time could not diminish.

The Emperor’s Secret: A Fateful Conversation

Twenty years earlier, in the spring of 1861, the Xianfeng Emperor lay frail in his bedchamber. His cheeks, once flushed with vitality, now bore a sickly hue, but on this day, a flicker of resolve lit his eyes. He turned to Empress Ci’an, then still his consort, and spoke in a voice raspy with illness: “I feel unusually clear-minded today. There is a matter I must settle for you—a weighty affair.”

Puzzled, she urged him to rest, to spare his dwindling strength for matters of state. But he insisted, glancing warily to ensure no eavesdroppers lingered. “This cannot wait,” he whispered. “I have watched Lan’er closely these past months. She grows increasingly presumptuous. I begin to see truth in Sushun’s warnings.”

Lan’er—the childhood name of Consort Yi, later known as Empress Dowager Cixi—was then locked in a rivalry with Sushun, a powerful minister. The court had fled to the Rehe Mountain Resort, ostensibly for autumn hunting but in truth to escape the advancing Anglo-French forces during the Second Opium War. Supplies were scarce, and Sushun, as the de facto steward, had reduced allocations to the imperial consorts—a practical measure, but one executed with arrogance. Empress Ci’an, ever diplomatic, held her tongue, though she privately disapproved of Sushun’s manner.

Unaware of her reservations, the emperor pressed on. “Sushun has counseled me more than once to follow the example of Emperor Wu of Han and the story of Lady Gouyi.”

The Tale of Lady Gouyi: A Lesson from Antiquity

“What is the story of Lady Gouyi?” the empress asked, intrigued.

The emperor, pausing to sip ginseng tea, began the tale. In his later years, Emperor Wu of Han, grieving the loss of his favored consorts, embarked on extensive tours to distract himself. During one journey, a court diviner detected the aura of an extraordinary woman in the region. Officials soon found her: a stunning beauty who had suffered a years-long illness that left her hands permanently clenched into fists. Summoned to the emperor, she was brought before him. To everyone’s astonishment, he gently pried her hands open—a miracle that sealed her fate. She entered the palace as a consort, residing in Gouyi Palace, and thus became known as Lady Gouyi.

“She later conceived,” the emperor continued, “and carried the child for fourteen months—an auspicious sign, echoing the legend of the ancient sage-king Yao, who was also born after fourteen months.” The child, a son named Fuling, was robust and clever, capturing the aging emperor’s heart. Emperor Wu saw in him a future ruler and hinted at his intentions by commissioning a painting of the Duke of Zhou assisting the young King Cheng—a symbolic nod to regency and succession.

“But then,” the emperor’s tone darkened, “Emperor Wu suddenly turned against Lady Gouyi. During a stay at Ganquan Palace, he flew into a rage, imprisoned her, and had her executed that very night.”

Empress Ci’an gasped. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“When questioned, Emperor Wu explained: throughout history, young rulers overshadowed by their mothers have led to chaos—the ‘calamity of women.’ By removing Lady Gouyi, he believed he was safeguarding the dynasty.” Fixing his gaze on the empress, the Xianfeng Emperor added gravely, “Do you understand my meaning now?”

A chill ran through her. After a long silence, she murmured, “How could Your Majesty entertain such cruelty?”

The Unspoken Threat: Power and Paranoia

The emperor’s allusion was unmistakable. Consort Yi—ambitious, shrewd, and fiercely protective of her own son, the future Tongzhi Emperor—posed a potential threat. Should the Xianfeng Emperor pass away, leaving a child heir, she could dominate the regency, sidelining Empress Ci’an and destabilizing the Qing court. Sushun, wary of her influence, had urged preemptive action: the elimination of Consort Yi, much like Lady Gouyi’s fate.

Yet the Xianfeng Emperor hesitated. Unlike Emperor Wu, he was not known for ruthlessness; his reign had been marked by indecision in the face of external pressures and internal corruption. Moreover, Empress Ci’an’s gentle nature recoiled at the idea. The conversation ended without resolution, but the emperor’s fears were etched into the vermilion decree he drafted—a document empowering Empress Ci’an to act against Consort Yi if necessary.

This decree, now yellowed with age, lay in Empress Dowager Ci’an’s hands two decades later. She remembered the emperor’s anguish, the weight of a dynasty on his shoulders, and the personal torment of weighing a mother’s life against perceived state security.

The Aftermath: A Court Transformed

The Xianfeng Emperor died later that year, in August 1861. His passing ignited a fierce power struggle. Sushun and his allies were appointed regents for the young Tongzhi Emperor, but Consort Yi—now Empress Dowager Cixi—forged a strategic alliance with Empress Dowager Ci’an and Prince Gong. In a swift coup known as the Xinyou Coup, they arrested and executed Sushun, dismantling his faction.

The two empresses dowager became co-regents, with Cixi often taking the lead due to her political acumen. The vermilion decree, though never used, lingered as a symbol of mistrust and the precariousness of power. Empress Dowager Ci’an, true to her character, chose reconciliation over confrontation, sharing authority with Cixi for years. Yet the shadow of that conversation never fully lifted.

Cultural Echoes: Women, Power, and Historical Memory

The story of Lady Gouyi and the Xianfeng Emperor’s dilemma reflects deep-seated anxieties in imperial China regarding female authority. The “calamity of women” trope—exemplified by figures like Empress Lü of the Han or Wu Zetian of the Tang—was a recurring theme in court politics. Yet it also reveals the complexity of these women’s roles: often vilified for ambition, but also navigating a system designed to suppress them.

Empress Dowager Ci’an’s preservation of the decree, and her decision not to act on it, underscores a different narrative: one of restraint and empathy. In a world where power often demanded bloodshed, her actions—though perhaps overly idealistic—highlight the human dimensions of leadership.

Legacy and Modern Relevance

The Xianfeng Emperor’s reign marked the beginning of the end for the Qing Dynasty. External defeats, internal rebellions, and court intrigues weakened the empire, setting the stage for its eventual collapse in 1912. The dynamic between the two empresses dowager—Ci’an’s conservatism and Cixi’s pragmatism—shaped late Qing politics, influencing reforms and foreign relations.

Today, this episode serves as a poignant reminder of the burdens of leadership and the ethical dilemmas faced by those in power. It also invites reflection on how history is remembered: through documents like the vermilion decree, which capture moments of crisis and humanity alike.

In museums and history books, the Xianfeng Emperor is often overshadowed by the turbulent era he presided over. Yet his private struggles—echoed in that whispered conversation—reveal a ruler grappling with imperfection, much like the empires he sought to preserve.