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.
ELEVEN
The world forgot Confucius’s maxim: “It is as scandalous for a woman to meddle with politics as for a hen to crow like a cockerel.” Men forgot their indignation at seeing a widow emerge from the gynaeceum and command an empire, and all the rumors about my sexual exploits faded. The cheers of the people still reverberated through the Forbidden City; it was these heartfelt cries of a humble people- rather than any crown or imperial cloak-which restored the confidence of a sovereign dented by betrayal and revolts among her officials. I had become an inescapable truth, and now, as I sat on my throne facing my ministers and generals, I no longer saw them all as potential traitors.
I no longer needed the blood-thirsty judges-who I myself had appointed after Xu Jing Yei’s uprising three years earlier-to quash further conspiracies. I began to understand that some of them had earned promotion by exposing imaginary plots. It was time to reestablish justice in the special judgment court I had built within the Forbidden City, behind the Gate of Magnificent Landscape. I decided to eliminate those prosecutors and magistrates who were acting on their own initiative like the princes of independent kingdoms. A secret investigation revealed that they brought charges with no more proof than a simple denunciation; and, from the moment of their arrest, all of the accused were subjected to torture during interrogations. The tortures were given names such as “the phoenix spreading its wings,” “the braced donkey,” “the immortal offering divine fruit” and “the Daughter of Jade climbing the ladder.” To ensure that no culprit was spared, these trials condemned innocent men. On the pretext of quashing rebellions, the judges had created a parallel power that was beyond my control.
Their spies were proliferating throughout the Empire, even within the walls of my palace. To strike quickly and efficiently, I chose one judge who was familiar with the network’s every secret, strength, and weakness. Lai Jun Chen, famed for his cruelty, was the Lodge of Purification’s prosecutor. A former criminal, he had been sentenced to death by beheading. When I had opened my court four years before and given audience to humble commoners, he had obliged his jailor to accompany him to the capital, where he had dared to plead his innocence before me. I had pardoned his crimes and appointed him as prosecutor to hunt down his fellow creatures. The man who owed me his life received his orders without comment. One by one, he exterminated his colleagues, patiently and methodically. I learned that, to obtain a confession from Zhou Xing-a judge reputed to be a sinister torturer-Lai Jun Chen invited him to dine with him, and during the course of the meal, he asked his advice on how to interrogate especially resistant conspirators. Zhou Xing replied, “Put them in an earthenware jar over a pile of logs, set light to it, and let them cook dry. Even the dumb speak then.” It was then that the prosecutor drew the arrest warrant from his sleeve and announced, “At the entrance to this room, there is an earthenware jar set up on a blazing fire. Her Majesty suspects you of stirring up a plot against her. I beg permission to interrogate you on this matter.”
Lai Jun Chen triumphed over his own kind.
Decapitated: Qiu Shen Ji, Great General of the Golden Scepter of the Left, who crushed rebellious armies in their blood.
Decapitated: Magistrate Suo Yuan Li, a Turk scholar with the eyes of a lynx, an eagle nose, and a Barbarian heart.
Exiled: Zhou Xing, the ill jurist who drew his strength from his fevered interrogations. He was eventually assassinated.
Decapitated: Fu Yu Yi, the councilor for the chancellery who instigated the people’s petition calling for my enthronement.
Decapitated: Justice of the Peace Wang Hong Yi.
Decapitated: Judge Ho Si Zhi, the illiterate peasant who thrived on his intuitions and his ferocious cruelty and who despised wealth and pleasure. I shall never forget our brief exchange when I smiled and asked him, “You cannot read. How can you conduct investigations?”
Quite unperturbed, he replied, “Legend confers on the sacred griffon the ability to distinguish between good and evil. It can neither read nor write, and yet it recognizes the truth.”
Decapitated: Those three years of merciless repression. Bloodshed wiped away bloodshed; crime assassinated crime.
I summoned the prosecutor Lai Jun Chen to a private audience. He prostrated himself before me and then stood a few paces from me, upright and motionless. His face was magnificently chiseled; he would have been a beautiful man if there had been a hint of color in his ashen cheeks, if his face had been animated, and if his eyes had looked on this life with any warmth.
I showed him scrolls of denunciations.
“Zhou Xing, Suo Yuan Li, Fu Yu Yi, and Wang Hong Yi are dead; you alone are alive. There are just as many accusations leveled at you: corruption, buying favors, attempts to seize power-how dare you disobey the law?”