Chapter 8: Trail of the Womb
The palace walls, once draped in morning silks, now echoed with whispers sharp as daggers. Servants lowered their heads as they passed each other, but their eyes flickered sideways. They spoke of the dead princess, barely born, barely named. Such a tragedy. One maid sighed as she arranged fresh flowers near the eastern corridor.
"Born under the Phoenix's shadow, and yet gone before the sun rose twice," she whispered.
Another leaned in, voice low with gossip. "Have you heard what Lady Xin claims? She swore she saw Wu Zhaoyi smiling moments after the child died."
"I heard the baby didn't cry properly," a eunuch added as he wiped the floor near the jade pillars.
In the quiet corridor near the lotus pavilion, two young palace women crouched beside a koi pond, voices barely above the hum of water.
"They say Wu Zhao did it herself," one murmured. "A mother who kills her own child. Who does that?"
"Someone with ambition greater than love," the other replied grimly.
The rumors slithered between courtyards and through bamboo gardens, growing teeth. In the silence left by grief, suspicion took root. Even among the ministers, quiet unease stirred.
"Wu Zhao has the emperor's ear and heart," one muttered. "She's dangerous. Calculating. She lost a child and still walks like she's untouchable. This death... it might be her stepping stone."
In the Phoenix Hall, Empress Wang stared into her bronze mirror. Her reflection was calm, but her ears burned. She knew the whispers were no longer just beneath her—they were crawling toward her throne.
And Wu Zhao? She stood by her window in silence. She heard everything. She always did.
The Grand Hall of Supreme Harmony shimmered with solemnity, its towering columns painted in vermilion and gold. Ministers stood in two orderly rows. At the far end, Emperor Gaozong sat on the dragon throne, flanked by carved phoenixes. His eyes were weary with the grief of recent loss.
A hush fell as Empress Wang stepped forward, draped in pale mourning silks embroidered with cranes. She looked every inch the grieving mother of the realm. She bowed deeply, her voice steady.
"Your Majesty," she began, "the heavens have delivered us joy and sorrow in the same breath. The birth of your daughter was to be a blessing. Her death, a tragedy too heavy for the court to bear."
Gaozong closed his eyes briefly. A murmur of agreement drifted through the ministers.
"But," she continued, "as a daughter of the Great Tang and your first wife, I am bound by duty and conscience to raise a matter most troubling."
Gaozong's brows furrowed. Wu Zhao, standing to the side with her head bowed, did not move.
"There are whispers," the Empress said slowly, "that the child's passing... may not have been entirely natural."
Gasps flared like sparks. Gaozong's fingers tightened around the armrest.
"What are you implying, Empress?"
"I imply only that the matter be investigated," she replied, lowering her eyes respectfully. "To preserve the integrity of the court and protect Your Majesty's legacy."
Wu Zhao stepped forward then, graceful even in her mourning robes. Her face was pale, but there was no trace of fear.
"With your permission, Your Majesty?" she asked softly.
Gaozong gave a slight nod. Wu Zhao turned to the assembly.
"Grief has no language, and pain does not choose its host. I buried my child with my own hands. Yet I stand accused, not openly, but dressed in politeness and draped in suggestion."
The hall held its breath.
"If we are to speak of whispers," she continued, "shall we speak of the wine sent by Her Majesty before my labor? Or the midwife who vanished the night after my child's death?"
Gasps rose again, louder this time. Empress Wang's knuckles whitened on her fan. Her smile remained, but her eyes narrowed.
Gaozong rose slowly, silencing the room with a gesture.
"Let it be known," he said, "Wu Zhaoyi is not to be condemned by whispers. She has served me with wisdom and loyalty. Until proven otherwise, she remains innocent in the eyes of heaven and earth."
Wu Zhao bowed deeply. Empress Wang did not move.
As the court adjourned, silence reigned, but only on the surface. Beneath it, schemes twisted like roots, deepening in the dark.
The Hall of Supreme Harmony was packed. Ministers, consorts, guards, even servants,
lined the walls. Today, Empress Wang would speak plainly. The truth would either crown or crush.
Emperor Gaozong sat upon the dragon throne. Wu Zhao stood to the side, dressed simply in mourning white, a jade phoenix pin holding her hair in place. Her face was calm, too calm.
A golden gong sounded. Empress Wang stepped forward, face pale but defiant, hands clutching a scroll. She bowed low.
"Your Majesty, noble ministers," she began, "I speak today not just as Empress, but as the mother of the empire. A child has died, Your Majesty's daughter, and I bring before you a truth too bitter to ignore."
A hush fell.
"That child," Wang said, her voice trembling, "did not die by the will of heaven. She was murdered. Smothered by the hands of her own mother, Wu Zhaoyi."
The court erupted. Even the Emperor paled.
Wu Zhao stood still as stone.
"The midwives feared to speak," Wang pressed on, eyes gleaming. "But I heard their whispers. They saw her hold the child too tightly. There are marks on the child's neck. She killed her daughter. Perhaps to gain pity. Or to twist pain into power."
"Enough!" Gaozong thundered.
But Wu Zhao calmly stepped forward. "Your Majesty, may I be permitted to speak?"
He nodded slowly. Wu Zhao bowed and turned to the court.
"There are many kinds of grief. Mine is still fresh. Yet I must defend myself in mourning robes against poison dressed as righteousness."
She raised a hand. A side door opened. Guards entered, dragging a woman,
bruised, trembling.
"The midwife, Li Yuan," Wu Zhao announced. "She disappeared the night of the child's death. But I found her,
hiding under the roof of Consort Xiao's cousin."
Gasps. Empress Wang and Consort Xiao froze.
The midwife collapsed, tears streaming. "It wasn't her," she sobbed. "It wasn't Lady Wu. It was poison in the incense. Given by Consort Xiao...on orders from the Empress."
Chaos.
"I was told to leave the child to fate," the midwife continued. "If she died, she died. If she lived... she mustn't live long."
Wu Zhao held up a silk handkerchief embroidered with the Wang family crest.
"Found in her chamber," she said. "A gift from the Empress."
She stepped forward.
"You say I murdered my child. But it was your hands, Empress. And your viper of a friend. You feared the Emperor's attention shifting. You feared my future child. So you tried to break me, with death."
Wang's mask cracked.
"There are lies!" she shouted.
"Silence!" Gaozong roared. "Let it be known: Empress Wang and Consort Xiao shall be confined. Their titles suspended. Their actions investigated fully. If the child's death was orchestrated, there will be no mercy."
Guards dragged the women away. Wang screamed.
"These are lies! Your Majesty, please!"
The dragon court roared again. Wu Zhao did not smile.
In the eyes of many, she had been cleared. But in Wu Zhao's heart, this was only the begining.
The cold stone of the Palace of Isolation echoed with every footstep. Guards stepped aside as Wu Zhao entered the dim chamber where Empress Wang now sat, stripped of silk and power. Her hair hung loose. Her face pale with humiliation and fear.
Wang looked up sharply. "You! What are you doing here?"
Wu Zhao walked slowly, gracefully, like a predator circling wounded prey.
"You tried to bury me," she said softly. "With lies. With poison. With a dead child between us."
Wang stood. "I did what I had to! He was drifting towards you, like a moth to flame!"
Wu Zhao's eyes gleamed.
"And now you sit in darkness, while I walk in light."
She leaned in, voice dropping.
"You thought killing my child would break me. But you only awakened the storm."
Wang swallowed hard. "You can't threaten the Empress."
"You are no Empress," Wu Zhao cut in, cold and sharp. "You are a whisper in history's shadow. And when I rise,
when I wear the crown you stained with jealousy, you will still be here. Forgotten. Drowning in silence."
She turned and left, white robes flowing behind her like mist.
And Empress Wang finally understood: she had not just lost the court. She had lost to the woman who would one day rule it.