Chapter Seven: Unable to Stay for Long (Part One)

Tenth month, the day of the full moon, Xuanzheng Hall, Empress Wu’s regular court assembly.

The Phoenix Carriage dominated the center of the long imperial couch, radiating majestic splendor. Emperor Ruizong knelt quietly at her side and slightly behind, his Dragon Throne occupying only a third of the space granted to the Phoenix Carriage. He faced Empress Wu with utmost reverence, devotion spilling from his expression, his filial piety exemplary for all under heaven. Yet such devotion, one fears, was not the sort his loyal Li clan ministers would wish to witness.

By custom, on days of court audience, the commanders of the Imperial Guard led their attendants to ascend the hall, arraying themselves at either side of the throne. Today’s commander was Quan Ce, Captain of the Imperial Forest Guard. Zhao Liu, the Middle Captain, had resigned due to disfigurement, his departure approved two days prior. His next appointment was General of the Left Martial Guard—a promotion indeed, but the sorrow lay in his new superior, Grand General of the Left Martial Guard, being the notorious Monk Xue Huaiyi. Whether there was more to this arrangement, only Heaven knew.

Quan Ce took his place at the foremost left of the throne, his twenty-four attendants clad in green robes embroidered with fighting bulls, light deerskin armor worn over, arrayed in a formation like wild geese, extravagant and resplendent, a very part of the regal spectacle.

“We pay our respects to the Empress! We pay our respects to the Emperor!” The chief minister led the chorus, all civil and military officials prostrating in unison.

Ruizong did not accept the obeisance. He rose, standing solemnly, offering a formal bow to Empress Wu. She did not respond with a woman’s ritual bow, but crossed her hands and raised them to her brow, the Phoenix head gently lowering, performing the sovereign’s empty-head salute reserved for monarchs.

“Rise, my ministers. Take your seats,” Empress Wu swept her broad sleeves, relaxing as she knelt upon the couch. The ministers obeyed, withdrawing to the orderly low couches lining either side, kneeling in place with both hands cradling their tablets, embodying the dignity of high office.

The ceremonies before court had concluded. Quan Ce’s heart surged with emotion. The beauty of attire was called Hua, the grandeur of ritual called Xia. Tang dynasty people dressed boldly, daring in cut and style, setting the fashion for the world. Their rituals were concise, yet grand and solemn, with reciprocal exchanges between sovereign and minister—unlike the constant three kneelings and nine kowtows of other ages, the atmosphere here was vast and awe-inspiring.

On the day of court, affairs followed established order, deviations rare. The chief ministers of the Secretariat and Chancellery, and the Directors of the Ministry, proceeded methodically, citing edicts and decrees, reporting the concerns of provinces and military commands, requesting instructions, and disposing of matters. Their speech flowed ceaselessly. The Ministers and Deputy Ministers of the Six Departments, the sixteen Generals of the Guards—all held impressive titles, but at this moment, their role was to answer queries and carry out commands, little more than blue-collar labor.

Quan Ce listened for some time. His grasp of classical language was limited, catching only fragments. The gist: the Northern Turks were growing formidable again, the Khitan in the northeast were restless; domestic affairs were stable, save for one matter that drew his attention. Di Renjie, Vice Minister of Works and Inspector for Jiangnan, had ordered the destruction of over four thousand licentious temples in Jiangnan. That name, renowned throughout the land.

“Ministers, do you have other important matters to present?” Empress Wu set aside her documents, shifting to a more relaxed posture. Court was not only for governance; after state affairs, ministers were expected to offer counsel.

“Nephew and Minister Wu Chengsi, Minister of Ceremonies, has a memorial. Tang Tongtai of Yongzhou submits the White Stone Treasure Map. The stone was recovered from the Luo River, bearing prophetic inscriptions: ‘The Holy Mother appears, eternal prosperity for the Empire.’” Wu Chengsi, square-faced and bearded, spoke with ringing authority, full of force and confidence. As Minister of Ceremonies, he poured his heart into the role, seizing every chance to forge legal justification for Empress Wu’s claim to the throne—when opportunity was lacking, he created it.

“Summon him to present the treasure map at court. The appropriate officials shall determine rewards. I shall soon proceed to the Luo River to offer sacrifices to the River Goddess,” Empress Wu was overjoyed, her broad sleeves fluttering ceaselessly, almost impatient.

The Ministers of the Ministry stepped forward to receive the command.

“Nephew and Minister Wu Sansi, Minister of Justice, has a memorial. Heaven has bestowed auspicious omens, Empress Wu’s virtue shines forth. The court should follow Heaven’s will and the people’s wishes, granting Empress Wu an additional honorific title to proclaim to the realm.” Wu Sansi, long-faced and bearded, with a shrewd appearance and darting eyes, was a master of reading faces. Seeing Empress Wu’s delight, he immediately pressed forward, advancing the proposal.

Empress Wu’s mood was radiant. The court stirred restlessly; ministers were angry but dared not speak. The two Wu cousins, acting in concert, clearly had plotted in advance—surely by the Empress’s own instruction. Any rash resistance would bring the wrath of her fierce officials.

Whether premeditated or not, Wu Chengsi knew well. He ground his silver teeth and swallowed blood, “Nephew and Minister concurs.”

“We all concur! We respectfully beseech the Empress to follow Heaven’s will and the people’s wishes, and accept an additional honorific title.” The ministers prostrated themselves, performing the ritual bow.

Empress Wu glanced sideways at Ruizong Li Dan, seeing only a face of adoration and worship, her heart delighted. “Petition granted. The scholars of the Hanlin Academy and officials of the Imperial Observatory shall deliberate and report.”

“If there are no further matters, today’s court assembly…” Satisfied, Empress Wu beckoned, supporting herself on the arms of Shangguan Wan’er and another female official, preparing to rise and withdraw.

“Minister Chen Zi’ang, Right Admonisher, has a memorial. I impeach Wu Chengsi, Minister of Ceremonies, for neglecting his duties, dereliction in managing the imperial genealogical records, causing a delay of more than half a year. By law, he should be dismissed and stripped of office.” Chen Zi’ang, not yet thirty, held office in the capital. He could not yet recite his famous lament to Heaven and Earth, but his heroic nature was beginning to show.

“Chengsi, have you anything to say?” Empress Wu’s face was calm as a lake, not sparing Chen Zi’ang a glance. He was her own protégé, appointed by her in person.

“Nephew and Minister is guilty. The genealogical records fall under the subordinate Ritual Department. I was negligent in oversight,” Wu Chengsi replied with confidence, offhandedly shifting blame.

Empress Wu smiled faintly. “Such a grave matter—how could it escape your notice? The Ritual Department officer shall retire; you are fined ten thousand strings of cash, to be distributed among the Imperial Guard before my carriage.”

“Nephew and Minister accepts punishment.” Wu Chengsi bowed deeply and withdrew with composure, casting a glance back at the last row.

“Minister Lai Junchen, Left Censorate, has a memorial. I impeach Chen Zi’ang for shouting in the court. Additionally, by imperial order, I am investigating the treason case of Hao Xiangxian. Chen Zi’ang corresponded with Hao Xiangxian; I request he be taken to the imperial prison for interrogation.” Lai Junchen, true to his name, was of balanced stature and handsome appearance. He knew Wu Chengsi’s vengeful nature—revenge would not wait overnight. Receiving the signal, he leapt forward, inventing charges as he pleased.

Hao Xiangxian was the grandson of former Prime Minister Hao Chujun, a current official. He had opposed Emperor Gaozong’s abdication to Empress Wu, earning her enmity. When Empress Wu took power, she turned upon him: Zhou Xing and Lai Junchen worked together to execute his entire family.

“Minister…” Chen Zi’ang was shocked. As a low-ranking censor, he stood at the rear of the hall, near the door; when presenting his memorial, he had to speak loudly for Empress Wu to hear, never expecting his voice to become a crime.

“Take him away,” Empress Wu spoke coldly. Quan Ce froze in place, deeply alert. At this pivotal moment, in this court, aside from those groveling beneath her skirts, no life could thrive. One must speak cautiously—never overestimate oneself.

“My Imperial Guard Commander, have you anything to report?” Empress Wu’s voice drifted over, full of interest.

Quan Ce jolted, suddenly realizing—the only violence in the hall was himself and his guards. He knelt with a thunderous thud, “I obey the command.”

With four subordinates, he ran swiftly through the ranks of ministers, treading the deep blue carpet, dragging Chen Zi’ang from the hall and handing him to the black-clad officials. Chen Zi’ang’s face showed anger but no fear; it was Quan Ce whose forehead and back were drenched in cold sweat.

Returning to the hall, he made himself a wooden stake, watching as the drama continued. Right Censor Feng Sixu impeached Monk Xue Huaiyi for misconduct, forcibly converting Daoist priests to monks; Empress Wu ordered further deliberation.

Censor Hou Sizhi, gatekeeper of Lijing, reported that Prince Li Ying of Annan had died violently in the imperial prison, and two sons of former Crown Prince Li Xian, upon their arrest, resisted fiercely, attempting to seize weapons. The bailiffs, unable to subdue them, beat them to death.

Prince Li Ying was one thing, but Li Xian’s sons were Empress Wu’s own grandsons, Ruizong Li Dan’s nephews. The two sovereigns of the Tang dynasty remained silent for a moment; Empress Wu ordered their burial with the rites of commoners.

Quan Ce felt chilled to the bone.

Wu Sansi leapt forward again, petitioning for the elevation of Imperial Physician Shen Nanmou—seeking a marquisate or dukedom. He did not succeed, but Empress Wu was visibly pleased; his true aim was achieved.

The court dispersed. The Imperial Guard went off duty. Quan Ce led his men out the left gate, encountering Zhao Liu, who stood with a contingent of Left Martial Guard soldiers, apparently waiting for someone.

Quan Ce offered a salute; Zhao Liu did not return it. The man they were waiting for appeared—Feng Sixu, who had just impeached Xue Huaiyi.

The Left Martial Guard soldiers were burly and rough; a civil official was no match. He was soon engulfed in blows and kicks, his cries growing weaker. Zhao Liu joined in, and, finding a moment, signaled to Quan Ce. Following his gaze, Quan Ce saw Monk Xue Huaiyi atop a horse, watching coldly, his mount led by none other than Wu Sansi.

Wu Chengsi stood silently, hands behind his back, on the high steps before the hall.

Feng Sixu’s breath was faint. Quan Ce was deeply troubled; besides the rampaging Left Martial Guard, his own men were the only violence present.

He turned, unfastened his light armor, his subordinates following suit, joining him as mere spectators.

The Imperial Guard was off duty.