I bid good-bye to the autumn as it left forever, then winter held me in its grip. Snow fell from the sky. I remembered the same time the previous year, watching Simplicity and Prosperity throwing snowballs at my court ladies. Their laughter and shouts still echoed but their silhouettes had already blended into the withered trees. Simplicity and Prosperity were gone. I did not know what had happened to my women. The silent falling of those white flowers had strung a net between the earth and the sky, where the living frolicked and played.
In the first year of the Era of the Divine Dragon, on the night of the twenty-fifth day of the eleventh moon, the snow stopped. Prosperity appeared beside my bed. He prostrated himself and then played his bamboo flute. Pearls of crystal streamed around me. The moon turned into a silvery river carrying me off in its glittering currents. I saw jade palaces in the skies, misty plains, and fields of light!
The following morning I asked for my topknot and makeup to be done as soon as the sun was up. Wearing my most beautiful jewels and dressed in a flame-colored tunic over a dazzling white gown, I dictated the epitaph that should be engraved on my funeral stela to be erected beside my husband’s.
I would reveal the beauty of the Zhou dynasty to any man who stopped before my tomb. He would learn of its prosperous towns, swift horses, deep forests, and magical rivers. He would admire the way the arts flourished and would praise the glory of its poetry. I described my pride in adoring the gods, venerating the ancestors, subduing men’s struggles, sanctifying Heaven, and reigning in the Temple of Clarity. I drew a portrait of myself as a humble sovereign, bowing to the will of one true God, the source of all divinities. The end would be the beginning; the ephemeral would become the infinite. My trials over, I would return to the skies.
At dawn the next day, the silence in my bedchamber was broken by the sound of horns and drums. Other sounds-horses whinnying and men shouting-were carried to me on the wind: Future and his Court were beating through the imperial forest.
Banners cracked in the wind. Leopards and hunting dogs ran ahead of the horses as stags fled through the undergrowth. Branches drew closer, whipping the intruders’ faces, then parted. Snow heaped on the tops of trees collapsed and fell in a fine powder. Breathing more labored. Heart beating, fit to burst. Suddenly, there was a lake, a block of ice, a mirror on eternity.
In a single leap, my soul broke away from my body and launched itself into the sky.
THE SERVING WOMEN beat their breasts and wept, and a posse of soldiers galloped off to inform the sovereign. Bronze bells were sounded, and prayers went up from every monastery. Stunned and saddened, weaving women abandoned their looms, merchants their ledgers, and peasants their toils. The people tore their clothes, untied their topknots, and wailed lamentations. Music, laughter, and bright colors vanished from Chinese soil overnight. Horses were stripped of their ornate saddles; men wrapped themselves in hemp tunics held with belts of woven straw. Galley warships raised white sails, and mourning flags flew over every rampart.
The Court altered my will. In keeping with “my last wish,” the sovereign withdrew the title of emperor and gave me the posthumous title of August Empress of Celestial Law. After lengthy debate, Zhang Jian Zhi and his adherents gave in to officials determined to respect my wish to return to Long Peace and be interred with my husband.
The Palace undertook the twenty-seven funeral ceremonies: calling upon my soul, bathing, clothing, making offerings, the invocation, and laying me in my coffin. Meanwhile, officers from the Department of Funerals went to Mount Liang and carried out ritual libations to appease my husband’s spirit before opening up the passage to his burial chamber. The frescoes were repainted, false chambers and the true burial chamber were redecorated, and tri-colored ceramic sculptures representing animals, slaves, and houses embellished the underground corridors.
The work was finished by the time spring came round again. The imperial soothsayers chose the day of the fifth full moon for my departure: my coffin, an interlocking set of four sarcophaguses in lacquered wood, silver, gold, and jade, and hundreds of vases, pots, and jugs filled with ice were all arranged on a carriage drawn by one thousand soldiers. With no jewelry, makeup, or fine brocade, wearing simple white linen, the sovereign, kings, princesses, and dignitaries climbed into their carriages and followed my body as it made its slow progress with majestic dignity.
The road was covered in yellow sand, and it snaked across the Central Plain. The sun rose. The moon set. People came from the four corners of the Empire to lay funeral offerings made of paper and gold leaf: palaces, horses, servants, money, all the way to Long Peace. In the evening, after I had passed, they set light to these gifts, turning them into thousands of pillars of smoke reaching for the stars.
Mount Liang, my tomb, loomed up on the horizon. Two hillocks had been built at the mouth of the tomb with two archers’ towers to drive away demons. The gates of the Sacred City opened to reveal its palaces, temples, and pagodas. The stone statues of horses, griffons, ministers, and lions passed beside me as my hearse rumbled up the Imperial Way. Two huge stelas stood out against the sky. One had shimmering inscriptions filled with powdered gold: my eulogy for my husband’s reign. The other was smooth as a mirror, waiting for my words intended for men of the future.
The sun withdrew from the horizon. The sky shrank and then vanished. There in the mouth of the mountain, the wind from the shades flattened the torch flames. In the frescoes along the walls, the great imperial parade marched toward the light, and I descended into eternal darkness.
The torches lit up a huge chamber in which trunks containing my clothes, jewels, paintings, and calligraphy had already been arranged. The workmen had respected my will and had added portraits of Scribe of Loyalty, Simplicity, and Prosperity-disguised as eunuchs-to the frescoes on the walls. On the ceilings my animals and serving women were already enjoying the carefree life of the other world.
The coffin was put onto a white marble catafalque up on an alabaster stage decorated with scenes of rejoicing.
The officiators recited the final prayers, then withdrew.
A deafening roar made the whole mountain tremble.
The door of rock closed.
The Gates of Heaven opened.
FOURTEEN
They venerated me as the wife and mother of Tang Dynasty sovereigns. Future destroyed the epitaph I had prepared for my stela and decided to replace it with a commemorative text dedicated to an empress and not an emperor. Ministers and princes argued over every turn of phrase. The different stages of my life were disturbing for these men who had to deny me and cover me with praise at the same time. Spring left and came again. The Court dignitaries could not agree on terms to describe my reign, so my stela remained a virgin surface, smooth of any inscription. It was forgotten.
Future could not identify his allies from his enemies within the Palace. In the gynaeceum, Empress Wei wanted to follow in my footsteps, with Gentleness to back her. She had her brother and cousin appointed to the government and took to sitting to the left of the Emperor during the morning audience. She sided with Spirit against Great Chancellor Zhang Jian Zhi and exiled the septuagenarian minister.