Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Strategy for Yan Yi (Part One)

The fifteenth day of the twelfth month, the full moon, and a grand audience in the Hall of Purple Splendor.

The morning court was scheduled at the hour of the dragon, but as the hour of the snake passed, it had yet to begin.

“Minister Quan, much obliged, much obliged,” for the third time the imperial censor approached Quan Ce.

Quan Ce smiled understandingly, leaving his seat and withdrawing a row back, finding another couch to wait. Looking to either side, nearly all the mid-ranking officials of the fourth and fifth grades were shifting their seats, resembling a swarm of silkworm pupae wriggling about.

“Cough, cough.” “Cough, cough.”

The coughing echoed as several elderly, silver-haired men entered the grand hall, each garbed in purple robes, with golden fish pouches hanging at their waists. Among them were the chief ministers of the court, some aged retirees, and many nobles of the Li family who held no official positions, floating on the periphery of the court. His uncle, Wang Xu, was among them, but with his fifth-grade title of Imperial Son-in-law, he could not compel Quan Ce to rise. The sixth and seventh-grade scholars and officials had already been relegated to the plaza outside the hall.

Beside Quan Ce sat Li Qiao, the Deputy Supervisor of the Lin Terrace. The Lin Terrace belonged to the central administration, and the Office of Grand Ceremonies was its subordinate; both men held equal rank, but Li Qiao’s position was above his own. “Brother, you’re well-informed—what could be the meaning of today’s grand gathering?”

“Patience, brother. I am now buried in the Office of Grand Ceremonies, my ears and eyes closed, not as well-connected as you who roam the palace,” Quan Ce replied with a bitter smile, utterly unaware. Ever since he had pushed for literary reform in the Office of Grand Ceremonies, he had made enemies among the higher officials, yet also gained like-minded friends. The Four Friends of Letters were closest to him; Su Weidao, as Prime Minister, maintained a certain reserve, offering only occasional guidance, while Li Qiao and Du Shenyan were close confidants, much like Cui Rong.

“In the Secretariat—cough, cough—and in the Lin Terrace, there’s been no news. It must come from outside the palace,” Li Qiao let slip. Since Empress Wu had taken control, she had pursued reform under the banner of innovation, repeatedly changing the names of government offices and military units, causing much confusion and grumbling among officials.

Quan Ce furrowed his brow, glancing at Wu Chengsi, who sat upright at the front of the hall. In history, this man had mastered the art of mass mobilization, often rallying thousands to petition at the palace gates. Both in the Empress’s ascension and the struggle for the crown prince, these tactics had been frequently used. Did it mean a performance would be staged today? This did not match his memory; the Empress was to ascend the throne the following September, and the struggle over the heir was still far off. There must be some key he had overlooked. Quan Ce tensed.

“Roar…” “Moo…”

The clear, resonant roar of lions and the cry of elephants sounded. All ministers fell silent. The use of lions and tigers to lead the procession was a ceremonial privilege reserved for the imperial entourage. Five imperial carriages led the way; cavalry and infantry formed nine rows across and nine deep, accompanying the procession. The main carriage was a perfect square with golden roof and wheels; the rear boasted drums and splendid ceremonial attire, playing harmonious music. The full retinue numbered over a thousand. The vanguard had already passed through the Purple Splendor Gate, while the rear was still at the Golden Throne Hall where the Empress resided.

After the time it took for incense to burn, the Empress’s grand carriage arrived before the Hall of Purple Splendor. The ministers prostrated themselves in greeting. The Empress stepped down calmly, ascended the hall, each step as if lotus blossoms bloomed, surrounded by a majestic entourage. She stood at the highest point of the hall, tall and graceful, offering a ceremonial salute without a headdress, and directed everyone to take their seats.

Then, she gazed at the many gates of the Bright Palace, without uttering a word.

With her silent, none dared speak; the hall, resplendent with feathered crests, seemed a vast grove of dead wood.

“Om mani padme hum.”

From the depths of the palace, gates opened in sequence, sandalwood incense wafted, and the sound of Buddhist chanting rose. A great mass of purple and red robes came into view, gleaming bald heads shining in the winter sun.

In the center of the front row, a high monk held a black lacquer plate, covered with yellow silk, upon which lay a scripture. His face was thin, full of compassion, dignified—none other than Duke of E, Xue Huaiyi.

Xue Huaiyi out of retreat?

Quan Ce suddenly understood, his eyes fixed on the scripture in the lacquer plate. The Great Cloud Sutra Commentary, the long-awaited commentary, was to be presented today.

The monks stepped into the hall. The Empress rose from her throne, pressing her palms together.

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As if dead wood encountering spring, the ministers rose, palms pressed together, the devout closing their eyes, joining the monks in chanting the great compassionate mantra of Avalokiteshvara.

The monks continued chanting. Once finished, they pressed their palms together, bowed, and proclaimed, “Amitabha.”

“I, Duke of E, General of the Right Guard, Abbot of the White Horse Temple, Xue Huaiyi, present the Great Cloud Sutra Commentary to the throne, beseeching Your Majesty’s inspection,” Xue Huaiyi knelt on one knee, raising the lacquer plate overhead.

The Empress descended the steps, took the commentary in both hands, leafed through a few pages, smiled, and held the scripture high. “This is the voice of Buddha, and the mandate of Heaven. I, a woman, rule over millions; only now do I learn that in the unseen, Buddha’s will and Heaven’s blessing guide me. Since I am the incarnation of the Lady of Pure Light, I must emulate the virtues of the Bodhisattva, nurture the people, benefit all living things, and recreate a Buddhist kingdom on earth. You, my ministers, are my backbone—strive accordingly.”

“Your Majesty is wise; we obey your mandate,” all ministers knelt in praise.

“These venerable monks have brought me the Buddha’s command; I shall build temples in gratitude for this Buddhist fate.” She personally helped the foremost monks to their feet, warmly commending them. “I decree that every prefecture shall build a Great Cloud Temple and house a copy of the commentary. I ask you monks to travel throughout the realm, spreading the Dharma and saving all beings.”

The monks again proclaimed Buddha’s name, bowed in acceptance, and withdrew from the hall.

Those monks less advanced in practice were visibly delighted. Spreading the Dharma, with the Great Cloud Sutra Commentary as the focus, but other teachings as well—this was essentially a license for independent recruitment. After a round of travel, thousands would join the Buddhist order, and incense would flourish everywhere.

As the monks departed, the ministers were left somewhat dazed.

“Nephew, Minister of Spring, Wu Sansi, has a petition,” Wu Sansi stepped forward, breaking the silence. “With the mandate of Heaven and Buddha’s favor, Your Majesty has received the Dharma and rules the people. It is proper to bestow a further honorific title, in accordance with Heaven’s way.”

“We concur,” on this matter, no one could afford to be confused. The ministers promptly left their seats and prostrated themselves.

The Empress cast a sidelong glance, surveying the vast hall. Only one man remained standing. “What title do you propose?”

Quan Ce heard the Empress’s metallic voice, eyes wide. She was determined to break convention: the honorific title would be conferred without delay, and must be decided immediately.

“I propose the title Revolving Holy Empress…”

“I propose the title Merciful Golden Wheel Divine Sovereign…”

…

The ministers offered suggestions, all having studied the Great Cloud Sutra. The Lady of Pure Light governed only a quarter of the lands ruled by the Revolving King; the Empress’s honorific title naturally centered on the Revolving King, not the Lady of Pure Light.

In a moment, dozens of titles were proposed, the Empress neither affirming nor rejecting.

Again Wu Sansi stepped forward: “I propose the honorific title Ancient Golden Wheel Divine Sovereign.”

At this, the hall fell silent. Many ministers looked pained; some bowed their heads to the floor, others stared at Wu Sansi in a daze. Quan Ce saw his uncle, Wang Xu, also bow his head, tears glimmering in his eyes.

Quan Ce clenched his hand in his sleeve, his heart pounding. Anyone who stepped forward now would be torn apart by the fierce wind in the hall.

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This title was extraordinary. It carried no reference to mercy, no empress, no mother—all marks of female identity erased. Only “Sovereign” remained.

“What do you think?” The Empress stood from her throne, her gaze like lightning, sweeping across rows of ministers and nobles. Wherever her eyes fell, all lowered their heads, none daring to meet her challenge.

The Empress smiled coldly, her gaze moving to the ranks of prime ministers.

Prime Minister Cen Changqian stepped forward; he had no choice. The Empress’s gaze lingered on him. “We respectfully request Your Majesty to accept the honorific title Ancient Golden Wheel Divine Sovereign.”

The ministers left their seats, this time moving slowly and heavily, as if time and vitality could be seen flowing away in the grand hall. “We respectfully request Your Majesty to accept the honorific title Ancient Golden Wheel Divine Sovereign.”

“It is granted. Proceed with discussion,” the Empress accepted briskly, flicking her sleeve and sitting calmly.

…

When business was concluded, the court dispersed. The ministers were silent as they filed out, dazed. Even those loyal to the Empress were deeply shaken; their lifelong ambitions had suddenly materialized before them, filling them with fear and unreality.

On the plaza before the Phoenix Gate, carriages gathered, lined up by rank and title. Each family’s guards and attendants waited quietly for their masters.

“Elder brother! Elder brother!” Sha Zha Fu’s shrill cries rang out, strikingly abrupt.

He rushed forward, knelt at Quan Ce’s feet, and wept bitterly.

The departing civil and military officials stopped to watch.

“Compose yourself! Why such panic?” Quan Ce scolded.

“Elder brother, General Wu Yanyi has surrounded the Princess's residence with troops and taken Shuang Li away!” Sha Zha Fu’s voice was loud, clear for hundreds of meters.

Quan Ce paused, his expression shifting before settling into a light laugh. He waved his hand, “You all, return to the Princess's residence and obey the General’s orders.”

He walked a few steps, then bowed to Wang Xu in the crowd. “Uncle, it’s been too long since I’ve seen Aunt. I miss her dearly—may I stay at your residence for a few days?”

Wang Xu’s face twisted with sorrow, tears glimmering again in his eyes. He looked up at the sky and nodded, “Come.”

Quan Ce, alone, followed Wang Xu to the Princess Gao’an’s residence.

Before the Phoenix Gate, a strange atmosphere slowly gathered.

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