The Company

Chapter 17 Blank Tablet

Lu Zigang stood at the entrance of Dumb Shop, staring blankly at the ancient plaque overhead for a while before hesitantly pushing open the heavy door.

Truth be told, he had accidentally discovered this antique shop two years ago while traveling in Hangzhou. With just one glance, he felt an inexplicable familiarity with this place, though he could swear he had never been here before.

Yet whenever he encountered unsolvable mysteries regarding ancient artifacts, his thoughts would always drift here. This time was no exception—after returning to Beijing from a business trip to Xi'an with unanswered questions, he immediately boarded a plane to this city.

The carved door swung open with a creak. Lu Zigang froze momentarily at the shop's interior arrangement. Every time he visited, he felt something was slightly off about the display. For instance, that Song Dynasty celadon-glazed plate shouldn't be placed there—it belonged elsewhere. There shouldn't only be two Changxin Palace Lanterns either; he remembered there should be two more inside the shop besides the ones at the entrance. And look—how did that gilded Bo Shan incense burner with the descending dragon get a crack? When did that human figurine appear by the entrance? It bore resemblance to Qin Shi Huang's terracotta warriors yet was distinctly different.

A jumble of thoughts exploded in Lu Zigang's mind, making him momentarily dazed. Before he could stop himself, the words spilled out: "Why has the shop become so small?" Immediately he regretted it—this antique shop had never relocated, so why did he always feel it was too cramped?

"Property prices are too expensive," came a clear, laughing voice.

"True, nowadays housing prices are downright insane! A month's salary wouldn't even buy one square meter if you didn't eat or drink!" Lu Zigang's resentful youth mentality toward the wealthy immediately took over, and he nodded in agreement before suddenly freezing on the spot. Who was the Boss trying to fool? With his perspective as an intern researcher at the National Museum, any single antique in this shop could buy the most luxurious storefront in Hangzhou's prime location. There was only one reason why this antique shop remained tucked away in this inconspicuous small commercial street: the Boss simply had no intention of selling antiques.

Turning toward the voice, Lu Zigang noticed the Boss wasn't wearing his usual vintage Mao Suit but had changed into a very fashionable black shirt. The cuffs and hem of this black shirt were embroidered with deep crimson cloud patterns, blending classical and modern styles into something quite distinctive. Just like the original Mao Suit, it also featured an exquisitely embroidered Crimson Dragon—the dragon's head resting on the Boss's right shoulder while its body coiled down the back, giving the entire shirt an aura of luxurious texture."Why the change in style? That Mao suit you used to wear was quite handsome!" Lu Zigang frowned, the words slipping out without thought: "The Mao suit blends modern and ancient elements, and carries various symbolic meanings! For instance, the four front pockets represent propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame. Ah, come to think of it, I recall your previous one didn't seem to have pockets. But no matter - the five buttons on the front placket distinguish China's five-power separation from the West's three-power separation, representing administration, legislation, judiciary, examination, and supervision. The three buttons on the cuffs signify the Three Principles of the People: nationalism, democracy, and people's livelihood. The seamless back represents the great principle of national peace and unification. So traditional and meaningful! The Mao suit is far superior to those so-called Han and Tang dynasty garments nowadays! If you ask me, though Han clothing is magnificent, its long sleeves ultimately hinder movement. And while Tang-style clothing bears the 'Tang' name, it actually evolved from Qing dynasty magua robes and cannot represent our vast Chinese civilization." Lu Zigang's voice abruptly cut off as he realized he'd fallen into his old habit again. Scratching his head sheepishly, he said: "Sorry, I can't help comparing modern things with historical ones. Must be occupational hazard."

The Boss smiled tolerantly, fetched two Ge ware powder-blue glaze bowls from the counter, boiled a pot of water, and brewed two cups of tea.

"Mr. Lu, you seem to have visited several times. Did you pass last year's exam?"

Delighted that the Boss actually remembered him, Lu Zigang smiled and replied: "Yes, I passed. Now I'm working as a trainee researcher at the National Museum." He picked up the powder-blue lidded bowl, couldn't resist examining it, and after confirming it was indeed a genuine late Song dynasty Ge ware antique, said nothing more. Lu Zigang first supported the saucer with his left hand, gently lifted the lid of the bowl, inhaled the rich tea aroma, then took a small sip of the clear tea. Squinting with enjoyment, he said: "One bud, one leaf just unfurled, flat and smooth - this is actually premium Mingqian Longjing tea. I'm truly fortunate today."

The Boss smiled and took a companionable sip. Truth be told, among all these people, Lu Zigang suited his tastes best. Perhaps because this person had grown up in the Dumb Shop in a previous life, they shared a special connection. None of the people around him now could match Lu Zigang's relaxed, appreciative demeanor. The Doctor naturally understood nothing of this - he'd just gulp it down like a cow. The Curator understood tea well enough, but treated antiques with excessive caution - having him drink from a late Song Ge ware bowl would probably be more uncomfortable than drinking while being choked. As for that painter kid, he only cared about painting and had no interest in anything else. The Master would likely be more interested in how much the bowl could sell for.

The two men each held their bowl of tea, drinking slowly as a tranquil atmosphere flowed through the Dumb Shop, intoxicatingly soothing.

Savoring the tea fragrance lingering between his lips and teeth, Lu Zigang felt an incredible peace, as if this scene had repeated hundreds or thousands of times in his life, so familiar it felt dreamlike. He couldn't fathom the depths of the person before him - at first glance he appeared to be an ordinary young man, but the more one looked, the more he resembled an antique buried deep underground. Once the dust was brushed away and the superficial gloss washed off, he'd reveal extraordinary elegance. Thinking this, when Lu Zigang looked at the man again, he noticed that behind the ethereal steam of tea fragrance, both his eyes and brow carried an aura steeped in the passage of time, truly captivating.Only after finishing this cup of tea, when the Boss refilled it for him, did Lu Zigang snap out of his thoughts and remember his purpose for coming. He hurriedly opened the backpack he was carrying.

"Boss, I went to Xi'an recently and acquired this item from someone. You're well-traveled and knowledgeable—could you tell me its origin?" As he spoke, Lu Zigang handed over a palm-sized piece of stone material.

It was a stone with an oily yellow hue throughout, its texture faintly revealing fine radish-like patterns, the color gradually fading from the outside inward. The stone was carved into a miniature stele, with no inscription on the tablet's forehead, only eight chi dragons intricately entwined at the top. Their scales were distinct, their sinews and bones exposed, vividly lifelike. On both sides of the stele were images of ascending dragons, each depicting a massive dragon soaring through the air, the craftsmanship so exquisite that the dragons seemed ready to take flight. Unfortunately, this was only the upper half of the stele, severed cleanly in the middle by a sharp blade, revealing the stone's cross-section.

"This should be Tianhuang stone, the kind they say 'one liang of Tianhuang is worth three liang of gold.' But as the saying goes, 'Gold is easy to obtain, Tianhuang is hard to come by.' At current market prices, it's undoubtedly an exorbitant treasure." Lu Zigang paused before continuing, "However, the uniqueness of this stele isn't in its material but in its carving style."

The Boss looked up and met Lu Zigang's gaze. Both saw the same answer in each other's eyes and spoke in unison: "The Blank Tablet."

There have been many blank tablets in Chinese history, but the most famous is the one at the Qianling Mausoleum on Mount Li. It stands before the tomb of Wu Zetian, the only female emperor in history. The distinctive decoration at the top of the stele and its completely blank surface made its identity immediately recognizable.

The Boss didn't inquire about how Lu Zigang had obtained the item. Instead, he handed the carved stele back to Lu Zigang and turned to enter the inner room.

This time, as Lu Zigang sipped the exquisite Mingqian Longjing tea, he found it tasteless.

In about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the Boss emerged, holding a palm-sized brocade box. "This is a stone carving I acquired many years ago. I've never been able to determine its origin."

Lu Zigang's heart raced with anticipation as he peered into the box. Inside lay a stone carving of the same material as his, with identical flying dragon carvings beside it. "It seems this was carved based on the Blank Tablet at Qianling Mausoleum. But the craftsmanship doesn't appear recent—it looks quite ancient." Dating Shoushan stone carvings is particularly challenging because carbon-14 dating only works on organic materials, leaving only carving styles for analysis. In contrast, dating jade artifacts is simpler, as not only can carving styles be examined, but jade also develops unique inclusions from external substances. Shoushan stone rarely undergoes such distinctive changes. Thus, after returning to Beijing with the broken stele, Lu Zigang had consulted many experts, all of whom agreed that while the material was excellent, the craftsmanship appeared modern.

This was understandable, as Shoushan stone only became popular after the Song Dynasty, with collecting becoming widespread much later, peaking during the Ming and Qing periods. Yet Lu Zigang couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Who would bother using such fine Tianhuang stone to carve a blank tablet? That was precisely why he had made a special trip to the Dumb Shop.After closing his eyes in contemplation for a while, the Boss opened them and calmly remarked, "Shoushan stone carvings first appeared as stone figurines during the Southern Dynasties, but the craftsmanship was crude. Aside from being used as burial objects, there are no recorded instances of them being collected."

The Boss sighed softly and added, "When I obtained this lower half of the stone carving back then, I always felt it resembled a memorial tablet."

A chill ran down Lu Zigang's spine. Any stone inscribed with text could be considered a tablet. In fact, the Blank Tablet was an extraordinary existence, quite fitting for Wu Zetian, the one and only empress in Chinese history.

However, the Tianhuang stone Blank Tablet in his hands was particularly intriguing. If it truly was a burial tablet, that would mean it was a funerary object looted from the Qianling Mausoleum. Yet, according to historical records and various surveys, the Qianling Mausoleum had never been plundered. Lu Zigang couldn't make sense of it and couldn't resist taking the half stone carving from the Brocade Box in his left hand. He aligned the two halves of the Blank Tablet, and the broken edges fit together perfectly, as if they had never been separated.

Leaning in for a closer look, Lu Zigang found himself unable to tear his gaze away. The yellow glow in his vision suddenly expanded several times over, but his body remained completely immobilized, utterly swallowed by the lustrous yellow light.

·2·

"Zhicong! Zhicong! Zhicong, don't die!"

Lu Zigang was awakened from the darkness by a woman's cries. Dazed, he opened his eyes and saw a young girl weeping over him. She appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, with delicate features and skin as smooth as polished jade. Though young, she already showed signs of becoming a striking beauty. What stunned Lu Zigang, however, was not her appearance but her attire.

Her narrow-sleeved top was precisely the style popular during the late Sui and early Tang dynasties. The prevalence of narrow-sleeved garments in the Sui and Tang periods wasn't due to frugality but because such clothing, influenced by Central Asian styles, was convenient for horseback riding and leisure activities, making it highly favored by women. Lu Zigang was well-versed in ancient artifacts, so just from her clothing, he could discern clues. As he glanced over the jewelry and makeup she wore, he marveled inwardly.

The girl's makeup wasn't the generic style seen in modern film and television but rather the moth-wing eyebrows popular in the early Tang dynasty. Her eyebrows were drawn broad and short, shaped like moth wings, using copper pigment. Copper pigment, what people now call verdigris, was scraped from bronze objects and used by commoners for eyebrow makeup. Thus, the girl's eyebrows were a striking dark green, which would seem bizarre by modern standards but was indeed fashionable in the early Tang. From these eyebrows alone, Lu Zigang could deduce that the girl came from a modest background, yet her clothing was somewhat luxurious, beyond what an ordinary family could afford—a truly puzzling contradiction.

Which film or TV series is this? The costume department is very meticulous! Even the makeup is spot-on. Though the clothing is a bit too lavish and doesn't quite match the simple makeup, it's quite impressive.But this thought only flashed through Lu Zigang's mind before he extinguished it himself. Because he wasn't watching a play—he was acting in one. Yet he couldn't remember how he'd ended up here. Wasn't he just drinking tea with the Boss at Dumb Shop? Then they seemed to confirm that the Tianhuang stone carving was a miniature version of the Blank Tablet.

Just as Lu Zigang was feeling disoriented, he was horrified to discover that his body was completely immobilized—not only could he not move, but he had lost all sensation. He could only stare in panic as the young girl sobbed, "Zhicong, I know you want to marry me. But after my father passed away two years ago, my two stepbrothers have been nothing but sarcastic and cold toward my mother and us three sisters. Though I could marry you and escape that cage, what would become of my mother? My only choice is to enter the palace and try my luck."

From the girl's weeping, Lu Zigang pieced together a story—the fickleness of human relationships exposed over family property after the patriarch's death. It was practically a retelling of Cinderella, but without any fairy godmother, pumpkin carriage, glass slippers, or magic. Yet this girl stubbornly insisted on entering the palace to pursue her dream. So these clothes and this makeup were real. The girl had enjoyed her father's affection in earlier years and naturally owned a few fine garments, but now she could no afford expensive Jiangnan cosmetics. She could only imitate ordinary girls, using copper scraped from the back of a bronze mirror to sketch her eyebrows.

It felt too real—flawless in every detail.

Lu Zigang watched as "his" hand trembled and rose—a thin, small palm stained with blood. This wasn't his body at all.

His frantic mind finally calmed, deducing that he must be experiencing some inexplicable phenomenon, witnessing events that had occurred over a thousand years ago.

Wasn't this like a mirage? But what he encountered was clearly stranger than any mirage—not only did he see vivid images, but he also heard clear dialogue. He heard "his" body speak intermittently, finally understanding how this situation had come about.

It turned out this Zhicong had arranged to meet the girl in the mountains, hoping to dissuade her from entering the palace to serve the emperor. But they had argued, and whether the girl accidentally pushed him off the cliff or he slipped and fell, in such a remote place, no one would hear cries for help. Expecting this middle-school-aged girl to carry him out was simply impossible.

Lu Zigang thought silently of modern technology's advantages—how convenient it would be to pull out a phone and dial 110 or 120, with mobile networks covering the globe. None of this "heaven doesn't answer, earth doesn't respond" desperation.

Lu Zigang could only see what Zhicong saw and hear what Zhicong heard—he could do nothing more. So when his vision began to blur, he knew Zhicong's condition was deteriorating, likely approaching death's door.Racking his brain for any historical figure named Zhicong, Lu Zigang couldn't come up with anything and couldn't help but laugh at himself. The boy was only about fifteen or sixteen, merely the son of an ordinary merchant, and soon to die—how could he possibly leave any mark in history?

As his vision grew increasingly blurred, Lu Zigang suddenly heard, as if in a trance, the girl's final words.

"Meeting the Son of Heaven—who knows if it might not be a blessing?"

Lu Zigang's heart jolted. That famous saying, the girl's background, her age... Could it be that the young girl he had just seen was none other than Wu Zetian before she entered the palace?

But there was no time for further thought. His consciousness was once again swallowed by a bright yellow vortex. The last image he saw was the underage Wu Zetian reaching out toward him, slowly covering the eyes of the boy named Zhicong.

·3·

This time, the darkness didn't last long. When Lu Zigang opened his eyes again, he found himself not in the previous wilderness but in an understated yet luxurious room.

"Understated luxury" meant that at first glance, everything appeared unremarkable, but upon closer inspection, each item revealed extraordinary craftsmanship. Every decoration was meticulously arranged, exuding elegance and refined taste.

Upon opening his eyes, Lu Zigang's first thought was that he was on a movie set. But then he spotted a familiar face.

Having already guessed that this woman was Wu Zetian, Lu Zigang observed her carefully. She was enchantingly beautiful, with long, alluring eyes and skin as fair as jade. She wore a court dress, her hair styled with a feitian bun adorned with a tortoiseshell hairpin. Her makeup was exquisite—no longer using humble copper-based eyebrow pigment but rather the deep blue-green "sparrow head" pigment imported from the Western Regions, shaping her eyebrows into the elegant "misty" style. She appeared to be in her twenties now, no longer the youthful girl he had seen earlier, as if completely transformed. She radiated confidence and pride, like a rose with thorns.

Ancient Chinese painting emphasized spiritual resemblance over physical likeness. No one could reconstruct the true appearances of historical figures from abstract ancient portraits, so Lu Zigang didn't dare blink, striving to imprint this image in his mind.

Everyone knew the saying "Yan slim, Huan plump"—"Yan" referring to Zhao Feiyan from Emperor Cheng of Han's time, "Huan" to Yang Guifei from Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's reign. The Han dynasty prized slimness as beauty, the Tang dynasty plumpness—both rather extreme aesthetic standards. Fortunately, in the early Tang period, the concept of "plump beauty" hadn't yet emerged. Wu Zetian appeared genuinely stunning, no less beautiful than any actress or idol star he'd seen on television.

Truly worthy of being the one and only Empress Wu Zetian. Judging by her age, she should be about twenty-five or twenty-six now, likely still serving as Emperor Taizong of Tang Li Shimin's cairen (talented lady). Lu Zigang remembered clearly: Wu Zetian was appointed cairen at fourteen and given the name "Meiniang" (Charming Lady). Because she was well-read from childhood, proficient in poetry, song, and calligraphy, she had served in the imperial study handling documents. This service lasted twelve years, a role equivalent to Emperor Taizong's confidential secretary. Daily, she handled memorials and official documents, reading books and classics reserved for the emperor. It could be said that Emperor Taizong was Wu Zetian's political enlightenment teacher. Without these twelve years of accumulation, there would have been no Empress Wu Zetian later.

But what exactly was happening now?Lu Zigang discovered that the future Wu Zetian, currently the Talented Lady Wu, was standing against the wall just a few steps away, while his current body lay weakly slumped in a chair. Just like last time, he still couldn’t control the body—he could only see and hear. It wasn’t until he caught sight of a jade-like hand with painted vermilion nails in his line of sight that Lu Zigang realized he had possessed a woman.

“Heh—heh—” The woman called Shulian, the one Lu Zigang had possessed, let out faint, struggling sounds from her throat. It was clear she had been poisoned with some drug that rendered her mute. Unable to speak or stand up and flee.

Watching Wu Zetian approach step by step, a chill rose from the depths of Lu Zigang’s heart. He recalled the unlucky fellow named Zhi Cong, who had also been possessed by him just minutes before death. Could it be that this Shulian, too, was nearing her end?

Wu Zetian had no idea the body now housed a different soul. She reached out, gently stroking Shulian’s cheek, but from her elegantly curved lips came words that sent shivers down one’s spine: “In this palace, making someone vanish without a trace is all too easy. I don’t want to disappear for no reason, nor do I wish to wait endlessly with no future ahead. So, I’m afraid I must trouble you, Shulian.”

Seeing Wu Zetian up close, Lu Zigang found her beauty even more breathtaking.

What secret did this Shulian know? Something so critical that Wu Zetian would personally poison her without rest?

Lu Zigang suddenly recalled an event. In the twentieth year of the Zhenguan era, Emperor Taizong of Tang was already gravely ill, and state affairs were handed over to Crown Prince Li Zhi. From then on, the crown prince attended court every other day and served his father medicine and meals after morning sessions. Wu Zetian, responsible for handling court documents, began interacting with Crown Prince Li Zhi as they both attended to the ailing emperor. The two were similar in age and in daily contact. Li Zhi admired Wu Zetian's political insight, while she saw him as her future anchor. With mutual affection, it wouldn't be surprising if something developed between them.

Considering Shulian was likely a palace maid in the imperial study, she might have accidentally discovered the illicit relationship between Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, prompting Wu Zetian to silence her first.

Lu Zigang pieced this together in moments and couldn't help but sigh. In the "Complete Tang Poems," there's a poem by Wu Zetian titled "Longing": "Seeing red as green, my thoughts in disarray / Worn out and languid, missing you away. / If you don't believe how often I have wept, / Open my chest and see my pomegranate skirt, tear-drenched."

Such bewildered longing, where red turns to green in her eyes, couldn't possibly be for the bedridden Emperor Taizong Li Shimin—it must have been for the current crown prince, the future Emperor Gaozong of Tang, Li Zhi. A woman of such talent and means—how could she not be both captivating and terrifying? Having bided her time in the imperial study for twelve years, she finally seized a sliver of opportunity and would naturally let no one stand in her way.

Wu Zetian stared into Shulian's dying eyes and, for a fleeting moment, thought she saw a glimmer of clarity. Startled, she leaned in for a closer look, but Shulian's pupils had already dilated, losing focus, soon becoming vacant.

It must have been her imagination.

Only after confirming Shulian had stopped breathing did Wu Zetian relax. As she turned to leave nonchalantly, she found those wide-open eyes fixed on her unbearably glaring. Unable to resist, she reached out and closed the eyelids.

Lu Zigang was thrilled because when he awoke again, he found himself lying in a cradle. From his babbling sounds to the chubby hands he gnawed on, and the surrounding furnishings, he confirmed he had now possessed the body of Wu Zetian's legendary infant daughter who died in swaddling clothes.

He realized he had possessed three individuals. The first two weren't recorded in historical texts, but this current host was explicitly documented, with unofficial histories elaborating extensively. Although neither the "Old Book of Tang" nor the "New Book of Tang" mentioned the young princess's early death, Sima Guang's "Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Governance" clearly stated that Wu Zetian personally killed her own daughter and framed Empress Wang for it.

Even a vicious tiger doesn't eat its cubs. A mother killing her daughter is horrifying, but Wu Zetian would go on to do far worse. Brothers, sons, sons-in-law, nieces, nephews, grandsons—she ordered their deaths directly or indirectly. So in Wu Zetian's calculus, trading a newborn daughter for the empress's throne was undoubtedly a worthwhile bargain.

Having grasped his situation, Lu Zigang's excitement gradually settled.After Emperor Taizong of Tang's death, Wu Zetian became a nun at Ganye Temple, chosen by Empress Wang as a puppet to counter Consort Xiao. Unexpectedly, this seemingly harmless woman would stir up massive waves in the imperial harem, even shaking Empress Wang's own position. Lu Zigang could confirm that Empress Wang had already visited the little princess, and soon Wu Zetian would arrive to commit an act condemned by heaven and earth.

By calculation, Wu Zetian should have been thirty-two years old. For a woman of that age to gain Emperor Gaozong of Tang's exclusive favor in a harem filled with beauties indicated she employed methods beyond ordinary reach. Lu Zigang reflected that over these thirty-plus years, Wu Zetian had likely caused numerous deaths, yet he had only possessed three individuals. This suggested that, due to the small Blank Tablet stone carving, his soul had somehow reenacted scenes from the early Tang dynasty. Each possession lasted about five minutes, and these three were all personally killed by Wu Zetian—those who died indirectly were beyond this scope.

The Boss once mentioned that Tianhuang stone had not yet become a collector's item in the Tang dynasty, having been used mostly for burials since the Northern and Southern Dynasties. Could it be that the Blank Tablet carried the cursed resentment of souls killed by Wu Zetian, and he, happening upon it, could only witness the scenes and sounds, experiencing it like watching a movie?

Although such an experience was probably unique to him in the world, Lu Zigang couldn't help feeling disturbed. Even though the first two people he possessed had no relation to him and had been dead for over a thousand years, he had watched them die with his own eyes. Possessing the bodies of the dying, he couldn't remain unmoved.

Especially now, as he was in the body of a tiny infant who couldn't even turn over or sit up. How could Wu Zetian bring herself to harm such a fragile child?

Lu Zigang actually admired Wu Zetian deeply—perhaps this reverence lurked in many people's hearts. Throughout China's five-thousand-year history, Wu Zetian was the only orthodox female emperor to ascend the throne. Although there were powerful women like Empress Lü before her and Empress Dowager Cixi after, they manipulated court politics for personal gain. In contrast, Wu Zetian was a successful stateswoman: she stabilized the frontiers, developed the economy, and curbed powerful clans, contributing to the Tang's golden age. Without inheriting Emperor Taizong's political concepts and tactics, the weak Emperor Gaozong could never have achieved such foundations. Even later Emperor Xuanzong continued Wu Zetian's policies, and the harshest historians only criticized her for harem indiscretions and cruel officials—minor faults in the grand scheme.

But does a noble goal justify vile means?

Lu Zigang knew he was naive. Go players understand that sacrificing pieces is a necessary tactic—not just in the game, but in war, the harem, and court politics alike.No one wants to become a discarded pawn. That Zhi Cong—if Wu Zetian hadn’t pushed him off the cliff, he might have become a successful merchant, with his own career and family, living a happy life. That Shu Lian—if she hadn’t been poisoned by Wu Zetian, she might have reached a suitable age, escaped this devouring imperial palace, married into a good family, and lived a peaceful life. And the little princess he now inhabited—if she could have grown up safely, she might have become another Princess Taiping or a remarkable woman no less extraordinary than her mother.

Lu Zigang grew increasingly distressed the more he thought about it. The sensation of being trapped in an unfamiliar body felt stranger and stranger, and he couldn’t help but struggle to break free. By now, he could faintly hear indistinct voices outside the hall and knew that Wu Zetian had likely returned.

As he tried to struggle and escape, Lu Zigang was astonished to discover that the infant he inhabited was waving its hands according to his will. This was different from the previous two times when he could only observe and listen. Perhaps the soul within this young body had not yet developed much of its own will, making it easy for Lu Zigang to control.

Yet Lu Zigang remained powerless. After all, this little infant could barely even turn over—where could he possibly flee?

Just then, a series of crisp jingles from ornaments echoed, and an elegant, dignified woman appeared before Lu Zigang. She wore a light yellow silver-mud pei cloak adorned with colorful pheasant patterns, a deep cyan que-di ceremonial robe with crimson silk-trimmed sleeves, her hair styled in a "gazing at immortals" bun secured with nine jade hairpins. Her eyebrows, delicately painted with Persian kohl—the finest eyebrow pigment of the era—were shaped like faint wisps of smoke.

Wu Zetian appeared more prosperous than the last time he had seen her, yet her expression was grave. When Lu Zigang met her complex gaze, he knew she was engaged in an intense internal struggle—whether to sacrifice her daughter for her own future.

However, it seemed Wu Zetian had little time to hesitate. Lu Zigang watched as her hand, adorned with red nail polish, reached toward his neck. The scene unfolded like a horror film in slow motion, triggering a reflexive scream. Of course, when he opened his mouth, only infantile wails emerged. But before the sound could escape his throat, Wu Zetian covered his mouth.

For the first time, Lu Zigang felt the sensation of being murdered. Although, in a sense, he had already died twice before, on those occasions, he had awakened in a near-death state. This time, he was witnessing the actual scene of "his own" murder.

No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t change this reality. Gradually, his vision blurred. Lu Zigang stared deeply at Wu Zetian, so close he could almost touch her, imprinting this moment of her in his mind—including the teardrop that slipped from her eye.

Wu Zetian watched as her own tear fell, landing in the infant’s motionless pupils. A profound sorrow surged from the depths of her heart. She raised her hand to close the child’s eyes and broke down in tears.

"Someone! Summon the imperial physician at once!" Lu Zigang took a long moment to regain his senses. The experience felt too real—so real that he almost doubted whether he had truly been murdered by Wu Zetian. But when he opened his eyes again, his vision was hazy. It took him a while to realize he was looking down, eating a meat pie, with droplets of water falling into the plate. He stared for a moment before realizing that the woman he now inhabited was crying while she ate.Raising his head, Lu Zigang saw a faint reflection in the bronze mirror of the dressing table by the wall—a girl in her teens whose appearance closely resembled the young Wu Zetian, particularly in the aura between her brows.

Lu Zigang deduced the girl’s identity: she was Wu Zetian’s niece, the Lady He Lan. Due to Emperor Gaozong of Tang Li Zhi’s particular attention, Wu Zetian viewed her as a potential threat in the harem. Thus, during a banquet, she ended the girl’s flower-like life with a poisoned meat pie. Clearly, this pie must have been handed to her personally by Wu Zetian, which was why he now found himself possessing the girl’s body.

Lu Zigang tried to discreetly search for Wu Zetian’s presence in this secluded room but found nothing.

Could it be that Wu Zetian wasn’t here? Lu Zigang was deeply disappointed.

The Lady He Lan had only taken two bites of the meat pie before setting it down. Evidently, with her sharp intelligence, she already knew she had no chance of survival today. Wu Zetian, now the empress, not only held absolute power in the harem but also wielded considerable influence in court politics. If she wanted someone dead, that person would die, without even the right to struggle.

“I have a few final words, Aunt. I wonder if you would be willing to listen,” the Lady He Lan said softly, wiping the tears from her face as she spoke.

“Speak, child.” A familiar voice rang out from behind the Lady He Lan. Only then did Lu Zigang realize that Wu Zetian had been there all along. Perhaps out of guilt, she had not stood in front of her niece.

“Why…” The Lady He Lan’s words trailed off halfway, for some unknown reason. Suddenly, Lu Zigang felt he could control the girl’s fingers. Drawing on his previous experience of possessing an infant, he attempted to continue the girl’s words: “Why… kill me?”

Wu Zetian did not notice the suspicious pause in between. For those on the brink of death, she always had the utmost patience. “Child, you are innocent. If you must resent anyone, resent your own beauty—beauty so striking that even your uncle the emperor took notice. You may think your aunt is ruthless, but you do not understand. Men are fickle; the more they cannot have something, the more they desire it. Though I am now the empress, my position entirely depends on your uncle. A single word from him could cast me into eternal ruin. So, I have no choice but to send you to the Western Paradise of Buddha, where you may attain bliss early.”

Lu Zigang fell silent. He knew Wu Zetian spoke the truth. Back in the day, how glorious Empress Wang had been, with her powerful maternal clan—yet hadn’t Wu Zetian replaced her? Lu Zigang waited with bated breath for a moment. Sensing that the Lady He Lan in this body had already lost consciousness and would speak no more, he mustered the courage to voice his own question through her lips: “What is it that you seek? To even kill your own closest kin with your own hands?”

Wu Zetian noticed that the girl had omitted the term “aunt” in addressing her but did not dwell on it. Standing behind the Lady He Lan, she gazed at the young girl’s graceful figure and could not help but feel a wave of melancholy. Her own child, had it survived, would likely have been about this girl’s age by now."What I sought in my youth was to prevent my mother from being bullied any longer. As I grew older, it was to avoid dying lonely in this palace. Later still, I wished to become his wife and empress. But now, I have aged while he remains in his prime. The ancients said: 'A wife should be an equal.' I may possess supreme power, managing the harem on the emperor's behalf, even handling court affairs. Though it appears glorious, I am merely a tool in the emperor's hands. If he finds me displeasing, he can easily cast me aside. I can only secure more power to ensure my position as empress remains firm."

Lu Zigang could feel Wu Zetian's hand caressing the young lady Helan's hairpin, as if reminiscing about something. He subtly sensed that Wu Zetian was actually mourning the infant she had personally killed. Yet it was different—though Wu Zetian would later force her own son to death, it was because he had become an obstacle to her ascension to the throne. Coupled with the fact that the older Li Hong held opposing political views, their mother-son bond grew increasingly faint, until Wu Zetian could no longer see him as her son but as a rival.

But the infant in the cradle back then was innocent. No wonder Wu Zetian doted infinitely on Princess Taiping born later—to some extent, it was driven by a psychological need to atone for that baby.

"Was it worth it?" Lu Zigang heard the young lady Helan's voice drift over faintly, voicing the question he had long wanted to ask.

"I failed to serve my parents at their knees—I am not a good daughter. I failed to protect my own child—I am not a good mother. I disobeyed marital norms by not taking concubines for my husband—I am not a good wife. I am truly a solitary sovereign." Wu Zetian's hand on the hairpin stilled, followed by a long sigh that seemed especially desolate in the deep palace. "Yet only the one standing at the highest position can be called a solitary sovereign."

Lu Zigang was shocked, realizing that Wu Zetian already harbored ambitions to usurp the throne at this point.

Wu Zetian collected herself, narrowed her eyes, and began to sense something amiss. Her niece had always been delicate and would never ask such probing questions. Had this girl possessed even a hint of assertiveness, she wouldn't have been forced to eat the poisoned cake so easily. Years of lingering doubts grew increasingly unsettling. Wu Zetian's hand moved downward, gripping the young lady Helan's shoulder as she forcefully turned her around, demanding sharply: "Who are you?"

Her voice cut off abruptly when she saw the young lady Helan's face. The girl slumped in her arms had black blood trickling from her lips—already clearly deceased. Yet her eyes, washed by tears, remained exceptionally clear, gleaming with a startling brightness.

Wu Zetian stood stunned for a moment, countless questions swirling in her mind but with no one to answer them. Helplessly, she reached out and slowly closed the unwilling eyes of the young lady Helan. It had long been said that history is like a young girl, appearing differently adorned in the eyes of different people.

The words recording history have long been permeated with the distortions of power. Though Chinese characters emphasize horizontal straightness and vertical uprightness, history has long been twisted and deformed within these seemingly orderly words.

But some things remain unchanged.Lu Zigang still remembered his visit to the Fengxian Temple in Luoyang years ago, where the Vairocana Buddha statue was sculpted based on Wu Zetian's likeness. This Buddha, hailed as the compassionate illuminator of all realms, had shed Wu Zetian's charm and authority, transforming entirely into solemnity and mercy. Yet when he opened his eyes today, he felt nearly the same urge to prostrate himself in worship as he had back then.

But this wasn't the awe inspired by a seventeen-meter-tall Buddha statue—it was the imperial majesty and aura emanating from Wu Zetian before him.

No matter how magnificent her robes and ceremonial garments, they could no longer capture Lu Zigang's attention. In his gaze, though her hair had silvered, Wu Zetian stood precisely at the zenith of her life.

Lu Zigang's mind raced: Whose body had he possessed this time? He had assumed that upon reopening his eyes, he might be in that unlucky lad Li Hong's form. But judging by Wu Zetian's advanced age, she had likely valued her reputation enough not to personally send her eldest son to his end. And throughout these years, she had never directly taken anyone's life.

This was hardly surprising. She was now the most powerful figure under heaven, the first female emperor in Chinese history. If she desired someone's death, countless others would eagerly carry it out—why soil her own hands?

So, which unfortunate soul had he inhabited now?

Beyond Wu Zetian, his vision revealed no one else. The gloom-shrouded palace resembled the gullet of some man-eating beast, reeking of nauseating blood. Flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across Wu Zetian's face, rendering her expression indiscernible.

Only when Lu Zigang registered the viscous warmth in his grasp did he realize his host had been stabbed in the abdomen, blood flowing ceaselessly—the metallic odor permeating the hall originated from this very body. Who could have provoked such fury from this generation's empress? As he racked his brains, Wu Zetian's voice abruptly cut through the silence.

"Xue Huaiyi, do not presume I truly need you. At seventy-two, would I require a bedmate? You are but a male consort—do not fancy yourself some grand chancellor or general." Her voice bore the rasp of age, yet carried undeniable authority.

Finally, Lu Zigang understood his host's identity: Xue Huaiyi, Wu Zetian's first male favorite after her ascension. Many historians argued that Wu Zetian, then past sixty, could not possibly have had such physical desires. She merely sought to demonstrate to the world that if male emperors could maintain three palaces and six compounds with seventy-two consorts, a female sovereign could do likewise.

It was an image project in its own right, but Xue Huaiyi had tragically misinterpreted it.

No matter how favored imperial consorts might be, their rewards extended only to gold, jewels, and light, thin silk fabrics—at most, blessings reaching their clans. But when men gained favor, it manifested through official ranks. Blinded by luxury, Xue Huaiyi embezzled state funds and set fire to the Bright Hall until even his perpetually indulgent patron could tolerate him no longer.

Unlike his four prior experiences, Lu Zigang felt for the first time that his host deserved death. Unable to suppress the thought, he lifted the corners of his mouth in a soft, derisive laugh.Wu Zetian's eyes sharpened, staring intently at him as she squeezed out a sentence through her thin lips: "Who are you?"

Lu Zigang was taken aback. He hadn't expected Wu Zetian to notice. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. Should he say he was a traveler from a disordered timeline? He wouldn't even believe that himself!

"I have seen you before," Wu Zetian closed her eyes, as if sinking into distant memories. "Before Helan died, were you there too?"

Lu Zigang looked down at the blood on his chest and abdomen, thinking to himself that it was fortunate he couldn't feel any pain—otherwise, how could he calmly chat with this empress? "Even earlier, I was there too. Before you strangled that infant, before you poisoned that Shulian, before you smashed that Zhicong to death..."

Wu Zetian’s hands trembled uncontrollably. In her lifetime, she had personally killed only a few people, and the secrets known only to herself had recently been laid bare by this man one by one. This filled her, who no longer held reverence or fear, with immense panic.

If he were not a deity, how could he know so clearly?

"Have you come to judge me?" Wu Zetian reopened her eyes, the slightly drooping corners of which now gleamed with sharp intensity. "Then tell me, am I a good person or a bad one?"

Lu Zigang smiled bitterly. If only one could evaluate a person with such simple words as "good" or "bad."

"No one can judge me," Wu Zetian rose from her couch, walked up to Lu Zigang, and looked down at him from above. "Not even the gods, not even I myself!"

Was this why, after her death, a Blank Tablet was erected before the Qianling Mausoleum?

Was it because the Empress believed that no one in this world was qualified to pass final judgment on her?

Lu Zigang felt Xue Huaiyi’s body slowly collapse backward. He strained to keep his eyes wide open, wanting to imprint the Empress’s final words in his mind.

He knew that after this, he would likely never see her again.

In his gradually blurring vision, the Empress’s towering figure slowly merged with the statue of the Vairocana Buddha in the Fengxian Temple—a figure said to deliver all living beings from suffering.

When he opened his eyes again, Lu Zigang stared blankly at the reassembled Tianhuang stone Blank Tablet carving in his hand, unable to snap out of his daze for a long time.

These were his hands, his body. But his soul seemed to linger in that world of a thousand years ago, as if he had just awoken from a profound dream, unwilling to return to reality.

The fragrance of tea by the counter remained, steam still rising from the teacup. To others, it might have been just a blink of an eye, but he had journeyed through the Empress’s life and back.

Lu Zigang lifted his head and saw the Boss behind the counter smiling faintly as always. In those deep, narrow black pupils, it seemed as though he had seen through something, yet he never voiced it.

"Mr. Lu, this Tianhuang stone Blank Tablet should have been a burial object placed before Wu Zetian’s memorial tablet in the underground palace of the Qianling Mausoleum," the Boss said calmly, holding his teacup. "Although it is officially claimed that the Qianling Mausoleum has never been looted, throughout history, there have been many capable individuals. It’s likely that the mausoleum has fallen victim to theft."

Lu Zigang nodded with difficulty. Had it not been for his recent extraordinary experience, he might have disagreed with the Boss’s assertion.

"Since it is a burial object, keeping it in your possession, Mr. Lu, may bring misfortune. Why not transfer the other half to me so the Blank Tablet can be whole again?" the Boss suggested earnestly.

Lu Zigang hesitated. To him, the Blank Tablet held a unique significance, yet he found the Boss’s proposal hard to refute. Reuniting the two halves of the carving was its best destiny. He wanted to ask to buy the other half from the Boss, but he knew without asking that the price would be astronomical—far beyond what a trainee researcher like him could afford.

As if reading his mind, the Boss set down his teacup and promptly took out a Brocade Box from behind the counter. "Discussing money would only harm our rapport. Let me exchange it with you for another antique."Lu Zigang remained unmoved as he looked inside the brocade box, but after that single glance, his gaze could no longer be pulled away. Lying quietly within the brocade box was a slender, small black knife, its blade adorned with peculiar wavy patterns.

An indescribable sense of familiarity surged in Lu Zigang's heart, yet he swore he had never seen such a knife in his life.

"Uh... is this a fruit knife?"

"..."

Outside the entrance of the Dumb Shop, a man in a hoodie stood leaning against the shadows of the alley. Perched on his shoulder was a palm-sized crimson bird, meticulously preening its feathers with its sharp beak.

The man was staring intently at the Dumb Shop, where two blurry figures could be vaguely seen through the semi-opaque carved windows.

Not long after, Lu Zigang pushed open the carved door of the Dumb Shop and stepped out. Standing under the sunlight, he took several deep breaths before finally leaving, carefully holding the brocade box.

The man in the hoodie immediately followed from the shadows, his movements so abrupt that the crimson bird was nearly thrown off.

Fluttering its wings a few times, the crimson bird managed to grab onto a few strands of long hair that had drifted out from under the hoodie, narrowly landing back on its owner's shoulder. Tilting its head, it looked at the silver strands of hair exposed on its owner and diligently tucked them back into the hoodie, chirping softly in satisfaction afterward.

Master! Praise me!

Unfortunately, its master did not stroke it affectionately as he usually did.

Ever since its master emerged from that large, silver-glowing tomb, he seemed to have changed a lot. The crimson bird drooped its head, feeling it was no longer favored.

(End of Chapter)