The Secret History of Wu Zetian

Author: Dong Yunqing
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-12-01
Features: Why Was Wu Měi's Heart as Calm as Water When She Was Ordained in the Anle Temple? The magnificent palaces and pavilions in the imperial garden, the extravagant and indulgent life, consumed thirteen years of Wu Měi's youth, devouring the innocence of a young girl and countless laughter and joy, burying her dreams and ambitions to rise above the rest and achieve greatness, and then mercilessly driving her out.
In the twenty-third year of the Zhenguan era of Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty (649 AD), Wu Měi was ordered to shave her head and become a nun. For a moment, she felt overwhelmed with emotions, tears welling in her eyes but not falling.
The imperial carriage rumbled through several streets and stopped in the southwest corner of Chang'an City's Zhennü Street. There was a dilapidated small temple here, desolate at the door, as it had been neglected for many years and the walls were severely weathered, with moss and withered grass growing on the roof tiles. The dark red gate was peeling, with patches of paint falling off in scattered spots. A faded horizontal plaque hung above the door, carved with three faded large characters: "Anle Temple."
An elderly nun greeted her and led Wu Měi into the inner courtyard. A dozen nuns of various ages were meditating and chanting, adding a touch of vitality to the lifeless nunnery.
Turning through a small side door next to the main hall, they arrived in the back courtyard. The elderly nun led her into a low and damp single-story room, smiling slightly with a hint of apology: "Mèi Niang, this will be your home from now on. The temple is poor, and the accommodations are simple. You're used to fine clothes and delicacies, so you'll have to adapt gradually." Her tone was not teasing but full of sympathy and care.
A warm feeling rose in Wu Měi's cold heart. She nodded at her and gave a bitter smile: "Thank you for your kindness, Venerable Mother." Then she set down her bundle and began to tidy the small room.
The next day, the temple held a ceremony for her ordination. The presiding nun burned incense and lit candles, and the nuns chanted a passage from the scriptures with devotion. Then she asked Wu Měi, with a solemn expression: "Wu Měi, are you willing to embrace the Buddha?"
"I am willing," Wu Měi replied, but in her heart, she thought, "How can I not be willing?"
"The life of a Buddhist nun can be summarized in three words: simplicity, poverty, and hardship. If you choose to become a nun, you must accept the Ten Precepts of the Sangha. These precepts are:"
Before she could finish, Wu Měi interjected: "First, no killing; second, no greed; third, no sexual misconduct; fourth, no false speech; fifth, no intoxicants; sixth, no adornment with fine hairpins or fragrant ointments; seventh, no singing, dancing, or entertainment, nor attending such performances; eighth, no sitting on high, wide, or luxurious beds; ninth, no eating at improper times; tenth, no hoarding gold, silver, or precious treasures." She had memorized them the night before.
When she recited the Ten Precepts in one breath, pausing in the middle, the nuns were all surprised.
The abbess had been at Anle Temple for nearly forty years and had never encountered a girl so stubbornly defiant. If one is to take vows and become a nun, one should listen obediently. It seemed this was a difficult-to-control and unmanageable troublemaker. However, she genuinely admired Wu Měi's cleverness and her ability to memorize things almost instantly.
She smiled faintly and said, "Since you already know, let's proceed with the tonsure."
As the sharp razor danced over Wu Měi's head, exposing piece by piece of pale, shiny scalp, the abbess was taken aback by her reaction.
She sat quietly, motionless, with her eyes gently closed. Her pale and delicate face was serene yet indifferent, showing no trace of emotion—like a statue without even breath. Those beautiful, smooth black hairs seemed not to be hers but scraped from someone else's head. The abbess felt deeply puzzled. What was this girl thinking deep inside?
Wu Měi knew very well that she was different. She had narrowly escaped death and survived. If she kept her head, she would be executed. Today, she shaved her head, but her hair would grow back. She firmly believed that one day, she would once again have flowing black hair. But if her head was cut off, it would never grow back. For now, she had retreated into seclusion, and shaving her head was nothing compared to the bigger picture. Of course, she could remain calm and composed.
From then on, Wu Měi never spoke or laughed all day. Apart from meditating and chanting with the others, she did chores like cleaning the courtyard, burning incense, and offering prayers. In her free time, she read scriptures. Though her meals consisted only of coarse rice, simple vegetables, and thin soups, far inferior to the delicacies in the imperial palace, she grew gaunt and frail within days. However, she had mentally prepared for this hardship and could endure it.
Late at night, when the world was silent, she sat in the temple's dim light, holding a tattered, yellowed scripture, lost in thought. Only in this moment, in this secluded room where no one could see her, could she let herself weep freely, tears streaming down her face.
In the suffocatingly dull and almost maddening stillness of the night, she thought of her late father, her own past and childhood, and how she had been sent to the palace years ago. Thirteen years had passed, and she had been banished from the palace and sent to this desolate, dilapidated temple.
The cruel reality mercilessly told her that she was now just a struggling nun. Yes, she was alive, having narrowly escaped death at the hands of the old emperor just a few days ago, becoming a ghost in the depths of the palace. She had survived—how tragic. But what was the difference between living like this and dying? This was no temple—it was a human grave, a large coffin, and she was merely a walking corpse, a living tomb for the old emperor.