Chapter Ninety-Four: Empress Wu’s Predicament — Yuhé Enters the Palace (Part One)

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The river flowers at sunrise blaze red like fire; such a description is misplaced for Guanzhong—it should be, “The sunrise over the Eastern Hills burns brighter than fire.”

It was only the beginning of May, yet the sun already blazed like a furnace, spraying waves of scorching flames onto the earth early each morning.

A servant entered to report, “Master, the sun outside is very strong.”

“Hm,” Xu Jing responded ambiguously. There was no need for the servant to report; a shaft of red light had already streaked through the window—how could he not know the sun was fierce? He added, “This sun is excellent. The wheat and barley outside, after two days of sun, can be easily loosened by a light tapping with the harrow.”

The servant dared not speak, fearing that this might be their only blessing—grain safe from dampness—but what of any other advantages?

Having finished speaking, Xu Jing pushed the window open. Outside stood several ancient locust trees; one grew close to the house, flourishing so much that its branches intruded into the small building. The servants wanted to cut it down, but Xu Jing stopped them. After all, summer was arriving, and opening the window to a patch of dense shade was a delicate pleasure. Thus, each winter, the servants climbed the tree to saw off the branches touching the house. Later, grapevines were planted there, but perhaps due to soil and water conditions, the grapes remained small, extremely sour, and full of seeds.

Yet the Xu estate did not covet these grapes; rather, they admired the verdant greenery winding along the tree trunks, which Xu Jing found very pleasing. Later, they also grew loofahs and gourds. Beneath was placed two stone tables, several stone stools, and a small pavilion was built with a channel of water flowing through, enhancing the scenery’s beauty.

However, a recent strong wind had blown down many of the grapes and gourds, and one old locust tree suffered several broken branches. The servants worked hard to prop it back up, but the aftermath of the storm was still plainly visible.

Xu Jing closed his eyes, thinking how well the sun shone and how wonderfully the wind blew. His grandson had hope.

Opening his eyes, he asked, “Have you investigated that Ming Chongyan? What have you found?”

“Reporting, Master, Ming Chongyan’s ancestors were a prominent gentry family from Pingyuan, serving as officials during the Southern Dynasties. His father, Ming Ke, was the magistrate of Anxi. Not only is this man handsome in appearance, but his father was also a fine-looking gentleman.”

“Handsome is good.”

Being handsome was certainly better than ugly, but the servant was unsure what exactly his master meant. He continued, “Yes. Though his father was a minor official, he was fond of dealings with spirits and ghosts. This man inherited his father’s skills and is adept at physiognomy and medicine. Later, he passed the Fengyue examination and was appointed as deputy official of Huang’an. At the time, the wife of the local governor suffered from a stubborn illness; he treated her with unusual remedies, and she recovered. The governor mentioned this in a memorial, and His Majesty summoned him for conversation and was greatly pleased. He was then promoted to literary advisor at the Prince of Ji’s residence.”

That is, serving as literary consultant to Li Xulun—a position more prestigious than county magistrate but still a sinecure.

“So, you mean this man is skilled in the classics, medicine, and occult arts?”

“One could say that.”

“Good. Send him word to come to my residence for a meeting.”

...

“The Crown Prince at Shaolin Temple—how is he faring?”

The guard answered, “Reporting to Your Majesty, after arriving at Shaolin Temple, the Crown Prince persuaded Xu Sheren’s daughter to return to the Eastern Capital. He has been quiet, only wandering around Mount Shaoshi a few times, then reading and exercising. However, during a prayer ceremony, he suddenly wept bitterly, deeply sorrowful, so much so that even the monks there sighed in sympathy.”

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“This foolish boy, yet with such a tender heart,” Li Zhi said softly. It might have been Di Renjie’s idea, or maybe not, but the fact that he carried his little sister everywhere and doted on her so much made Li Zhi both pleased and somewhat envious.

He himself had never enjoyed such blessings in childhood; his elder brothers had wished to devour him alive.

“You may leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The guard withdrew, and Li Zhi turned to Wu Zetian, asking, “Empress, how severe was the damage from this recent strong wind?”

“Your Majesty, it was not too serious. Some wheat was blown down; a few trees and houses were toppled. Only a handful of commoners were injured or killed by collapsing houses.”

“What sins have I committed?” Li Zhi angrily sat down.

As emperor, he was not a tyrant; he loved his people and was frugal. In past years, there had been consecutive good harvests; grain prices once fell to as low as three wen per dou, so low that farmers refused to sell and fed the grain to pigs instead. The military had also successfully subdued Goguryeo.

But in recent years, the situation changed drastically. The Tang army suffered its first great defeat, and it was a crushing loss, commanded by the brave general Xue Rengui! Domestic disasters occurred almost yearly, here or there, often on a large scale.

Though not the worst, the persistence of these calamities was historically rare.

If it had been Li Wei, perhaps things would be better.

Disasters occur in every dynasty. In such times, collective wisdom and effort should be summoned to overcome hardship together.

Yet Li Zhi was superstitious. The more his illness worsened, the more he believed in spirits. Fortunately, he did not dabble much in occult practices; otherwise, constantly taking small pills, he might not have survived. He believed in many deities—the Buddha, the Three Pure Ones—and if the Eastern Roman Empire had been closer, he might have believed in God too. Wu Zetian also shared these beliefs. Though a clever pair, their constant reference to spirits only entangled them further in these disasters.

Wu Zetian held back and said, “Your Majesty, it is like a chicken’s rib—too good to discard, too tasteless to eat. Perhaps the Great Rain-Invoking Ceremony should be canceled.”

Praying for rain was ideal; failing to bring rain would be embarrassing for the Crown Prince. Such failure could sow the seeds of disaster, not only for Hong’er (the Crown Prince) but especially for herself.

It had been easier before—when her husband was healthy, she was cherished and carefree. Now she had to assist him in managing the vast affairs of state and remain vigilant at every step, lest they fall into irrevocable ruin. Even her husband sometimes schemed against her. Such a life was like walking on thin ice.

If only her husband’s illness, like their son’s, could be cured and everything restored to the way it was.

But would she be happy then? Having tasted the sweetness of power, the bitterness of its absence was altogether different.

Yet, at present, Wu Zetian was indeed a good wife to Li Zhi. In many ways, she was a devoted spouse. She even personally attended to him during his bathing and dressing, especially when his illness flared, remaining by his bedside without removing her clothes.

Li Zhi sighed and said, “Empress, let that be for now. You should read the memorials.”

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After reading for a while, he came upon Xu Jing’s memorial. It was not about Helan Minzhi; the city of Chang’an was in turmoil and required urgent attention. This was a routine memorial, so it was not expedited to the Eastern Capital but followed the usual process, causing delay before reaching the palace.

Wu Zetian read the memorial, recalling what Wang Cainian had said that day. But she immediately dismissed the thought: if Xu Jing intended harm to Hong’er, it would not be a mere broken engagement. There would be many ways to make mischief—perhaps through Dangling Peak, perhaps through Xinli, or ill omens before the Great Rain-Invoking Ceremony. Moreover, Yang Min was her own niece, albeit distantly related, while the Pei family had no connection to her. Over the years, Xu Jing had been their loyal watchdog, faithful beyond any minister.

Looking at her son, he had only mistreated Xu Yanbo, not sought to kill him. Had he wished to kill, Xu Yanbo would have died mysteriously en route to Songshan. There was no reason to offend the Crown Prince.

Speaking of which, Yang Sijian and his wife had failed in their parenting. Since arranging this marriage, the Yang father and son were promoted, yet they neglected their daughter. Did they not know of Helan Minzhi’s numerous scandals? When they saw their son recovered, their attitude shifted, more mercenary than even Li Zhi’s half-brothers.

With these considerations, she was already eight-tenths convinced of Xu Jing’s memorial.

As for Li Zhi, he was fully convinced. The feud between Helan Minzhi and their son was caused by Yang family’s daughter.

Turning to Wu Zetian, he asked, “Empress, what do you think?”

“The Yang family’s fault is not great, but with the wedding imminent, the Minister of Guards and his wife allowing their daughter to appear publicly without discipline is indefensible.”

“Indeed. I have heard rumors that this girl once treated Hong’er harshly. After his recovery, her attitude changed. Yet Hong’er, enamored by her beauty, did not take it seriously. Such a woman as Crown Princess is a misfortune for Hong’er and the realm.”

They spoke as if the matter concerned the state itself.

“Your Majesty, though this is so, the Great Rain-Invoking Ceremony—should it be held or not? There is drought and strong winds. With changes in the Crown Prince’s marriage, the world may criticize.”

This public-mindedness and capability made Li Zhi more reliant on her day by day, like an opium addiction, impossible to break.

“But the Crown Prince’s marriage is imminent.”

“Then, since Minister Xu says Pei Judao’s daughter is virtuous, summon her to the palace for a meeting. Let us see for ourselves.”

“Agreed. Someone, announce the emperor’s decree.”

“Your Majesty, wait,” Wu Zetian stopped Li Zhi once more.