Chapter Fifty: The Return of the Boundless Sky (Part One)

In the first year of Yongchang, in the ninth lunar month, the imperial court issued an edict to accept Langqiong’s submission and allegiance. The King of Langqiong, Pang Shixi, was overjoyed upon hearing the decree and personally led a grand diplomatic mission to the capital to offer tribute. Empress Wu ordered the Ministry of Rites to coordinate with the Grand Herald’s Office for the reception, to treat the delegation with utmost courtesy, and to escort them to Chang'an. Together, they journeyed to the Eastern Capital of Luoyang, where a grand audience was to be held in the Temple of Myriad Phenomena.

To display the majesty of the Celestial Empire, the court ordered the Thousand Cavalry of the North Garrison stationed in Luoyang and the Thousand Ox Guard of the Eastern Capital to ready their troops and greet the procession at the ancient Hangu Pass in Xin'an County.

Quan Ce and Zheng Zhong received their orders and jointly wrote back to the Grand Herald's Office, inquiring about the precise time the imperial procession would arrive. The Grand Herald, Li Sansheng, scoffed, mocking Quan Ce’s penchant for unnecessary precision. He instructed his subordinates to make a rough estimate of the arrival time, replied perfunctorily, and promptly put the matter out of mind.

On the day after the full moon in September, the official roads between the two capitals saw the empress’s resplendent carriage and the emperor’s stately procession rolling forward. The honor guard, clad in ceremonial attire, stretched for miles. The King of Langqiong, Pang Shixi, rode just behind Emperor Ruizong, seated in a golden, four-horse carriage fitted with purple reins, befitting a royal prince. Hundreds of officials followed, all the military officers on horseback, and most of the civil officials as well, with only the elderly riding in light green sedan chairs for comfort.

According to the rotational duties of the Sixteen Guards, the safety of the procession was entrusted to Qu Chongyu, Grand General of the Left Gate Guard. He was the tallest among his ranks, commanding more than five thousand elite soldiers, who advanced with utmost caution, fearful of the slightest mishap. Fortunately, their journey was smooth, and the borders of Xin'an County, and thus Luoyang, came into view. Qu Chongyu breathed a great sigh of relief—once within Luoyang's domain, the burden of protecting the royal entourage would no longer be his alone.

When they reached the Hangu Pass Road, however, there was no sign of the Thousand Cavalry of the North Garrison nor the Thousand Ox Guard of the Eastern Capital. The leading officer, shocked and dismayed, hurried back to report the situation. Wu Sansi, Minister of Rites, broke out in a cold sweat, seized Li Sansheng by the collar, and stammered in anger, “Where are the Thousand Ox and Thousand Cavalry?”

Li Sansheng never expected Quan Ce and Zheng Zhong to be so exacting—even at an event of such magnitude, they dared to time things to the minute. He was at a loss, and turned stiffly to his subordinate, “What time was set?”

“Sir, the appointed time was the beginning of the Hour of the Sheep. There are still two quarters of an hour left,” the subordinate replied with difficulty. In ordinary times, such precision would be commended, but at this moment, it was a disaster. Was anyone to let the Empress and the Emperor wait by the roadside for two quarters of an hour?

Wu Sansi gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. His eyes flashed with severity, but then he turned his horse and composed his expression, riding straight to the empress’s carriage. “Your nephew Wu Sansi has a matter to report.”

“Minister Wu, approach,” said Shangguan Wan’er, who was accompanying the empress, after quietly consulting with her and then announcing the order.

Wu Sansi hurried forward and, upon reaching the carriage, nodded and smiled to Shangguan Wan’er, then prostrated himself before the empress. “Your Majesty, your nephew was charged with overseeing the arrangements for this journey. In my trepidation, I visited Xing Shan Temple to draw a divination lot. The high monk interpreted it as an omen of felicity: at the beginning of the Hour of the Sheep, when yang energy is at its peak, entering the Eastern Capital would bring Your Majesty the greatest fortune. I relayed this to General Quan Ce, who is utterly loyal and thus insisted on arriving at precisely that time…”

The empress lowered her eyelids, glanced at him, and let out a barely audible hum. “The Ministry of Rites and the Grand Herald’s Office are to issue my command at once: I wish the King of Langqiong to witness our forces. All preparations must be made, and the review shall commence precisely at the appointed time. Any lapse will result in severe punishment.”

Wu Sansi’s back quivered, and he bowed repeatedly. “Your nephew receives the order, your nephew obeys.”

The imperial procession stopped abruptly at the roadside of Hangu Pass. The gilded carriages, their horses unhitched, became towering platforms. Peacock-feather fans and golden canopies were raised. Empress Wu sat in the center, Emperor Ruizong to her left, and the King of Langqiong to her right. The leading honor guards fell back to either side like grass before the wind, and the civil and military officials lined up in orderly rows at both flanks, leaving the entire ancient road clear for the three sovereigns.

Emperor Ruizong, ever dutiful, attended to his mother, following every instruction without a word or hint of emotion. Yet, after the matter of the Prince of Luling’s return, the effectiveness of his mask had waned; the Wu family’s watchfulness over him had only intensified. Pang Shixi, short, stout, and dark, bedecked in gold and radiating the air of a parvenu, knew little of the Celestial Empire’s rituals. By instinct, he believed the more elaborate the ceremony, the greater its significance, and he knelt solemnly to thank Empress Wu.

“I possess the wealth of the four seas, but that is not worth boasting of; the true treasure is the hearts of the people, each inch hard-won. Though you rule but a corner of the land, you are still its sovereign and must always remember awe and reverence, to govern the people well,” Empress Wu intoned from on high, her voice like bronze and stone, pressing down from all sides. “China is a land of both courtesy and law. Do not provoke my armies and bring disaster upon yourself.”

“I would not dare,” Pang Shixi replied, kowtowing again, his head bowed low, not daring to look up.

“Rise,” Empress Wu said, flicking her wide sleeve and glancing at the nearby copper water clock, her face inscrutable.

She spoke no further, and a heavy silence fell. The matter of the appointed hour was now widely known, and the officials’ faces showed a mix of expressions.

Shangguan Wan’er’s palms were damp with sweat, her heart pounding, anxious yet exhilarated. Since she had met Quan Ce, he had often walked the razor’s edge, every step fraught with danger, making her both fearful and drawn in equal measure.

“Thump, thump—thump, thump, thump.”

It was not the sound of drums, but of marching feet.

In the distance, dust billowed. A company of several hundred men appeared, moving in perfect unison. Their left hands hung at their sides, each gripping a long-handled sword, blades gleaming coldly; their right hands rested on their waists, each with a short saber, with the curve of a bow peeking from their backs. Their steps rose and fell as one, shaking the earth beneath them.

Drawing closer, their appearance became clear: they wore green-lined official uniforms, with white fighting bulls embroidered at the shoulders, and over this, light deerskin armor.

There were no banners, no signal guns, no drums to rally them—just a silent march. Their eyes looked straight ahead, indifferent to the mountains or valleys beneath their feet. There was nothing outwardly extraordinary, yet their presence crashed forward like a tidal wave.

The horses near the imperial carriages grew restless, neighing anxiously; several lost control, throwing their imperial guards to the ground and bolting to the rear, while the horses of Langqiong’s retinue fared even worse, their formation thrown into chaos.

Emperor Ruizong stared in amazement at this both unfamiliar and familiar unit. At two hundred paces, one hundred—the march did not slow. The officials below the platform grew restless. Qu Chongyu urgently dispatched troops to guard both flanks.

Fifty paces. Twenty paces…

Even Empress Wu, seated so high, could now see the Thousand Ox Guard’s impassive faces as they advanced.

“Halt!” came a thunderous command. The seemingly unstoppable force froze in an instant, standing at attention, ranks perfectly aligned, as if they had never moved.

“What mighty soldiers! I, your humble king…” Pang Shixi licked his lips, intending to offer some words of praise, but before he could finish, a new commotion arose in the distance.

This time, it was truly the thunder of horse and army. Across the vast plain, dust rose in a storm, hooves battered the earth like thunderclaps. The Thousand Cavalry, armored and helmeted, surged forward like a great wave, reined in at once as the solemn horns sounded.

A hot wind swept by. The eunuch at Emperor Ruizong’s side offered him a cotton handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face. No one found this laughable; many officials below were similarly mopping their brows with their sleeves. The corpulent Pang Shixi collapsed into his chair, his face pale.

Empress Wu relaxed her grip on the carriage, watching as two young generals approached at a gallop. Her red lips moved slightly.

Quan Ce and Zheng Zhong rode one after the other, their steeds soaring forward—Quan Ce’s famous horse, with its green mane and red markings, was a vivid splash of color. They arrived at the Thousand Cavalry’s station, where Quan Ce reined in his steed, which reared up with an exuberant whinny.

The great hooves landed; a glance at the water clock showed it was precisely the beginning of the Hour of the Sheep, not a breath late.

“Your subjects, Quan Ce and Zheng Zhong, pay homage to the Empress, to the Emperor,” they declared, approaching the imperial carriage and bowing in full ceremony.

Empress Wu cast a glance at Pang Shixi's wretched appearance, a hint of amusement flickering at the corner of her mouth. In a deep voice, she commanded, “Step forward.”

She did not specify whom, but all knew. Quan Ce rose and took a few steps forward, his armor clattering.

“Remove the water clock. You will ascend the carriage and serve as attendant,” Empress Wu ordered, then turned to Wu Sansi. “Sansi, you will lead Quan Ce’s horse back to the Eastern Capital.”

Quan Ce awkwardly perched on the edge of the imperial carriage, looking somewhat embarrassed as he glanced at Wu Sansi.

Wu Sansi, however, was magnanimous, his smile warm as spring. “Your nephew obeys. General Quan, you need not worry.”

The imperial carriage resumed its journey. The Grand Herald, Li Sansheng, bustled around to tend to Pang Shixi. “Your Highness, you have been startled. Quickly, fetch a bowl of calming tonic!”

Suddenly, a chill ran down his neck. He turned to see Wu Sansi’s radiant, dazzling smile.