Dr. Lenoir was preparing to give his preliminary diagnosis. He had put away his instruments and now stood before the two Dowager Empresses, a look of profound intellectual excitement on his face. The boy was a medical marvel, a case he would be writing papers about for years. Cixi waited, her expression a tight mask of anticipation, still hoping the doctor's conclusion could be twisted to her advantage. Li Lianying stood beside her, his face a knot of confusion. The examination had not gone as planned.
"Your Imperial Majesties," the doctor began, speaking through his translator. "After a thorough examination and conversation, my conclusion is clear. The Emperor is not suffering from any malady of the mind. There are no signs of hysteria, delusion, or mania."
Cixi's face hardened. This was not the diagnosis she had paid for.
"To the contrary," Dr. Lenoir continued, his voice filled with a scientist's enthusiasm, "His Majesty possesses a cognitive and analytical capacity that is, by any standard, extraordinary. He is a prodigy. His so-called 'visions' are not supernatural events, but the products of a highly logical and observant mind processing information in a way that appears mysterious to the untrained eye. His physical frailty and headaches are likely psychosomatic—the result of immense psychological stress placed upon a brilliant mind trapped in the body of a child and the oppressive environment of this court."
The diagnosis was a disaster for Cixi. It did not paint the Emperor as mad, but as a misunderstood genius. It implicitly criticized the very pressure she was putting on him. It was useless to her as a political weapon.
Ying Zheng knew he had successfully defended himself. He had parried Cixi's thrust. But a good general knows that a successful defense is an opportunity to counter-attack. He had to do more than simply survive this encounter. He had to turn this foreign doctor, this weapon she had brought into his home, back against her. He had to end this line of attack permanently.
It was then that he put the final stage of his own plan into motion. He had anticipated that Cixi might try a new tactic after her political and covert failures. Through his network, he had been watching her own household, not just her political allies. The assassin, Ying, with her knowledge of poisons and courtly intrigue, had been observing the purchases made for Cixi's personal cosmetics. The night before, she had reported that one of Cixi's most trusted serving maids had made a large purchase of a specific, very expensive item from a European merchant in the Legation Quarter: a brand of fine, white face powder imported from Paris. It was famous for its smooth, porcelain finish. It was also, among the more knowledgeable apothecaries, notorious for its primary ingredient: lead carbonate.
As Dr. Lenoir was pontificating on the nature of child prodigies, Ying Zheng staged a small, seemingly innocent interruption. He had instructed Lotus to engage one of the junior eunuchs in a staged, clumsy whisper. The whisper was just loud enough for the Emperor to "overhear."
Ying Zheng's head snapped up, as if he had just caught a fragment of their conversation. He looked at Dr. Lenoir, his face a perfect picture of childish concern.
"Doctor," he said, his small voice cutting through the French physician's lecture. "Forgive my interruption. You are a man of Western science. I have a question."
Dr. Lenoir stopped, surprised by the non-sequitur. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Is it true," Ying Zheng asked, his eyes wide and innocent, "that some of the beautiful face powders that come from your country, from Paris, can make a person sick if they use them for a long time?"
The question was so out of left field that everyone in the room was momentarily confused. Dr. Lenoir, however, being a physician, answered immediately. "Why, yes, Your Majesty. That is quite true. The older, more traditional formulas, particularly those prized for their stark whiteness, often use lead carbonate as their base." He warmed to the topic, happy to display his superior knowledge. "With prolonged use, the lead can be absorbed through the skin. It is a slow poison. It accumulates in the body. The symptoms can include severe pains in the stomach, bouts of confusion, fits of anger and irritability, and eventually, a decay of the mind itself. It was once called the 'powder of succession' in European courts, a subtle way for a rival to dispose of a queen."
He smiled, proud of his historical anecdote. "But why on earth does Your Majesty ask such a thing?"
Ying Zheng did not answer the doctor. Instead, he turned his large, innocent, and deeply concerned eyes upon the Empress Dowager Cixi.
"Oh," he said, his voice filled with a soft, worried tone. "Because Huang A Ma uses the beautiful powder from Paris every day. The one that comes in the pretty white box with the golden flower. She puts it on every morning. I worry about her health."
The accusation, though never spoken, hung in the air like a cloud of poison gas. It was a devastatingly subtle, perfectly deniable counter-strike. He had not accused Cixi of anything. He had merely expressed a child's loving concern for his mother's well-being. But he had, in front of a Western medical expert, just provided a perfect, clinical explanation for all of Cixi's recent behavior: her fits of rage, her political "confusion," her growing paranoia. He had implied that her actions were not the maneuvers of a cunning regent, but the symptoms of a slow, self-inflicted poisoning caused by her own vanity.
Dr. Lenoir's eyes widened. His gaze shifted from the boy to the Empress Dowager. He looked, for the first time, not at a powerful regent, but at a potential patient. He saw her perfectly smooth, unnaturally pale, powdered face with new, clinical eyes.
Li Lianying stared at his mistress in absolute horror, the full, horrifying implication of the Emperor's "innocent" question crashing down upon him.
And Cixi herself, for the first time, felt a tremor of pure, personal fear. She instinctively raised a hand to her powdered cheek. The pains in her stomach she had dismissed as stress, her recent bouts of uncontrollable anger… were they not just political frustration? Was this boy, this… thing… telling her that she was the one who was truly sick? That her own pursuit of beauty was destroying her mind?
The episode ends with Dr. Lenoir leaving the palace, his mission a complete failure. He could not, in good conscience, declare the boy emperor insane. And now, he had reason to question the mental stability of the very woman who had hired him.
Cixi was left in her chambers, staring at her reflection in a bronze mirror, seeing not the powerful Empress Dowager, but a woman wondering if the source of all her troubles was the very powder she used to maintain her mask of perfection. Ying Zheng had not only survived the attack; he had turned the weapon of "science" back against his enemy with devastating psychological effect, planting a seed of fear that no political victory or act of espionage could ever hope to match.