A few weeks ago we went to the mountains to pick out and cut a Christmas tree. It was our first real tree and the first time I ever went to cut down a tree. The kids were a huge help! We also had a long drive in the rain with lots of waterfalls on the roadside. Then we went to the beach...it was beautiful.
Here's another installment in the story about Xuanzong (historical fiction):
Part 3
The next big event in my life is another moment I won’t ever forget. I was eight years old at the time. My mother died. Well, she didn’t just die- my grandmother had her killed! For some reason, my grandmother thought that my mom and my dad’s wife (my mom isn’t my dad’s wife- my mom was one of the servants in the palace) were working together to take over the country. My grandmother wanted to be the only one to rule the country so she had both of them killed. The sad part about it is that no one knew what was going on. I was having a history lesson when I heard the shouting. Then a few minutes later someone came and told me that my mom died. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her.
After that moment, Goo Goo made sure that I was ok and that my grandmother wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t remember ever talking with my grandmother, especially after this. I saw her being carried on a fancy carrier or in chariots getting ready to leave the palace to go out, but it was always from far away. She was a complainer and usually had something to gripe about: the carriage was too dirty for her or the horses didn’t look good or even the people driving the carriage were looking sloppy. Nothing ever seemed good enough for her! After she left, each time I could hear the servants complain about her.
I remember one time in particular that was hilarious. I was walking from one building to another inside the palace walls when I heard her voice. Actually, just about everyone could’ve heard her that day because she was yelling at this person, and then that person. I stood next to the building, along with one or two of the servants, watching what was going on.
“The steamed buns and baozi (filled steamed buns) were horrible this morning! I expect better!” She complained. It seemed that she was talking with one of the cooks.
“Yes, your highness,” he said. The poor guy. You could tell, even from far away, that he was one of the newer cooks.
“I expect all of my cooks to be the best cooks in this country and you are certainly not one of them!” She said. “Anyone can make steamed buns and baozi. I don’t know how to cook but even I can make them!” She said. Now, to be honest, steamed buns are actually quite hard to make. Baozi are even harder because you have to get the filling right and then wrap the dough around it before steaming it. I had never seen my grandmother enter the kitchen. I doubted she could even boil an egg!
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking at the ground.
“Don’t “ma’am” me- it’s “your highness” to you! Now, were you or were you not the one to make the steamed bun that I ate for breakfast?” She asked.
“Actually, your highness, I was only the one who delivered them to your room. I can pass along your message to the head cook if you’d like, your highness.”
“No, I expect more. Go back to the kitchen and bring him in.” She said.
Within a few minutes, the head cook came.
“Your highness. I heard that something was wrong with your breakfast today.”
“Yes, the baozi and the steamed buns were horrible today! I wanted bean paste in the baozi and plain steamed buns but today I got bean paste on the steamed buns and vegetable baozi!”
“Yes, your highness. Yesterday you specifically requested to have bean paste on the baozi and plain steamed buns today for breakfast,” said the cook. The cook was one of the few people who weren’t afraid of my grandmother because he knew how hard it would be to find a replacement if he was fired.
“Did I?” She asked.
“Yes, you had one of your servants ask us specifically about this yesterday afternoon.” The cook explained.
“Did I? Oh, well, I forgot. Tomorrow I want better!” She said.
“Do you mean that you want to have bean baste in the baozi and plain steamed buns for breakfast tomorrow, your highness?” Asked the cook.
“Yes, yes, whatever you think best,” she said and looked around like she couldn’t be bothered about it anymore.
My grandmother was like this, especially the few years before she died. You never knew what would get you in trouble or how quickly she changed. Many times I was thankful I wasn’t a servant. My strategy was to avoid her at all costs.
Here's another post in the Kids in Ancient China series. This is part 2 of the story of Xuanzong. It's a historical fictional story. There are 5 parts total. Enjoy.
Part 2
Whenever my dad told me stories about my uncle, it made me miss having him around when I was growing up. If things had been different and we were just an ordinary family, he wouldn’t have had to go away. Everything would’ve been different, but I can’t change the family I was born into.
After my uncle left, my dad became the emperor. My grandmother wanted to rule through him too. When it didn’t work, she exiled him as well. This was one of the saddest days of my life. I was only 5 years old, but I still have a memory of him leaving the palace. Tears rolled down my face. There was a whole group of us waving goodbye to him as he left: me, my mom, some of the servants, and some other relatives. When the gates of the palace closed behind him, my mom and I just hugged each other for a long time because we knew our lives would be even more hard.
Later on I found out that the reason I wasn’t exiled with my dad was because of my aunt, my grandmother’s daughter. Although her name was Princess Taiping, I just called her Goo Goo (“aunt”). She became like a mom to me and made sure that I learned about China’s long history, art, and poetry. I loved learning about art and poetry because it let me have a picture of how life was like on the outside of the palace.
I had different tutors and teachers come to teach me. Some of them were very boring, but my favorite was my history teacher. He made history come to life and told story after story of all of the famous people that lived before us. I remember one class in particular when he was talking about Sima Qian, China’s great historian.
“Sima Qian wrote about many people and wanted to remember not only the rich and famous, but also the everyday people. You are one of the famous people in China because of your family. If Sima Qian were alive today and he was going to write about you and your life, what would he say?”
This threw me off and challenged me. “What do you mean?”
“How do you want people to remember you?” He asked.
“Remember me? Why would they remember me at all? My family might be famous, but I’m not the next person to become the emperor. Most likely my half-brother will be the next emperor, not me!”
“Yes, he might be the next emperor, but no one knows what will happen. How do you want people to remember you?” He asked me again.
“I really don’t know.” Was my answer.
“Yes, I know that it’s a big question. Just something for you think about. Class is over. Sometime down the road, I might ask you this question again.” He said.
Thankfully, he never did ask me that question again because two years later I got a new history teacher. I was sad because the new teacher was boring and wasn’t as good of a story teller as my old teacher was. My old teacher made every emperor and every important person in history sound fascinating. However, his question about how I want people to remember me was something that stuck with me my whole life.
A few weeks ago we went to the mountains to pick out and cut a Christmas tree. It was our first real tree and the first time I ever went to...
