"Beg for absolution of sins! Heh."
Pang Tong shook his head.
"So Wu Zhao is at least clear about what she's done."
To him, everything before their eyes looked like a farce nearing its finale. Yet at the moment it was about to return to the proper path, instead of promoting capable men to govern the realm and apologizing to the people, she was already busy preparing gifts for the officials of the underworld, worrying about how to smooth her path after death.
What he saw was not a sovereign who could command myriad lands and rule countless states, but an elderly woman, frail and terrified of dying.
At this moment, Zhang Fei weakly raised his hand. Catching sight of his elder brother's glance, he chose his words with unusual caution.
"Uh… I don't really know what these 'Three Officials and Nine Offices' are… but isn't this old lady supposed to worship Buddhism?"
That reminder caused everyone to suddenly realize the inconsistency.
You were the one who claimed to be the reincarnation of Maitreya when you ascended the throne.
So why, when seeking absolution for your sins, did you abandon Buddhist rites entirely?
For a moment, the crowd did not know whether to laugh or cry.
Jian Yong, who had traveled far and wide and seen much of the world, found nothing strange and commented casually,
"Her behavior is no different from that of common folk. She worships every god in sight, hoping that at least one might respond."
Zhuge Liang, who had long since grown impatient with such matters, shook his head.
"If she had worked diligently at governing earlier, her reputation might not have been inferior to that of Empress He of Han."
Pang Tong and Liu Bei nodded in agreement.
The previous year, after hearing the light screen speak of scientific figures such as Zhang Heng and Cai Lun, the group had chatted in their spare time and inevitably brought up Emperor He's empress.
Empress He, Deng Sui, granddaughter of Deng Yu, first among the Twenty-Eight Generals of the Yuntai, had governed for sixteen years—remarkably similar in length to Wu Zhao's rule.
The difference was that she never changed the dynastic name. She ruled in person under the title of "Female Sovereign" and left behind a solid legacy.
She pacified the Qiang internally, campaigned against the Wuhuan, Xianbei, and Southern Xiongnu externally.
Above, she promoted Cai Lun's papermaking and ordered Zhang Heng to reform astronomy. Below, she stabilized the realm and provided disaster relief.
And most importantly, Empress He truly restored the Western Regions to Han control—unlike the repeated gains and losses under the so-called "Two Saints" of Tang.
Contemporaries praised her for having the ability to "revive fallen states" and the merit to "continue broken lineages."
In terms of ambition and ruthlessness, Empress He could not compare to this old woman.
In terms of achievements, any single item from Empress He's record surpassed Wu Zhao's by a hundredfold.
Fa Zheng raised his head and rebutted firmly,
"Empress He was worthy of Emperor He above and did not betray the state and the people below. She did not treat a great empire as a child's toy, and she steadied the realm when it stood upon eggs."
"How could someone like this even be mentioned in the same breath?"
His words drew nods of approval from many. Even Lu Su, speaking from a fair-minded perspective, added,
"If I had to choose, even though Empress He's regency was plagued by natural disasters, everyone at the time worked together to restore Han prosperity. That was far better than watching this Wu Zhou old woman indulge in extravagance, use cruel officials to control the court, and constantly fear being dragged into the struggle between the Li and Wu clans. Under such conditions, accomplishing anything would be nearly impossible."
Lu Su's sigh resonated with the group. At least judging from the present scene, living under Wu Zhou offered no guarantee even of one's life, let alone the ability to act.
Within the Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin stepped forward and examined the golden tablet projected upon the light screen. Every detail was crystal clear, every character legible.
In the end, he shook his head and sighed.
"A fine object. A pity it's a dead thing."
Judging from its discovery in later ages, there clearly were no such entities as the Three Officials and Nine Offices.
Perhaps, Li Shimin thought with a trace of malice, it was simply that the immortals did not wish to absolve the sins of this "sovereign."
What Wu Zetian wished to be absolved of might be disputed by many, but one thing was certain—the fault did not lie with any celestial bureaucracy.
"To beg heaven for absolution with a golden tablet—how is that better than Emperor Wu of Han issuing a proclamation to the realm?"
With that comment, Li Shimin returned to his couch and sat down, having lost all interest.
Yet a curious thought soon arose.
"If even this can become a museum treasure, then what might I leave behind for later generations to treasure?"
"Gold does not decay… should I also leave a golden tablet in my tomb?"
"But what should I write on it?"
[Lightscreen]
[From a theoretical standpoint, it should have been nearly impossible for the Wu and Li clans, bound by deep blood feuds, to reconcile.
Also from a theoretical standpoint, if both sides faced a common and overwhelmingly powerful enemy, then old grudges would cease to matter.
So who was their common enemy?
Naturally, it was not Wu Zetian—scratch that—but the Zhang brothers, masters of song, dance, and silver tongues.
After returning from Mount Song in 701, the old lady's age showed more clearly by the day. Her handling of state affairs grew increasingly sluggish, and so, quite naturally, she entrusted daily governance to the Zhang brothers.
Perhaps due to the large-scale intermarriage between the clans, the Wu family adjusted its expectations.
If they could not be the rightful rulers of Wu Zhou, then being imperial relatives of Li Tang was not so bad either.
According to the Old Book of Tang, that year Li Xian's legitimate son Li Chongrun, his sixth daughter Princess Yongtai, and her husband Wu Yanji all stepped forward to criticize the Zhang brothers' monopoly of power.
From a logical standpoint, the argument was sound. The old lady was advanced in years, and the heir had already been established. Even if authority were to be transferred, it should have gone to the heir—what business did the Zhang brothers have ruling the court?
Wu Zetian's response was thunderous. Li Chongrun and Wu Yanji were beaten to death—at least, that is how the Old Book of Tang records it.
→
In reality, the case is far more complicated, and whether the Li and Wu clans had truly reconciled was secondary.
Princess Yongtai's tomb was discovered in 1960. Archaeological findings and her epitaph suggest significant discrepancies with the Old Book of Tang.
First, Wu Yanji's cause of death in the epitaph is recorded as "loss of heroic blade," meaning suicide or death by sword—not execution by beating.
Second, examination of Princess Yongtai's coffin indicates that her cause of death was dystocia, death in childbirth, not execution.
As an aside, in ancient times, early marriage made difficult childbirth extremely common, from royalty down to commoners. Many women lost their lives this way.
While traditional Chinese medicine did develop gynecology over the centuries, obstetrics progressed very slowly. By contrast, post-Renaissance Europe began using forceps in the sixteenth century, with widespread adoption by the eighteenth.
Looking back, the principle behind forceps is not especially complex. Had ancient societies trained female physicians or abandoned taboos to allow doctors fuller involvement in childbirth, similar progress might have been possible.
Returning to Li Chongrun's true cause of death.
The Zizhi Tongjian later records Empress Wei saying, "Chongrun's death was caused by Chongfu."
While the Zizhi Tongjian should not be trusted uncritically, Li Xian never refuted this claim. Moreover, after the Shenlong Coup, Empress Wei immediately exiled Li Chongfu and never recalled him. This lends the statement some credibility.
Li Chongfu's identity was unique. He was two years older than Li Chongrun and the eldest son by a concubine. Empress Wei bore only one son and four daughters, meaning Li Chongrun was the sole legitimate son. If Li Chongrun died, then by the principle of "legitimate before eldest," Li Chongfu would be extraordinarily close to the throne.
Reconstructing the relationships and combining them with the Old Book of Tang, a plausible reconstruction emerges: Princess Yongtai, pregnant, visited her brother, accompanied by Wu Yanji. Complaints about the Zhang brothers were voiced during the visit, overheard by Li Chongfu, who informed Zhang Yizhi. Wu Zetian then ordered Wu Yanji and Li Chongrun put to death.
Did Li Chongfu have motive? Absolutely. His wife was Zhang Yizhi's niece. The Zhang brothers were his patrons.
Another seemingly minor record in the Old Book of Tang, when combined with timing, is equally revealing.
In August 701, the scholar Su Anheng petitioned Wu Zetian to return authority to the crown prince and dismiss Wu-clan princes. The old lady responded by providing food and dismissing him gently.
In September of the same year, Li Chongrun was put to death.
In May 702, Su Anheng petitioned again. This time, the response was outright rejection.
The shift in attitude is unmistakable.
The stance toward the Li heir changed from "welcoming" to "guarding against." And that shift directly paved the way for Wu Zhou's ultimate end: the Shenlong Coup.]
"Struggles over succession…"
Even Zhangsun Wuji did not find it unexpected.
To those who had witnessed power struggles firsthand, the idea of a female emperor executing heirs on a whim was possible—but less convincing than a familiar scenario: legitimate and illegitimate sons fighting for succession, outside forces colluding with eunuchs and in-laws, and imperial intervention sealing the outcome.
After all, that was the Tang throne.
Placed in that position, with the Wu clan constantly pressing for a crown prince and Li Xian's branch living under constant pressure, it was hardly surprising. Suddenly elevated to royalty, with only a single legitimate son standing between oneself and the throne…
Zhangsun Wuji licked his lips, forcibly setting aside the thought, and instead considered the matter as a responsible Tang minister: could institutions and laws prevent such succession struggles?
Empress Zhangsun first felt sympathy for the princess who died in childbirth.
Her brother and husband both perished, she herself died giving birth, and only through modern excavation could later generations piece together a story that made sense. A tragic descendant indeed.
Then her eyes widened. Though she did not understand what obstetrical forceps were, she grasped their purpose almost instantly and urged,
"Minister Yan, be sure to draw this carefully."
Yan Liben nodded. It was only natural.
Sun Simiao, however, understood their value at a glance. He marveled at their simplicity and immediately began thinking further.
If tools could assist childbirth, might they also be adapted to remove stillbirths? Could they help livestock in difficult births as well?
After all, he had practiced medicine in villages. To common folk, cattle and sheep were treasures. When illness struck, they did not care whether he treated people or animals—they only knelt and begged. And he had a soft heart.
As for female physicians… Sun Simiao shook his head. That would be harder. But perhaps speaking with His Majesty might open possibilities.
Because of this, even more ideas emerged. Clearly, later medicine relied heavily on external tools.
Perhaps he should invite His Majesty to the Imperial Medical Office and ask the Directorate of Works to craft instruments to aid physicians?