Empress

EIGHT

Future ascended to the throne and inaugurated a new reign. He awarded the august deceased the posthumous title of Lordly Ancestor, appointed his first wife’s eldest son as Supreme Son and took up residence in the Inner Court. To make space for him, I had to send Little Phoenix’s concubines to monasteries, scores of middle-aged women prostrating themselves on the steps of my palace before leaving in tears.

The bustle of these upheavals broke the silence that had enveloped the Forbidden City since its master’s death. The austerity of mourning gave way before these women who were eager to display their youth and beauty. The First Lady, who was now Empress, made her stamp as an arrogant mistress. She attempted to prove that my time had passed, and it was her turn to shine. She was impatient to play the same role I had had alongside the previous emperor.

I pretended not to hear Emerald and Ruby criticizing the intrusion: “The Empress is competing with the imperial concubines for the most sumptuous gowns.” I turned a deaf ear to reports that the Empress had driven out my old female officials and recruited girls in their prime. I became furious when I discovered that she was fond of women and had made overtures to Gentleness. Her game of love disguised a plot. By seducing my secretary, she attempted to discover my secrets.

My anger was compounded by my despair at my son’s mediocre abilities in the Outer Court. Through my husband’s death, I had been elevated to the position of Supreme Empress, and, as Mother Regent, I now had it in my power to issue decrees. My presence during audiences guaranteed some continuity in political orientation and ensured that the make-up of the government remained stable. The two thrones had now been reversed throughout the Forbidden City: I now occupied the seat of honor. The very first day after the period of mourning ended, the Emperor tried to demonstrate his independence. In the Council meeting, he reeled off a series of grandiose ideas that made the Great Ministers blench in horror. We had to send troops to the western border and exterminate the nomadic tribes to preempt their attacks; the rebellious state of Korea must be made to bow before the Empire-three hundred thousand troops should be sent there! The palaces of Luoyang were too confined-the Forbidden City needed expanding, and two polo grounds should be built!

I sat on my throne, silenced by my shame. The Great Ministers openly refuted these impetuous suggestions. After the floods, the earthquake, and the epidemic, the north was reduced to terrible poverty. In some regions, people had resorted to cannibalism. Military expeditions should only be carried out by professional troops. Any major works had to be delayed, not to say cancelled. Piqued by these harsh words, the Emperor turned to me: “These men are deliberately contradicting me. Supreme Majesty, you don’t need me here to govern; I’m leaving!”

My third son had had a very difficult birth. For ten whole days, I had battled with the pain, refusing the doctors’ advice that I should sacrifice him. It was only thanks to the prayers of the peripatetik monk Xuan Zhang, who had brought us the Great Sutras from India, that this seventh prince of the imperial household had come into the world. Just one year after he was born, Future had received the crown of the Kingdom of Zhou and the seal of the Great Governor of the province of Luo, which included the eastern capital. At twenty, he had become King of Ying and Great Governor of the province of Yong that surrounded the town of Long Peace. For many years, he had attracted attention on the polo ground wearing his floppy hat at a jaunty angle, with his sleeves rolled up and shrieking at the top of his lungs, or at imperial banquets where he would dance gracefully to the tune of The Snows of Early Spring. He was a fervent enthusiast of cock fighting and organized tournaments with his brothers, provoking my celestial husband’s anger because the latter saw a perverse hint of fratricide in this cruel sport. After Splendor’s premature death and Wisdom’s dismissal three year’s before the Emperor’s death, the title of Supreme Son had fallen on this boy who had grown up in the shadow of his two elder brothers. Men reveal their true qualities once they have risen or fallen. Emperor Yang of the previous dynasty, for example, had been a humble and thrifty heir, but had proved to be a despotic and extravagant sovereign. Future had once been a naive, enthusiastic child, but now that he had been crowned, he was revealing his appalling nature as a pretentious and impulsive man.

My husband had entrusted his people and his empire to me. The Yellow Land devastated by four years of famine was like a vast arid field that needed sowing with new hope. Instead of helping me rebuild it, my son could think only of exploiting the privileges of being Emperor. The young Empress had an ill-fated influence over him; it was she who was encouraging him to set himself free.

A few days later I was informed that the Great Secretary Pei Yan wished to have a secret meeting with me. I sent Gentleness to find him, and he took an underground passageway to reach my calligraphy pavilion. When he saw me, he prostrated himself completely, from head to toe. I was curious to know why he used this salutation that demonstrated total submission, and I ordered him to speak without delay. That very morning, he said, the sovereign’s private officials had come for him to take him to the Palace. Future had dictated two decrees to him. In the first, the son of his wet-nurse was granted a noble position in the fifth imperial rank, and in the second, the Sovereign Lady’s father was appointed Chancellor and made a member of the Council of Great Ministers. All imperial orders had to be approved and published by the Imperial Secretariat, and Pei Yan had tried to dissuade the sovereign, explaining that such unreasonable promotions would encourage the political ambition of the Empress’s family. Future had been so irritated that he had thrown his ink well at the old man, shouting: “I am the Emperor! I do as I please! I shall not only name the Empress’s father Chancellor, but I shall also offer him my empire! No one will be able to stop me!

“Supreme Majesty,” Pei Yan wailed, “the Empress Wei Xuan Zhen’s noble father was military attache in the province of Pu. When his venerable daughter was elevated to the position of Heir’s Wife three years ago, he was promoted to governor of the district of Yu. He has not yet completed his term of office. As he is a man of no particular merit, his extraordinary elevation through the imperial hierarchy would awaken suspicions among officials. Your Supreme Majesty once wrote A Warning to Relations from Outside in which she denounced abuses of power by the families of empresses. Could she now bear to see Lord Wei admitted to the Council of Great Ministers and allow the Empress’s clan to take command of Court? The word of a Chinese Emperor is irreversible. For him to announce before his minister and servants that he will give his Empire to Lord Wei amounts to a solemn undertaking that must be respected. Supreme Majesty, dark clouds have come to eclipse the sun. Earth is shaking with fear. Birds are circling over the Forbidden City, afraid to settle. The Tang dynasty is in danger!”

I remained silent. Pei Yan inched closer to me on his knees and prostrated himself.

“Supreme Majesty, the rightful Emperor wants to give this throne conquered by his ancestors to an outsider. This betrayal is not mere negligence; it is a crime that must be punished! The previous sovereign often used to say that all human beings are equals in the face of justice. May your Supreme Majesty apply the law!”

“ Lord Pei, please give me one night in which to think.”

That evening I ate little. After a long period of prayer, I felt cleansed of all the mire of this earthly world. I took Gentleness with me and climbed to the top of the tower at the observatory. Up there the air was piercingly pure. The moon threw her icy beams over the astronomer’s spheres. In the last three years, the celestial area representing the throne had become darker and darker. That evening I saw through a light veil of clouds that the stars were almost extinguished.

On the sixth day of the second month in the era of the Sacred Heir, I invited court officials to undertake the morning salutation in the Palace of the Crimson Zenith, which was usually reserved for the annual Great Veneration. When Future sat on his throne, I took the seat to his right. He immediately sent a eunuch to ask my serving women why I had called him there and whether we were expecting a visit from a foreign king.

The jangling of weapons reverberated around the hall as men climbed the steps to the palace. The Great Secretary Pei Yan and the vice-secretary; the Great General of the cavalry of the Left, overseer of the imperial Forest of Plumes Guard of the Left; and the Great General of the leading army, overseer of the imperial Forest of Plumes Guard of the Right; came into the audience hall in battle dress.

Pei Yan took a scroll from his sleeve and read out loud the decree I had dictated to him in secret the previous evening: “My son, the Emperor Sacred Heir, the fourth Emperor of the Tang dynasty, has turned his back on the teachings of the previous sovereign by neglecting his sacred duty and by dishonoring his ancestors. His actions have tarnished the reputation of imperial authority. Exercising the power passed on to me by the Emperor Lordly Ancestor, I shall therefore withdraw his crown. He shall be disinherited of all his noble allowances and positions and will bear the simple title of King of Lu Ling.”

Pei Yan stowed the scroll in his sleeve and climbed onto the stage. He pulled the sovereign from his throne.

“Mother!” my son cried in astonishment. “What mistake have I made?”

Instead of questioning the legitimacy of my actions, Future was behaving like a child found in the wrong.

“You offered the Empire to Wei Xuan Zhen,” I said icily. “That was your mistake!”

“It was said in jest, mother.”

“An emperor does not speak in jest before his subjects.”

“Venerable Mother, forgive me! I shall not do it again!”

The man who had reigned for two months over the world’s greatest empire broke down and wept. Princes and Great Ministers remained prostrate at the foot of the stage in the hall. My eyes swept over them looking for my fourth son, Miracle. He crouched with his forehead to the ground, shaking from head to toe.

THE KING OF Yu was called to my palace. When I informed him of the date of his coronation, he stammered: “Venerable Mother, Empress Supreme, our dynasty was founded fifty years ago by the Emperor Lordly Forebear. Since then, the Emperor Eternal Ancestor and my Sovereign Father allowed peace and virtue to triumph over the world. Such a past poses a challenge for their successor. As the youngest in the family, I have never wished for the crown. I have not prepared myself to reign. The honor and power you want to bestow on me are too heavy to bear, and your son has neither the knowledge nor the strength necessary to take them on. To disappoint you would be a crime that your son dares not commit. I would rather remain King of Yu. I beg you, Supreme Mother, choose another candidate!”

Of my four sons, Miracle was the most like my husband. At twenty he still had a pale face and a naive expression, and his voice reminded me of Little Phoenix’s as a young man when he too refused to be emperor. A man who does not like power will suffer from its cruelty. He would be unable to raise his hand in punishment or to untangle the web woven by good and evil. He would be unable to subdue the relations and dignitaries who pose a constant threat to the throne.

“You are my last son,” I sighed. “You shall receive the sacred seal of the dynasty. I have no other choice. You must accept your duty.”

Miracle’s beautiful face was bathed in tears.

“Supreme Mother, my second brother, Wisdom, has been banished for three years. The months of loneliness, the harsh terrain of the south and the weeping of the wind have taught him the error of his past ways. His heart is full of pain and regret. I am sure that if you call him back to the Capital, you will see he has changed completely. He will prostrate himself at your feet and ask your forgiveness. Supreme Mother, I beg your clemency, forgive him the mistakes of youth! He would be a sovereign worthy of your respect.”

Hearing Wisdom’s name infuriated me.

“Have you received letters from this banished commoner?” I asked, scowling. “Any exchange of information with those excluded from Court is a crime of betrayal punishable with imprisonment and exile. As King of Yu, you should not allow yourself to flout the law.”

But Miracle insisted, “Supreme Mother, Wisdom is ready to-”

“Wisdom,” I interrupted him, “committed an unforgivable crime in trying to usurp the throne. Even if my heart felt pity for him in his exile, I could not call him back to Court. Such an action would prove a destructive influence for posterity. It would serve as encouragement for every prince to rebel against his sovereign father. As for your brother, Future, I do acknowledge that his rash words did not correspond with his true intentions, but I am obliged to apply the ancestral ruling because to tolerate such negligence would debase the power granted to an emperor. Without respect and without fear, reigning would become child’s play, and the dynasty would be overthrown. It is pointless discussing this further: You shall be Emperor of China.”

A few days later, I watched with satisfaction as Miracle officially acceded to the throne. Chants and incense, praises from officials, cheers from soldiers, and feasting offered to the people helped to erase the dark days. The new sovereign’s wife, Lady Liu, became Empress, and their eldest son took the title of Supreme Son. I inaugurated a new era called the Awakening of Culture. Future and his wife were exiled to the south of the River Long where they would have to meditate on the vanities of this world as they contemplated the inhospitable terrain. Members of the deposed empress’s clan were deported to the province of Qin and would perish in poverty.

The new sovereign refused to reign and gave a decree that paid homage to the role I had played beside the late emperor, recognized his own lack of political experience, and announced his decision to entrust the Empire to me. He had his throne removed from the Palace of Audiences and left me to receive the morning salutations alone. He shut himself away in his palace with his discreet retinue and court and appeared by my side only for major occasions.

One evening, my people informed me that the commoner, Wisdom, was secretly planning to escape from his guarded residence. Letters addressed to his uncles and cousins in posts in kingdom-provinces had been intercepted. In them, this unworthy son claimed that my regency was a usurpation and called on all princes by birth to rebel.

I was wracked with sorrow and fury, but I had no time to waste on pointless lamentations. That very night, I called for Qiu Shen Ji, the Great General of the Cavalry of the Left, overseer of the imperial Forest of Plumes Guard, and sent him hastily to the mountainous province of Ba with an army of one thousand cavalrymen. Their mission was to dissuade Wisdom from launching into such foolish behavior again.

My second son had been born in the fifth year of the era of Eternal Shining, in the month of December, during the pilgrimage to the tomb of the Emperor Eternal Ancestor, in an eerily white landscape where naked trees pierced the fog with their slender branches. I carried this embryo in my belly as if issuing a challenge to the Outer Court that refused to grant me a title. Wisdom came into the world as the first snows fell. His life would be one of cold elegance and anxious agitation.

From his earliest years during childhood, it had pained him to be the younger brother of the Supreme Son. There were two years between the boys, and Wisdom had been appointed as his brother’s official companion. They were taught by the same masters, read the same books, played the same sports, and were even the same height, and yet the inequalities between them could be seen everywhere: the number of valets, the different salutations, the choice of meals, the colors of their clothes associated with their rank, and the attention paid to them by the Sovereign Father. Wisdom was the King of Yong and would always be his brother’s servant.

When he was eight years old, Wisdom left the Forbidden City and moved into his royal palace. He was taught by officials I had chosen and grew up in the outside world, slipping into adulthood behind my back. At fifteen he climbed up the Vermilion Steps and started attending the morning salutation. During ritual ceremonies and imperial banquets, he made sure he was the most elegantly dressed courtier. As well as the ceremonial tunics prescribed by his rank, he always added details that secretly transgressed restrictions and highlighted the fact that he was different. He was made-up by the most skilled, graceful hands; enveloped in the most subtle fragrances; and surrounded by beautiful adolescents with cherry-red lips: His magnificence eclipsed the Supreme Son.

My eldest son, the lamented Splendor, had not worn his name well. He had suffered from shortness of breath even as a child, and had looked on the world with the tenderness and indulgence of a young man struggling under the weight of his own death. Wisdom was eloquent; Splendor spoke only softly. The younger had pink cheeks, the elder a pale face dotted with sickly red patches. The prince liked rare jewels, precious fabrics, wine, and good cheer; the heir to the throne was happy with sober tunics, vegetables, and tea.

One winter’s day when Splendor was having difficulty breathing, he begged me to listen to him: “My health is failing, and I am growing weaker. Despite my wishes, I will not be able to perform my duties to the full. Now, the Imperial Father’s successor should be a vigorous man: Wisdom is strong and gifted-he will one day make an excellent sovereign. Please do not take my birthright into consideration! I would be happy to surrender my title as Supreme Son to him.”

Since the very highest dynasty, there have been countless brothers in the imperial family who have fought for the position of Supreme Son. It was a rare thing for an eldest son to offer his future to someone he deemed worthier than himself. Moved by this selfless act, I took his hand in mine. It was the first time I had touched one of my sons, and this unaccustomed contact made me shudder with happiness and sorrow. Splendor lifted himself up and rested his head on my knees; I held him tightly in my arms.

“It is you that your Sovereign Father and I wish to see on the throne,” I told him, stroking his hair. “It is you who have the virtues necessary to be sovereign. You must regain your health!”

Tears trickled over my child’s cheeks: “Thank you, Venerable Mother, thank you.”

At the time, unbeknown to be me, Wisdom had spies planted in his brother’s entourage. It was only later that I learned that this conversation had sown the seed of furious resentment in a jealous brother’s heart.

I did not have the time to make a great emperor of Splendor; I did not have the time to teach him the truth about cruelty and compassion, tolerance and punishment; I did not have the time to tell him how to turn cowards into brave men, to make the lazy hardworking, and to make traitors loyal. Splendor died suddenly. Once again Buddha was showing me that everything is illusion.

My beloved son was buried on the Mountain of Eternal Peace near Luoyang. He was given the posthumous title of Emperor of Piety; this was the first time since the ancient dynasties that a king had been raised to the absolute rank after his death. The frescoes along the long subterranean corridor depicted the sumptuous delights of the afterlife. At the entrance I commissioned paintings of scenes showing feasting, hunting, and games with horses whinnying and dogs barking. The very chariots could be heard rumbling, the banners cracking in the wind, and the horns sounding to announce the Emperor’s arrival. On the star-studded vaulted ceiling of the funeral chamber, the sun gazed across at the moon, and the most beautiful wives strolled through a garden of blooming peonies. I hoped that Splendor, who had renounced the light and the changeability of this world, would still be living amid happiness and beauty thousands of years later.

Wisdom succeeded his brother in the title of Supreme Son and became actively involved with politics. In his Eastern Palace, he received intellectuals who acted as his scribes, and he started compiling books. My husband’s health was failing at the time, and I was informed that officials were secretly gathering in the heir’s household and criticizing my interference in affairs of State. It was not long before Wisdom gave his father a new version of The History of the Later Han Dynasty in which he rebuked regent empress mothers and referred to them as usurpers. I responded by writing two books intended for him: Advice to the Supreme Son and The Anthology of Sons Famous for Their Filial Devotion.

Wisdom cherished a particular adolescent whom he had had castrated. In the evenings, behind the closed doors of his palace, he organized feasts where he ran naked through the gardens with his guards and this emasculated favorite. When the noises from these orgies reached my husband over the walls of the Eastern Palace, he was furious and decided to punish the adolescent responsible for corrupting the king. The beautiful boy was snatched on a street corner and beaten by hired thugs, and he made some unexpected revelations: His master had had the Taoist Ming Chong Yan assassinated for refusing to poison me, and he was now planning a coup.

The Eastern Palace was searched, and the stables were found to be housing hundreds of weapons and breastplates, ready to equip a light cavalry. The coup was stopped just in time, and Wisdom was stripped of his title and banished from the Capital.

I discovered from his entourage that he knew I was not his true mother: Twenty years earlier, on the great pilgrimage, Elder Sister had delivered an illegitimate boy conceived with my husband. The very next day I had brought a stillborn child into the world. Ruby and Emerald were responsible for informing the sovereign and for swapping the infants. Claiming that she felt unwell, Mother left with the prince’s chill body wrapped in her coat and buried him in a monastery.

My son lay beneath a stela with no inscription. Wisdom, who was destined to be abandoned, could have taken his place on the throne. But the truth that we learn is more murderous than lies. Convinced that he was unloved, obsessed by imaginary hatred, he mistook my strict expectations and my severity for the deliberate oppression and gratuitous nastiness of a stepmother. In our eternal China, nothing comes closer to absolute power than the position of heir, and there is nothing more perilous than life spent so close to the flame. Some, like Wisdom, tried to force fate: The door was open, but it led only to downfall.

The Great General sent me a dispatch: Wisdom had hanged himself in his room. I had his body interred immediately, beneath a meager mound with no ornamentation, in an underground chamber with a few everyday objects. To appease evil minds who would have seen this as an assassination dressed up as suicide, I summoned the dignitaries to a lamentation ceremony. I wept tears of regret in public and granted a pardon to this rebellious son, restoring his crown as the King of Yong, the title he had borne as a youth.

My efforts to be joined to my children by a simple bond of happiness had proved fruitless. From the moment they were born, the distance between princes and an empress had only grown wider. I never breastfed my babies and had to disguise my jealousy as I watched them clutching avidly at other women’s breasts. As a young mother, I had been powerless to change the ancestral rules. My children were raised and instructed by high-ranking officials; they were taught to be afraid of me and to venerate me as a divinity. They grew up without learning so much as one poem from me. Whatever the circumstances, my thoughts and words for them took the form of orders transcribed onto silk by secretaries that they received on bended knee. At fifteen they were married and learned of physical pleasure. Their courts lay outside the Imperial City, and they opened their doors to ministers’ sons, guards, and their own ambitious cousins starting out on their careers. Their servants led them to believe that they were great men. Splendor decided to bide his time, and Wisdom wanted to make his mark. Miracle chose silence and Future rebellion.

At sixty, when women my age enjoyed the warmth of a happy home and played with their grandchildren, I felt more alone than ever. Little Phoenix had made his way to the heavens, and I to the abyss. Two of my sons now lay underground, and one was banished. Fearing that Wisdom’s supporters would get hold of his heirs and use their names to raise a rebel army, I had my grandsons repatriated into the Eastern Capital and shut away in a wing of the Forbidden City. Future’s family had gone with him into exile. Along the mountainous roads, his wife had brought a little girl into the world prematurely. With no midwife, Future himself had pulled her from her mother’s belly and hauled off his own tunic to swaddle her.

Gentleness stayed by my side, a young woman now, speechlessly contemplating my sorrow.

A FEW LETTERS sent by Wisdom had escaped the vigilance of the guards and had been propagated over the world. Seven months after his suicide, an insurrection erupted. Li Jing Yei, the grandson and heir of the Great General Li Ji, who had recommended me to the Forbidden City fifty years earlier, led a rebel army. He had been driven out of the Capital for corruption, and he and his supporters hoped to come back to Court as liberators. They succeeded by occupying the strategic town of Yang and gave command to a man who looked like Wisdom and claimed that the king was not dead, that they were acting on his orders. In the span of ten days, they gathered an army of one hundred thousand volunteers, a rabble of hooligans and bandits lured by the promise of incredible booty.

That morning I received the officials’ salutation in Luoyang. The pillars in the Palace of Virtuous Authority were like black dragons reaching up for the dark skies. Fires blazed along the rows, lighting the ministers’ anxious frightened faces. After the prostration and the prayer for long life, Pei Yan handed me the declaration that the rioters had distributed through districts that were now in their control.

Gentleness spread the scroll out on my table. The first verse seemed to jump off the page at me like a jet of venom: “The aforementioned regent Lady Wu is the issue of vile origins. In her youth she was summoned by the Emperor Eternal Ancestor, then she seduced Sovereign Father, debauched the Inner Palace, and bewitched the Supreme Son. She supplanted the Empress with her slander; her treacherous smile drove our master into an incestuous trap. Her heart is slyer than a lizard’s and crueler than a she-wolf’s. She is possessed by demons; she tortures loyal servants. She killed her sisters and assassinated her brothers. She hastened the sovereign’s death and poisoned her mother. Now that she has committed these murders, she no longer hides her usurpatory ambitions. She has imprisoned the heirs to the throne and entrusted affairs of State to members of her family. She is a cannibal, eating her way through the imperial lineage; she is evil, putting the dynasty in peril. Her crimes have provoked the wrath of men and of the gods. Her very existence sullies the purity of Heaven and Earth…”

In the second half of the manifesto, its author sang the praises of the rebel leader Li Jing Yei: “… Jing Yei, a former servant to the Imperial Court, the son of noble and glorious lords, has been denied power because he denounced corruption. Since then his indignation has grown more furious than a rainstorm, and he has sworn that he will free the throne from these vampires. Summoned by the disappointment of this world beneath the heavens and mandated by the Will of the People, he has raised the flag of revolt to cleanse away the scum of humanity. As far as the Land of One Hundred Tribes to the south and the limits of the Mountains of Rivers in the north, iron horsemen jostle to be first in line, wheels of jade rumble constantly onwards, everyone is marching on the enemy. Our grain stores are full of red sorghum from the four seas; our yellow banners advance inexorably as impetuous waves in a storm. The whinnying of our horses silences the North Wind itself, the gleaming blades of our swords outshine the celestial constellations. Our troops have only to whisper for entire hills and valleys to collapse; when our troops utter war cries, the clouds and the wind change color. With this strength, what enemy can resist us? With this strength, what city could withstand us?”

The third part was the height of pathos: “… The earth poured onto His Majesty’s tomb is not yet dry, and already his orphans no longer have a right to exist… If you still cling to the warmth of your home, you will be lost in the labyrinth of fate! If you do not grasp the providential hour, you will flounder in the hour of downfall! Answer me now-this very moment: Who shall be sovereign of the Empire, who shall own the Black Lands, who shall be master of the Yellow People!”

I closed the scroll and looked up. I asked who had wielded this quill. Someone in the audience hall replied that it was the scholar Luo Bin Wang.

“Surely he has a reputation for having been a precociously gifted poet, already famous by the time he was seven? What a shame that his flamboyant style and powerful gift should have been used to serve these intriguers. For a poet to become an instrument of politics, for the genius of an artist to debase itself and surrender itself to be used for dishonest propaganda-what a pity! How is it that I did not hear of him sooner? The fault lies with the Great Ministers who have neglected such talent. Mistakes like this must not be made again!”

My calm reaction astonished the ministers and reassured the generals. The Meeting could go ahead in an atmosphere of confidence. Suddenly, in among the vociferous opinions that needed quashing immediately, Great Secretary Pei Yan made his voice heard: “Supreme Majesty, your servant feels it would not be sensible to raise an imperial army!

Surprised by his attitude, I asked him why.

“His Majesty the Emperor Heir has already reached adulthood, but Your Supreme Majesty is still governing in his place. This irregular situation means that the rebels are right to call for the reign of a prince by blood. If your Supreme Majesty hands over the reins and gives power to the sovereign, all this agitation will no longer be legitimate and could be calmed with no crossing of swords.”

I was more stunned by Pei Yan’s words than by the rioters’ shattering manifesto. Thirty years earlier, this Great Secretary had been nothing more than an impoverished scholar from commoner stock. I myself had noticed him during the last stage of the imperial competition, and, on my orders, he had been received at the Splendid Institute of Letters, the school of higher administrative studies established by the sovereign Eternal Ancestor to train future ministers. As a reclusive Mandarin, he knew neither how to build up a network of contacts nor how to espouse a political leaning. His career had taken off only when I perceived his qualities as a hardworking and incorruptible official. In fifteen years, under my protection, he had climbed up the imperial hierarchy and had become head of government. Now, when I most needed his support, his conciliatory attitude was worse than a betrayal. Instead of condemning the rebels, he was acting as their mouthpiece by publicly accusing me of monopolizing power for too long.

Outside the day was dawning. A continuous stream of light flooded the audience hall, and the sun opened its arms to me. I disguised my anger and smiled.

“ Lord Pei, I helped the previous sovereign for almost twenty years without making a single mistake. Heaven and Earth demonstrated their satisfaction during the Great Sanctification, and the Chinese people have recognized the value of my advice by giving me the title of Celestial Empress. My regency is now the only guarantee of imperial stability after all the troubles that have afflicted the land of China. That is why the previous sovereign and the sovereign heir both confided the dynasty to me. It would not be difficult to hand power to my son, but this small gesture would be an unconditional surrender on my part. In the eyes of the people, it would be as if I recognized these unfounded accusations and encouraged every lawless creature to disrespect our authority. Even though I have for some time fostered the desire to withdraw gently from the affairs of this world, it will not be possible in the immediate future. The imperial order has been flouted. The prestige of ancestral sovereigns has been called into question. In such a situation, no prince by blood thrust into the forefront of the political scene would be respected by his vassals. He would simply be manipulated. Lord Pei Yan, you who once demonstrated such extraordinary perceptiveness, why are you now so blind?”

BACK IN THE gynaeceum, it took me a long time to recover from Pei Yan’s insolence, and I was weighed down by a dark feeling of foreboding. I gave orders for the guard around Future’s residence in exile to be reinforced, then I sent spies to listen to Miracle’s conversations with officials.

The overseeing magistrate Cui Cha asked for a secret audience.

“On his death bed,” he whispered, “the previous emperor asked Pei Yan to watch over the government. This bequeathed power must have nurtured some unspeakable ambition in him. That is why, instead of defending your Supreme Majesty, he is now asking you to abandon your regency. Everyone knows that the sovereign heir has no political experience and that he would not be a firm ruler. Calling the sovereign back to the throne would be to entrust power to Pei Yan. Your Supreme Majesty should be wary of this.”

This comment complied with my own investigations. I delayed sending an imperial army out against the rioters and increased the number of guards protecting the Inner City. Within a few days, secret enquiries into Pei Yan’s activities revealed that one of the principal organizers of the revolt was his nephew. Apart from this relationship, there was nothing to prove the Great Secretary’s guilt.

I had made my decision, even if there were still doubts that should have worked in Pei Yan’s favor. It no longer mattered to me whether he was guilty or innocent. The riot led by Li Jing Yei, grandson of the Great General who was a veteran of the dynasty, had sown the seeds of unease in the Outer Court. Men who had obeyed me blindly were beginning to doubt my legitimacy. Pei Yan’s position served only to reinforce this destructive tendency. Pei Yan had been made Great Secretary on my husband’s wishes, and with my support, he had dethroned my son Future. His power had become a danger that I had to suppress quickly.

One wintry morning during the salutation, I ordered Pei Yan’s arrest. The generals of the Forest of Plumes Guard led their troops into the Palace. Taken by surprise, a number of ministers pleaded his innocence, but the Great Secretary submitted without protest or tears as he was stripped of his cap of lacquered black linen, his ivory tablet, and his leather belt sewn with jade discs.

During that same ceremony, I sent orders for Great General Li Ji’s grave to be destroyed because he had begat an insurgent grandson. “Let the name Li, presented to him by the Emperor Eternal Ancestor, be withdrawn. Scatter his bones over the countryside!” By persecuting this dead minister who had been so close to me, I was warning any living person who might dare betray me. That day the imperial divisions received orders to set out. Three hundred thousand armored soldiers hastened to the occupied cities. Soon news of victories was sent back to me. The so-called rebel army was nothing but a horde of beggars who fled when they saw our banners. A revolt had broken out within their own ranks. Forty days after their dramatic declaration, the insurgent soldiers were asking to surrender by offering me the severed heads of Xu Jing Yei and his followers. I had them paraded on pikes through the centre of Luoyang where they soon streamed with spittle from my people.

My imperial officers executed every last survivor of the rebel chiefs. When Cheng Wu Ting, Great General of the regiment of Eagles of the Right, was denounced to me for having secret meetings with the rioters, I asked for no further proof, and, despite his reputation as the conqueror of the Turks and the Koreans, I sent the Great General of the regiment of Eagles of the Left to behead him in his barracks.

After Pei Yan was arrested and his quarters had been searched, the examining magistrate informed me that the Great Secretary had lived in a state of destitution. His furniture was rudimentary and his rooms quite without ornamentation. In his six-year term of office as a Great Minister, he had managed to save up a few bags of rice and a dozen rolls of silk, gifts given to him by my late husband and myself.

I was moved by the man’s honesty. In prison he would not admit to the crime of which he was accused and never proclaimed his innocence. In mid-autumn he was decapitated in the middle of a public crossroads. Before dying he allegedly asked for forgiveness from his banished brothers: “When I was in power, I never let you benefit from my position; now, because of me, you have been exiled to the ends of Earth. I am so sorry!

I chose to ignore whether he deserved to die. His condemnation had been a deciding factor in the fight against the insurgents. I secretly ordered for his head and body to be collected and given a decent burial in the countryside near Luoyang. Occasionally, on the anniversary of his death, I would send a few offerings and prayers to his grave.

Within the Forbidden City, my voice echoed solemnly around the Palace of Virtuous Authority: “Gentlemen, I have never disappointed Heaven, you know that well! I served the previous sovereign for more than twenty years, and the Empire’s affairs have caused me much concern! I have watched over the stability and happiness of this world. I have offered wealth and nobility to all of you. Since the previous sovereign abandoned you and entrusted me with command, I have never troubled with my own health; my every thought has been for the happiness of the people. These rebels were ministers, generals, and Court officials. Where, then, is loyalty, and where is honor? Shame on you! I am not afraid of treacherous, rebellious men. I ask of you: Who among you would be more powerful, more sour-tempered, and more stubborn than hereditary minister Pei Yan? Who would be more violent, more reckless, and more inflamed than Xu Jing Yei descended from one of the dynasty’s Veterans? Who would be more experienced, more adroit, and more tactical than Cheng Wu Ting who never suffered military defeat? Those three men were believed to be indomitable! When they tried to betray me, I cut off their heads. If you consider yourself better than them, then you must revolt straight away. If not, work together and save all your energies for helping me in affairs of State. Prove yourselves worthy of posterity!”

IN THE FIRST month of the first year in the era of the Residence of Sunlight, I begat a new world. The imperial banners of ancient times disappeared from the city’s ramparts, and my golden standards edged with mauve now flapped in the wind. At Court I distributed new colors to the dignitary’s clothes: mauve to scholars and generals above the third rank, crimson to the fourth rank, and vermilion to the fifth rank. The sixth rank had to make do with dark emerald green, while the seventh rank wore light green. The eighth and ninth ranks, at the very bottom of the grading system, were given consolation for their humility; I attributed the color of blossoming springtime to them. In government, I did away with the age-old names given to ministers of state. Inspired by the venerable Zhou dynasty from which our Wu clan descended, I wanted politics to be a celebration of life from now on. I published an edict renaming the Great Chancellery the Terrace of Divine Birds; the Great Secretariat became the Pavilion of the Phoenix; and the Ministry of Supreme Affairs became the Lodge of Prosperous Letters. The six ministers responsible for the administration of the Inner City, human affairs, religious rites, armaments, punishments, and major works became Officers of the Heavens, the Earth, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, respectively.

When stars move across the sky, they transcribe a mathematical perfection. When flowers open, they reveal a universe of harmonious architecture. The seasons unfold in keeping with the order of creation-Germinating, flourishing, ripening, wilting, because where there is death, there is also harvesting. The pinnacle of poetry is silence; a painter’s crowning achievement is the white of a virgin sheet of paper; sages meditate with a vacant mind; the illumination of Buddha is the extinction of the world. A sovereign’s ultimate power is the abstinence of his authority. The sovereign’s will is motionless, highly concentrated, serving as a vehicle for Nature’s intelligence in maintaining the balance between light and darkness of the shades. The sovereign’s command is calm, steady and determined, transcending the universal evolution of perpetual motion. The sovereign’s hand is infinitely powerful and infinitely gentle, applying the invisible laws that fertilize the fields, shift the stars, and call forth migrating birds.

Four months after the era of the Residence of Sunlight was inaugurated, I was ready to pass to the higher phase of my policies.

The era of Lowered Arms and Joined Hands announced my resolve to govern the world without recourse to violence but in a posture of prayer. Before me I would have the gods who had stepped down from the heavens, leading us to happiness, and behind me, a whole country prostrate on the ground. From now on, there would be no arms raised, brandishing the lance of repression. There would be no fruitless struggle and pointless agitation. The demons had been driven out; I would dominate the turmoil of this world with immutable strength.