Wǔ Zétiān

Author: Su Tong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-08-01
Features: Su Tong, a native of Suzhou in Jiangnan. In 1980, he enrolled in the Chinese Department of Beijing Normal University. It is said that he spent four unforgettable years there, yet his name was still repeatedly mentioned in this renowned institution. In 1983, he devoted himself to writing fiction and has since been unstoppable, leaving an indelible mark on contemporary Chinese literature. He enjoys "new trends" and once immersed himself in them. He also appreciates "tradition" and delves into the historical fluctuations of China. One day, A Chinese Odyssey was published, and it was later transformed into the famous The Red Chamber, directed by the acclaimed filmmaker Zhang Yimou. It even competed for the Academy Award, though the outcome was not entirely satisfactory. However, it shook the Chinese film and literary worlds significantly. The Chinese public learned about A Chinese Odyssey through The Red Chamber and became fascinated by the charming Su Tong, who, in turn, embarked on a unique literary journey inspired by A Chinese Odyssey. Wu Caiyin grasped the wooden ball tossed by Jin Wangzhi, and the mystery of this generation's curse was initially hidden within that black wooden ball. Later, when they met again in Cuiwei Palace, the topic still revolved around polo. Prince Zhi pointed at Wu Caiyin and said, "I know you. Your polo skills are unmatched by men." That day, you even caught my empty shot. Wu Caiyin blushed crimson and knelt to reply, "It is not because my servant is skilled in the game, but because Your Highness's ball dared not to leave my hands."
Imperial physicians gathered in Cuiwei Palace, and the air was filled with the strange and pungent aroma of decoctions. Meanwhile, in the Phoenix Hall of the Emperor's sleeping quarters, the fragrant aloes from Parthia concealed the foul smell emanating from the Emperor. Death was already approaching the ill Emperor on his deathbed, and the palace women standing at the foot of the steps, behind the curtains, were filled with sorrow, thinking of their own fate as discarded shoes after the Emperor's passing.
Prince Zhi stayed by the Emperor's bedside day and night, his loyalty and filial piety evident to all the palace women. Their sorrowful gazes converged on the future Emperor, watching him feed the ailing Emperor, wipe his sweat, and even use his mouth to remove phlegm from the Emperor's throat. In those critical moments, many palace women longed to win the favor of Prince Zhi, hoping to find a lifeline in him. However, Prince Zhi, overwhelmed with grief before his father's deathbed, paid no attention to the beauties in the Phoenix Hall.
No one knew that Wu Caiyin had already taken the first step. No one could imagine that Prince Zhi's tender heart and playful nature had been exhausted in the toilet with Wu Caiyin. It was like the brief but captivating bloom of the night-blooming cactus. Courtly love was merely a lock and its key. If Prince Zhi was the lock, Wu Caiyin was the key. Just like Emperor Wu of Han and Empress Wei in the past, Prince Zhi and Wu Caiyin tested their passion in the toilet, filled with musk smoke. The young and tender Prince Zhi could not resist Wu Caiyin's red lips and delicate hands. Their passionate love burned like fire, making Prince Zhi forget his father on the deathbed and the bonds of filial piety. He marveled at how easily Wu Caiyin brought him such soul-stirring pleasure.
Wu Caiyin knelt before Prince Zhi, the silk basin prepared for Prince Zhi's hand-washing lying on the ground, yet it was empty of water. From that day on, Prince Zhi could not forget the charming Wu Caiyin.
In the fifth month of the twenty-third year of the Zhenguan era, the dying Emperor Taizong summoned Changsun Wuxin and Chu Suiliang to his bedside to entrust his last will. Suddenly, the crows that had been cawing outside the palace for half a month fell silent. Later, the crows flew away, but cries of alarm came from the Fengfeng Hall as the physicians realized the Emperor had passed away.
Mei Niang held a pot of tea, the news of the Emperor's death striking her like lightning. The copper pot fell to the ground with a crash. In Cuiwei Palace, Mei Niang was a palace woman weeping uncontrollably, and soon, the wails of other palace women filled the air, completely drowning out the cries of the men at the Emperor's bedside. No one stopped the palace women from venting their grief. The entire hall was in chaos, and the palace women seized the opportunity to release all their sorrow and resentment—for every dark flower left to wither, for every unfulfilled wish, for their love or hatred for the deceased Emperor.
Through blurred eyes, Mei Niang cast her gaze toward Prince Zhi. Overwhelmed with grief, Prince Zhi nearly fainted. The physicians applied a light green potion to his forehead. Mei Niang watched as several eunuchs half-supported Prince Zhi as they led him to a side hall. Prince Zhi, pale and weak, glanced at Mei Niang with a vacant stare, which disappointed her. She realized that in this place and time, she could not expect any romantic gestures from Prince Zhi. But then she suddenly realized that their tryst in the toilet might have been just a fleeting dream, and the new Emperor might soon forget her.
The next morning, the weather alternated between overcast and clear. Prince Zhi led a magnificent cavalry of the Biao Army out of Zhongnanshan, escorting the Emperor's coffin back to Chang'an. Mei Niang and a group of palace women stood in a pavilion, watching the procession fade into the distance. The black lacquered coffin, once a prominent point, now blended into the yellow haze. Mei Niang, her face filled with sorrow, realized she would never have another chance to speak with the new Emperor or deepen their bond.
Below the mountain, there were still ten simple wooden carts, which would take the palace women from Cuiwei Palace to the Imperial City's Yecheng or to Buddhist nunnerys in Chang'an. Those who had never been favored by the Emperor would return to Yecheng, while the palace women who had once been taken to the Emperor's bed by eunuchs wept together in the pavilion, knowing they would be sent to Ganyes Temple to spend their remaining days.
Liu, one of the palace maids, suddenly lost her mind as she approached the carts. Mei Niang watched as she dropped her bundle and ran toward the valley. The officials immediately rode after her. The scene of the officials chasing the frenzied Liu through the woods left all the palace women frozen in place. Mei Niang saw how the officials easily surrounded the mad maid with their horse formation. Liu's desperate cries were heart-wrenching. "I won't go to the nunnery! Let me go home!" The officials swiftly looped a noose around Liu's neck. Liu struggled, pulling at the noose, her cries still sharp and sorrowful. "The Emperor favored me only once! I won't go to the nunnery! I want to go home!"
Mei Niang couldn't imagine how the thin Liu had torn the noose from her neck. She only saw Liu crawl under the officials' horses, then, unexpectedly, she saw Liu rush toward a stone monument like a startled deer. The blood splattered onto the stone like red bubbles, staining the somber sky of Zhongnanshan red.
If one walked out of the mountain gate of Ganyes Temple, it would take no time to reach the bustling streets of Chang'an's Zhuque Gate. The calls of fruit vendors and small merchants could not be hidden behind the black tiles and high walls. In Anye District, the people living there could hear the morning and evening bells of the nunnery every day. The nuns from the Emperor's court, accompanying the spirits of the late Emperor in their chants, lived in seclusion. However, the nuns of Ganyes Temple never stepped outside the two black gates, and the passersby outside could never witness the former beauty of the palace women.
When the bells rang to announce the ascension of the new Emperor Li Zhi, the dilapidated buildings of Ganyes Temple trembled. That day, Mei Niang happened to be undergoing her tonsure. As the first bell rang, her black hair fell to the ground, and her dry eyes suddenly opened, sparkling with a dawning realization. "Why are they ringing the bells?" she asked the old nun holding the razor behind her. "The new Emperor has ascended the throne," the old nun replied. "It is the bell for the coronation ceremony." Mei Niang said, "I want to hear the bells," and she shook off the old nun's hand, running to the courtyard with her half-shaved black hair draped over her white robe. She did not hear the old nun's furious reprimand behind her. Clutching her broken hair, she held up her long robe and ran to the courtyard, where many former palace women had already gathered, listening silently to the bells from the Imperial City with expressions.
Mei Niang looked up at the sky beyond the high walls, clear and cloudless—a auspicious day for the Emperor's ceremony. But she could not see the great bells or the new Emperor's dragon crown. When the echoes of the bells faded into the bright sunlight, Mei Niang covered her face with her hands and let out a heart-wrenching cry. Her former friends in the palace were astonished by her tears. They surrounded her, warning, "Why are you crying on this day of the ceremony? Don't you fear the abbess reporting to the palace and having you executed?" Mei Niang still sobbed, "What is death? What is life? Here, we are all mere props and maidservants. Whether dead or alive, it makes no difference."
The quiet time in the nunnery gradually eroded the beauty of the former palace women. They met daily before the prayer altar and noticed their faces aging like autumn leaves. The palace women who once enjoyed painting their eyebrows in the mirror now had no hair, their naked heads left only with the desire for food and clothing and the distant memories of the palace. The abbess took away every bronze mirror in the nunnery, but the owners of the mirrors no longer cared for them.
The nuns usually shared beds in pairs, and the moans or laughter from their meditation rooms became the only joy in their lives. Someone once tried to crawl into Mei Niang's quilt, but she kicked him away. She pushed the lustful nun out of the room and said, "I hate your games. You're not clean." The nun retorted, "You think you're clean? If you're clean, why don't you go to the Emperor's palace? After years of flirting, you're still sent to a nunnery?" In that moment, Mei Niang's anger burned. She lowered her head and charged at the nun's face. "The Emperor doesn't want me, so neither do you have the right to humiliate me," she said, slamming the nun against the doorframe. Still unsatisfied, she bit the nun hard on the shoulder. The nun's scream alerted the entire nunnery. Many nuns opened their windows to look, seeing Mei Niang's face, glowing with a cold fury, and her door latch, as if welcoming every intruder.
Wu Caiyin was about to lose her mind. The former palace women whispered among themselves, knowing Wu Caiyin, proud and self-assured, was the type to easily lose her mind. And Wu Caiyin was a prime example. From then on, no one dared to climb onto Mei Niang's meditation bed, but no one spoke to her either. The nuns of Ganyes Temple isolated Mei Niang in perfect harmony.
That same purple sandalwood ball still accompanied her. Now, the solitary game of the ball had taken on a new meaning. The white circles Mei Niang drew on the ground represented madness, death, and great fortune. There was also a white circle with the word "life," but she had erased it—it no longer held any significance as a gamble.
Mei Niang calmly shrank the circle of great fortune again and again, realizing it was almost a miracle, a dream. Each time she rolled the ball, she couldn't control her trembling. She hoped the ball would land in the smallest white circle, but it landed more often in the circles of madness and death. "I don't want to die," Mei Niang said. "Nor do I want to go mad." With a dreamlike mood, she rolled the ball, but it stopped just outside the white circle, as if mocking its owner.
Finally, Mei Niang calmed down. She wiped the ball clean with her sleeve and held it in her palm. She listened to the wind blowing past the window, the sound rustling the branches of juniper and cypress trees outside. The watchmen's sound outside the high walls brought a touch of the human world, while the Taiji Palace seemed to float to the other side of the world. Mei Niang's sorrow overwhelmed her, and she whispered to her beloved sandalwood ball, "Why don't you listen to me? I just pray the Emperor will take me back to the palace."
Yang, Mei Niang's mother, came to Ganyes Temple to visit her. According to the temple's rules, she could only pass letters and food through the movable window on the door. Mei Niang took off her gold bracelet and gave it to the nun guarding the door. The nun accepted the bracelet but still did not open the door. She made an exception, allowing Mei Niang to speak to her for a few moments.