Chapter Three - Death of a Dragon

CHAPTER THREE

Death of a Dragon

EMPEROR TAIZONG WAS dead.

The official line said he died peacefully in his sleep. But the palace didn’t sleep peacefully after that.

The heir, Prince Li Zhi, took the throne. He became Emperor Gaozong. Soft-spoken. Bookish. Religious. Nowhere near the force his father had been.

And that shift right there is where Wu Zhao saw her opening.

Because she wasn’t dead yet.

She’d been at Ganye Temple for a year. Head shaved. Robes on. Living like a nun. But she hadn’t stopped thinking. Or watching. Or planning.

She knew the new emperor.

Not well, but enough.

Before Taizong’s death, Wu had caught Li Zhi’s eye. He’d visited the harem. They’d spoken a few times. Nothing public. Nothing dramatic. But enough for her to know he liked her. And enough for his new empress, Empress Wang, to know it too.

So when Li Zhi took the throne, Wu Zhao made her move.

She didn’t beg. She didn’t write letters. She didn’t try to sneak back into court.

She waited.

And she let the court come to her.

It was Empress Wang who cracked first.

Wang had married Li Zhi back when he was still a prince. She was well-connected and came from a powerful family. But she couldn’t give him a son. And she had no real leverage. She needed something, someone, to shake things up. To distract him from the concubines who were rising in her place.

So she chose Wu Zhao. But don’t mistake it for strategy. This was desperation.

She thought bringing back a former concubine would earn her points. She thought she could control Wu. That Wu would be loyal to the woman who freed her.

She thought wrong.

Wu Zhao returned to the palace in 650. But she didn’t return as a nun.

She returned as a contender.

She picked up right where she’d left off, reading, writing, and whispering. She built alliances with eunuchs. She charmed the emperor. She wrote poems that spread through the palace. She made herself visible without making herself a target.

And slowly, Empress Wang realized the mistake she’d made.

Wu Zhao wasn’t a tool. She was a fuse.

By 652, Wu had become a favored concubine again. She was living in the palace. Sleeping with the emperor. Getting pregnant. Giving birth to sons.

The nuns whispered. The court hissed. The officials gossiped.
But none of it stopped her.

Wu Zhao had done the impossible, she left the temple and returned to power.

And this time, she wasn’t aiming for survival.

She was aiming for the crown.