Chapter 11: The Reign Behind the Curtain
The scent of incense hung heavy in the Hall of Radiant Governance, its wisps curling towards the painted rafters. Morning sunlight, filtering through open pillars, cast golden lines across the jade floor. Ministers stood in two silent rows, their silk robes rustling softly. The air thrummed with the usual tension that preceded her arrival. Measured footsteps broke the hush—Empress Wu Zhao, walking beside Emperor Gaozong. Her robes, the color of flames, shimmered with phoenix embroidery.
Gaozong took his seat on the Dragon Throne, Empress Wu beside him. "Let the court begin," he intoned.
Ministers stepped forward one by one, reporting on irrigation projects, border disputes, and rising grain prices. Many, as usual, sought to curry favor. Empress Wu listened intently, her fingers resting lightly on a scroll tucked within her sleeve. When Minister Shen stumbled over contradictory grain numbers, her voice cut through the hall like silk slicing glass.
"Minister Shen," she said gently, "your autumn report cited a rise in rice output in the southern provinces due to riverbank restoration. Now you claim harvests have dropped?"
Ministers blanched. "I… I must have been misinformed, Your Majesty."
She raised an eyebrow. "You are either careless or lying. Both are unbecoming." The Emperor hid a smile. The court held its breath.
"I expect corrected records by sundown," she stated, "cross-verified by your junior secretaries, or you may step down from your post."
Silence descended. None dared speak.
After the court adjourned, Empress Wu walked through the colonnade, her pace serene. Her Buddhist secretary, Shide, caught up with her, scrolls clutched in his hands.
"You remember every word spoken in that hall," he said with quiet awe, "even those no one else listens to."
"I remember the truth," she replied. "Men may bend facts, but truth always leaves a trace."
He smiled. "I have transcribed the letters from the northern scholars. They are… impressed, to say the least. They speak of you not as a mere ruler, but a mind equal to the sages."
Empress Wu glanced at the scroll, then at the distant mountains. "Then let them come. Let the learned know that a woman can read the stars, write the laws, and command an empire."
The Inner Library was still. Empress Wu sat at a low table, dressed in simpler robes, her hair simply pinned. Shide unfolded a scroll carefully.
"The scholars from Luoyang believe the northern tax system is unsustainable," he said. "They propose using temple-run granaries during harsh winters."
Empress Wu tapped the table with a painted nail. "If we grant temples that much autonomy, they will grow more powerful than governors. And soon they will dictate terms to the throne."
Shide tilted his head. "And yet, without their aid last winter, three prefectures would have starved."
She smiled faintly. "So we use them, but on our own terms. Offer recognition, but tie it to service. Favor the temples that educate women and orphans. Let virtue be our leash."
He chuckled softly. "You wield policy like a sword."
She looked up, meeting his gaze. "Do you fear that?"
"No," he said, his voice softening. "I fear those who underestimate you."
A quiet moment stretched between them. He began gathering the scrolls, but her voice stopped him.
"What do you see when you look at me?"
He paused. "A woman the world tried to bury… who chose instead to grow roots."
Empress Wu's lips parted slightly. "Do you ever wonder what it costs to rise?"
"All the time," he said, his voice low. "But I also see that you will pay whatever price it takes."
"Then help me rise further," she said. "Not as a consort. Not even as an Empress. But as a ruler who endures."
Shide bowed deeply, his gesture filled with devotion.
The palace never truly slept, but the Empress's wing had fallen into an unusual hush. Empress Wu lay in the birthing chamber, drenched in sweat, her breath ragged. Outside, guards stood frozen. Midwives moved like ghosts. She gripped the silk bedding as pain tore through her.
"You are almost there, Your Majesty," a midwife whispered.
Empress Wu gritted her teeth. The room spun. With a final push, a cry shattered the air. Another son. Tears stung her eyes as they placed the newborn against her chest. Her fourth son.
Years earlier, her first son, Li Hong, had arrived on a stormy night. Gaozong had wept openly, holding their firstborn with reverence. Even as an infant, Li Hong was alert. By four, he sat at her feet during council briefings, absorbing every word. One morning, she found him with Shide in the library, asking, "Why do people bow to my mother?" Shide smiled, "Because your mother doesn't bow to anyone."
Her second son, Li Xian, arrived like dawn—quiet and determined. Her third son, Li Xian, arrived as her power solidified. And now, Li Dan. This one just stared at her, blinking as though he already knew who she was.
Though she ruled, Empress Wu never abandoned her role as a mother. She walked with her sons in the plum gardens, taught them the importance of speech, silence, and gaze. "Power," she once told Li Hong, "is not in force, it's in perception. If they believe you are strong, you are. If they believe you are weak, hide until they no longer do."
There were moments of softness too—midnight lullabies, days spent asleep on her lap, secret drawings tucked beneath scrolls. Yet, she knew the court would not love her sons as boys, but as pawns or threats.
The gardens behind the Eastern Pavilion were quiet, kissed by the golden light of the setting sun. Cherry blossoms floated down like snow. Emperor Gaozong sat beneath a blossoming tree, surrounded by his sons.
Li Xian, holding a wooden sword, boasted of defeating his tutor's champion. Li Cheng promised to protect his father. Li Dan, the youngest, was studying ants. Gaozong chuckled. Li Hong, the crown prince, stepped forward with a scroll. He spoke of the Tang generals and their loyalty to Emperor Wu, emphasizing that loyalty must be earned with dignity, not fear. Gaozong recognized Empress Wu's influence in his son's words.
Empress Wu stepped into the garden, watching them with a rare softness. For a few precious minutes, the Emperor was simply a father.
The Hall of Literary Elegance was heavy with the scent of ink and incense. Empress Wu, already seated, met the scholars' gazes with calm resolve.
"I have invited you not for ceremony, but for discourse," she began. "The throne listens best when wisdom speaks."
Scholar Meng asked what she wished to discuss. Empress Wu unrolled a scroll: the state of education in the provinces. A murmur ran through the chamber.
She continued, "A dynasty without knowledge is a house without a foundation. Shall the Tang be remembered for warfare or for thought?"
A younger scholar questioned the appropriateness of an Empress meddling in education. Empress Wu replied, "If an Empress cannot understand the pillars of her nation, then she is not fit to rule."
She proposed opening schools in rural prefectures and educating girls alongside boys. By the end of the discussion, skepticism had melted into admiration.
In a tucked-away study, Minister Zheng and Grand Chancellor Lu discussed Empress Wu's actions. They plotted resistance, aiming to undermine her policies and watch her fall.
The court was too quiet. Empress Wu, alone in the Eastern Pavilion, asked Mei Lin how many officials had delayed their responses to the rice policy. Mei Lin reported an increase. Empress Wu murmured, "They're testing the wind." Shide emerged, reporting a minor official's request to postpone an appointment. Empress Wu instructed the censors to watch Minister Zheng and the scribes to prepare a new edict on loyalty.
The Grand Hall brimmed with tension. Empress Wu confronted Ministers Zheng and Liu, revealing their corruption. Four high-ranking ministers were relieved of their duties.
The Hall of Appointments was filled with the fragrance of sandalwood. Empress Wu, with scrolls in hand, addressed the assembled ministers. "Loyalty without wisdom is dangerous. Wisdom without courage is useless. Today, we choose both."
She appointed Li Yifu as Minister of Justice, Shen Quan to oversee agriculture, and Shangguan Wan'er as her personal secretary and advisor. Empress Wu filled the empty seats with thinkers and loyalists. The court was reborn, and Empress Wu, the silent storm, was its architect.