Empress

TEN

I, the wandering child, I, the shaven-headed nun, I, the concubine who preferred the power of separation to the weakness of attachment, I, the Empress who was both in and out of life here and elsewhere-I noticed with stupefaction that a miracle had come to pass: I had laid down roots at the city of Luoyang.

Since my husband had joined the heavens, I had never returned to Long Peace. The seething metropolis of a million inhabitants had swept aside all the illusions of a provincial Talented One. I did not miss its markets and rows of little shops, its avenues of jostling horses and pedestrians. That town had forged me and perverted me. Away from it, I could at last forgive its feverish debauchery, its easy wealth; I no longer criticized its gleeful dissipation, its titillating exuberance. I had freed myself once and for all from a Forbidden City built by the emperors of Tang, haunted by the ghosts of murdered princes and poisoned concubines. Long Peace, which had robbed me of my youth, would be punished by my absence.

Specialists in genealogy had proved that my clan, the Wus, were descended from the lineage of the King of Peace from the ancient Zhou dynasty. Twelve hundred years previously, this Great Ancestor had moved his capital from Long Peace to Luoyang, lying on its fertile plain and surrounded by steep mountains on three sides. The wide, peaceful River Luo flowed through the city where it was joined by many other rivers. Geomancy experts had seen happy prosperity in the configuration of the surrounding countryside, and strategists, liked its central location, protected it from Tatar invasions. Emperor Yang of the overthrown dynasty had raised millions of peasants to dig the Great Canal, setting off from the Eastern Gate and linking the five rivers of China.

In Long Peace there were sweat and dust and the heavy ruts left by carts. In Luoyang there were green canals, red sails, and the grinding of oars. Luoyang did not move, and the world came to it on the waves. Boats laden with grain, precious woods, bolts of silk, packages of tea, and jars of wine set off from the provinces and unloaded their wares before the imperial palace.

Luoyang had welcomed me as a triumphant empress. The city had been destroyed by war and had surrendered itself, naked, to my imagination. I had exercised my thoughts over every restored quayside, every new stretch of canal. I had redesigned the ramparts of its rectangular fortifications. I had reinstated its ten avenues bisected by ten wide boulevards and its 130 separate districts. I had planted the double row of scarlet grenadine trees and pink peach trees in the middle of the boulevards and constructed stone bridges shaped like rainbows and wooden bridges that opened to allow boats to pass with their sails filled with the wind. I had restored and enlarged the Forbidden City and the Imperial Park. I had built the three imperial temples to the east of the Palace to house the spirits of the Emperor Lordly Forebear, the Emperor Eternal Ancestor, and the Emperor Lordly Ancestor, called there from Long Peace. I had erected the Temple of Adoration where my forebears now received offerings on a par with those given to the three sovereigns of the dynasty.

Long Peace was banished. In Luoyang the wind blew over crimson peonies. From the top of the Pagoda of Contemplation, I could see the River Luo glittering in the middle of the Imperial Park. The Palaces of Spring and Autumn appeared in the depths of the forest where pavilions of cherry blossoms and terraces of orchid melted into the shadow. Galleries wound their way along the banks of rivers and became bridges launching out toward little islands, discs of emerald in the water. To the south, the low-lying city spread its panorama. Sailing ships glided across the sky. It was no longer clear where boats were setting out and where birds were flying off; tiled roofs and thatched roofs were smudges of turquoise and yellow between the canals. In the gap between blue and green on the horizon, a thread of black hovered. I could just make out the sacred valley through which the River Yi flowed. Devout Buddhists had dug thousands of caves along the cliffs on its right bank and had erected their idols in them over the centuries. My childhood wish had been granted there: A mountain had been sculpted and transformed into Buddha Vairocana of the Great Sun, accompanied by his bodhisattva servants. I had lent the giant statue my oval face, the thoughtful curve of my brow, my long slanting eyes, and my full-pouting lips, now immortalized in a distant smile.

Further away, there were forests and rivers, endless fields, and busy little towns. The golden and purple banners I had designed blew in the wind throughout the land of China. Men were dead. I was mistress of this eternal world.

LITTLE PHOENIX, HIS sickly cheeks and wan smile, was gradually erased by images of the Emperor Lordly Ancestor. Astride his horse, with his bow in his hand, he was a haughty and invincible warrior. On his throne, with his hands on his knees, wearing his ochre-yellow tunic and his cap of lacquered linen, he was dazzling in his majesty. At the top of Tai Mountain, wearing the crown with twenty-four tiers of jade pearls and the scarlet and black cloak embroidered with symbols of sovereignty, holding up the goblet of libations in his hands, he was the great priest of this earthly world.

Little Phoenix, the feverish adolescent and unfaithful husband. Little Phoenix, who had been my brother and my lover, had now become an effigy, a transparent glory, a sparkling light. His soul had wandered through the palace before joining the Emperor Eternal Ancestor in the heavens. They were both now a source of vague heat and icy inspiration to me, open to my contemplation but unattainable, on high.

They were both near to me and very far away; they had become stars.

My bed had been a desert for twenty years, and I had stumbled on Little Treasure as if onto an oasis. I forgot the damp embrace and herbal smell of medicinal infusions. I now savored his cool skin, firm muscles, and proud virility unashamedly. Love, which makes the weak weaker, had strengthened my powerful soul. I wanted to show the government that ecstasy by night robbed me of none of my lucidity by day.

New reforms were instigated: The best legal minds were summoned to examine the laws and compile new codes. In the past, the Mandarin Competitions had been organized to suit the government’s needs. I now wanted them to take place once a year and the final session to be held in my presence. I broadened the scope of the trials and decreed that it was no longer compulsory to submit a dissertation on the Great Classics. I included poetry-that music of the gods and window to our souls-as the most infallible test of talent.

A decree went out expressing my determination not to miss a single hint of genius: “The Empire’s prosperity is a duty for every one of us. Every individual-whether an official or of no distinction, nobleman or commoner, Chinese or foreign, gifted in the field of culture, economics, defense, education, justice, or major works-should present themselves to the recruiting officers without a letter of recommendation.”

I poached more time from recreational activities and wrote The Ethics of a Servant of the State and A New Warning to Imperial Officials, in which I made reflections on loyalty and competence. I published an essay on agriculture and had the largest astronomical sphere beneath the sky erected at the Northern Gate to the Palace. I diligently replied to the people’s requests thrown into the Urn of Truth. With one hand I managed the administration of the provinces, while with the other, I continued to weave a web of intrigue to weaken the Barbarian tribes in the west.

My reawakening to life stimulated the rebirth of the Empire. The years of famine and epidemics were forgotten. Grain stores were filled once more; there was abundant meat, game and fish in the markets. The generosity of Heaven and Earth inspired me to brave the heights before which my husband, the Sovereign Lordly Ancestor, had faltered. Above and beyond secular power, was the reign of the gods. Above and beyond the seal of Supreme Empress, was the scepter of a high priestess, the incarnation of Divine Justice.

In the fourth year of the Era of Lowered Arms and Joined Hands, I detailed a holy man, the master monk Scribe of Loyalty, to knock down the reception palace at the entrance to the Forbidden City and to build the Temple of Clarity on its ruins. This site would provide a home for the sacred sanctuary. This project had been abandoned in my husband’s time, but it would be my masterpiece. The construction of this temple would make all petty human squabbles meaningless. An entire empire, an entire people would be called up by a divine force and would burn with the desire to reach heaven. Exalted souls disdain suffering. Poverty-my enemy and my rival-would soon be reduced to ashes and dust.

IT WAS NOT long before the gods expressed their satisfaction through a number of extraordinary phenomena. Since I began governing the Empire as Supreme Empress, the Officer of Rites in the Palace had already recorded some thirty promising apparitions, atmospheric events, and astral configurations that indicated celestial approval.

These good omens culminated one morning in a fisherman on the River Luo bringing up a stone with cracks on its surface that formed an inscription. During the morning audience, ministers and soothsayers deciphered the oracle and translated these characters: “divine mother on this earth, through her, the emperor’s reign shall be prosperous and everlasting.” For the first time since the world sprang forth from chaos, the gods were identifying a woman as the human sovereign! The news spread throughout the Empire, and letters of congratulation fell around me like snowflakes: “Your Majesty has pursued the former sovereign’s unfinished work. Her endeavor and her humility have touched the gods. That is why this divine writing has been sent to the world for the third time since civilization began… As a representative of the female element in us, Your Majesty is invested with male strength. The union of these two opposites has produced the great harmony now enjoyed by our ten thousand kingdoms. That is why Heaven has appointed her Mistress of all people.”

My past-with its downfalls and resurrections, its opportunities and difficulties-had already convinced me that I bore the mark of a very singular fate on my forehead. I had known suffering and had brushed with death. Every time that I was pushed to the very limits of despair, abandoned by men and gods, I managed to find the strength to triumph within myself, in my own body. That was the stamp, the voice, the music of providence. The oracle had just revealed the hidden truth behind all these trials: The gods were appointing me as their representative on Earth, having forged me with the consuming power of flames and the sudden chill of water.

Why Heavenlight? Why the little girl who loved horses? Why this strange ascension by such a devious route? Even the dead had served me as stepping stones to reach the heights. Why had it taken the deaths of my first master, Emperor Eternal Ancestor; my husband, the Sovereign Lordly Ancestor, my sons Splendor and Wisdom, and my sisters, Purity and Clarity, to reveal me, to accomplish what I was to be? Why did I know how to draw strength from the infirmities of birth? Why had my status as a woman and a commoner, my failings, been turned into triumphs? All the questions that had always tormented me disappeared. The gods had given me their answer at last.

I left it to the Court to award me the pompous and ambiguous title of Divine Mother Sacred Emperor that interwove masculinity and femininity. I left it to my nephews to engrave the three imperial seals with the simple name Sacred Emperor. All this feverish activity that demonstrated the delight of some of my courtiers and subjects provoked only anger in others.

One morning, the audience hall was shaken by a dispatch: In their respective provinces, the King of Yue and the King of the County of Lang Xie -Little Phoenix’s brother and nephew-were rising up and calling on the world to overthrow the “usurper.” I smiled at this grotesque spectacle: a dead husband’s family openly seeking to punish a widow for not knowing “a woman’s place.” There was nothing to fear. The gods who had chosen me would defend me. I replied to their war cries and their furious indignation, which wanted to restore male supremacy, by sending them my faithful armies. Yet again there was a miracle: Only twenty days later the insurrection was quashed and the rebels’ heads hung before the Southern Gate of the Forbidden City. Their supporters within the Court were pursued by the magistrates of Autumnal Duties and the inspectors from the Lodge of Purification. Other plots came to light: kings and princesses received orders to hang themselves in their palaces. During one of the enquiries, I was informed that the Prince Consort Xue Xiao, Lieutenant General of the Guards, and his brothers had also sworn allegiance to the insurgents. My daughter, Moon, wept by my bedside and begged my clemency. Despite her anguish, I decided to make an example of my son-in-law and to demonstrate my merciless repression. I spared him the shame of a public execution and had him starved to death in prison.

An illegitimate authority that knows no respect crumbles at the first signs of uprising. A revolt that dies down in a few days is a disturbance that did not have the people’s approval. The silence in my empire was a tacit recognition of my legitimacy. I had indeed worked tirelessly for the Tang dynasty for nearly thirty years, and everyone recognized that I was the source of its prosperity. Why should I go on reigning behind an incompetent son and reducing him to a puppet emperor? I had already changed banners, renamed ministers, and made Luoyang my capital. I had squashed revolutions and subdued the Tatars. I had allowed poetry and the arts to flourish and had seen justice triumph. The people were well fed. The world had me to thank for its beauty. Why let the hazy title of Divine Mother Sacred Emperor and the shadowy suggestion of usurpation hover over me? Why should I not formally and enthusiastically take up the mandate offered to me by Heaven?

On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month in the fourth year of the Era of Lowered Arms and Joined Hands, two months after the insurrection led by the royal princes, I broke the ancestral law that forbade women to officiate in the rites of celebration. In the name of the Sacred Emperor, I raised the great imperial parade that had once served my husband. Followed by my son, the Emperor, and his heir, by officials and governor delegates, Barbarian kings, foreign ambassadors, and an entire people in a state of feverish, exalted excitement, I traveled to the banks of the River Luo. There I stepped up onto the altar to the strains of ten thousand musicians playing the fourteen verses of Rejoicing and Veneration-, which I had composed. At the top of this great monument, there were a thousand wild birds, a thousand game birds, a thousand sheep and goats, a thousand bulls and cows, a thousand jars of grain, a thousand jugs of wine, and countless rare creatures sent as gifts by vassal kingdoms; these made up my offering to the goddess of the River Luo who had sent me the divine message.

The very next day Scribe of Loyalty announced that the Temple of Clarity had been completed. The Morning Salutation became an audience granted to the Barbarian ministers and kings.

The sacred building was made up of three circular sections, one on top of the other; it was built on a square platform and looked liked a pagoda on a massive scale. Inside, two hundred and forty millennial trees had been used to support a network of horizontal beams that acted as a base for the pillars on the floor above. Beams and rafters painted with powdered gold were interwoven in an increasingly complicated pattern to reach the vaulted ceiling covered in frescoes depicting the marvels of the gods. Its substantial system of curving roofs covered in varnished blue-green tiles unfurled into the sky. The top of the roof looked down on the entire world from a height never before achieved: 280 cubits, which was twice as high as the tallest imperial palace. Upon it, nine seething golden dragons-gods of the seas and symbols of masculine strength-held up a scarlet phoenix, king of birds and the emblem of the Empress Mother of Heaven. The creature’s wings were set with gemstones that caught the sun’s rays and twinkled dazzlingly up to the clouds.

The sanctuary consecrated to Heaven, to the Kings of the Five Directions, and to the spirits of emperor ancestors, was forbidden to profane eyes; I therefore revealed only the front area intended for imperial receptions. There were twenty-four windows on the third floor representing the twenty-four winds of the four seasons, and twelve on the second floor representing the twelve earthly cycles. The beams of light from these converged on a stage consisting of a disc of celestial turquoise laid on a square of earthly yellow. I climbed the steps and sat on the throne, a simple seat low on the ground, draped with a mat of woven, white satin. But the rays of sunlight playing around me were so bright they might have been hideous dragons, fearless warriors, or an entire celestial army begat by the breath of the gods. The ministers and kings were terrified, and they threw themselves to their knees and prostrated themselves, crying: “The Sacred Emperor is truly a divinity!”

Brimming with pride, I announced, “In his lifetime, the previous emperor wanted to raise the Temple of Clarity. On the day of the sanctification on Tai Mountain, that wish received Heaven’s blessing. But the propitious time was a long time coming. Today peace reigns throughout the world, and the people live in plenty. The gods have given me their permission. I have dared to resurrect ancient religion and to turn myth into reality. The Temple of Clarity is a sanctuary intended for Supreme Celebration, a solemn place that shall be venerated by the people. It has been built according to the laws of nature to represent Heaven and Earth, and it drives away demons and absorbs impurities. That is why I shall call it the Sacred Temple of the Ten Thousand Elements. May every man, beast, plant, and mineral on our Earth be protected by it!”

The cheers were still echoing when the year came to an end. Snow fell tender on Luoyang. On New Year’s Day, with my ministers’ approval, I overstepped ancestral law again.

After the purification, I put on the ink-red emperor’s tunics and men’s-style shoes. On my man’s topknot, I wore my husband’s crown decorated with twenty-four tiers of jade pearls. With the jade scepter in my hand and hugging the hopes of an entire people to my breast, I stepped into the heart of the Temple of the Ten Thousand Elements and communed with Heaven and the spirits of the ancestors. After the ceremony, I stood high up by the Gate of Celestial Law to announce the Great Remission of sins and to inaugurate the Era of Eternal Prosperity. Two days later, I gathered my officials in the temple and sat on the sacred throne. In the name of Heaven, I instructed them in the nine virtues. A few days after that, I ordered that the temple be opened to the public and invited my people to visit it. From the top of the Pagoda of Contemplation, I observed with pride a continuous stream of pilgrims form outside the Forbidden City. The previous emperors had all failed. But I, a woman, had been capable of raising the highest temple in history. The rebel princes were right: I was the usurper of men’s dreams.

SCRIBE OF LOYALTY threw himself at my feet: The master monk, Clarity of Law, had just translated the sutra of the Great Cloud in which certain passages justified my position as the master of the earthly world.

“While he was preaching,” Scribe of Loyalty took the scroll from his sleeve and read, “Buddha addressed a celestial daughter named Purity of Heavenlight and said: ”In a former life you once heard the sutra of Great Nirvana. Because of this providential incident, you have taken the form of a celestial being. Now, having heard my teachings, you shall abandon this ethereal body and assume the mortal flesh of a woman. You shall reign over the earth and shall be the bodhisattva who redeems the lowly world.“”

“Sacred Majesty,” my lover cried, “ever since I was called to your service, I have wondered who you were. You are proud yet humble, tormented yet naive. You are deep as the night, limpid as a mirror, ardent as the sun, and icy as the moon. You restore traditions and reinvent codes. You are in the present and navigate through the past while already projecting yourself into the future. You are a woman and a man, one and several, movement and immobility. The better I know you, the more I am amazed by the infinity that lies within you. This sutra of the Great Cloud that has come from India has just revealed your origins: You are that celestial daughter! You are the Savior of the World; you are the bodhisattva of the Future!”

Seeing that I gave no reply, he drew closer on his knees.

“Majesty, do you not remember the distant past when you lived in the kingdom of the skies?”

Images flitted past: I saw myself as a little girl on a big white horse. I was galloping by the banks of the River Long, trying in vain to take off toward the sky in the speed of my mount. With my hands under my chin, I watched the clouds lit up by the setting sun, and then-amid the shadows and flashes of color-I could see palaces with pillars of gold, terraces of mist, and ponds of sapphire. How I longed to be one of those celestial beings clothed in light! I saw myself as a young concubine imprisoned in the gynaeceum with its ten thousand beauties fighting for the favors of just one man. I remembered how ardently I wanted to tear myself away from the earthly world, its pitiful hatred and mediocre frustrations. I saw myself as Empress of China, my topknot crowned with the twenty-four gem-studded golden trees, climbing the steps to the Gate of Serene Loyalty. The officials were cheering, and the sky opened out its expanses of blue above my sovereign head, a pathway to climb toward a world hidden from men and women. I understood my passion for horses, those earthly clouds, and my love of mountains, those staircases toward the gates of Heaven. I understood why I was drawn to heights, why I had the strength to recover when I fell into the abyss, and why I so loved undertaking major constructions: temples, statues, columns, plinths, all reaching toward the zenith. My compassion and my indifference to human misery could now be explained. Throughout this existence, I had been trying to turn my back on Earth to reach Heaven, my homeland, my birthplace.

Scribe of Loyalty withdrew and had the newly translated sutra disclosed. My nephews used the opportunity to instigate my deification. They were impatient to be the imperial household and change my husband’s relations into outsiders. The monasteries of the Great Cloud built in the four corners of the Empire rang their bonze bells, whipping up fervor among the people. As a celestial daughter and bodhisattva who would be Savior of the World, I was hope and happiness and the promise of a better life. From that moment on, the people prayed for my well-being before statues of Buddha Maitreya of the Future who bore my enigmatic smile. They begged me to lead them back to the path of deliverance toward the Heaven of Pure Rejoicing. With this faith, I was ready to defy the ancestors, the deceased, and the living-to become the first woman emperor of all time.

The Tang dynasty, founded by conquerors and sullied by blood and warfare, would be turned like the page of a book. Every form of renewal is a purification. I did away with the calendar of the ancient Xia dynasty and applied the Zhou calendar, used by my glorious ancestors, in which the new year begins in the eleventh moon. I undertook to change the way things were written by publishing a series of new characters including my name, Heavenlight, now represented as the Sun and the Moon carried by the Heavens. My eldest nephew, Piety, had recently been named Great Chancellor of the Left, and while he busied himself trying to alter the course of history, I very quietly suggested my decision to the government: My sacred mission would be accomplished only if I inaugurated a new dynasty based on peace, compassion, and divine justice.

On the morning of the third day of the ninth moon-phase, shouting broke out by the Gate to the Forbidden City and interrupted the morning salutation. The overseeing magistrate, Fu Yu Yi, stepped forward and presented me with a petition signed by the 900 men and women kneeling before the southern entrance. I had the scroll opened; it was covered with signatures, some beautiful, some hideous, others simple thumbprints: “The sky does not have two suns; the earth does not recognize two kings. Your Sacred Majesty must obey the will of the gods who entrust the sovereignty of the Empire to her. Heaven is commanding her to inaugurate a new dynasty, and to gratify her son, her successor, with her name-Wu. So that henceforth her lineage may prosper and illuminate the four seas for eternity.”

Without waiting for a reaction from the high-ranking officials, I dictated my reply: “I, who obey the wishes of the previous emperor; I who am devoted to serving Heaven and who long for peace in the world and joy in the hearts of every people; I am determined to take on my duties without claiming any glory.”

A ripple rang through the audience hall. Several ministers stepped forward from the ranks, trying to make me accept the celestial invitation and reasons of State. Their numbers were far from the majority. I rejected their request but rewarded Fu Yu Yi, who had understood my intention. I immediately appointed him councilor to the Chancellery.

The following day I learned that the 900 inhabitants of Luoyang had still not moved. They had been joined by monks and Taoists, traders and beggars, children and the elderly. Twelve thousand people were now kneeling before the Forbidden City, determined to rise to their feet only once I agreed to satisfy the petition. Accompanied by my ministers, I climbed to the highest level of the Pagoda of Contemplation and saw a carpet of prostrate figures before the Forbidden City. My heart faltered with emotion. This change of dynasty would see no bloodshed or violence. For the first time in our history, the people were choosing their sovereign. Let their wishes be heard!

Still, I hardened my tone to voice my refusal: “The sun shines, but it wears no crown. The gods govern this earth, but our offerings are paltry in the face of their goodness. Buddha’s power lies in his boundless and universal compassion. He asks only for prayer. The sovereign who transcends divine goodness, and the blessings of our forebears must be the most humble servant of the Empire, an officiator in religious rituals constrained to moral purity. The sovereign should have no belongings or glory. My power was passed on to me by the previous emperor; my vocation was revealed by Heaven. I deserve no special title.”

Two days later there were sixty thousand people outside the Southern Gate; they had come from the four corners of the Empire calling for my eternal reign. During the morning salutation, the officials, officers, princes, and barbarian kings also presented me with a petition. The Great Eunuch Overseer took it upon himself to give me a letter sent by the entire population of the gynaeceum. I also received a letter from my daughter, the Princess of Eternal Peace, expressing the wish of all the women dignitaries to see me found a new dynasty. Finally, my son Miracle, whose silent existence had been a mute form of opposition, announced to the world that he had abdicated. He publicly asked for my permission to abandon his paternal name, Li, and to bear my name, Wu.

Voices strangled with emotion cried out in every direction to try and persuade me: “At dawn this morning, a phoenix flew over the Southern Gate, followed by hundreds of different birds. Then thousands of scarlet sparrows came from east of the horizon, escorted by golden orioles. When the sun rose, clouds tinged with happiness spread over the sky for a long time before dispersing. The whole capital witnessed this marvel, and your servants heard your people proclaiming: ”The presence of these celestial beings heralds a sacred revolution! Scarlet sparrows symbolize fire, golden orioles represent the earth. Now, according to the law of the five elements, fire begets the earth. That is why the golden orioles escorting the scarlet sparrows announce a celestial oracle: The son shall follow the mother, shall bear the maternal name!“

“In the Book of Mutation, the Ancients observed: ”When a great man receives the mandate of Heaven, he can overturn the former order, and his actions are called Revolution.“ Your servants have learned that when a great man obeys the will of Heaven, he becomes invincible; when he obeys the will of the people, his lineage will prosper. Today Heaven has appointed Your Majesty master, and the people have asked for Your Majesty as a mother. The law of Heaven is destiny; the intentions of the people are fate. Your Majesty is disobeying Heaven and showing contempt for the people, but she is choosing virtue and modesty: These actions run counter to the course of history and to the Law of Distribution. Your servants will no longer be able to venerate you! Your Majesty’s refusal is a betrayal of Heaven and a blow to the people: How can you govern now?”

After uttering the refusal three times, in keeping with the ancient code, I bowed before the Will of Heaven. The imperial soothsayers and Great Ministers chose the ninth day of the ninth moon, the day of the Double Sun, to celebrate my enthronement.

On that morning, I wore over my white tunic the indigo-colored imperial cloak embroidered with twelve rows of sacred drawings and painted with dragons riding astride clouds. With the crown of twenty-four tiers of jade pearls on my head and the emerald scepter in my hand, I climbed the steps to the Gate of Celestial Law amid the ringing of bronze bells and the chiming of sounding stones. I was preceded by a cortege of servants from the Inner Court and followed by princes and Great Ministers. I announced to the world the beginning of my dynasty, the Zhou dynasty. Its peace and prosperity would be inaugurated by the Era of the Celestial Mandate. Cheers from officials and shouts of joy from the people rang out. Heaven descended and wrapped me in its crystalline blue. All the power of the House of Tang was expiring, and a woman who had become Emperor was founding her own dynasty without scorching Chinese soil with war. This marvel confirmed once more that I truly was the envoy of the gods.

The whole world knew that my terrestrial legitimacy could be traced right back to the ancient Zhou dynasty whose kings were my ancestors. I took every opportunity to proclaim that I was descended from them by using their crimson banners-the color of fire, the element they venerated. The Sacred Hearth of the Empire was transferred from Long Peace to Luoyang, which was promoted to Imperial Capital. I went back through the family tree, and seven generations of ancestors were given the posthumous title of emperor. Seven temples were built to the east of the Forbidden City, and here their spirits could receive offerings and adorations. My son Miracle became the Imperial Descendent and enjoyed the privileges accorded to the Supreme Son. Piety, Spirit, and Tranquility, the eldest three of my nephews, became kings, and their cousins were raised to the rank of county kings. Having been a wood merchant, a fighting warrior, and then a dignitary kept far from the Court, Father could rise up at last, thanks to his daughter’s accession. In her lifetime, Mother would have been terrified to have given birth to an emperor, a god. As it was, they were both silenced by their pride.

They were exhumed and reburied with the posthumous titles of Emperor and Empress of Pious Clarity.

I stopped asking myself: Who am I? And where do I come from?

The Court had just offered me the title of August Sovereign Divinity. I was the Beginning, the Source of Sources. I was the identity, the root that would become a tree in the centuries to come.