Chapter Sixty-Five: The Sorrow of Wu Zhao

“You need not panic,” Empress Wei said. “The imperial physician has told me that as long as the root of His Majesty’s heart sickness is removed, the illness will heal itself. But… ah.” She shook her head, her face clouded with sorrow. “I know the source of this malady, yet to remove it is beyond my strength. It is difficult, so difficult.”

Shangguan Wan’er was surprised. “Since the cause is known, is it truly beyond Your Majesty’s power to resolve it? If even you cannot, then who could possibly do so?”

Empress Wei replied, “It is not impossible. There is someone in the palace who could act in my stead, though whether that person is willing, I do not know.”

Shangguan Wan’er said, “His Majesty’s health is vital to the realm; surely no one would cherish their own life so much as to refuse?”

Empress Wei answered, “In truth, it is not terribly dangerous; it would happen naturally, but I fear that person cannot let go of their inner turmoil.”

Wan’er was even more confused. She asked, “Who does Your Majesty mean?” Empress Wei stared intently at Wan’er. “That person is you.”

“Ah!” Shangguan Wan’er gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

Empress Wei paid her no heed and continued, “When His Majesty was deposed by the Empress Dowager and sent to Fang Prefecture, we—husband and wife—thought we’d be exiled from Chang’an forever. Though life was hard, we found freedom and leisure, living as a family together—it was not so bad.

Yet the Empress Dowager refused to leave us be. Every year she sent people to Fang Prefecture to humiliate His Majesty in countless ways. His nature is timid and weak; how could he endure such intimidation? Each time he was terrified to death, and over the years, this accumulated into a knot in his heart, a shadow impossible to dispel.

It took great effort for His Majesty to regain the throne. But even after the Empress Dowager returned power, she still resided in Luoyang’s Shangyang Palace, in the Hall of Wind Observation. She may not be in the Daming Palace in Chang’an, but her influence lingers. Whenever His Majesty visits the palace and gazes toward her residence, his old illness returns. So I believe that if the Empress Dowager were to pass away, His Majesty would surely recover.”

Shangguan Wan’er trembled all over, grasping the edge of the table to keep from collapsing, her voice shaking. “What does His Majesty say?”

“His Majesty?” Empress Wei sneered. “He is blindly loyal and filial, and would never give such an order! He won’t even speak of it. But should the Empress Dowager die peacefully, then it would be Heaven’s will, and His Majesty would have no complaint. Do you not agree?”

Wan’er wept. “But… why must I carry out such a deed?”

“Because you are the only one the Empress Dowager trusts!” Empress Wei said. “As a consort, you must be loyal to His Majesty. I hear that when outlaws join a band, they must prove themselves with a deed, so the others acknowledge them—this is called ‘the pledge of loyalty.’ You must do something to show His Majesty your sincerity. If you refuse, I will send someone else, even if it causes a stir. And I will not let you spread these words. I have said my piece. Consider carefully, sister.”

With that, she ordered the carriage to return to the palace, leaving a small jade vial atop the painting of moonlit peonies.

After Empress Wei left, Wan’er could no longer stand; she collapsed to the floor, tears streaming like rain.

Though Wu Zetian had killed her grandfather, she had treated Wan’er with profound kindness over the years, dissolving old hatred. Wu Zetian regarded her as a daughter, and she returned that affection. Wan’er could not bear to harm Wu Zetian with her own hands. Yet if she defied Empress Wei, she would surely lose her life.

Even if she obeyed and killed Wu Zetian, Empress Wei might silence her afterward—but there was at least a slim chance of survival.

The next day, after a sleepless night, Shangguan Wan’er walked the road to the Hall of Wind Observation where Wu Zetian lived.

It was over seven hundred li from Chang’an to Luoyang. The Hall of Wind Observation was the northernmost palace of Shangyang, so named because no tall buildings blocked the north wind, which swept through the hall, making it cool in summer—a perfect place to escape the heat, though in spring, autumn, and winter it was bitterly cold. Wu Zetian would stay there only occasionally during midsummer, accompanied by Wan’er.

Few people visited this place. Now, having resigned power to the Li clan, Wu Zetian chose to live here for its tranquility, and to show the court and the Li family that she had truly withdrawn, with no further ambition.

Wan’er reached Shangyang Palace after ten days on horseback, though she could have arrived sooner. Arriving at midday, she used the token given by Empress Wei to enter and walked straight to the Hall of Wind Observation. From afar, she saw the peeling lacquer of the wooden palace doors and two aged soldiers guarding the entrance.

Under the noonday sun, the place seemed shrouded in dusk; Wan’er sighed, thinking how the once-mighty emperor had grown so old, how unpredictable fate could be.

As she approached, the two old soldiers—former guards of Wu Zetian—recognized Wan’er. Their dim eyes peered at her for a long time before they knelt and bowed. “Greetings, Lady Shangguan.”

Wan’er said, “Please inform the Empress Dowager that Wan’er wishes to see her.” One soldier replied, “Lady Shangguan, please wait,” and hobbled inside.

Soon, he returned. “Lady Shangguan, the Empress Dowager invites you in.” Wan’er stepped through the palace gates into the familiar courtyard, where several white-haired maids were airing clothes.

Among them, she recognized a small green silk jacket she had worn upon first entering Wu Zetian’s service. As she grew and rose in rank, she had stopped wearing it, forgetting where it had gone. She had not known Wu Zetian had kept it. Seeing it now, her tears flowed anew.

Wan’er made up her mind—Empress Wei was cruel; even if she did not act, Wei would devise another scheme, and Wu Zetian would suffer a bitter death. If the dragon must fall, let it not be toyed with by shrimps! Better to accompany Wu Zetian herself, so she would not be alone on the road to the underworld.

A familiar, aged voice called from inside, “Wan’er, is that you?” Wan’er rushed in, threw herself to the floor, and sobbed.

Wu Zetian was old—truly old now. Though it was autumn and the weather was cool but not cold, ordinary people wore only light clothing, but Wu Zetian was wrapped in a brocade quilt on her couch. Her silver hair was disheveled, her skin slack, brown spots now marring her once pale face. Her gaze no longer fierce, but tinged with the yellow of one nearing the end.

Wu Zetian reached out with trembling hands to embrace Wan’er, delighted. “My dear Wan’er, you’ve come! I’ve missed you so much. Let me see you—have they treated you well? Just days ago, I dreamed of you. In the dream, they bullied you, and I was furious, wanted to fight, but my strength failed me and I cried myself awake!”

She laughed, and Wan’er nestled beside her, letting Wu Zetian cradle her as if she were a child, gently rocking her.

When Wan’er first served Wu Zetian, she was only eleven or twelve. Sometimes, late at night, she would fall asleep while accompanying Wu Zetian as she reviewed memorials. Wu Zetian never grew angry, but would hold her in her arms, gently patting her, staring at the candlelight in silence. No one knew what she thought then—perhaps of the daughter she herself had suffocated.

Wu Zetian gently patted Wan’er’s back, murmuring, “I think of you, day and night. Even when I go to bed, I think sleep will stop it, but it only makes it worse—I cannot sleep. When my legs were better, I’d have someone help me climb the rockery and gaze toward Chang’an. Sometimes, I’d see lights on the road and say, ‘That must be Wan’er’s Phoenix Tower lamp.’ Then I’d wonder: What is Wan’er doing? Is she still awake? Painting or practicing martial arts? You always practiced in secret at night; if anyone tried to watch, you’d jump into bed and pretend to sleep, thinking I didn’t know!

Ah, you were so mischievous and adorable. In summer, you feared mosquito bites—others would get a small bump and be fine, but you’d have big swollen welts, itchy for days. That old imperial physician made you a special remedy, and it worked wonders. I was thinking recently, have you finished it? He died years ago, but I kept the recipe. I wanted to send it to you, but feared causing trouble, so I didn’t dare. It’s still under my pillow—don’t forget to take it when you leave.

I always wanted to visit you, but didn’t dare—some fear this old woman. If I went out, Chang’an would be abuzz with rumors. Now my legs have failed; I cannot go. But I miss you so terribly. I devised a way: I gathered all your childhood clothes and laid them on my bed. When I missed you, I’d hug them, sometimes falling asleep in their embrace. Such sweet sleep.”

Wan’er’s shoulders shook with sobs as she lay in Wu Zetian’s arms. “Empress Dowager, I have been unfilial, forgive me. I knew you missed me, but I dared not come.”

Wu Zetian gazed at her with loving eyes. “Wan’er, you did right—not to come.” Then her expression grew worried. “Wan’er, did you come here secretly? Did anyone see you?”

Wan’er pulled away, knelt, and said, “I came at Empress Wei’s bidding.”

“Oh,” Wu Zetian mused, “Xian’er is guileless, but that Wei woman—you must beware. When Xian’er was deposed, it was because Wei sought chaos, and I had no choice. But Xian’er remained loyal to her… ah, I was helpless.”

Suddenly, Wu Zetian’s eyes flashed with a fierce light—the same that once made the court tremble.

She fixed her gaze on Wan’er. “Wan’er, you are hiding something from me!”

Wan’er dared not meet her eyes, quickly looking away with a forced smile. “I only missed you, Empress Dowager. Seeing you, all I can do is cry—I have nothing to hide.”

“Wan’er, I want some ginseng soup. Go bring it to me.” Wu Zetian seemed tired, leaning back against the bedding, her eyes half-closed, a sheen of tears in her lashes.

Wan’er nodded and went to the side chamber. The soup was already simmering on the clay stove. She poured it into two bowls, then took out the jade vial from Empress Wei, dividing its contents between them. The powder was colorless, tasteless, dissolving instantly—no one would ever notice.

Wan’er carried the tray with two bowls back to Wu Zetian’s chamber. She had resolved to share Wu Zetian’s fate.

Wu Zetian saw the two bowls and smiled, “Wan’er always used to complain the ginseng soup tasted awful. Are you finally drinking it too?”

Wan’er forced a smile. “You always scolded me for neglecting my health; today I wish to drink with you.”

Wu Zetian looked at the soup and spoke slowly, “Years ago, when you first came to me, I asked you to bring me ginseng soup. You put poison in it. But just as I was about to drink, you struck the bowl from my hand and confessed the soup was poisoned. Do you remember what I said to you then?”

Wan’er trembled. “Your Majesty did not scold me, but had me fetch another bowl. I will never forget.”

Wu Zetian smiled at Wan’er for a long while, then raised her bowl and drank it in one draught. Seeing this, Wan’er felt as if her heart were torn apart, quickly lifting her own bowl—but Wu Zetian struck it from her hand.

“Empress Dowager?” Wan’er exclaimed.

Wu Zetian laughed, “You struck my bowl years ago; now I strike yours. We are even.”

Wan’er fell to the floor, sobbing. “Empress Dowager, the soup truly is poisoned!”

Wu Zetian smiled, “I know. Wan’er, you are like your grandfather—incapable of lying or harming others in secret. When you said Wei sent you, I knew she forced you to bring poison.”

Wan’er wept, “If you knew, why did you drink it?”

“Wei has determined to kill me; whether I drink or not, the result is the same.” Wu Zetian gave a bitter smile, then her face hardened. “I, Wu, have been a hero all my life. Even facing death, I will not let that wretch despise me. She hates me, yet imitates me in everything. Hmph, a dog cannot imitate the tiger’s might! I will show her she will never match Wu.”

Wan’er cried, “Why not let me die with you?”

Wu Zetian sighed, “You are clever and resourceful, but lack a steely heart. When decisive action is needed, you hesitate. For one at the center of power, this is no blessing. When I abdicated, I ordered Zhang Qian to have you marry the new emperor, fearing you would be harmed after I left, so I had to resort to this. I resisted my longing and did not see you, so you could live well. How could I let you die? If someone else forced you, I’d fear they’d kill you after, but since it’s Wei, she won’t—she still needs you to win over Wu Sansi. Once this is done, she’ll treat you well.”

Wan’er blushed deeply. Years ago, Wu Sansi, Wu Zetian’s nephew and confidant, often stayed at the palace. Wan’er, then young and impressionable, admired his handsome and heroic bearing, and soon the two became secretly involved. Wan’er thought no one knew, but Wu Zetian had known all along, though she never spoke of it.

Thinking of Wu Zetian’s deep affection, and how she herself had put poison in the soup, Wan’er was overcome with grief and wept again.

Wu Zetian smiled, “Even if you hadn’t come, my time was nearly up—only a few days difference. Now, you can achieve peace and wealth for a lifetime. Isn’t that good? Don’t feel guilty. But Xian’er is weak, Wei domineering, Zhang Qian ambitious, and even my daughter Princess Taiping will not submit to palace life. Sooner or later, Chang’an will be thrown into chaos, but I won’t see it. If you have the chance, escape early, leave the royal family, find a kind man and live out your days. If you cannot escape, remember what I once said: ‘To achieve great things, even kin may be sacrificed.’”

A sharp pain seized Wu Zetian’s heart. She reached for Wan’er with all her strength. “Wan’er, let me hold you once more…”

Wan’er threw herself into Wu Zetian’s arms, pressing her mouth tightly to stifle her sobs, her tears pouring like a river unleashed. In her embrace, Wu Zetian, with a faint smile, passed peacefully from this world, her soul departed.