chapter 10

Chapter 10: From Consort to Empress

The air was unusually still. Dawn spilled across the lattice windows like brushed gold, catching on the silken drapes and gilded edges of the furniture. Yet Wu Zhao lay motionless beneath her quilts, the warmth of the silk lost on her skin. Outside, the world stirred, a distant clang of temple bells, the shuffle of court servants beginning their daily routines, but within her chamber, silence reigned. A silence so dense it pressed against the walls.

Wu Zhao opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the soft glow of morning. Something within her had shifted. It wasn't pain or illness, no, it was deeper. A tension in her bones. A hum in her blood. A sense that something had changed. She sat up with careful grace, her raven-black hair tumbling down her back like a silken waterfall. Her hand drifted to her lower abdomen and rested there thoughtfully.

"A new dawn indeed," she whispered.

Just then, her personal maid, Mei Lin, entered quietly, a lacquered tray balanced in her hands, steam rising from a cup of bitter morning tea.

"Your Highness... you're already awake?" Mei Lin asked, surprise lacing her tone.

Wu Zhao accepted the cup and sipped slowly, her eyes locked on the window where light pooled gently on the floor.

"You have been sleeping more lately," Mei Lin ventured, setting the tray aside. "And the nausea... should I summon the imperial physician?"

A faint smile curved Wu Zhao's lips. "Let silence keep our secrets a little longer."

As Mei Lin busied herself arranging her mistress's hair, Wu Zhao stared into the bronze mirror, her reflection sharp and unreadable. Behind those dark eyes was a storm of thoughts, a hunger that had only grown with each passing day. The crown, the throne, it was no longer a dream. It was an inevitability.

Later that evening, as moonlight spilled in silver waves through her open window, Wu Zhao remained seated, deep in thought. Her solitude was broken only when the doors creaked softly and Emperor Gaozong stepped inside.

He came without fanfare, in simple robes, his eyes warm but weary. He looked at her not as an emperor, but as a man, a man drawn to her fire, her mind, her mystery.

"You still don't sleep early," he said with a half-smile.

"And you still walk the halls alone," she replied.

He approached, taking her hand gently. "I have come to speak of something important."

Wu Zhao's gaze sharpened. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I am naming you Empress," he said simply.

For a moment, time stood still. Wu Zhao's lips parted, but no sound came out. Then she rose slowly, like a rising tide, her expression unreadable.

"Why now?" she asked.

"Because you have proven your loyalty, your wisdom, and more. I trust you above all."

Tears threatened her composure, but she blinked them away. "Then I will wear the crown not as an ornament, but as a weapon."

The next morning, chaos broke loose in court. Ministers gasped. Concubines whispered furiously behind fans. The Empress position was to be given to a former concubine? A woman of lower birth? The entire court buzzed with disbelief and scandal.

"It is unheard of!" one minister barked. "This is madness!"

"This is betrayal to the noble houses!"

But Emperor Gaozong silenced them all with one look. "Wu Zhao has earned this. Her wisdom surpasses any in this room. She will be Empress. That is final."

Wu Zhao watched from behind the ceremonial screen, her face calm. Let them rage. Let them burn. She had survived worse than whispers.

The night before her coronation, Wu Zhao stood alone in her chamber. She stared at her reflection, now adorned in the imperial red. Her heart beat with a strange rhythm, half fire, half fear.

"You were the overlooked one," she whispered to herself. "The one meant to be forgotten. And now... you rise."

She closed her eyes and imagined her child, a tiny heartbeat within her, still unspoken. This was no longer just about power. This was legacy.

The coronation was grand beyond words. Golden banners fluttered from palace roofs, drums thundered like rolling clouds, and petals rained from high balconies. Wu Zhao walked with unshakable grace, her head high as she approached the Dragon Throne. Gaozong waited, crown in hand.

"Rise, Empress of the Tang Dynasty," he declared.

When the crown touched her head, she felt its weight,not just in gold, but in responsibility.

Months passed. Wu Zhao ruled beside her emperor with a sharp mind and steady hand. She lowered taxes for farmers, opened schools for girls, and sat in council chambers asking questions no one dared before. One day, during a famine report, she spoke:

"How can a nation stand when its people starve? We are only as strong as our weakest. Feed them, or we fall."

The ministers bowed.

At a private tea party with concubines, Wu Zhao smiled gracefully, sipping jasmine tea. The atmosphere was light, yet laced with subtle tension. The other women whispered behind soft giggles.

"Your Highness," one asked sweetly, "do you miss being one of us?"

Wu Zhao chuckled softly. "Do birds miss the cage once they have touched the sky?"

The room went silent.

Not long after, her pregnancy was confirmed. The court buzzed again, this time with joy, and fear. An heir. A true future.

Gaozong held her hand tightly. "Our child will know your strength."

Through her pregnancy, Wu Zhao continued her duties, even as her feet swelled and her back ached. She listened to reports, gave judgments, and led ceremonies. She carried a kingdom in her womb and a crown on her head.

The birth was long and grueling. Thunder cracked outside as she labored. But when the cry of her baby echoed through the chamber, tears spilled from her eyes.

"A son," the physician announced.

She cradled him close. Her heir. Her blood. Her future.

That night, she sat by the window, holding her son close.

"They tried to break me," she whispered. "But here you are. Proof that destiny bows to no one."

She looked to the stars and smiled.

"Let the world remember this moment. The beginning of a legacy."