For my sweet daughter, you are not here, but you will never be gone. You can no longer speak, but I shall always hear your voice. You have melted into the wind, but you will never be forsaken.
For I shall always think of you. I shall think of you when the spring leaves sprout, holding morning dew, luminous like your soft skin. I shall think of you when the cloud of snow lingers on the eaves, wanders in the air, and fades on the earth. I shall think of you when the birds glide in the wind, their wings sweeping in the sky, and their trills, loud and clear, echo in the distant night.
AD 655
The Sixth Year of Emperor Gaozong’s Reign of Eternal Glory
AUTUMN
37
Before dawn, my maids began to dress me, adding on me layers of fabric in different hues, the formal crowning regalia. First they gave me an indigo underrobe embroidered with axes, pairing it with thick trousers; next they added a scarlet dress printed with feathers from twelve types of birds, a padded top, and a long, scarlet skirt; and then finally they put on me a glorious damask ceremonial gown with wide sleeves that reached my ankles. To finish, a golden shawl trimmed with fur was draped on my shoulders. On my feet, I wore indigo socks and a pair of high-heeled, boat-shaped shoes with curled tips.
I did not wear the traditional phoenix crown that had belonged to Empress Wende or Empress Wang; instead, I put on the wig Princess Gaoyang had given me. Tied to the wig was a gold chain that held a large round pearl, the size of an egg, which hung low to touch the center of my forehead. So from a distance, even if people could not see my face, they would see the pearl, shining like a luminous moon.
A special carriage, whose entire body was made of purple gold and wheels wrought with the same precious metal, waited for me outside the garden. I entered and sat on a silk cushion seat. The carriage had floorboards lacquered in indigo, and the ceiling was painted with five-hued feathers. Eight black stallions, caparisoned in splendid red and yellow cloth, pulled me to the front gates of the Outer Palace.
When I stepped out, waves of cheers broke out from the people who crowded on the Heavenly Street. I resisted the urge to look back and wave. The people of Chang’an had learned the truth, and they welcomed me. I wished to thank them, and I promised silently I would be a worthy empress for them. I would return their favor someday, and I would give them the security and prosperity that they deserved.
I walked down the vast street that extended all the way to the Taiji Gate. The Gold Bird Guards, in their magnificent uniforms of bronze breastplates and maroon capes, stood erect as I passed them. A chorus of music rose near me. First came the steady beat of drums, then the vibrant sound of flutes, accompanied by the solemn notes of chime bells and chime stones, then joined by the joyous sounds of sheng and xia, and finally, followed by the elegant melodies of yangqin.
My heart singing the same wonderful tunes, I entered the middle gate, the gate reserved for emperors and empresses, and treaded down the vast area before the Taiji Hall. I could see all the important people of the kingdom: the ministers in nine ranks dressed in purple, red, green, and indigo; the vassals in their tight, narrow-sleeved tunics; the khans in short skirts; the foreign ambassadors in tall hats; and the imperial family members in silk gowns. They knelt in the yard. It was a sight I would forever remember.
“The ceremony begins,” the announcer, Han Yuan, called out near the Taiji Hall.
I had given him the special honor of being the announcer in hopes that he would remember my kindness and serve me well. How he truly felt about my crowning I would never know. But I should not worry about him. Today was my day.
In the far distance, I could see Pheasant seated on the golden throne on a platform in the center of the Taiji Hall. Standing on his right was General Li, the master of the ceremony, who held a golden tray, on which he had placed three items that would change my future: the Golden Imperial Genealogy Book, the Empress’s seal, and the Empress’s girdle.
I wished my father could be here to see the Genealogy Book. He would have been proud. The book recorded my family name, his name, his ancestors, my mother’s name, and my mother’s ancestors. With this recording, he would be forever known as the father of an empress. That had been his dream, and now his dream had come true.
When Tripitaka predicted my destiny twenty-four years ago, I never would have believed that this day would come. Now, seventeen years after Father’s death, I would fulfill his wish. If I ever dreamed of Father, I would be happy to tell him I had not failed, that I had kept my promise to take good care of my family. Mother had retired from the monastery, and I had bought a large house for her in Chang’an, hired twenty servants to tend to her, and bestowed on her a generous annual stipend. She would never have to worry about food or money. She would have a life of comfort and leisure.
I had also searched for my older sister, who had moved to the south before I came to the palace. I located her, a widow in poor health, and bestowed a high-ranking title on her and some honored titles on her two children. I gave them permission to visit me and my children as often as they wished, and I would have my extended family surrounding me.
I did not forget even my half brother and his family. I gave them gifts and thanked them for providing for me and my family in the past.
As for my father’s house in Wenshui, I retrieved it and set it up as a shrine, which entitled the local people to receive an annual stipend they could use.
Lifting my scarlet skirt, I ascended the stone stairs to the hall, and the large, round pearl slid from the center of my forehead to the side. I steadied it and continued to climb. The autumn weather was cold, but I did not feel the chill.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. From where I was, I could see the throne in the center of the hall, the golden altar where wisps of incense rose to reach the ceiling, and my love, my friend, my emperor. He sat with his two hands on his knees, the golden sleeves draping to the ground. Like me, he was no longer young, and his eyes looked uneven, one high, one low, but he was still handsome and splendid.
Just yesterday, we had talked, reminiscing about our past. We had known each other when we were so young, and after this ceremony, we would be known as husband and wife, father and mother. We would face the kingdom as one.
“Kneel,” the announcer shouted, and the music ceased. The moment of coronation began.
I could feel hundreds of eyes fixed on my back, yet I did not feel nervous. I belonged in the prestigious hall. I was destined to be part of this ritual. Dropping to my knees, I was ready.
“To Heaven!”
I raised my hands up to feel the sky, bent over, and touched the ground.
“To Earth!”
I spread my hands to the ground and touched it with my forehead.
“To the Emperor!”
I brushed my sleeves, the front of my ceremonial gown, and my skirt and prostrated before Pheasant. Acknowledging the three vital elements was essential in the ritual, but in my heart, I knew it was not enough, and silently, I recited, giving my gratitude to those who had put me up there:
To the ones who had given me life.
To the ones whom I had given life.
To the ones who had given their lives for me.
And there were so many. My child. Princess Gaoyang. Apricot. And Hope.
Han Yuan’s voice rose beside me again. “Luminous Lady, you may now accept the three treasures.”
I straightened. Next would come the most important part of the coronation.
“Now the Emperor confers the empress’s girdle!”
Pheasant’s golden robe appeared before me. “As the Emperor of Tang Dynasty, Emperor Gaozong, the ruler who is granted with Heaven’s mission, the lord of all land and the seven seas, the third son of Emperor Taizong and Empress Wende, I now do announce you, the second daughter of the Wu family, the Luminous Lady of the Inner Court, the mother of Prince
Hong, to be the Empress of the kingdom.”
He took the empress’s girdle, a broad golden belt encrusted with pearls, rubies, and gold, from the tray. Looking solemn, he tied it around my waist. I was surprised. He had breached the tradition. It was not his duty to tie the belt around me, and most importantly, such an act of open affection was too intimate to exhibit in public.
“Now the master of the ceremony confers the Golden Imperial Genealogy Book and the empress’s seal!”
General Li, the man who had become the vital force of my support, stepped closer. He looked indifferent as usual, and his birthmark looked dark even in the daylight. I remembered what he had said on the watchtower: “A good sword serves his lord; a good swordsman believes in his lord.” I owed him my eternal gratitude.
He handed me the Golden Imperial Genealogy Book, a golden scroll shining in the sunlight. Lowering my head, I accepted it. Next he presented me with the empress’s seal, a large jade phoenix statue, the same size as Pheasant’s jade dragon statue. Only two women before me had the fortune to hold it, Empress Wende and Empress Wang, and I was the third. It felt cold and heavy, but it fitted my hand perfectly.
“Now the Empress of the kingdom greets her people!”
Holding the book in my right hand and the seal in my left, I turned around, the golden girdle swaying around my waist.
The vast space before the hall was now crowded with people. On the right stood the ladies from the Inner Court, eunuchs, servants, and imperial families. In the center were the ministers, vassals, khans, and foreign ambassadors. On the left side stood the Gold Bird Guards in their shining breastplates and capes. At the four corners of the yard, near the stone bridges carved with reliefs, stood the flag bearers, standard carriers, the spear holders, and many others.
No one moved. All the people, their heads raised, stared at me, their eyes wide with expectation.
“Kneel!”
This time, all the ministers, the vassals, the ambassadors, the khans, the women with titles and without, the imperial family members, the guards, and the servants spread their hands on the ground and prostrated. To me.
I felt something hot rising in my eyes. I was thirteen when I first rode through the palace gate, and now I was twenty-nine. For sixteen years, I had been bowing and prostrating to the people who did not know my family name, living on their whims, following their commands, and now they were all hailing me, calling me, “Empress Wu, Empress Wu, Empress Wu!”
Somewhere a bell was struck. Once, twice, three times. Its solemn sound shook the complacent sky, driving away the wind of doubts and clouds of suspicion, and like a spell, it lingered.
In the distance, a bright moon was rising.
Epilogue
Five years after Wu Mei was crowned Empress, Pheasant suffered his first stroke, which robbed him of his vision. The blind emperor appointed Mei to be the coruler of the kingdom, beginning the reign of Twin Saints. But Emperor Gaozong’s health continued to deteriorate, and soon he was paralyzed, placing the full duty of ruling the kingdom on Empress Wu’s shoulders. Upon Gaozong’s death, Empress Wu was named the Regent and was left with four sons and a daughter.
Empress Wu’s firstborn, Hong, became the heir after Zhong abdicated before Emperor Gaozong’s death, but Hong died young, and Empress Wu’s other sons became victims of court intrigue. With her wit and determination, she fought against conspiracies, eliminated her enemies, and established her power in the court. After ruling the kingdom for over thirty years, she remained unchallenged. She decided to renounce the Tang Dynasty and founded her own dynasty, Zhou Dynasty, and declared herself the Emperor of the kingdom.
She was the first and only female in Chinese history to rule legitimately in her own name, her reign lasting until AD 705. She also formed her own Inner Court, populated with many male concubines, which would become the fodder for scandal after her death.
However, Empress Wu was an exceptional ruler. During her reign, the kingdom thrived in trade, architecture, religion, art, literature, and military expansion, and China blossomed into a golden age, unmatched in centuries.
Empress Wu ushered in a new era for Buddhism, helping the religion take root in China, and eventually Buddhism grew to be a rival of Taoism and Confucianism. She instructed the building of the Long Men Caves in Luoyang, which hosted a wealth of Buddhist art and featured a prominent statue of the great Buddha modeled after her own image. The caves remain a major part of Buddhist heritage today.
With her openness and tolerance, the kingdom’s trade prospered. Many foreign merchants flocked from various regions via the Silk Route, Chang’an and Luoyang became the centers for trade, and in Canton, thousands of ships arrived daily.
Empress Wu was well-known for her insistence on reforming the Keju System, an archaic system the court used to find talents who would govern the kingdom. Valuing people’s talent above their birth, she encouraged men and women—who had been perpetually excluded from learning—to study and learn. She administered exams in person and brought many talents to the court who otherwise never would have had the chance to serve the kingdom because of their birth. The most prominent figures often mentioned are the wise Judge Di Renjie and the Empress’s Prime Minister, Shangguan Wan’er, the daughter of the Empress’s enemy and also the first female prime minister in Chinese history. With Empress Wu’s encouragement, people in the kingdom, young and old, took pride in studying literature, composing poems, ushering in the golden age of poetry in China.
Empress Wu also effectively reinforced the Equal Land System, giving men and women—again, who had never before been given any consideration—the equal right to share and cultivate the land, motivating them to work hard. Under her guidance, the kingdom’s economy flourished, the population increased, and the kingdom’s sophisticated culture and art became inspirations to neighboring kingdoms such as Korea and Japan.
According to historical record, the year when Empress Wu returned to the palace from her exile, the kingdom had a mere three million households. By the end of her reign, the kingdom’s households had doubled to six million, with a total population of more than thirty million people.
Empress Wu was eventually overthrown by a military coup and died in her eighties. The throne was briefly taken over by one of her sons, and then her grandson, Emperor Xuan Zong, who reaped the fruit of her reign. Under his rule, the kingdom was ripped apart by civil wars and later attacked by the Tibetans, Uigurs, and Turks. The Tang Dynasty never again saw the peace, prosperity, and vibrancy characteristic of Empress Wu’s reign.
However, despite her contribution to the kingdom, her achievements were rarely acknowledged, and because she was a woman who defied male domination, violating the Confucian cardinal rule, she was subject to vilification by many Confucian historians in the coming centuries who labeled her a murderer, a tyrant, and a harlot.
Author’s Note
Again, the story of Wu Mei is based on a historical figure, the one and only female ruler in China, Wu Zetian, also known as Empress Wu. All the male characters in the novels, except the eunuchs, are actual historical figures; the female characters, such as the Pure Lady, Empress Wang, and Princess Gaoyang, are real women who lived and are recorded in the history as well.
The exact location of the Buddhist monastery where Wu Mei was exiled, Ganye Miao, remains unknown, and no one seems to know how she returned to the palace.
The executions of Prince Ke, Princess Gaoyang, Fang Yi’ai, the monk Biji, and many others were recorded in history, but the friendship between Princess Gaoyang and Empress Wu is my imagination.
The journey of Tripitaka, also known as Tang Sanzang in Chinese, was most prominently fictionalized in the fantasy novel Xi You Ji by Wu Cheng’en. The monk’s encounter with Wu Mei was also invented for the purpose of the books.
Some scholars believe that Empress Wu smothered her own child so she could become the Empress. I have por
trayed the event quite differently in the book, showing Empress Wang to be the true culprit. During my research, I found that Wang Pu’s Tang Hui Yao, perhaps the earliest and most reliable sources about the Tang Dynasty, does not mention the murder at all. Ben Ji, the main section of The Old Tang Book, written by Liu Xu in AD 945, almost three hundred years after the event, does not record the murder either. Both sources do indicate that Empress Wu’s newborn daughter died suddenly. Most of the rhetoric of Empress Wu smothering her daughter comes from The New Tang Book by Ouyang Xiu, a devoted Confucian scholar, and from Zi Zhi Tong Jian by the conservative but influential Sima Guang.
I decided not to use Ouyang Xiu’s and Sima Guang’s references in my reimagining of Empress Wu’s life, as the two historians’ accounts were written in the eleventh century, almost four hundred years after the event, and in their accounts, the murder was narrated in extremely vivid detail that raised questions regarding its authenticity.
I also looked into the comments delivered by Empress Wu’s peers for clues to her murder and discovered that her most vocal enemy, the poet Luobin Wang, who published an official proclamation denouncing her reign in AD 684 and concocted many sensational stories to discredit her, had also failed to mention the murder. It’s my conclusion that had Empress Wu really murdered her daughter, this crime would not have escaped her enemy’s eyes and would be more thoroughly documented.
Historical records do not mention that Duke Changsun Wuji forged Emperor Taizong’s will.
Reading Group Guide
1. Before Emperor Taizong’s death, he gave an order to the Duke to exile all his women who had not borne him a child, about nine hundred of the women in the palace, to Buddhist monasteries, where they would pray for his soul for the rest of their lives. This is a convention that was followed by all palace women in China for almost two thousand years. What do you think about that practice? What would you do if you were a concubine and forced to leave your home?
Empress of Bright Moon Page 35