As the eldest daughter of the current Prime Minister, Wei Shubin had seen Empress Zhangsun before, but only during formal court ceremonies where she followed her mother in paying respects from afar. On those occasions, she could barely make out the features of the noble lady, heavily wrapped in ceremonial robes and crowns.
This morning, led by palace ladies-in-waiting into the northern chamber of the Lizheng Hall, she was to have her first private audience with the Mother of the Nation. Naturally, she was terrified. Passing behind a large screen, she didn’t dare raise her head, but knelt trembling and prostrated herself, holding her breath as she waited for the Empress to speak.
The first sound to reach her ears was a gentle laugh.
“Yingniang, look how frightened this child is,” said a warm feminine voice. “Go help her up.”
Chai Yingluo responded with a soft “Yes” and glided over, reaching out to assist Wei Shubin, half-supporting and half-carrying her to the edge of the large heated bed platform near the room’s brazier.
The Empress’s living quarters were quite warm, with a gentle fragrance in the air and a pot of orchids blooming luxuriantly on the bedtable. Empress Zhangsun wore no elaborate ornaments or heavy makeup, her hair neat with simple pins, dressed in an everyday padded jacket and long skirt as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Despite the warmth of the room, she had a thick shawl draped around her shoulders. Her elegant face showed signs of weariness, making her look not much different from any ordinary woman in her thirties.
Since Wei Shubin was old enough to understand, her father had been an important minister to the Emperor. Throughout these years of moving among the imperial relatives and nobles in Chang’an, she had never heard anyone discuss Empress Zhangsun’s appearance—as if judging the Mother of the Nation by the standards of worldly female beauty would itself be a form of blasphemy.
The Empress sat there naturally composed, becoming the undisputed sovereign of all visible space. She tilted her face slightly to watch Wei Shubin approach the bed, the corners of her lips curving into a serene smile:
“As the precious daughter of Minister Wei Xuancheng, you should be a bit braver. Your looks take entirely after your father—Yingniang, look at her thin face and that stubborn little mouth… Such a dear young lady.”
Leaning against Chai Yingluo’s warm arm, Wei Shubin gathered her composure, feeling less nervous though her voice still trembled as she replied:
“This humble one is young and ignorant of proper etiquette. Please forgive… forgive me, Your Majesty…”
“What is there to forgive?” Empress Zhangsun shook her head with a smile. “Getting your father and mother to forgive your willful rashness would be the real concern—Yingniang has already reported your situation to me. Ah, what are we to do about this?”
So Chai Yingluo had reported everything to the Empress about her running away from marriage and entering Ganye Temple, even her false confession to murder to defy her parents… Wei Shubin’s knees weakened and she fell back into a kneeling position before the heated bed platform.
“I wouldn’t dare deceive Your Majesty and His Majesty about this. But young Miss Wei’s situation is truly pitiful,” Chai Yingluo spoke in a coaxing tone. “In your niece’s humble opinion… perhaps Aunt could simply pretend not to know, let Shufen return with me to the Purple Void Temple for a few days, and find an opportunity to gradually persuade Minister Wei?”
“You’re suggesting I turn a blind eye,” the Empress laughed. “If it could work, that would be fine, but don’t you know Minister Wei’s temperament? From any angle, he’s in the right on this matter—would he be willing to swallow his anger and slowly listen to your persuasion?”
“If the matter becomes too big, it wouldn’t look good for Minister Wei either,” Chai Yingluo responded.
“Indeed it wouldn’t look good. If it hadn’t become such a big issue, I suspect Minister Wei would have gone to Princess Pingyang’s residence to demand an explanation from your father,” the Empress sighed. “And if his anger couldn’t be quelled, Xuancheng might even brandish his tablet to remonstrate with your Second Uncle…”
“Could this matter escalate to questioning the Emperor’s virtue?” Chai Yingluo asked in alarm.
“Of course, he could urge him to better manage the women, minor officials, and relatives by marriage in his circle, to uphold the rites of Zhou and rectify the five relationships…” As the Empress spoke, her voice seemed to carry a hint of amusement. “But let’s not discuss that for now. Shufen, let me ask you: do you still wish to maintain that you killed the District Lady of Linfen?”
Wei Shubin raised her face, tongue-tied and unable to answer, only able to look pleadingly toward Chai Yingluo.
If she said “yes” before the Empress, wouldn’t she truly have to pay with her life for this crime? If she said “no,” judging by the Empress’s tone, wouldn’t she immediately summon her mother to take her home?
“One must not deceive before the Imperial Presence,” Chai Yingluo reminded her. “Report truthfully to Her Majesty what’s in your heart, and let Her Majesty decide.”
Wei Shubin took a deep breath:
“Please forgive me, Your Majesty… The District Lady of Linfen was truly not killed by this lowly one… Last night in my desperation to avoid returning home for marriage, I spoke carelessly and told lies, a crime worthy of death…”
After speaking these words, she prostrated herself again on the ground, making a deep bow and not rising.
“I suspected as much,” the Empress sighed lightly. “You’re such a delicate young lady, and you had no connection to Yiniang, how could you have decided to kill her?—The murderer who committed this crime was targeting me.”
No one in the hall responded.
With Empress Zhangsun’s meticulous mind, and after Chai Yingluo had clarified all the circumstances surrounding Yiniang’s death the night before, the two women could easily deduce that the killer had arranged the murder scene to look like suicide, intending to spread rumors that “the former Crown Prince’s orphaned daughter was driven to death by the current Empress,” tarnishing the Empress’s reputation for virtue.
Many officials’ families had attended the wedding last night, and news of the bride’s sudden death must have spread throughout the court by now—one could imagine what was being said. To dispel these rumors, the best solution would naturally be… to insist that Yiniang was killed by a violent criminal for unrelated reasons, to find a murderer with no connection to the Empress, and to execute them publicly to satisfy the realm.
Wei Shubin shuddered. In that case, her mistaken confession to the murder had walked right into a trap, hadn’t it? Yet from the Empress’s tone, she didn’t intend to use this runaway bride as a scapegoat.
Was it out of consideration for her father? Or because claiming she was the murderer would simply be too implausible?
After a moment of silence, the Empress asked again:
“Yingniang mentioned that before entering the palace, she instructed you to check Yiniang’s chambers again for any evidence or traces related to the murder—did you find anything?”
“Yes.” Wei Shubin hesitated slightly but still reported finding what appeared to be a man’s jade ring among Yiniang’s belongings, discovered with Prince Wu Yuan Gui and others.
“Where is the ring now?” Chai Yingluo asked.
At this point there was no way to hide it, so Wei Shubin continued to explain how Nurse He Ba had desperately denied it belonged to Yiniang, going so far as to swallow the ring, after which Prince Wu had ordered her bound and guarded. When the three of them were summoned to the palace, he and Yang Xinzhi headed toward the Liangyi Hall in the outer court to see the Emperor, while Wei Shubin alone followed the palace lady-in-waiting to the inner quarters of Lizheng Hall.
Speaking for longer helped calm Wei Shubin’s nerves, and she dared to look directly at the Empress. She suddenly felt the Empress’s quiet, composed, all-knowing manner seemed familiar… but who did it remind her of?
Besides the Empress on the bed lay the complex noose used to kill Yiniang, clearly visible, with papers pressed beneath it that appeared to be Yiniang’s suicide note left in her room. These were the two most important pieces of evidence in the case, and Chai Yingluo had presented them directly to the Empress.
The two pieces of evidence contradicted each other—the noose proved Yiniang was murdered rather than committing suicide, while the note suggested she had pre-existing suicidal intentions. The man’s ring discovered this morning hinted at Yiniang’s involvement in a romantic affair… but this could point either toward “murder to silence her” or “suicide from shame.”
“Yingniang,” the Empress called to her niece, “I just mentioned that Yiniang’s death likely involves serious matters within the palace. Young Miss Wei’s mention of the man’s ring could easily damage Yiniang’s reputation and shouldn’t be spread outside. This case would be better investigated carefully by you.”
“Yes.” Chai Yingluo acknowledged, then smiled and said: “Not that I’m trying to shirk my duties, as I reported to Your Majesty earlier, firstly, if the investigation leads to men outside the palace—especially civil or military officials—I’m just a Daoist priestess without the status to question them, and it would be difficult even to request meetings; secondly, Yiniang was supposed to be my sister-in-law, and her unfortunate death creates too close a connection to the Chai family, making it difficult to remain impartial, and any findings would be hard for the realm to trust…”
Wei Shubin vaguely recalled hearing someone say that when married men or women died mysteriously, the first suspects should be their spouses, as they had the most at stake. With Chai Yingluo being the sister of Yiniang’s husband, her leading the investigation indeed lacked authority and credibility.
“Everything you say makes sense.” The Empress responded. “I’ve been thinking, and there’s a solution to these difficulties—has there been any response from Liangyi Hall?”
The last question was asked in a raised voice toward the screen, and a palace maid’s voice answered:
“In response to Your Grace, someone was sent to invite the Great One, and they just reported that he has set out.”
This meant the Empress had sent for the Emperor to come to Lizheng Hall. The Liangyi Hall wasn’t far from Lizheng Hall, so the Emperor would likely arrive soon. Wei Shubin tensed, but saw the Empress smile and gesture for her to stand and move behind Chai Yingluo, saying “You don’t need to speak, just listen.”
Before long, announcements could be heard outside the hall, followed by the sound of boots as several men entered.
Through the large yellow silk screen covered with writing, Wei Shubin could barely see what was happening in the outer chamber, only hearing the Emperor and Empress exchange a few words across the screen before a tall figure sat down at the writing desk in front of it. Li Yuan Gui, Yang Xinzhi, Chai Zhiwei, and a middle-aged man—addressed as the Chai siblings’ father, the Duke of Qiaoguo and Imperial Son-in-law Chai Shao—also greeted the Empress from behind the screen.
The Emperor and Empress gathering people together was natural to discuss the District Lady of Linfen’s murder case. The Chai father and son and Li Yuan Gui’s master and servant had already reported the case details to the Emperor, and comparing the two accounts, they matched. The Empress had just begun to speak of her wish to have Chai Yingluo lead the investigation when the Emperor clapped his hands behind the screen and exclaimed “Excellent!”
“Your subject trembles with fear!” The deep voice of the Imperial Son-in-law Chai Shao rang out almost simultaneously. “My daughter is but an unworldly Daoist priestess, young and inexperienced—how could she shoulder such a heavy responsibility…”
“Brother-in-law, no need for modesty,” the Emperor cut him off, “Yingniang is clever and capable, always handling matters appropriately. The Empress and I both trust her completely—what more could you be worried about? Afraid it might exhaust your precious daughter?”
Standing behind the screen, Chai Yingluo giggled and spoke up to rescue her father:
“Your Majesty overpraises me, I’m not worthy—it’s not that I fear the work, but there are some inconveniences to me leading this investigation…”
She repeated the two difficulties she had explained to the Empress earlier. The screen fell silent for a moment as if the men were all considering the logic, and no one contradicted her.
“I think the difficulty in questioning outside officials could be solved by having Fourteenth Brother serve as deputy investigator,” Empress Zhangsun said calmly. “Fourteenth Prince was also present at the scene of the crime and is very clear on all the circumstances. Moreover, he is accomplished in both civil and military matters, naturally intelligent, and fair in handling affairs. With his assistance to Yingniang, making inquiries outside the palace could make up for the limitations of a woman.”
So this was the Empress’s plan.
Behind the screen, the Fourteenth Prince, Prince Wu Yuan Gui, mumbled something—it wasn’t clear whether in thanks or demurral—but the Emperor had already clapped his hands again and exclaimed: “Excellent! The Empress thinks of everything!”
…Your Majesty, you are the ruler of the nation, is it appropriate to so openly display such complete deference to your wise wife…
The corners of Empress Zhangsun’s lips twitched slightly as she suppressed a smile and continued: “However, regarding Yingniang’s second difficulty, that people won’t trust her investigation, I’m not sure how to resolve that. Fourteenth Brother is also young, not a minister of long-standing reputation respected by all, and has no special connection to the former palace’s daughter—I fear his conclusions would also…”
“A minister of long-standing reputation respected by all,” the Emperor mused, “who also has a special connection to the former palace’s daughter… Then, we can only ask Minister Wei Xuancheng to step forward.”
!?
Wei Shubin was startled and opened her mouth to cry out, but Chai Yingluo beside her was prepared and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“Your Majesty’s heavenly wisdom has cut straight to the heart of the matter!” Empress Zhangsun’s face lit up with joy. “Minister Wei is the court’s foremost upright minister, and he also served the former Crown Prince, so he must have some ceremonial connection to the District Lady of Linfen and will surely do his utmost to capture her true killer.”
“If Minister Wei participates in this case, I wouldn’t dare to take the lead,” Chai Yingluo added. “Minister Wei is highly respected for his virtue and should naturally be the chief investigator, with Fourteenth Uncle and myself assisting from the side.”
As they took turns speaking, all agreed that Wei Zheng’s participation in investigating this case was appropriate, and the Emperor ordered someone to go to the outer court to summon Attendant Wei Zheng to Lizheng Hall for discussion. Wei Shubin stood listening behind the screen, her head spinning—she had just begun to think this murder case was becoming unrelated to her, so why had they suddenly dragged her father into it?
Given her current status as someone who had “confessed to being the murderer,” surely her birth father was also unsuitable to participate in judging the case! The suspicion of covering up for his own would be too great… Even if the Empress had just stated she didn’t believe Wei Shubin was the killer, shouldn’t there be some show of recusal?
Behind the screen, those men had never mentioned Wei Shubin’s existence from beginning to end—she didn’t know if Li Yuan Gui and the others hadn’t reported this matter to the Emperor, or if there was some other reason. In any case, amid a chorus of agreement and approval, her father Wei Zheng was summoned to Lizheng Hall.
Vol 1 – Chapter 10 Notes:
1. In this chapter, Empress Zhangsun receives Wei Shubin while sitting on a “heated bed platform” (huolu chuang). This furniture was not meant for sleeping. Writer Meng Hui wrote a specialized article about it, from which I’ll quote several passages. (Source: “The Double Bed Setup in Tang and Song Dynasty Bedrooms” from Oriental Morning Post)
In the painting “Meeting for Chess Behind Screens”… surprisingly, two long beds were placed in front of a three-panel screen, positioned next to each other. A pair of maids are arranging cushions on the back bed, while another maid approaches them carrying bedding and pillows. A distinguished-looking man sits casually on the front bed with his hair in a topknot but no cap, leaning against the bed rail, appearing relaxed… The bed the man sits on has seats at both ends with railings and in the middle of the bed surface is a round opening with a large round basin inserted… This large round basin in the middle of the bed could only be a brazier… With a brazier inset in the bed, this is what Tang and Song literature refers to as the “heated bed platform.” (Please visit the author’s Weibo to view the images)
The widespread use of heated bed platforms is revealed in Lu You’s “Notes from the Old Scholar’s Hermitage”: “Xu Dunli said: In the past when women from scholar-official families sat on chairs or stools, everyone would ridicule them for lacking proper manners. Every household had a dressing bed and a heated bed platform. Even today there are still tall mirror stands, as the height of the bed platform matches perfectly with one’s face when seated. Some say the imperial palace still uses them, but they’re no longer used elsewhere.” From the Tang through Song dynasties, although chairs and stools had begun to become popular, “beds” remained important pieces of furniture for sitting. Therefore, cultured households would certainly have “dressing beds” specifically for women’s use and “heated bed platforms” needed for winter. Even during the transition between the Northern and Southern Song dynasties, the imperial palace still maintained this living arrangement.
…Perhaps we can consider that in the Tang and Song dynasties, the fixed arrangement of bedroom spaces was: the sleeping bed was placed in the depths of the room, and in front of it, another large sitting bed was set up. In winter, the heated bed platform would be placed in front of the sleeping bed, while in the other three seasons, it would be replaced with a dressing bed or other seating furniture. In fact, given the Song people’s ingenuity, they likely designed the sitting bed as a multi-purpose piece: the brazier in the middle could be removed, and when not in use, the fire basin could be taken out and covered with a wooden board, allowing small tables to be placed on top.
…According to the customs of the time, after rising in the morning, one should immediately move to the large sitting bed in front of the sleeping bed to begin the day’s activities. Of course, this practice was not limited to women but was a common rule in cultured households of the time.
2. The detail about Emperor Li Shimin’s screen being covered with papers has some historical basis.
The Comprehensive Mirror, Volume 192, records: “The Emperor said to Pei Ji: ‘Recently there have been many who submit memorials on state affairs. I paste them all on the walls of my chambers so I can review them when coming and going. When contemplating matters of governance, I sometimes don’t retire until late at night.'” The New Tang History’s biography of Wei Zheng also mentions that after Wei Zheng submitted his famous “Memorial on the Ten Gradual Deteriorations,” Li Er (Emperor Taizong) replied: “I shall display your memorial on screens, so I may see it morning and evening.” The Zhenguan Zhengyao records: “In the second year of Zhenguan, Taizong told his attending ministers: ‘Every night I constantly think about matters concerning the common people, sometimes lying awake until midnight. I especially worry whether the Regional Commanders and Prefects are capable of nurturing the common people. Therefore, I record their names on the screens, looking at them whether sitting or lying down and if they do good deeds in office, I also list these under their names.'”
This shows he quite liked using walls and screens as noticeboards for writing and posting lots of notes… Li Shimin enjoyed calligraphy and would write directly on screens himself. Some of his cursive script on plain silk screens has been passed down through history, and rubbings can still be seen today, now known as “Emperor Taizong’s Screen Calligraphy.”