Prologue
She opened the curtains a trifle that she might peer out. She caught her breath at the elaborate spectacle, beauty and color, marble and tile paths, artificial lakes upon which were haughty white swans. Here and there a slim tower rose high but for the most part the buildings were only of one story. They crossed a marble bridge and skirted a bamboo thicket so high that it obscured the view. Soon the way opened upon a wide avenue and there before her were the personal apartments of his Majesty, Ming Huang, the Son of Heaven, Emperor of All Below the Sky. She knew it by the red-lacquered carved pillars that formed the entrance. If only his Majesty would emerge so that she might behold his stately figure. . . . But the red doors remained closed.
On and on they went past lakes and trees, peach orchards and marble bridges. Everywhere there was water, for a Chinese garden is not complete unless flowers and trees are blended with water and moon bridges. From every angle the Imperial grounds presented a rhythmic picture that would have stirred an artist's heart. The buildings were constructed of wood and bricks with curved tilted roofs.
The Imperial grounds seemed endless, but finally they reached the Blue Lacquer Palace of Prince Shou on Frozen Pearl Lake. A dozen handmaidens came out to greet Yuhan. Their attitudes were almost worshipful as they helped her from the elaborate chair. They were very young. The oldest could not have been over fourteen. Yuhan, herself, was only two years older.
