Chapter 629: Wuling

At that moment, Zhao Changhe was utterly stunned.

Didn’t she say that she was willing to be my concubine? Didn’t she say that she wouldn’t compete for my affection? How did dawn break only for all those words to be tossed aside so easily? Isn’t this like swearing to wake up early every night, only to forget the moment morning came?

Bringing this up openly in court was shocking enough. Worse still, the newly crowned empress desperately needed to solidify First Seat Tang’s loyalty. No matter what reward she requested, Xia Chichi was practically obliged to grant it. Granting a marriage decree? That was a trivial price to pay.

Putting himself in Xia Chichi’s place, Zhao Changhe searched for a way out of the dilemma and came up blank. What was she supposed to do? Turn the founding ceremony into a public clash between empress and minister?

He had no solution.

Vermillion Bird’s mind was aflame with rage.

If I were still Huangfu Qing, I’d rip her apart. But I’m Vermillion Bird now... How can I fight this?

No—if Huangfu Qing, the former imperial noble consort, spoke up, it would be entirely inappropriate. Vermillion Bird, however, had the freedom to sneer and mock.

Seizing the moment, while Xia Chichi was still hesitant, Vermillion Bird unleashed her scorn, “Well, well! So the lofty and pure First Seat Tang, whom everyone believes to be an untainted lotus on a high mountain, has stooped to begging for a man in court. What a spectacle for the nation!”

Tang Wanzhuang remained serene as she countered, “Marriage between men and women is the natural order. What’s laughable about that? I’m twenty-nine years old, with just over a month left before I cross into thirty. I am ashamed to have disappointed my parents’ hopes and my own heart’s desires. Now, with a new dynasty and a new beginning, the granting of a marriage is not only my joy but a joy for the nation as well. Vermillion Bird, as a guardian of rituals and doctrines, it’s understandable that you might not grasp matters of human sentiment.”

Her argument was impeccable, unassailable in its dignity. The officials, regardless of faction, could find no fault in it. Tang Wanzhuang had dedicated her life to the state, yet she remained alone. Could anyone truly object to her request for marriage? A marriage bestowed by the new empress was only fitting, especially since Tang Wanzhuang herself had asked for it.

Yet within the ranks of officials, there were plenty who understood the deeper undercurrents. The ambiguous tension between Tang Wanzhuang and Zhao Changhe was not exactly a secret, even if their closeness had never been made public. Her statement about marrying someone “who is no longer a crown prince” was a thinly veiled reference to Zhao Changhe.

And the new empress? Xia Chichi was the survivor of Luo Family Village who had shared Zhao Changhe’s trials and slept beside him on the cold slopes of Beiman. The late emperor, fully aware that Zhao Changhe was not his son, had never clarified the matter, allowing him to use Dragon Bird and permitting public misconceptions. Was this not tacit acknowledgment of Zhao Changhe’s worthiness as a son-in-law?

Thus, on the very first day of the new dynasty, the first seat and the empress were openly competing for the same man!

The officials kept their eyes lowered and faces composed, inwardly relishing the drama.

Meanwhile, Vermillion Bird shot back with biting sarcasm, “So, is this the founding ceremony of a new dynasty or First Seat Tang’s betrothal celebration?”

Tang Wanzhuang’s voice remained calm as she said, “As a senior official of the state, my personal affairs are state affairs. It’s understandable if those from the wildernesses fail to grasp this nuance, but as the venerable of the state religion, it would do you well to learn these matters of propriety.” She paused, then added with a hint of irony, “Besides, how exactly does this concern you, Vermillion Bird? Why are you clucking so loudly?”

Vermillion Bird was seething, her fury palpable.

Xia Chichi’s voice suddenly cut through the tension, “First seat, calm yourself. I’ve just realized we’ve overlooked someone in the rewards and honors. Let’s address it now.”

Tang Wanzhuang blinked in surprise. Xia Chichi continued, her tone steady and authoritative, “Zhao Changhe, a man of humble origins, has achieved feats worthy of the highest statesmanship. He secured Jiangnan, drove back the northern barbarians, pacified Jingxiang, stabilized Miaojiang, and subdued Canghai. His accomplishments are legendary, yet he has received no recognition. Why? Because the late emperor regarded him as the imperial heir and thus did not see him as a mere commoner.

“Now that a new dynasty is established, Zhao Changhe’s merit stands above all. He should have been the first to receive honors, yet nothing has been granted. Why? Because he fulfills the duties of an imperial heir, and personal rewards are meaningless. Therefore, I name Zhao Changhe as King Zhao. Should anything happen to me, King Zhao shall succeed the throne. This is my decree.”

Tang Wanzhuang: “What?”

Vermillion Bird: “What?”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

A ripple of awe spread through the ranks of seasoned officials.

The Empress is shrewd. Truly impressive.

In these chaotic times, with demons and gods lurking in the shadows, no ruler could guarantee they would not fall to assassination tomorrow. Ensuring a clear line of succession was essential to reassure the nation. And who else but Zhao Changhe could fulfill that role? Naming him “heir” without the awkward title of “crown prince” dispelled any unease. It echoed the ancient practice of wise rulers abdicating in favor of the most worthy.

This was far more elegant than declaring Zhao Changhe her husband, which would have reeked of rivalry and scandal. Tang Wanzhuang had sworn never to marry a crown prince or become an imperial concubine—yet now Zhao Changhe was named as the heir.

Xia Chichi had not just neutralized the conflict with Tang Wanzhuang. She had also secured the dynasty’s foundation in one deft move. Even Tang Wanzhuang stood speechless, her mouth slightly open, unable to refute this decree.

If Xia Chichi now sweetly asked, “And whom would you like me to grant you in marriage?” Tang Wanzhuang would have no escape. Sensing the danger, she swiftly changed the subject, “Your Majesty, since you acknowledge the late emperor’s heir, you must also decide matters of the harem.”

Xia Chichi’s gaze was steady. “Imperial Noble Consort Huangfu Qing shall become Empress Dowager and oversee the harem. As for myself... the realm remains unsettled. There’s no place for such personal matters yet. It will remain in abeyance for now.”

Tang Wanzhuang pressed on, “Then what of the late Emperor’s funeral rites and posthumous title?”

Would he be honored as the late emperor? Or as the last ruler of a fallen dynasty? The distinction was monumental. If Xia Chichi acknowledged the imperial noble consort as the empress dowager and Zhao Changhe as the heir, the funeral rites had to align with that legitimacy.

The imperial court’s attention shifted sharply. Petty rivalries were forgotten as the weight of state affairs settled over them. A collective sigh, suppressed for half a cup of tea, finally escaped their lips. In firm, unified voices, the ministers declared, “Your Majesty, this matter is of grave importance and must be deliberated thoroughly!”

The topic of whom Tang Wanzhuang might marry had been deftly and thoroughly swept aside. No one paid it any mind now.

Xia Chichi cast a deep look at her. Their eyes met—empress and minister, each recognizing a worthy adversary, the air between them crackling with veiled hostility.

Vermillion Bird stood nearby, her mouth half-open, suddenly wondering,

Have I really spent my life fighting this old woman? Have I really taken this young woman as a disciple? Who am I? Where am I?

The matter of the funeral—whether it would honor the late emperor or the last ruler of a fallen dynasty—was a double-edged sword. No matter what Xia Chichi chose, opposition was guaranteed. It was a chance for the imperial court to test and discipline the new empress.

But in the face of Xia Chichi and Tang Wanzhuang’s alliance, all such schemes were laid bare. Before the opposition could voice a word, Tang Wanzhuang preemptively struck, “In the past, Empress Wu Zetian renamed the state to Zhou, creating a new dynasty, yet Emperor Taizong and Gaozong were still enshrined in the ancestral temple. This was virtue. Though Your Majesty has changed the dynasty, the bloodline remains. You must not bear the name of being unfilial and should provide the proper rites for the late emperor. Anyone who speaks against this is unfilial and disloyal, seeking to burden the ruler with the scorn of the people. Such individuals should be expelled from court and never employed again!”

Lu Jianzhang sighed inwardly.

I haven’t even spoken yet, and I’m already branded unfilial and disloyal. Fine, then.

He conceded and said, “To quell chaos with strength is Wu; to stabilize the realm with might is Wu; to intimidate enemies with virtue is Wu... To repel invaders and protect the people is Wu; to govern through discipline is Wu... The late emperor’s Wu is beyond dispute.[1]”

Another minister added, “To fall in the field of battle is Zhuang; to endure relentless campaigns is Zhuang; to fight valiantly but fail is Zhuang...[2]”

“And yet, to face chaos unbroken is Ling; to achieve greatness with minimal effort is Ling; to manifest supernatural power in death is Ling...[3]”

“To suffer hardship for the nation is Min; to see the people harmed by conflict is Min; to perish amid ongoing turmoil is Min...[4]”

“Each of these has merit. What do you all think?”

Since the funeral would follow the rites of the late emperor, it was pointless to assign a glorified epithet. A balanced judgment was necessary.

Wu was undisputed. The court, however, erupted into fierce debate over whether the second character should be Zhuang, Ling, or Min. Even Xia Chichi and Tang Wanzhuang refrained from making a final call.

Zhao Changhe listened in silence. The phrase “to manifest supernatural power in death” lingered in his mind. Others thought it referred to the late emperor’s obsession with gods and demons. But Zhao Changhe recalled Xia Longyuan’s final words—the possibility that his soul had returned somewhere.

Lost in thought, Zhao Changhe murmured, “Ling.”

The chamber fell abruptly silent. All eyes turned to him, and no one spoke further.

Xia Chichi’s heart stirred. Zhao Changhe commanded far more authority than he realized. It was not just the title of King Zhao. His strength was undeniable. In barely two years, he had risen to second place on the Ranking of Earth, slaying gods and demons alike. There had never been anyone like him. Despite the blood-soaked aura of a relentless martial artist, he rarely spoke. When he did, it meant he cared. Even the most obstinate officials knew to give way. None dared challenge Dragon Bird’s judgment.

Wuling—thus was Xia Longyuan’s posthumous title decreed. He would be interred with the honors due a late emperor.

To Zhao Changhe, the title was not a bad one. In history, King Wuling of Zhao[5] had a respectable legacy, despite a rather undignified end. A warrior of godlike prowess meeting a lackluster fate—it felt strangely fitting.

1. Wu here is being made to reference to both Wu Zetian’s surname Wu (武) and the meaning of the word as martial prowess or military virtue. ☜

2. Zhuang (壮) here refers to heroism, though I kept it as Zhuang as it draws a parallel with the previous paragraph. ☜

3. Ling (灵) here refers to spirituality or divine power. ☜

4. Min (愍) here refers to compassion or sorrow in adversity. ☜

5. 赵武灵王 (King Wuling of Zhao) is one of the most notable rulers in ancient Chinese history, remembered for his transformative leadership, innovative reforms, and tragic end. He was the ruler of the State of Zhao during the Warring States period. ☜