Chapter 92: Balanced Equilibrium in Court and Society

On the first day of the lunar new year, in the Eastern Capital of Luoyang, the Wanxiang Divine Palace gleamed with splendor.

The grand submission ceremony of the Western Turks was held with imposing majesty. Ashina Xushelo, the central figure, caused no further disruptions. The fierce clash along the ancient Guanzhong road proved far more effective than Dou Lu Qinwang’s elaborate schemes, compelling the kneeling vassals to submit and the kowtowing ones to honor their word.

Envoys from the various tributary states observed the proceedings. The envoys from other lands remained composed, as any sovereign who entered the Wanxiang Divine Palace was expected to bow his head in deference, a custom without exception. The Western envoys, however, felt a profound emotional stir. Ashina Xushelo had once been a formidable force among dozens of small states in the Western regions, a figure feared like a demon king slaying gods. Since his accession, he had terrorized the land for more than twenty years. His name alone could still quiet the cries of frightened children, and his vast white military banners had been the nightmare of every city and tribe.

“臣, khan of the Western Turks, Ashina Xushelo, pay respects to the great Tang emperor and empress,” Xushelo recited, performing the ceremony exactly as directed by the ritual officers.

The envoys from the Western kingdoms could scarcely believe their eyes, and the ranks grew momentarily noisy.

“Quiet!” the imperial servant historian snapped, pursing his lips. All Chinese civil and military envoys straightened their robes and headdresses, and silence fell once more.

Xushelo’s expression brightened. He performed the rites with perfect form, replying to the Empress in the prescribed manner concerning Western Turks’ customs, weather, and harvests. After the ceremony, he withdrew to change, and shortly afterward appeared in the attire of a Tang dynasty prince. He entered again, renewed his salutation, and established the clear distinction between ruler and subject. He then presented an array of tribute offerings. Though now like a stray dog, Xushelo’s treasury remained extraordinarily rich: a thousand head of cattle, five hundred horses, ten thousand sheep, in overwhelming abundance.

Wu Zetian hosted a feast at Taoguang Garden and ordered him to return to his own country in five days.

During the banquet, music and song blended harmoniously. Without waiting for her command, the Xushelo who had been endlessly entangled by Dou Lu Qinwang and Wu Sansi rose from his seat of his own accord. “Great Empress, I have been granted shelter and protection by the heavenly court and am thus able to enjoy wealth and honor. Here the joy is complete. I wish to offer a dance to add to the splendor.”

“The khan has this intention. Excellent,” Wu Zetian replied with a smile of delight. Her bearing was majestic, her thoughts far-reaching. Last year, this year, every year vassal states had submitted. Her first-day great feast served not only to celebrate with the court officials and the people but also to allow the tributary nations to share in the glory. Who could match such a merit? Wu Zetian looked at herself with pride, floating in transcendent joy. In a good mood, she did not wish to humiliate Xushelo further. “The Western states have long been known for song and dance. Gentlemen envoys, do you have the leisure to dance with the khan?”

“We obey,” the envoys from the Western kingdoms answered without hesitation. For them, dancing was an everyday pleasure, and dancing with Xushelo was like dancing with wolves—an experience they would treasure for the rest of their lives.

Xushelo glanced at the dozens of dancers who now emerged in disorder. It did not ease his awkwardness; instead it deepened his shame. These conquered lambs were unworthy to stand beside the lone wolf favored by the Eternal Heaven. He kowtowed once more. “Great Empress, song and dance are inseparable. Gentlemen envoys, please show your voices. I have long heard of the heavenly court’s mastery of poetry, rites, strings, and song. Please grant the Empress musicians to accompany us.”

“Oh? Very well.” Wu Zetian considered for a moment and understood Xushelo’s wish. Although this man was crude and unrefined, the pride of a noble house remained undiminished. “All of you, who is willing to play a piece?”

Everyone present smiled self-consciously, each secretly hoping to display his own skill. The moment felt slightly awkward.

This group did not include Quan Ce. He had no talent for music and saw no need for embarrassment. Seated in the third row, he ate his lamb shank with great relish, the dish reminiscent of cumin-roasted lamb but far more tender and silky, the spices perfectly seasoned yet never cloying—a rare Tang cuisine he truly enjoyed.

“Junior subject Chengsi is willing to perform for the khan.” Unexpectedly, the first to volunteer was Wu Chengsi. In the usual course of such opportunities, mid-level officials or imperial relatives’ younger generations competed. A purple-robed minister performing music would damage the court’s prestige.

“Heh, since Chengsi has the mind for it, then you shall do so,” Wu Zetian said after a moment’s surprise and waved her agreement.

Wu Chengsi ordered ancient zithers brought forward and seated himself upon the zither stool. “The khan possesses a bold and heroic spirit. Fortunately, my dynasty’s great talent Quan Ce Shaoqing has recently composed a new piece titled ‘General’s Command.’ The song celebrates General Xie Yaohuan, and all of you are fated souls. This official shall perform this piece to entertain the khan.”

The strings vibrated.

Without waiting for Xushelo’s reaction, Wu Chengsi plucked the zither. A powerful, soaring melody rose. Xushelo was not intimidated. He warmed up with a few small movements, then let his body move freely—leaping, whirling, dancing with all four limbs. The power in every motion was immense, stirring a hot current. The envoys from the Western states fell a beat behind, then quickly sang in their various languages to match the rhythm, their voices raised high and harsh.

Quan Ce’s appetite was disturbed. He set down his ivory chopsticks and watched Wu Chengsi play. In truth, the man’s appearance was excellent—well-proportioned, with a majestic and dignified bearing. Yet one could not judge his zither skill from this alone. He had chosen “General’s Command” not merely to humble Xushelo but to take the opportunity to declare his stance, severing the lingering influence of the second son Wu Yanyi incident and reaffirming his loyalty to Wu Zetian.

Lost in thought, he finished the piece. Xushelo performed a grand finale, leaping across the entire arena. His face was slightly flushed, his breath steady. At the curtain call he placed one hand on his chest, offering the Turkic salute to Wu Zetian.

Wu Zetian clapped enthusiastically and praised him warmly. “The khan’s dance is heroic and fierce, worthy of the noble stock from the northern frontier and the outstanding men beyond the passes.”

The night banquet ended in perfect harmony.

The second day of the first lunar month. After the first-day great feast and worship in the Wanxiang Divine Palace, Wu Zetian ascended the Tianmen to receive the congratulations of the assembled court officials and renamed the era once more. The year 690 became the first year of Tian Shou.

The ceremonial duties concluded. Quan Ce accompanied Xushelo on his tour and guided him to the White Horse Temple, where he listened to the Dharma lecture by Shenxiu, the leading master of the Northern Sect of Buddhism.

Quan Ce found Shenxiu fascinating and tried to strike up a conversation, but Shenxiu’s Buddhist nature was firm and he kept his distance from official families, murmuring only Amitabha without warmth. Quan Ce left the temple feeling thoroughly disappointed.

Xushelo regarded the Buddha with reverence. He sat in meditation with devotion, listening to the scriptures with full concentration and remaining seated steadily on the meditation cushion, nothing like his usual fierce and unruly self.

Quan Ce had no interest in lingering. He rose and walked out. His bodyguard Shazha Fu quickly approached and whispered a few words in his ear.

He raised the corner of his mouth, utterly unconcerned. On the second day after the Tian Shou era change, Wu Chengsi transferred every close friend and relative who had been closely acquainted with Wu Yanyi—more than a hundred and twenty people in total, from the fourth-rank imperial treasure supervisor down to the dissolute rascals who cared for nothing—handing them all over to the Lijing Gate for interrogation.

Seeking survival by cutting off his tail, Wu Chengsi had gone this far. Even if Hou Sizhi wished to pursue him relentlessly, Wu Zetian could not tolerate it.

As expected, Quan Ce had never imagined using this affair to bring Wu Chengsi down. It was impossible. The revolution of Wu Zhou was imminent, and Wu Chengsi’s usefulness was still great.

Perhaps it was Shenxiu’s profound Daoist attainment that brought Xushelo a Buddhist baptism at the White Horse Temple. He changed his itinerary and did not proceed to Mount Song but remained to meditate at the temple. Quan Ce took the opportunity to enjoy his leisure, bidding farewell to the increasingly emaciated Xue Huaiyi and returning to the Eastern Capital.

At Changxia Gate in the Eastern Capital, he was met by the edict envoy and received Wu Zetian’s imperial decree.

“…Honglu Shaoqing Quan Ce, since assuming office, has devoted himself entirely and achieved many meritorious deeds and should be rewarded. Yet he is young and his conduct is impatient and rash. Suddenly elevated to high position, this is not the way of a clear official who rewards meritorious ministers. He is therefore specially relieved of all his posts and appointed Censor of the sixth rank upper, walking in the public office, cultivating humility, and perhaps may bring balance to the court and the world, rectifying the wind and discipline…”

Censor. It cleverly avoided Wu Chengsi, yet his immediate superior was the infamous Lai Junchen.

“This tail still has more to be pinched,” Quan Ce said with a bitter smile.