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attack, wrapping up the Taipings like a spring roll. To further secure his position, he pulled in forces from north of the Yangtze. For the final enclosure, he worked with Yung Lu, whose soldiers came from behind to cut the Taipings' supply line.
    "The encirclement is as tight as a sealed bag," An-te-hai said, sticking out his chest and striking a Tseng-like pose. "Nanking is crumbling!"
    I moved the little flags around like chess pieces on a board. It became a pleasure. By Tseng Kuo-fan's moves, I could trace how his mind worked and thrilled at his brilliance.
    For days I sat by the map, ate my meals there and kept up with all the battle news. From a recent report I learned that the Taipings had

pulled out their last forces from Hangchow. Strategically, this was a fatal mistake. Li Hung-chang soon rounded up the remnants of the army at Soochow. Li's counterpart General Chou Tsung-tang moved in and took Hangchow. The rebels lost their base. With all the Imperial forces in place, Tseng Kuo-fan charged.
    Tung Chih cheered and Nuharoo and I wept when the report of the final victory reached the Forbidden City. We climbed into our palanquins and went to the Heavenly Altar to comfort Hsien Feng's spirit.
    Once again in Tung Chih's name I issued a decree honoring Tseng Kuo-fan and his fellow generals. A few days later I received a detailed report from Tseng confirming the victory. Then Yung Lu returned to the capital. In our usual quiet manner we shared our excitement. As my ladies in waiting and An-te-hai looked on, Yung Lu informed me of his own role in the battles and praised General Tseng's leadership. Expressing concern, he told me that Tseng had recently lost most of his sight following a serious eye infection. Delays in treatment had worsened the condition.
    I summoned Tseng Kuo-fan for a private audience as soon as he had returned to Peking.
    In his flowing silk robe and peacock tail hat the Chinese general threw himself at my feet. His forehead remained down to express his gratitude. As he waited for me to utter "rise," I myself rose and bowed in his direction. I ignored etiquette; it seemed the proper thing to do.
    "Let me take a good look at you, Tseng Kuo-fan," I said with tears in my eyes. "I am so glad you returned safely."
    He rose and went to sit on the chair An-te-hai provided.
    I was surprised to see that he was no longer the vital man I remembered from only a few years before. His magnificent robe could not hide his frailty. His skin was leather dry and his bushy eyebrows looked like snowballs. He was about sixty years old, but a slight hunch in his back made him look a decade older.
    After tea was served I suggested that he follow me to the drawing room, where he could sit more comfortably. He wouldn't move until I told him that I was tired of sitting on a chair whose deeply carved wood hurt my back. I smiled and said that the ornate furniture in the audience hall was good only for show.
    "You see, Tseng Kuo-fan, I can barely hear you." I pointed at the distance between us. "It is not easy for either of us. On the one hand, it is considered rude if you raise your voice. On the other hand, I can't bear to not hear you."
    Tseng nodded and moved to sit near me, on my lower left. He did not know that I had fought for this meeting. The Manchu clansmen and Prince Kung had ignored my request to honor Tseng with the private audience. I pleaded that if it hadn't been for Tseng Kuo-fan, the Manchu Dynasty would have come to an end.
    Nuharoo had refused to take my side when I went to her for support. Like the rest, she took Tseng Kuo-fan for granted. Eventually I persuaded her to back the invitation, but a few hours before the meeting was to take place, she again changed her mind.
    I was beside myself with anger.
    Nuharoo yielded, but sighed and said, "If only you had one drop of royal blood in you."
    True, I had not a drop. But that was precisely what drew me to Tseng Kuo-fan. By treating him with respect, I was respecting