Admiring Red Walls and Golden Tiles: The Ming and Qing Imperial Palace – Part Six: The Rear Three Palaces (Part Two) (Revised Edition)

My 2021 Forbidden City post series, the seventeen-installment 'Admiring Red Walls and Golden Tiles: The Ming and Qing Imperial Palace,' received generous attention from many readers. Among them, some offered suggestions and pointed out mistakes. This revised reissue incorporates those inputs, enriches some content, corrects errors, and updates or supplements some photos. Though I can't claim all errors are fixed, most should be corrected. I detail the ancient Chinese pinnacle of palace architecture seen in the Ming and Qing imperial palace, the royal relics on display, and traces of Qing court life, along with some stories and legends from those halls. I dare not say it's to 'feed the eyes of readers'—I simply hope to share with you. Thank you.

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Since Qianqing Palace was the emperor's home, naturally some household duties were performed here. These might include marital spats or discussing whether to have a second child, but none of this is recorded in official history. Whether the daily journals of each emperor held in the Imperial Archives contain such things, none have been made public. The official histories do record certain family banquets held in Qianqing Palace—intimate feasts for close kin and friends. These were family meals, unlike the state banquets in Taihe Hall. The most important family banquet was the New Year's Eve dinner. The imperial family dinner was segregated by gender: women dined on New Year's Eve, men on New Year's Day. During the meal, the emperor sat at the head table on the rostrum; behind him, the empress dined at a separate table. Everyone else was seated below, on both sides. Being a family affair, they followed common practice: cold dishes first, then hot dishes, plus a fruit platter. Generous as the emperor was, even household matters had rules. Cold dishes were served in enamel bowls. In the Ming dynasty, there was salted duck; in the Qing, blood sausage, reflecting the emperor's origins and background. Hot dishes also came in enamel bowls: Ming had bird's nest stewed with white duck; Qing had deer sinew stewed with meat. Bird's nest was a delicacy developed for Zhu Di during Zheng He's voyages to the Southern Seas—something even Emperor Wu of Han never tasted. Fruit was presented on large carved lacquer trays: seasonal fruits and preserved fruits. Ming had finger citron; Qing had apples. Small pastries were also served—Ming had duck-stuffed buns; Qing had radish dipped in thick soy paste. Each person on the rostrum got forty dishes; those below, thirty each. And, of course, wine: Shaoxing wine in Ming, and 'kick-death-ox' or 'knock-down-donkey' in Qing. Since the imperial kitchen was near Qianqing Palace, hot dishes were actually served—unlike at Taihe Hall, where only cold food could be had. Looking at all this, you might think it doesn't differ much from what we eat. That's because the emperor's stomach and innards were the same as ours; his molars and gullet were pretty similar. If he were truly divine, he ought to have eaten only immortal pills instead of earthly meals, right?

Besides New Year's, other festivals also saw family banquets in Qianqing Palace: the Lantern Festival, Dragon Boat Festival, Mid-Autumn Festival, Double Ninth, Winter Solstice, and the emperor's birthday. Beyond family feasts, the emperor also held special banquets here for various heroes: court officials, princes, and imperial clansmen. These followed protocol. In the Qing dynasty, a groundbreaking banquet was added: the 'Banquet of a Thousand Elders,' hosted by Kangxi and Qianlong. On Youth Day (May 4) of Kangxi's 52nd year (1713), Kangxi turned sixty. The empire was at peace after quelling the Three Feudatories and Galdan's rebellion, with years of bumper harvests and full granaries. Nosy old chaps from the provinces flocked to the capital for the emperor's birthday celebration. These were all local landlords or rich peasants who didn't need to farm and could orchestrate a trip. Kangxi heard reports of white-bearded elders parading outside the palace gates holding steamed buns with long white mold, rosy-cheeked though lacking official headgear. Sending spies to investigate, he learned they'd come to wish him long life. Overjoyed, Kangxi decreed a feast at Changchun Garden in the West Garden to treat all these elders (pronounced 'dan'). As the saying goes, 'to live to seventy since ancient times is rare,' so Kangxi invited men over sixty-five—partly because their journey was hard, partly because they might not make it next time. He also invited court officials over sixty-five and retired cadres in the capital, entertaining over two thousand in two sessions. That wasn't yet called the 'Banquet of a Thousand Elders,' just a groundbreaking treat. In Kangxi's 60th year (1721), to mark his diamond jubilee, he held another feast for a thousand elders, this time properly inside the palace—in Qianqing Palace. The guests were split into Manchu and Han groups, again two sessions. Kangxi composed the poem 'Banquet of a Thousand Elders,' giving the event its name. By Qianlong's time, peace pervaded, and both officials and common folk prospered. In Qianlong's 50th year (1785), Qianlong, wishing to emulate his grandfather, held a Banquet of a Thousand Elders in Qianqing Palace, using the completion of the *Siku Quanshu* as the pretext. Again, elders over sixty-five were invited—this time three thousand. In Qianlong's 61st year (1796), the imperial edict declared: 'I am tired. Yongyan (pronounced yong yan), you come and play. Your reign name shall be Jiaqing.' After Qianlong retired to the second line as an advisor, he held the last Qing Banquet of a Thousand Elders in the Retired Emperor's Palace. This was the largest: five thousand elders came to feast. The Hall of Imperial Supremacy was crammed full, then the courtyard overflowed, and finally guests were seated all the way outside the Gate of Tranquil Longevity—a total of eight hundred tables. The fare differed: those inside the hall and on the platform (provincial/ministerial level) ate hotpot, one per table. Those in the courtyard (department/division level) and outside (county/regiment level) also ate hotpot, same dishes, but ten to a table; fortunately each had a bowl of rice in meat broth, or none would have filled up. After the feast, bowls and chopsticks strewn about the retired emperor's palace, no leftovers—the elders had pocketed anything uneaten to take home. This feast even included fathers of minor officials; Old Wang from the Shanxi Wang family courtyard attended. The oldest official guest was likely Guo Zhongyue, a jinshi from Fujian serving as a director at the Imperial College—104 years old. The oldest non-official was Xiong Guopei from Anhui, 106, who was awarded a sixth-rank hat after the meal. Other non-official elders over ninety all received seventh-rank hats. Within a month of the feast, Xiong Guopei and quite a few other high-aged elders went straight to paradise to tidy Qianlong's house. Truth be told, had those old men stayed home quietly eating vegetables and practicing tai chi, they might have lived several more years. But trekking to the capital for a meal with Old Qian and a fancy hat? Joy turned to tragedy. After that, the court's finances grew too meager to host another free meal of such scale. Only thirty years later, Qianlong's grandson, the Daoguang Emperor, threw a mini elder banquet in Yulantang at the Summer Palace, entreating a mere fifteen old men—all retired officials.

These Rear Three Palaces are, like the Front Three Halls, built on a single raised terrace. Look at the front veranda of Qianqing Palace.

Looking back through the semi-enclosed side veranda, you can see Kunning Palace behind.

The frontmost of the Rear Three Palaces is Qianqing Palace, the rearmost Kunning Palace. 'Qian' is heaven, 'Kun' is earth—'Qianqing Kunning' means 'heaven is pure, earth is tranquil.' You could also interpret it as no dark clouds or lightning above, no tigers, leopards, or wolves below. The ancients said 'heaven the sovereign, earth the mother.' Since the emperor slept in Qianqing Palace, the empress naturally slept in Kunning Palace. Right? Zhu Di slept in Qianqing Palace, and his wife lived in Kunning Palace. Which wife? Zhu Di's empress was the daughter of Xu Da, a great general under Zhu Yuanzhang. She died in Yongle 7 in the Kunning Palace in Nanjing, missing the Yongle 18 completion of the Beijing Kunning Palace. After Empress Xu's death, Zhu Di never appointed another empress, so during the Yongle reign, Beijing's Kunning Palace had no resident empress. Later Ming emperors' wives all lived in Kunning Palace. It was Empress Fang, residing in Kunning Palace, who saved the Jiajing Emperor during the Renyin Palace Uprising.

In Ming times, Qianqing Palace and Kunning Palace were connected by a passageway forming an I-shape, with a round hall in the middle. Thus the Ming palace was then called 'three halls, two palaces.' In Jiajing 36 (1557), lightning struck the Forbidden City, igniting a great fire. During reconstruction, the passageway between Qianqing and Kunning was remodeled into an independent square hall, similar to Zhonghe Hall in the Front Three Halls, to prevent a chain of fires across the Rear Palaces. It was completed in Jiajing 41. From then on, the palace became 'three halls, three palaces.' That same year, Jiajing intended to build an outer city wall beyond Beijing's inner city, but with the concurrent reconstruction of major halls burned in the fire, funds were insufficient, so only the southern outer wall was built—the stretch from Zuo'an Gate through Yongding Gate to You'an Gate. Look at Jiajing's new Jiaotai Hall.

This Jiaotai Hall is smaller than Zhonghe Hall but identical in style: a square hall three bays wide, with bracket-set beam structure, topped by a single-eave hipped roof of yellow glazed tiles. The difference? Jiaotai Hall lacks an encircling veranda, and only the central bay on all four sides has doors—four-leaf partition doors with triple-four-six mullioned latticework and dragon-and-phoenix gold-leafed skirt panels. The side bays are sealed with brick sill walls and square lattice windows. Early Qing emperors Shunzhi and Kangxi both renovated Jiaotai Hall. In Jiaqing 2 (1797), while Qianlong was still Retired Emperor, a fire broke out in Qianqing Palace; the reconstruction included Jiaotai Hall. What we see today is the Jiaqing-era rebuild.

Check the roof finial of Jiaotai Hall—same as Zhonghe Hall's.

Look at the painted decorations on the horizontal beams.

You'll notice the 'hexi' decorative scheme on the upper and lower beams differs from Zhonghe Hall's. Zhonghe Hall features 'golden dragon hexi'; here, it's 'dragon-and-phoenix hexi.' From the Meridian Gate into the palace, this is the first time phoenixes appear in hexi decorations. The lower beam center has dragons, the side panels phoenixes; the upper beam center has phoenixes, side panels dragons. All are done in raised-and-gilt technique: mineral pigments build up the lines of dragons and phoenixes, then gold leaf is applied, creating a shallow relief effect. By convention, when the background of the side panels is green, the dragon or phoenix is descending—'descending dragon/descending phoenix'; when blue, they ascend—'ascending dragon/ascending phoenix.' The painted beams here show both.

Inside the hall, square 'gold brick' flooring; a screen between the rear gold columns in the central bay; in front of the screen, a floor platform with the throne. Overhead, a flat ceiling with dragon-and-phoenix checkerboard; above the throne, an eight-sided gilt coffer with a coiling dragon chasing a pearl.

On the gold columns flanking the screen hangs a couplet: '恒久咸和, 迓天休而滋至; 关睢麟趾, 主王化之始基.' '恒久咸和' comes from the *I Ching*, meaning lasting peace and prosperity for all. '天休' from the *Book of Documents*, divine blessings. '关雎' is the melodious birdcall from the *Book of Songs*: 'Guan-guan go the ospreys, on the river isle; the quiet modest maiden, the prince's mate.' '麟趾' is the qilin's hoof—harmless, never kicks—from the *Book of Songs*: 'Hoof of the qilin, the noble young men, ah, the qilin!' '王化' means governance through virtue. The couplet's meaning: enduring peace brings divine favor and prosperity; the ruler governs with benevolence.

This couplet was written by Qianlong, likely matching his 'Ode to Jiaotai Hall' on the screen; the screen inscription is dated 'Qianlong Renchen,' i.e., Qianlong 37 (1772). Above the screen hangs a plaque: '无为' (Wuwei). This is the Daoist concept from the *Dao De Jing*, Laozi's counsel for rulers: the ruler does not compete with the people, follows their natural course, and avoids arbitrary action—'Act by non-action, and all will be well.' Kangxi wrote the original plaque; this one is a re-creation by Qianlong in his 62nd year (1797), after the Jiaqing 2 fire.

Flanking the throne are enamel fish jars, enamel luduan (mythical beasts), gilt incense pavilions; below, enamel incense burners. Most striking are the many golden pagodas around the throne—all Qing antiques. There are twenty-five such pagodas, known as the 'Twenty-Five Seals.' Seal: imperial insignia. In Ming, originally there were seventeen seals; Jiajing added seven, making twenty-four. Those were kept by female seal-keepers, with the Seal Protocol Office managing their use. The Ming twenty-four are now lost, though suspected items exist in the museum but aren't verified. In Jiaotai Hall today are the Qing twenty-five seals. The golden pagoda-like forms are actually bright yellow silk covers with dragon patterns. The covers are rarely opened; no visitor knows what's inside. Officially, these covers hold 'seal boxes.' Opening a cover reveals a nanmu wood stand. On the stand, a large nanmu box. Inside that, a sandalwood small box. And inside that: a personal seal, or 'imperial seal'—i.e., a chop. Drawing from the *I Ching* number of heaven: twenty-five, Qianlong selected twenty-five official chops from a messy thirty-nine to represent court authority and dignity. We rarely see documents bearing these seals; 'Treasure of Qianlong's Imperial Brush' is his private seal. The matching official seal is 'Treasure of the Emperor.' Among the twenty-five, there are two 'Treasure of the Emperor' seals with Manchu-Chinese script: one in green jade, rarely used; the other, most frequently used, is sandalwood, for issuing edicts. Qing emperors used private seals daily; official ones involved cumbersome ritual. Using an imperial seal first required the astrologers to pick an auspicious day. On that day, the chief astrologer and the head eunuch of Jiaotai Hall entered the hall. Jiaotai eunuchs normally squatted in the duty room below the terrace.

They set up a prearranged offering table with vegetarian food—apples, steamed buns, no pork or lamb—fine wine and incense. Then they kowtowed in grand rite, awaiting the precise auspicious moment. At that instant, they opened the silk covers, took the seal and paste box from the nests, placed them on the offering table. Then the eunuch fetched the emperor from Qianqing Palace. The emperor came, saluted the seal, burned three incense sticks, then took the chop, dabbed it in paste, breathed three times on it, and firmly stamped the edict—a perfect impression called 'qianyin.' After stamping, the emperor left; the astrologer and eunuch put everything back. If you ever see an exhibition of Qing imperial edicts, you might spot that 'Treasure of the Emperor' imprint.

To the left of the throne in Jiaotai Hall, in the eastern side bay, stands a wooden pavilion housing a bronze clepsydra—for timekeeping.

This was made in Qianlong 10, originally in the Hall of Imperial Supremacy, moved here after the Jiaqing fire. By Qing times, the court already used self-striking clocks; this clepsydra served as a ritual object and was never refilled with water. To the right of the throne once stood a Ming self-striking clock, lost in the same fire; a replacement was made in Jiaqing 3 to match the clepsydra opposite. In Qing, Jiaotai Hall was Beijing's timing center: when this clock chimed, the drum and bell at Shenwu Gate would follow, then the 'seven gongs and booms' of the Bell and Drum Towers outside Di'an Gate, and lastly citizens throughout the city wound their own clocks.

This self-striking clock, made by the Qing imperial workshop, is covered with exquisite carvings. Oddly, the column frame reminds me of the bronze baldachin in Saint Peter's Basilica, a Baroque masterpiece by Bernini, a century and a half earlier.

Earlier I mentioned that the emperor personally reviewed sacrificial texts for major rites in Zhonghe Hall, and checked seeds and tools there before plowing at Xiannong Altar. The empress had only the silkworm ceremony. She couldn't go to the front halls—that smacked of interfering in politics. Instead, she reviewed her silkworm ceremony script and checked tools right here in Jiaotai Hall, the rear counterpart to Zhonghe Hall. Each spring, the emperor led officials through the Meridian Gate to the Altar of Agriculture to sacrifice to Shennong and plow his 'one mu three fen' plot. Each March, the empress led court ladies out Shenwu Gate to the Altar of Silkworms in Beihai for her ceremony. On New Year's Day, Winter Solstice, and the emperor's birthday (Wanshou Festival), officials paid homage in Taihe Hall; meanwhile, court ladies and princesses came here to congratulate the empress seated on the throne in Jiaotai Hall—especially on her birthday (Qianqiu Festival). So, though called Mother of the Nation, Qing empresses displayed their maternal grace not in Kunning, the 'Central Palace,' but here. Some say Jiaotai Hall was the imperial bedchamber, but that's wrong. In Ming it was a passage between Qianqing and Kunning—how could any intimacy occur? In Qing, would one really misbehave on a non-bed throne before the imperial seals?

Move to the side of Jiaotai Hall.

You can see Kunning Palace behind. Note that the east and west sides of Jiaotai Hall have partition doors only in the middle, sealed with brick walls elsewhere. Also, from Qianqing Palace backward, the terrace railings change from white marble to glazed brick walls of yellow and green.

Behind Jiaotai Hall is Kunning Palace. Qianqing and Kunning are a paired set, their names from the *Dao De Jing*: 'Heaven attains purity by oneness; earth attains tranquility by oneness'—hence Qianqing and Kunning, home to the heavenly sovereign and earthly mother.

Kunning Palace mirrors Baohe Hall in form but is much smaller: seven bays wide, three bays deep, with a surrounding veranda. Above, a bracket-set beam structure, double-eave hipped roof of yellow glazed tiles, seven roof beasts (Baohe has a double-eave hip-and-gable roof with nine). The front platform is far smaller than Baohe's, so the distance to Jiaotai Hall is quite short.

In Ming times, Kunning Palace was the empress's dormitory—a proper hall, with doors in the central bay and warm chambers in the side bays. The last Ming emperor, Chongzhen, after writing his final edict in Qianqing Palace, presented white silk sashes to his consorts. Empress Zhou received hers, returned here, and took her own life. After entering Beijing, Shunzhi in his 12th year (1655) renovated Kunning Palace in the style of the Qingning Palace from the Mukden Palace. The Qing Kunning Palace's gate was moved to the eastern second bay, the original four-part partition doors replaced with two-leaf plank doors, and lattice windows swapped for vertical bar swing windows.

Most significantly, the interior was overhauled: the two eastern rooms turned into a bedchamber, the four western rooms into a sacrificial hall. The Manchus practiced shamanism, an ancient worship akin to but distinct from fire worship—shamanism had no theology or gods, just ritual; thus not a religion. It flourished across the cold north, at least beyond the Great Wall: among Mongols, Jurchens, Eskimos, Siberians, and Scandinavians. What we know as 'jumping the spirit' is the shaman's way of communicating with heaven, used to drive away ghosts, cure illness, summon souls, and so forth. The Qing emperor brought shamanic rites into the palace, fully aware that the dancing solved nothing, but using it to rule those who believed—just as he offered incense in temples and monasteries.

Rituals in Kunning Palace actually involved a shaman during deity worship. The deities hailed from far and wide: Shakyamuni Buddha, Guanyin, Guan Yu the Demon-Subduing Emperor, the Mountain God of Changbai, Mongol gods, the Earth God—fifteen or sixteen in all. Rites were held morning and evening, with grand ceremonies on the first and fifteenth of each lunar month. Opposite the entrance, a kitchen had three great cauldrons: two for boiling meat, one for steaming cakes. Each night at midnight, a third-rank official shamanka drove a cart carrying two still-breathing pigs into the palace through Shenwu Gate, ahead of the Jade Spring water cart, straight to Kunning Palace. Ceremony-assigned ministers and security eunuchs attended. Usually, the empress was present on the first and fifteenth; the emperor might not be, if he had morning court. The shaman danced and sang her incantation, accompanying herself on a 'waist bell.'

After the chant, she poured a bowl of wine on a pig's ear; the pig twitched its ear, and the shaman declared the spirits had heard. The pig was led to the kitchen and slaughtered. Plain boiled pork and steamed cakes were soon ready. Each person received a slab of meat and a plate of cake—called 'sharing blessings.' The meat was 'zuo rou.' Everyone produced a small knife to slice the meat; the truly skilled could shave paper-thin slices of fatty lean pork with skin. Rules said the meat was to be eaten plain, but that cloyed. Everyone secretly brought salt, or wrapped the meat in a coffee-colored towel (actually thick soy paste). The morning sacrifice leftovers could not be taken away; those poor ministers, after eating their share, would retch at the sight of meat for a month, so daily participants were rotated. After the evening rite, uneaten meat and cake could be pocketed and taken home. Someone brought meat home and shared it with neighbors. A neighbor found it incredibly delicious, rented a shop on West Fourth Street, set up a stove, and started boiling plain pork—the origin of Beijing's time-honored Shaguoju (Sandpot House).

In Ming, Qianqing Palace was the emperor's residence, called 'Main Palace'; Kunning was the empress's, the 'Central Palace.' The imperial wedding was held in the Main Palace, including the nuptial wine ceremony. In early Qing, after Kunning was first repaired, it housed the empress of Shunzhi—who was soon deposed. The next, Empress Xiaohuizhang, briefly stayed. Kangxi's first two empresses also lived there: Empress Xiaochengren (granddaughter of Sonin) and Empress Xiaozhaoren (daughter of Ebilun). Later, Noble Consort Tong was made empress on her deathbed but never occupied Kunning. From Yongzheng onward, the emperor himself moved to Yangxin Hall, so the empress could hardly reside in Kunning. It became the bridal chamber for the nuptial ceremony—the most distant journey in palace pageantry. The prospective empress, seated in a phoenix palanquin, would travel step by step from the Meridian Gate along the central axis to Kunning Palace. In the entire Qing, only the empresses of Shunzhi, Kangxi, Tongzhi, and Guangxu traveled that route. Kunning served as a bridal chamber only four times, three days each—otherwise, it became an imperial sacrificial hall. In Qing, though still called 'Main Palace,' Qianqing became the emperor's office; the so-called 'Central Palace Empress' never slept there. Today's Kunning is arranged Qing-style: the eastern warm chamber is the bridal room, the four western rooms the sacrificial hall. Manchu custom required the bridal room not too far from the spirits nor too close, so a central bay separates them. The eastern end bay and the far chamber combine into one large room, with red carpet beneath the south window. The north side of the end bay is the wedding kang (brick bed); the far chamber's north side has a wooden daybed.

The wedding kang is draped with a bright red canopy, jubilant. The daybed in the far chamber has only a cushion and backrest—so the emperor must sit there with the empress on his lap? The quilt on the wedding kang is splendid, embroidered with the 'Hundred Sons' motif. In Chinese records, the earliest 'hundred sons' belonged to King Wen of Zhou. This comes from the *Book of Songs, Greater Odes, Si Qi*: 'Tai Si carried on that fine fame, and then brought forth a hundred sons.' Tai Si was King Wen's virtuous wife. Exaggeration, yes—the origin of today's overblown flattery. King Wen actually had twenty sons; the eldest died early, the second, Ji Fa, became King Wu. After King Wen, emperors prayed for many sons to perpetuate the dynasty. Thus every imperial bridal chamber sported a 'Hundred Sons' quilt. The custom spread to common folk; newlyweds now sometimes have one.

Now, look at the double happiness paper-cuts on the ceiling of the semi-enclosed side verandas.

And the gilt-coffered dragon ceiling of the veranda.

Until the late Qing, a wooden screen stood on the platform outside the eastern warm chamber window of Kunning Palace—to block prying eyes of eunuchs and maids during the imperial wedding night. Outside on the platform, there's also a sundial, purely decorative—no one uses it since no one lives here.

On the other side, a similar pedestal stands empty—no grain measure.

On the platform, a white marble base, perhaps for a banner pole, maybe related to rites.

Though rebuilt in Jiaqing 3, the nooks and crannies are already decayed and forgotten.

The Rear Three Palaces, like the Front Three, occupy three successive courtyards. Qianqing Palace, its side halls, east and west veranda, and Qianqing Gate form the first courtyard—Qianqing Square. Kunning Palace also has side halls, forming with Qianqing the second courtyard—the Rear Three Palaces themselves. Kunning Palace and its rear Kunning Gate enclose the third courtyard—Kunning Gate Square.

In the small east side courtyard of Qianqing Palace stands Hongde Hall (Hall of Exalted Virtue). In Ming it was called Yongsu Hall, renamed in Wanli's reign, used ever since.

Rebuilt after the Jiaqing fire in Ming style. 'Yong' means harmony; 'su,' respect. 'Hongde' means promoting culture and virtue. In Ming, the emperor met ministers here informally. In Qing, it served as the imperial study, where emperor and tutors expounded the Analects, the Four Books, and Five Classics—especially for child emperors who needed cramming before assuming personal rule.

The small west side courtyard houses Zhaoren Hall (Hall of Illustrious Benevolence), also rebuilt post-fire in Ming fashion. 'Zhaoren' means to manifest benevolence. Its Ming use is unrecorded. At the end of Ming, before his suicide, Chongzhen sent sashes to his consorts in Kunning and summoned his daughter, Princess Zhaoren, to this very hall—where he killed her with his sword. That was the hall's final, tragic Ming function. In Qing, emperors used it as a private library. In Qianlong's time, the collection was sorted, inferior editions discarded, the rare and fine ones catalogued as 'Tianlu Linlang' (Heavenly Treasures), with a plaque hung inside. The Jiaqing fire consumed many rare books; only six hundred-plus were recovered and a sequel catalogue compiled.

In Ming, Qianqing Palace had covered corridors linking Hongde and Zhaoren Halls. Qing replaced them with walls and independent courtyards, as we see now. Standing on Qianqing's rear platform, looking at Hongde's courtyard: the main hall has a single-eave hip-and-gable roof, proper, but the rear building has a flush-gable 'roll shed' roof, indicating it's tiny.

Within Qianqing Courtyard's verandas, there are other somewhat famous rooms. One is the Southern Study (Nanshufang). This is the westernmost room in the south veranda, facing north, as seen in the picture with stone steps leading up.

This room is unremarkable, and nobody has researched its Ming use. When Kangxi was six, his father Shunzhi fell gravely ill. Knowing young Xuanye (Kangxi) had survived smallpox and was immune, he named him heir, with four regents: Sonin, Suksaha, Ebilun, and Oboi. Kangxi took the throne but was hemmed in by the regents, especially Oboi, who not only monopolized power but repeatedly overstepped. In Kangxi 6, after Sonin died, Kangxi seized the moment to personally take power at Taihe Hall. Ten days later, Oboi murdered Suksaha—wasn't that a 'clear-the-king's-side' ploy? He even awarded himself and Ebilun first-class dukedoms. The young Kangxi, though having lessons in Hongde Hall, set up the Southern Study as his self-study room. There he often practiced wrestling with trusted bodyguards, quietly identifying a few mighty loyalists. In Kangxi 8 (1662), May 16, Kangxi sat writing in the Southern Study when his anger at Oboi's crimes boiled over. Unendurable! He summoned his core guards to accompany him, then ordered a eunuch to call Oboi for an audience. The eunuch led Oboi to the study. As soon as he entered, Kangxi shouted, 'This traitor dares bear a sword before me! Seize him!' Before Oboi could even process Kangxi's Fujian Shaolin-accented dialect, strongmen from behind the door tackled him. Struggling on the floor, he looked up at Kangxi's riding boots and cried, 'Your Majesty, that's not a sword on my waist—it's a back-scratcher!' Kangxi retorted, 'You dare argue?' Oboi knew the game was up. Kangxi threw him in prison, had ministers list thirty capital crimes, but pretended to pardon due to past service, sentencing him to life. Oboi's cronies were eliminated; Ebilun stripped of all titles, his dukedom transferred to his son. A year later, Kangxi rehabilitated Ebilun and even took his daughter as consort, later making her his second empress. Thus Kangxi cleared his chest of all obstruction and truly became emperor. By Kangxi 16, amid the chaos of pacifying the Three Feudatories, the emperor's mind and hands were tangled. So he selected a few capable ministers and ordered them to 'walk in the Southern Study'—to advise, draft edicts, or simply chat and write poetry. This confidential secretariat lasted until Guangxu's reign, though essentially abandoned after Yongzheng set up the Grand Council.

Hongde Hall was for child emperors; Kangxi had his self-study in the Southern Study. He also set up a school for his sons right in the south veranda next to Qianqing Gate, calling it 'Upper Study' (Shangshufang). The location allowed him to peek through the window anytime to check discipline and spared tutors from trooping deep into the inner court.

Next door to the Upper Study was Jing Shi Fang (Respect Affairs Office), established under Kangxi, renamed Palace Superintendency under Yongzheng. This was the Qing office managing palace eunuchs.

In the west veranda of Qianqing Courtyard is Maoqin Hall (Hall of Diligent Governance). It housed the emperor's calligraphy and painting collection.

'Maoqin' means 'diligent study, assiduous governance.' Last year, the Palace Museum exhibited Su Shi works from the Qing collection here. Among the holdings were many calligraphic stone carvings. Kangxi had private rubbings made and compiled into the *Maoqin Hall Model Calligraphy*. He often enjoyed them, but the original stones were abandoned in a faraway hut. When New China sorted the Palace Museum artifacts, these stones were largely weathered, inscriptions illegible. Historically, imperial palaces ruined countless ancient artifacts: the Heirloom Seal of the Realm vanished, Wang Xizhi's *Preface to the Orchid Pavilion* got lost. Besides practicing calligraphy here, Qing emperors also approved the autumn execution list—the 'hanging-and-hooking ceremony.' Whose name the emperor ticked in vermilion, the Board of Punishments took to Caishikou for elimination.

Look at the Rijing Gate (Essence of the Sun Gate) in the east veranda of Qianqing Square. The steps are regular stone treads, not a ramp. Note the lack of a dragon-carved central slab—this isn't an imperial path; the emperor used the veranda. Nowadays, on winter afternoons as the sun sinks west, many people stand here facing the east wall. The setting sun casts the roof-ridge animal figures from Rijing Gate onto that wall, and those folk are busy capturing their silhouettes with cameras.

Facing Maoqin Hall across the veranda is Duanning Hall (Hall of Upright Dignity). 'Duanning' means solemn and dignified. The emperor's formal attire, hats, shoes, and socks were stored here—a room of bright yellow garments.

At the southernmost of the east veranda lies the Imperial Pharmacy, where the imperial doctors were on duty.

Imperial doctors treated the emperor and empress; palace physicians handled everyone else, stationed at the clinic inside Donghua Gate. The imperial doctors were selected from the best. If a favorite consort fell ill, the emperor might send an imperial doctor. After diagnosis, the doctor wrote a prescription; an imperial pharmacy eunuch then rushed it to the Longevity Pharmacy in Kunning's west veranda to fill it.

The small gate beside the Longevity Pharmacy—medicine carts entered Shenwu Gate and via the Western Long Corridor stopped here.

In Ming, there was no imperial kitchen; the Court of Imperial Entertainments initially handled cooking, later Qianqing eunuchs prepared the emperor's meals. Early Qing placed the kitchen in Qianqing's east veranda. When Yongzheng moved to Yangxin Hall, a separate kitchen was built to its south. Qianqing's kitchen moved outside to the east of Baohe Hall, near Arrow Pavilion opposite the Treasure Gallery entrance—called the Outer Imperial Kitchen. Today it's the Palace Museum restaurant. As a top-level heritage site, no open flame was allowed; originally there were no eateries. After Director Shan Jixiang took over and saw tourists gnawing cold bread or frozen steamed buns, he exercised his pity power, collaborated with Dongcheng District officials, and opened this flameless restaurant. Seeing visitors finally eating hot noodles, he was immensely satisfied.

The Outer Imperial Kitchen had many chefs because they cooked for grand banquets. Grand banquets, you know, can't compare to the emperor's private meals. Banquet dish names sounded impressive, but taste? Not as good as the emperor's single-plate. Besides, you didn't attend an imperial feast to eat, just to admire the names. The emperor dined alone at a huge table, mountains of delicacies, flocks of livestock, all the tableware. Occasionally, an official reporting business would stammer, glance at the table, and swallow hard. Then the emperor might invite him to share—but only standing, and only from dishes the emperor had touched. Among Qing emperors, Yongzheng ate the least, often just porridge and pickles. Qianlong ate the most; with deep pockets, his table was always sumptuous, leftovers given away. Today, some claiming to be heirs of imperial chefs open restaurants. I suspect they descend from these Outer Kitchen chefs—Beihai's Fangshan definitely does. Their dishes look dignified, but after one bite, you'll silently pray, 'Save this for the emperor.' The emperor's festival banquets might compare to today's state banquets in the Great Hall of the People, which now also opens for corporate year-end parties before Spring Festival. That banquet hall holds nearly four hundred tables, almost four thousand diners enjoying quasi-state fare. I've attended such events—definitely not as good as Premier Zhou's Nixon banquet. Zhou often served Huaiyang cuisine; though his ancestral home is Shaoxing, he was a Huai'an native and a connoisseur, so the Great Hall could offer top-notch Huaiyang dishes.

Kunning Palace also has side halls to the east and west. Perhaps because Kunning became a sacrificial hall, these side halls saw little use, so they have no formal names—just East Warm Hall and West Warm Hall. Look at West Warm Hall's courtyard—same as Zhaoren Hall's in Qianqing.

Standing on Kunning's rear platform looking at West Warm Hall: the main hall has a chimney behind it. This reminds me of the chimney behind Qingning Palace in Shenyang.

Go around, and indeed, there's a stove opening beneath the chimney.

Is this the boiler room for the Rear Three Palaces? Manchus slept on heated kangs, so the boiler room is likely Qing-era. How did the Ming court stay warm in winter? The Zhus were southerners; they probably used braziers. But Qianqing and Kunning are vast; braziers would have limits. Perhaps this boiler room dates from Ming—no proof, no wild guesses. In any case, it definitely heated the Rear Three Palaces, and surely there were more such boiler rooms; the halls likely had underfloor heating.

Descending the steps from Kunning's rear platform, you face Kunning Gate.

North of Kunning Palace and south of Kunning Gate is Kunning Gate Square—a narrow strip, even smaller than Qianqing Gate Square. But like it, there are buildings on either side. Look at the Kunning West Courtyard.

Kunning Gate is flanked by veranda halls. The west courtyard sits in front of the west veranda. Entering, the veranda hall on the north side is Jingqi Zhai (Hall of Quiet Repose).

The east veranda is simply called East Board Room, with a small courtyard—Kunning East Courtyard.

Inside, this veranda hall once stored imperial tribute teas. The sign still says 'teahouse.'

Reaching Kunning Gate, the Rear Three Palaces end. Beyond lies the Imperial Garden.

On a gloomy dusk, standing in Qianqing Square, the palace appears eerily sinister.

Even the ordinarily glittering bronze censers on the platform lose their heart-lifting golden glow.

Such days must be equally unbearable for the emperor, so no matter how close a courtier you are, best not bring memorials at this hour—it's also the emperor's 'murder-and-arson weather.'

But on a clear, crisp sunset, the palace shines golden.

Then, tourists in princess costumes pose on the square, with hired photographers capturing them.

After shooting, they all vanish into the shadowed side verandas.

Twilight deepens under the hall eaves.

The roof tiles, of course, are bathed in gold.

The censers lose their grimness.

The little Pavilion of State and Territory plays light against shadow.

Eaves crisscross, crimson pillars melt; in the vast twilight, the palace yard glimmers. Censers smokeless, halls divine, a hundred years of emperors and consorts—gone, gone, gone.

Sunset still, grace still, old halls host today's curious eyes. White jade rails, golden tiles, dragon-carved thrones, phoenix-painted beams—oh, oh, oh.

Just a little *Phoenix Hairpin* rhyme to amuse myself.

(To be continued)