Chapter 3 The Secret Chamber is Sealed Away, the Heart's Lock Buried Forever
On an autumn day in the later years of Emperor Yonghui's reign, Chang'an was shrouded in a solemn golden afterglow. Inside the Zichen Hall of the Daming Palace, Emperor Li Chengqian's bedroom, a similar atmosphere to the Liangyi Hall of yesteryear, a mixture of medicinal fragrance and silence, was permeated, only heavier, and closer to the end.
Li Chengqian leaned against the dragon bed, covered with a bright yellow brocade quilt. His face was thin, and his eyes were sunken, but those eyes, which had once been as sharp as an eagle's and had later accumulated countless hardships and worries, were now unusually clear, even carrying a calm that seemed to have seen through the ways of the world. The flame of his life was about to burn out.
Beside the bed, Empress Wu Zetian held his hand tightly, tears welling in her eyes, yet she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Crown Prince Li Hong and several other adult princes and princesses knelt before the bed, their expressions sorrowful. Prince Jin, Li Zhi, was also present, his face grave, his eyes filled with complex emotions as he looked at his elder brother, with whom he had shared a love-hate relationship and ultimately walked side by side for most of his life.
He had already clearly explained all the state and family matters that needed to be explained. The Crown Prince was benevolent and capable, the princes assisted him effectively, the court was stable, the borders were peaceful, and the aristocratic families were a thing of the past. A new and unprecedentedly powerful Tang Dynasty was established in his hands, and it would continue to be carried forward by the next generation. He had nothing to worry about.
The hall fell silent for a moment, with only the emperor's faint breathing and the rustling of autumn leaves outside the window.
After a long while, Li Chengqian's gaze slowly turned to Wu Meiniang, his lips moved, and his voice was low but exceptionally clear: "Meiniang... I... have one more thing to entrust to you."
Wu Meiniang quickly leaned closer: "Your Majesty, please speak, I am listening."
A complex mix of emotions flickered in Li Chengqian's eyes—reminiscence, wistfulness, and an indescribable secret—before settling into a deep calm. "Do you remember... when I was overseeing the construction of Zhaoling for Father Emperor, I... also ordered people to secretly find a... extremely secluded place near Zhaoling, nestled in the mountains?"
Wu Meiniang's body trembled almost imperceptibly. Of course she remembered. It was in the early years of the Yonghui era, shortly after the emperor ascended the throne. He had personally commissioned a secret project, entrusted to trusted craftsmen. The site selection and labor were extremely discreet; even she herself hadn't fully known its purpose or location at the time, only vaguely sensing that the emperor attached great importance to it and was deeply secretive about it. Later, as time passed, the emperor never mentioned it again, and she gradually buried the matter deep in her heart. She never expected that he would bring it up again in the final moments of her life.
"I...remember," Wu Meiniang said softly.
Li Chengqian's gaze drifted into the distance, as if he had traveled back decades to his youth, a time of intertwined ambition and obsession, a time filled with inner conflict and struggle. "That place... was originally a... retreat route, or rather, a... prison, that I prepared for myself."
"A cage?" Wu Meiniang's heart tightened.
“A…cage intended to imprison one person.” Li Chengqian’s voice was even lower, with a hint of self-mockery in his sigh. “A person…whom I once thought I could…feel at ease, who I could…find some kind of…comfort, simply by holding him in my hands.”
He did not reveal his name, but Wu Meiniang, who was present, and perhaps Prince Li Zhi, who had been listening in silence, instantly understood—who else could it be but Wang Yi, the Protector of the Nation who mysteriously took away the late emperor at the end of the Zhenguan era and disappeared without a trace?
Wu Meiniang recalled the Crown Prince's extraordinary attention and complex attitude towards Master Wang during the Eastern Palace period; she remembered the inexplicable disappearance on the night of the late Emperor's "death"; she remembered the deep melancholy that the Emperor occasionally revealed after his ascension to the throne, regarding certain things beyond his control... Many vague clues connected at this moment, pointing to a shocking and lamentable truth.
“Back then… I was too young, and too… arrogant,” Li Chengqian continued, his tone as calm as if he were narrating someone else’s story. “I remember what my mother said before she died, but I misinterpreted it. I mixed my… yearning for wisdom, for power, for those who could guide me… with too many unwarranted… delusions. I thought that as long as I was strong enough, I could firmly grasp everything I wanted, including… people.”
He paused, took a few breaths, and refocused his gaze on Wu Meiniang's face, with earnestness and relief: "But the 'departure' of Father and the True Man made me realize... that some things and some people are ultimately beyond human control, and cannot be... confined by a cage. That obsession... was wrong, wrong from the very beginning. That place, that unfinished cage, has long since... lost its meaning."
"I want you, Meiniang," he said, gripping Wu Meiniang's hand tightly with his last strength, "After I'm gone, send people... to find that place and... completely destroy it. Fill in and blow up all the passages, secret chambers, and mechanisms... without leaving any trace, let it... disappear forever."
Wu Meiniang nodded vigorously, tears finally streaming down her face: "Your Majesty, rest assured, I will certainly do it."
“But…” Li Chengqian’s gaze became distant again, as if he were staring at the interior of that hidden space that had never been used but had lingered in his heart for decades. “In the secret room… there should still be some things… that I ordered people to prepare back then. Some things… that I prepared for ‘imprisonment’ according to my naive and ridiculous imagination back then… and perhaps some… unimportant old things.”
His voice carried an indescribable mix of longing and resolve: "Those things... need not be destroyed. Carefully clean them out and place them in my coffin. Let them... be buried with me, and rest in peace underground."
He wanted to take this secret with him, to take away that once fiery and twisted youthful delusion, which had ultimately been settled and sealed away by time and reason. He wanted to physically eliminate the cage that had never had a "master," but to take the traces of the most hidden corner of his heart that it contained into eternal darkness, making it an epitaph that belonged only to him and would end with his life.
Wu Meiniang understood. This was both the Emperor's final cessation and burial of that erroneous obsession, and a complete honesty and explanation to his own heart. She solemnly promised again, "I understand. I will certainly handle it properly as Your Majesty has said."
Li Chengqian seemed to have relieved his last worry, and his whole body relaxed, revealing a truly relieved look of exhaustion on his face. He looked at his children in front of him one by one, his gaze kind and gentle, and then at Li Zhi, who had been standing silently to the side. The two brothers' eyes met, and a thousand words were unspoken.
Finally, his gaze returned to Wu Meiniang's face, the woman who had accompanied him through his most difficult years, bore him children, managed the harem, and raised their children to be so outstanding. His eyes were filled with gratitude, trust, and deep affection.
"Meiniang...you've suffered so much these past years," he said softly, slowly closing his eyes. "I...can now depart in peace."
Inside the palace, the sound of weeping finally broke out.
Emperor Yonghui, Li Chengqian, peacefully passed away in the Zichen Palace after a life full of controversy, iron-fisted rule, and change.
After the national mourning, following the emperor's will, Wu Zetian, with the assistance of a very few trusted confidants, used clandestine means to locate, as expected, a meticulously designed but never-used underground chamber almost integrated into the mountainside near Zhaoling Mausoleum. The entrance was hidden, and the interior, though small, was fully equipped, even featuring clever ventilation and lighting. It contained all the necessities of life, all of the finest quality from that era, though long since covered in dust.
Wu Meiniang watched all this silently, her heart filled with mixed emotions. She seemed to see the young emperor, how he secretly planned all of this with such complex and obsessive feelings. She ordered her confidants to follow the emperor's last wishes and use the most thorough method to blow up the passage and destroy the structure of the secret chamber, so that it could never be discovered or entered by future generations.
The unused items in the secret chamber—exquisite porcelain, soft brocade, specially made lamps, and even some insignificant books and writing implements—were carefully removed, dusted off, and meticulously cataloged. At the emperor's funeral, these objects, bearing witness to a twisted love and eventual awakening, were quietly placed inside the massive golden nanmu coffin, accompanying the departed emperor as he sank into the depths of the newly constructed, grand Yonghui Mausoleum, located next to the Zhaoling Mausoleum.
As the stone gate of the underground palace slammed shut and the rammed earth was compacted, the delusion about the hidden prison, the complex emotions of worship, dependence, possessiveness and eventual relief, along with all traces of the mysteriously vanished guardian deity, were forever sealed beneath the layers of history.
Wu Zetian stood before the mausoleum, the autumn wind ruffling her robes. She knew that her husband had taken away his last secret, and also the lingering legacy of an era. She and her children would continue their journey in a new dynasty, free from the constraints of powerful clans, the shadow of fratricide, a stable imperial power, and a world renewed.
The sun and moon of the Tang Dynasty still shine upon this land. But some people, some events, some unspoken turmoil hidden deep within the emperor's heart, ultimately vanish like the destroyed and buried chambers, sealed away in the depths of time, leaving no trace. Only the magnificent records of the "Reign of Yonghui" in history books, and the silent artifacts buried in the mausoleum, may, in some parallel universe, evoke a faint, lingering revelation of that complex past in later generations.
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