The Twilight of Imperial Beijing

In the autumn evenings of post-war Beijing, the city bore the scars of recent upheavals. The so-called “victory” had brought chaos—officials scrambling for gold, seizing properties, and indulging in excess while the populace navigated daily hardships. The electric company, notoriously unreliable, plunged households into darkness nightly, forcing residents to finish meals before nightfall. Amid this gloom, an elderly former palace maid shared tales of her service to Empress Dowager Cixi, offering rare insights into the Forbidden City’s hidden rhythms.

The Architecture of Power: Life in the Forbidden City

The Forbidden City was a meticulously ordered universe where every action followed ancient protocols. The Empress Dowager’s residence, the Palace of Eternal Spring (储秀宫), operated like a precision timepiece. At 8 PM (戌正), the clacking of nightwatch clappers signaled the departure of off-duty eunuchs. Palace gates locked promptly, with keys surrendered to the Office of Imperial Household Affairs (敬事房). Violations meant severe punishment—a system unchanged for centuries.

Eunuchs on night duty reported to Chief Eunuch Li Lianying for assignments. Patrols guarded every corridor: two at the southern gate, two near the Hall of Physical Harmony (体和殿), and others along the eastern and western corridors. The strict hierarchy ensured no unauthorized movement after dark.

The Guardians of the Night: Palace Maids’ Duties

By 9 PM, the maids’ shift began. Five women—sometimes more during the Empress’s illnesses—took positions across the palace:

1. Gatekeepers: Two maids stood sentry behind bamboo screens (summer) or quilted curtains (winter). Unauthorized entry meant death—a law dating to the Ming Dynasty.
2. Dressing Room Sentinel: One monitored the outer chambers, assisting the bedroom attendant.
3. Meditation Room Watch: Another guarded the quiet southern wing.
4. The Bedroom Attendant: The most privileged position. This maid sat on the floor near Cixi’s bed, recording every cough, sip of water, or restless turn—details later reported to physicians and eunuch officials.

Selection for night duty marked the pinnacle of a maid’s career. Only the most trusted—those who dressed, bathed, or attended to the Empress’s most private needs—earned this honor. Cixi treated these women with unusual kindness, once advising a maid on hairstyle choices with maternal warmth.

The Unbreakable Rules

Night protocols were sacrosanct:
– No reclining or loud breathing
– Strict hygiene—no bodily functions within palace halls
– The Empress’s furniture remained inviolable
– Gatekeepers never left their posts

These rules, passed down through generations of maids, underscored the Qing court’s obsession with control.

The Hidden Support System

Near the western corridor, a copper tea kettle simmered day and night—a gathering spot for staff. Here, the beloved eunuch Zhang Fu prepared Cixi’s tea and medicine. His adjacent quarters served as an informal lounge where maids found respite. Zhang’s influence rivaled Li Lianying’s, showcasing the complex web of dependencies in Cixi’s inner circle.

Debunking Myths: Eunuchs and Conspiracies

The conversation turned to salacious rumors—claims that infamous eunuch An Dehai was secretly a man, or that opera star Yang Xiaolou was smuggled into Cixi’s chambers. The old maid dismissed these with scorn:

“Eunuchs underwent biannual inspections by the Imperial Household. Bribery meant execution—who would risk it? As for Yang Xiaolou, imagine hiding a man among dozens of maids! These tales insult the palace’s rigid protocols.”

Her rebuttals revealed how Qing systems prevented the scandals that plagued earlier dynasties. The maid’s defense of Cixi’s propriety—”a phoenix surrounded by sparrows”—highlighted the constant surveillance that made illicit affairs implausible.

The Weight of Memory

The maid grew reticent about her post-palace life—given as a “gift” to a minor official after serving in the 1900 Boxer Rebellion flight to Xi’an. Her bitter analogy—”we were like the Empress’s cats or dogs”—hinted at unspoken tragedies.

Legacy of the Night Shift

These accounts illuminate the Qing court’s psychological landscape. The nightly rituals weren’t merely about security; they reinforced absolute authority through performative discipline. Every hushed footstep, every recorded breath transformed mundane acts into ceremonies of power.

For modern readers, these details demystify imperial life—revealing not decadence but an intricate bureaucracy that thrived on routine. The former maid’s testimony, preserved in dim lamplight, becomes a testament to history’s quiet witnesses—those who saw empires rise and fall while keeping the secrets of the night.