HY2206: China's Imperial Past

Author(s)

Story

Dong Xian stepped out of his carriage into the silence of the night. Shivering involuntarily, he wrapped his robes tight around him. Autumn was reaching its end, and soon winter would descend upon them as it ushered in the new year. Another year just like this, he thought, and it stirred some vague and undefinable emotion that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He looked to the moon. Bright and luminous, it stared back at him indifferently, brazenly. Its light drenched everything in its sight, turning the grey stone pavement glistening white and Dong Xian’s shadow that stretched upon it seemed to blemish its purity.

Lanterns placed in stone holders outlined the path at intervals, and Dong Xian followed the pathway with his eyes before it ended abruptly in a long flight of stairs that led to the emperor’s palace. The palace loomed in the far distance, the moon hanging lucent beside it, creating the illusion that they both hung side by side in the night sky.

Dong Xian eyed the lighted window at the corner of the palace. It seemed to beckon him towards it, and he felt the restless urge to close the distance between them like a moth to candlelight.

Upon seeing his arrival, the palace’s attendants rushed out to greet him, their lanterns swinging dangerously side to side as they ran. The head attendant stepped forward and bowed reverently, “my lord, you have arrived.”

Dong Xian nodded curtly in acknowledgement. He heard his large retinue of servants and armed soldiers that brought him here retreat deftly into the darkness of the night, and he too began his journey towards the palace without a word.

The attendants followed behind him silently, and the head attendant positioned himself beside Dong Xian to light his path with his lantern even if it served little purpose with the blazing moon above them. Their shadows danced in the sway of the lanterns, Dong Xian’s long and lean above the head attendant’s short and stout one, accompanied by the pattering of the head attendant’s feet as he struggled to keep up with Dong Xian’s long strides.

The head attendant darted a quick look at Dong Xian’s strained expression. Combining that with Dong Xian’s hasty footsteps and uncharacteristic brusqueness, he soon came to his conclusion. He measured his words, and said almost consolingly, “it is not yet the emperor’s dinner time.”

Dong Xian nearly came to a halt. He exhaled quietly, a mixture of relief and embarrassment. He slowed his steps and smiled appreciatingly and apologetically at him, “I see,” he said.

Knowing he still had time on his hands now, he took the time to straighten his robes and tidy his appearance as he walked. It had been a miscalculation; he did not expect his visit to his father’s residence earlier this afternoon to have lasted that long.

Dong Xian’s father stood in front of the window with his back to him. The sun had already begun to set, and the dark shape of his father’s silhouette encroached across the ground. Dong Xian could only watch helplessly as it devoured the entirety of it before devouring him into darkness as well.

“You will do as I say, Dong Xian,” his father’s voice echoed in the silent room, and Dong Xian hated the finality in his tone as much as he hated how the use of his given name continued to send shivers of fear down his spine as it would his childhood. “I have lost all patience for your childish resistance.”

Reaching the stairs, Dong Xian lifted his robes and made his way up. The first time Dong Xian had ever set his feet on it was the day of the emperor’s ascension. He had arrived early in the morning with the rest of the emperor’s retinue as a gentleman attendant. Thrilled by the promotion of his duty, the novelty of each step he took had heightened his excitement and he fervently hoped to catch a glimpse of the emperor later.[1]

That day, Dong Xian could never have foreseen that not only would he have his wish fulfilled, but it would change his life forever.

The second time he climbed those stairs, each step had intensified his fear and dread, and as time passed, it deadened into numbness. Now, each step closer to the emperor churned a mix of undecipherable emotions that left him uneasy.

The head attendant continued to journey beside him, and the surreality of their reversed positions never left Dong Xian. He was grateful that the head attendant had not treated him with hostility, but of course, as Dong Xian had learned, the imperial court was akin to an opera stage, and one never knew what the other does backstage after his performance had ended.

“The Wang Clan had the audacity to reject my proposal of a marriage alliance between Lord Xiao’s daughter and your younger brother.”[2] His father let out a derisive bark of laughter, “they continue to hold delusions that the emperor’s favour towards them is measurable to yours.”

Dong Xian looked at his father’s figure outlined by the evening sun—broad shoulders and straight back that refused to be worn down by the passage of time, a figure that seemed to swell larger the more power he gained, a vulture so intent on devouring anything in his path with Dong Xian as nothing but his loyal minion to procure it for him.

Dong Xian watched powerlessly as his father’s shadow began to crawl up the walls of the room. “I am confident you are aware of what needs to be done,” he heard him say, “for the sake of our family.”

The palace doors slid open just as Dong Xian arrived, and he manoeuvred his way smoothly through the maze of corridors before halting at the doors to the emperor’s private residences.

The rice paper that made up the doors exuded a warm glow from the candles lit inside, their flames tracing the vague outline of the emperor at his desk.

Dong Xian attempted to calm his racing heart as the head attendant announced his arrival. Even with the cold, a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head and he wiped it away roughly.

He heard the emperor permit his entry and the doors slid open. Warm air and the fragrance that wafted from the scented candles enveloped him, chasing away the cold instantly. The emperor, decked in the riches of his position, sat at the far end of the room reading a scroll in his hand by the candlelight. Flames flickered in their brass holders, casting the room invitingly in an orange glow while the emperor’s shadow loomed large against the embroidered wall behind him. Dong Xian stepped into the room and the doors slid shut behind him.

“It seems that someone was almost late,” the emperor said, his eyes never once leaving his scroll.

Dong Xian’s heart seized, and he fell to his knees immediately. He cast his eyes to the ground, “your majesty, I apologize for my impunctuality. I will accept any punishment that is meted out.”

Silence descended upon them, only interrupted by Dong Xian’s harsh breaths. “Up,” he finally heard the emperor say.

Dong Xian rose immediately, awaiting his next command. The emperor curled his fingers, and he moved to kneel by the emperor’s side without a word. The emperor turned his gaze towards him, and Dong Xian held his breath. “I kid you,” the emperor said. “You were-”

“Your majesty, dinner is ready to be served,” the attendant announced outside the paper-thin doors. “Should I bring the dishes in?”

The emperor smiled at Dong Xian, “right on time.” He spoke in the direction of the doors, “yes, bring them in.”

“As I was saying,” the emperor continued, grasping Dong Xian’s chin in his hand, “you were not late. But if you were,” the emperor’s eyes darkened and Dong Xian stiffened, “that would be a different story altogether. But of course,” those dark eyes began to twinkle in amusement, “your long absence itself merits a punishment. But generous as I am, I would let it pass if you could provide a reward worth its value.”

Dong Xian spared a quick glance at the servants bringing in dishes of food, well-trained not to look upon the emperor. Dong Xian had once undergone the same grooming as they did after all.

“Cowardice will only ruin a man,” the dark figure of his father said against the orange glow of the setting sun. “Now that you still hold favour with the emperor, twist it to your advantage.”

Dong Xian leaned towards the emperor and opened his mouth pliantly. He heard a pleased hum, and the hand on his chin snaked its way to the back of his head to push it towards the emperor, closing the distance between them. Flicking his tongue into Dong Xian’s mouth, the emperor sucked his tongue and lower lip into his mouth as if an act of devourment, before ending the kiss with a hard bite on Dong Xian’s lower lip. It was going to bruise, Dong Xian thought distantly, like a stamp of ownership.

“Before you found favour with the emperor, never forget that it was I who placed you in Emperor Ai’s court that led you to your opportune moment.[3] Your success, your very existence,” his father hissed out, his figure beginning to blur with that of the emperor, “were bestowed by me.”

I own you, the unspoken words did not go unheard. Even when Dong Xian was finally given leave to depart from his father’s residence, his father’s shadow continued to layer upon his own.

Dong Xian turned his eyes to the splay of their shadows upon the wall—his lean, and the emperor’s vast and broad. Reminded of the duty his father had assigned him, Dong Xian darted his tongue out to lick at his lips, pressed the curve of his body against the emperor’s side as he looked up at him through long eyelashes.

The emperor exhaled harshly, and Dong Xian felt the growing hardness in the emperor’s groin with twisted gratification. With his eyes on Dong Xian, the emperor said, “remove the dishes. I will call for them later.”

The soft assenting murmurs of the attendants as they removed the dishes they just served became inconsequential to Dong Xian as the emperor pounced on him with a passion that threatened to consume him.

Large hands ran down the curve of his back, pulling his robes apart with ferocious intensity. It exposed Dong Xian’s body in all its glory, like a statue sculptured from white jade. Under the flickering flames of the candles, Dong Xian’s pale body glittered like the first fall of snow. His robes fell around him like the unravelling of silk ribbons that adorn the numerous gifts the ministers would send to the emperor in hopes to gain his favour. Dong Xian lowered his eyes shyly to the ground and postured himself in the way he knew would make his curves all the more alluring.

With a low growl, the emperor pushed Dong Xian onto the soft mattress and took his fill. His roaming hands and tongue left no spot unturned, his touch searing with heat upon Dong Xian’s cool skin. Biting the skin of his narrow neck, the emperor left a string of bruises like a grotesque collar.

Dong Xian looked to the ceiling, felt desire stir in his stomach while his father’s orders echoed in his mind. Not yet, he thought, not yet.

He recalled the first time the emperor had sought his pleasure from his body. He had trembled so hard that the emperor had stopped in his ministrations. Dong Xian had wanted to get on his knees and beg for his mercy but somehow, he could not command his limbs to move—he had lain stone still with his limbs spread eagle like a butterfly in a spider’s net, leaving nothing concealed as the emperor’s eyes continued to rove over him.

The emperor’s figure had begun to blur then, and that was when Dong Xian realized he was crying. He could not stop his tears, nor could he compel any form of resistance as the emperor embraced him. Drenching the emperor’s robes in his tears, the emperor had spent that night comforting Dong Xian instead. Even without completing the act that day, the emperor had sent him home on a carriage with a retinue of his personal attendants, an imperial edict for his promotion,[4] and a shower of gifts.

His majesty had been too generous with him, Dong Xian had thought later. If it had been anyone else, Dong Xian was certain they would have been punished severely. He had spent the rest of that night vomiting into a basin, and he remembered how it had never gotten the emperor’s taste from his mouth nor his scent from his skin.

A complete fool, his father had reprimanded him when he saw his pathetic state. His wife could only stand helplessly at his side as she witnessed the entire affair. Such cowardice does not make a man, his father continued. Dong Xian agreed. He was a fool, anyone else would have done anything to be in his position and he had nearly thrown his opportunity away.

But the emperor was kind and patient, almost excessively so, and soon enough Dong Xian had learned the ways. Now, he knew to arch his neck and chest to the emperor’s roaming hands, let out tiny moans at strategic intervals, seeking his own pleasure as he rutted against him. Not yet, Dong Xian thought, not yet.

The emperor pulled Dong Xian up with his hands on his shoulders as they kissed, and their positions were reversed as Dong Xian tumbled onto the emperor’s chest instead. Supporting the weight of them both with his elbows against the silk duvet, the emperor caught Dong Xian’s hand in his and guided it to the protruding tent in his robes.

Obediently, Dong Xian used both hands to service him, nudging his forehead against the emperor’s chin like a dog seeking affection. The emperor reached over to retrieve a vial of oil, spilling the viscous liquid over his fingers. Its fragrant scent made Dong Xian heady, and he complied as the emperor manoeuvred him to sit in his lap.

When he felt the emperor’s hands cup his bottoms, he instinctively spread his legs wider. Shivers of pleasure shot up his spine as the emperor scissored him open leisurely.

Dong Xian rested his forehead against the emperor’s, their warm breaths mingling together as they panted. Immersed in the heady scent of the emperor’s musk and the intoxicating fragrance of oil and candle surrounding them, Dong Xian was tempted to lose himself in the heat of the moment. Not yet, not yet.

Dong Xian watched the emperor’s eyes grow darker with lust, watched him raise his free hand to curl a strand of Dong Xian’s hair that had fallen from his hairpin behind his ear gently. “Beautiful,” he murmured lowly. Now, Dong Xian thought.

Dong Xian nuzzled the side of his face against the emperor and whispered against the shell of his ear silkily. “Your majesty, a matter has been troubling me lately.”

The emperor drew back to look at Dong Xian, his expression partly shrouded in shadow. Uneasiness settled in the pit of Dong Xian’s stomach. “A troubling matter that came from your father since your visit to his residence this afternoon, I presume?” the emperor said.

Dong Xian guided his features into a look of surprise. He had known that the emperor had employed officials to follow his movements. In occasional and necessary cases, Dong Xian would employ his own trusted officials to throw them off their tracks. Exposing that he knew more than he should was a danger.

The emperor chuckled when he saw Dong Xian’s surprise. He unclipped Dong Xian’s hairpin, let his hair cascade down his back like silk. He ran his fingers through it, and said, “I have my ways. And what did your father ask of you?”

Dong Xian added a playful lilt to his tone, “your majesty is always so mysterious.”

Suddenly, he felt the fingers inside him curl roughly and Dong Xian could not stop himself from a startled gasp of pleasure. The emperor laughed heartily, “that was your punishment for being cheeky.”

Dong Xian pouted his lips at him, “I see your majesty is still extremely young at heart.”

The emperor barked out another laugh, and Dong Xian waited patiently until it ceased while his hands continued their service. The emperor’s eyes settled on him once again, “and so, what did your father ask of you?”

Dong Xian arranged his features into a look of abashment. He bit on his lower lip, turning his gaze away from the emperor. “My younger brother has become besotted with Lord Xiao’s daughter. My father has been trying to reach out to the Wang Clan to arrange a marriage between them,” Dong Xian sighed sadly, “but his proposal had not been well-received.”

The emperor quirked the corner of his lips, turning Dong Xian’s chin towards him so that he had no choice but to look at him. “A simple matter. Their loyalties to me are unquestionable. It will be done.”[5]

Dong Xian let gratitude flow into his words and relief flow his heart. “I wonder how I could ever repay your kindness, your majesty,” he whispered.

The emperor’s fingers brushed the ring of bruises around Dong Xian’s neck affectionately. “I know your father’s disposition and more than that, your circumstances. My grandmother was the very same,” he scoffed, “desiring power that was not her birthright to gain.”

Dong Xian’s heart thumped in his chest and he tried to even his breaths. He steadied his voice and said, “the late Grand Empress Dowager?”

“Clever boy,” the emperor crooned, and with his hand still upon Dong Xian’s chin, he rubbed it with his thumb lovingly, and Dong Xian was warmed by his praise even if he was aware of how little value it held. “She was only Consort Fu back then, and she clamoured for more and more titles when I ascended the throne,” [6] he spat out viciously. “Meddled in the affairs of my governance.[7] And then,” his eyes glittered darkly in the low light, “she finally died.”

Dong Xian’s hands faltered in their movement momentarily. Foolish. He had been so foolish. Was this a warning the emperor had veiled in the deceptive warmth of his words? Seeing Dong Xian’s silence, the emperor chuckled and pressed a kiss to one of the bruises on his neck. It continued to burn even after the emperor’s lips left it.

“So do not be troubled my dear Xianxian, I will fulfil all of your father’s insignificant requests.” He nosed the back of Dong Xian’s ear, inhaling the fragrance of his skin as Dong Xian remained frozen in place, “because I do not want to see you upset. The extent our elders can frustrate us is something I understand intimately.”

The emperor’s words were accompanied by a sudden rush of warmth that thawed Dong Xian’s frozen body. He felt the sudden urge to cry. He felt so tired, he wanted to drop the weight he had been carrying on his shoulders and let himself fall into the emperor’s deceptively warm embrace.

He could see the swirling abyss beneath his feet. He had always thought he had been intelligent enough to remain on the far cliff safely above it, but now he was uncertain if he might have already been caught in its current.

Hiding his expression behind the veil of his hair, Dong Xian steadied himself with his hands on the emperor’s shoulders and began to sink himself onto his shaft. The first time he had done it in this position it had left his legs aching for weeks, but it was the only position they could do it in with the emperor’s illness.[8] With time, the ache had dulled into a faint throb. Anyone could become used to anything, perhaps even finding comfort in what had once seemed to hurt.

Dong Xian watched the shadows behind the emperor’s shoulder. His own had been consumed entirely by the emperor’s, the shadow pulsating to its own rhythm as if the breaths of a fantastical monster with an insatiable appetite.

He trembled as the emperor wrapped his arms around him, large enough to embrace his small frame completely. The emperor rubbed his hands down his back tenderly as if comforting a crying child. “What happened to my Xianxian today, hm? It’s alright,” the emperor cooed, pecking Dong Xian’s cheek affectionately,” I will take care of you, how about that?”

What remained of Dong Xian’s defences crumbled to the ground. He found himself wrapping his hands tight around the emperor as if it was the only thing that could keep him from drowning. He buried his face into the crook of the emperor’s neck, inhaled his scent, and began to pump himself up and down.

His tears dripped their way down the emperor’s bare chest, but the emperor did not seem to mind. The emperor’s soothing strokes on his back never ceased while in Dong Xian’s ear, he murmured gentle reassurances that sent him into a deeper spiral of pleasure. In an ironic twist of fate, it was a grotesque re-enactment of the first time he had been in the emperor’s bed. Back then, he never thought he would find solace in the figure that could devastate and enrich his life all at the same time.

“Your majesty,” Dong Xian cried out again and again like a fervent prayer, and as the emperor finished inside him, Dong Xian let the wave of pleasure swallow him completely.

Blissful whiteness, and then he felt strong hands catch hold of him as he fell from the clouds. He blinked blurrily, and he let himself be manoeuvred by the dark figure looming above him onto the soft duvet.

A gentle gust of wind blew in from the window, lifting the edge of the curtain. Moonlight found its way in, and the wooden bars of the window imprinted black stripes upon his pale skin like bars of a cage.

He could see the moon from here, still so bright and indifferent. The curtains fell and it vanished from view.

Could the pet trust its owner not to discard it? Could the pet ever know its value to its owner? Did the pet even have the right to seek its value? Or does being born a pet makes it its birthright to accept its owner’s favours and abandonment according to his whims?

But as the emperor extinguished the candles and descended the room into darkness, so did a veil of darkness come upon Dong Xian’s mind and the answers to his desperate questions remained out of his reach. Dark sleep came upon him, and Dong Xian let it devour him whole.

Author’s Thoughts

The romantic relationship between Emperor Ai of Han and Dong Xian is one of the most well-known homosexual relationships in imperial China, and this is seen in the popularity of the Tale of the Cut-Sleeve (Hinsch 1992, 53). The tale depicts how Dong Xian was sleeping on Emperor Ai’s sleeve and Emperor Ai decided to cut it off so he would not wake Dong Xian up (53). This tale was so popular that Chinese literature published centuries after their deaths still use the term cut-sleeves as a euphemism for homosexuality (“Homoeroticism in Imperial China,” 2013). Due to the tale’s popularity, their relationship is seen to consist solely of love and devotion. However, this tale is only one out of many historical records that recorded their relationship, and depicting their relationship solely based on it presents a romanticized portrayal of how their relationship would be like in their time.

Translated extracts from The History of the Former Han imply how their relationship was not as innocent as it seems as they allude to how Dong Xian had manipulated Emperor Ai’s favour towards him to gain power and status (20, 25). In addition, in imperial China, people were extremely mindful of the social hierarchy and it shaped one’s daily activities (Hinsch 1992, 9). So pervasive was the power structure that it was present even in homosexual copulation—the male who takes on the dominant role in the relationship and penetrates the other male is the male of higher social standing (9).

Hence, their relationship could not be separated from the power and politics of their era, and these are intensified due to their high-ranking positions in the imperial court. My story would portray how their relationship is entwined in the power and politics of their time, thus diverging from the romanticized and glamorized portrayal of their relationship in Tale of the Cut-Sleeve. Simultaneously, I would like to prevent veering to any extremes—neither was their relationship purely dictated by the social hierarchy and politics of the court, nor did it solely consist of love, but a fascinating struggle for both to coexist.

My project takes the form of a story because I believe words have the unique ability to express the inexpressible, be it one’s experience, emotions, or trauma; and to construct a fictional reality that a reader could immerse in. I could create whatever I desire just by putting them into words and this ‘superpower’ words possess is why I enjoy writing immensely.

I decided to write about a relationship set in the imperial court because depicting the complex power dynamics in the intimate setting of the bedroom interests me deeply. In addition, homosexual representation in popular media is sadly still not the norm in contemporary times. And with the Chinese Communist Party’s censorship, the representation of Chinese homosexuals in popular media is even lesser. Rather than add my piece to the already endless pile of stories representing heterosexual relationships, I have decided to write on one that deserves more representation.

Endnotes

[1] Mark Stevenson and Wu Cuncun, eds. and trans., “Extract from the History of the Former Han (Han shu), first century CE.” In Homoeroticism in Imperial China (USA: Routledge, 2013), 20. Dong Xian was a houseman when Emperor Ai had not yet ascended the throne. And when he did, Dong Xian was promoted to gentleman attendant to announce the time from the water-clock.

[2] Ibid, 23-24. This is a true story. Dong Xian’s father held Xiao in high regard and hence wanted to establish connections through marriage only to be rejected.

[3] Ibid, 20. Dong Xian’s father was initially a royal scribe and found Dong Xian his employment as a houseman to serve Emperor Ai when he was still a crown prince.

[4] Ibid. Emperor Ai had Dong Xian promoted to Gentleman of the Palace Gate the first day he noticed him.

[5] Ibid, 24. Soon after Dong Xian’s father faced rejection, Emperor Ai held a banquet with all of Dong Xian’s family, Xiao and a few other prominent members of the Wang clan present. During the banquet, he said a specific reference which was the exact same reference Xiao had used to reject Dong Xian’s father. I interpreted his reference partly as a discreet rebuke to Xiao’s rejection. Dong Xian’s father must have also found a way to let Emperor Ai know of this incident.

[6] Liu Peng, “简论汉哀帝,” 唐山师范学院学报 39, no. 1 (January 2017): 96. This is also a true story. It was so extreme that a prime minister moved Grand Empress Dowager’s residence further away from Emperor Ai’s residence but there was a connecting passage, and she went to him incessantly for higher titles.

[7] Ibid. Emperor Ai was unwilling to be controlled by her, but still, many of his policies that were criticized later on were said to be because of her involvement.

[8] Zhang Ci Xiu, “论西汉哀帝朝政治———以外戚问题为中心,” 中华文史论丛 3 (2020): 83-84. Emperor Ai suffered from flaccid paralysis that eventually led to his death. In my story, I depicted him in the early stages of his illness so only strenuous activities such as thrusting would be too difficult for him. In homosexual relationships in imperial China, men of higher standing penetrated those of lower standing, hence I hope this portrayed the pervasiveness of the power structure since Dong Xian does not even question the inconvenience of his position as the penetrated male.