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[Ten months after relocating to Shangyang Palace, the Retired Emperor Wu Zetian passed away there.
At the very end of her life, the old lady seemed to have finally seen things clearly. She issued the last imperial edict of her life.
The contents were surprisingly plain.
She retained the title Zetian Dasheng Empress. All the other extravagant imperial titles she had piled on herself were voluntarily discarded.
Those implicated in the "Depose Wang, Install Wu" affair, including the Wang and Xiao clans, as well as the descendants of Chu Suiliang and Han Yuan, were all pardoned of their former crimes and permitted to resume their livelihoods.
The Depose Wang, Install Wu incident had been one of the fiercest political struggles of Emperor Gaozong's reign. It involved clashes between imperial authority and ministerial power, the imperial clan against the meritorious aristocracy, and centralized monarchy versus noble politics. At a fundamental level, it determined the future direction of imperial power throughout China's feudal era. It was also the starting point of Wu Zetian's rise.
And so, in truth, the Retired Emperor had done one more good deed before the end. After all, Li Xian might never have remembered these people at all. And even if he had, there was no guarantee he would have chosen to pardon them.
In the fifth month of the following year, Wu Zetian was buried alongside Emperor Gaozong in Qianling as an empress, bringing an end to a life that history still finds difficult to judge.
Now that Wu had passed, we've talked plenty about her extravagant displays and grand projects. But stripping away all that surface spectacle, what did the Wu Zhou regime actually look like under the rule of a female emperor?
In one sentence:
Civil governance far exceeded state administration, and state administration far exceeded military achievement.
What deserves recognition during Wu's reign was the unprecedented cultural inclusiveness of society. Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism all flourished simultaneously. Literary talent was valued even more than during Gaozong's reign, and it was precisely this emphasis on literary cultivation that later gave rise to the poetic brilliance of the Kaiyuan era.
But once you peel back that layer of cultural prosperity, several festering sores immediately come into view.
Because a woman inherently lacked legitimacy within the feudal legal framework, Wu Zetian chose to bolster her authority through Buddhism. After ascending the throne, she intensified her patronage of the faith, eventually nurturing a grotesque, bloated behemoth.
The most striking symptom was the explosive growth of temples.
According to her accession edict, every prefecture and county was required to build a Dayun Temple, dedicated to enshrining and expounding the Great Cloud Sutra that proclaimed her the reincarnation of Maitreya.
In frontier regions such as the Four Garrisons of Anxi, these temples genuinely helped spread culture and stabilize the borders. But building a Dayun Temple in all three hundred prefectures of the realm was still a massive fiscal burden on the Wu Zhou state.
These state-sponsored temples expanded at an unprecedented pace. As for the damage they caused, Di Renjie, after returning to the capital as chancellor, once submitted a memorial that laid it out quite clearly:
"Lavish extravagance beyond measure, painted and adorned to perfection… If this does not drain the common people, then whom does it drain? Fertile lands and profitable enterprises are seized in excess; water mills and estates are countless… nameless monks number in the tens of thousands. A capital audit alone uncovered several thousand."
Magnificent temples are not built by gods. Every expense ultimately fell on the people. The temples owned estates and farmlands, and even a casual audit in Luoyang uncovered thousands of tax-evading monk households. Nationwide figures were too horrifying to imagine.
Alongside the temple economy, another phenomenon flourished during the Wu Zhou era: the circulation of debased coinage in the Jianghuai region.
Throughout the century-long Tang golden age, the contradiction between rapid economic growth and woefully inadequate minting capacity never disappeared. Jianghuai was distant from central authority yet economically vibrant. From Gaozong's reign onward, debased coinage persisted despite repeated bans.
Later, after Gaozong and Wu returned from the Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai and found the treasury short of funds, they even competed with the people for profit by abolishing older coins, further encouraging the spread of bad money.
Once Wu formally took power, she made a disastrously foolish move.
To curb debased coinage, she initially ordered official-standard coins to be displayed in markets. Any nonconforming coin was banned from circulation. The result?
Trade froze.
Left with no choice, Wu issued another edict allowing all but the most egregiously debased coins to circulate. Roughly cast coins were not to be refused.
With that single decree, debased coinage shed its gray-market status and gained official legitimacy. Wealthy Jianghuai households began minting coins as a business, and bad money flooded the market to an unprecedented degree.
Throughout the Wu Zhou period, debased coins permeated every corner of economic life. Market prosperity became entirely divorced from state revenue.
During the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Xuanzong spent enormous effort trying to resolve this issue. Even Chancellor Song Jing was sacrificed politically, yet results were minimal. No matter how the blame is apportioned, Wu Zetian bears at least thirty percent of the responsibility.]
"Now I get it," Ma Chao muttered while chewing on a piece of fruit. "Whether that Heavenly Pivot bronze pillar actually made all nations submit, who knows. But cutting yourself for real? That part definitely happened."
As a former leader in Yong and Liang, Ma Chao was no stranger to currency issues.
In his youth, he had seen the bustling twin markets of Chang'an. In his prime, he had witnessed the barter-based poverty of Yongliang.
Compared to that, even the debased coins despised by Central Plains folk looked almost respectable in Yongliang.
Which made the situation hard to judge. On one side, millions of jin of copper cast into lifeless monuments. On the other, debased coinage poisoning the realm without end.
Zhang Fei focused on something else entirely.
"If this is considered the best civil governance," he said, "then what kind of state is the military in…?"
Lu Su frowned at the brief account on the screen. When he turned his head, he saw Kongming smiling calmly at him and speaking a single sentence that made his heart skip:
"The proper Jiangdong Five-Zhu coinage no longer exists, does it?"
Kongming's phrasing was concise, but Lu Su understood immediately. "Proper coinage" referred to well-cast coins of standard size and sufficient copper content, as opposed to debased money.
After a moment of thought, Lu Su countered with a question of his own:
"Do Jianghuai merchants all obey orders from Jiangling?"
In truth, Kongming was correct. Finding even a single proper coin in Jiangdong had become nearly impossible.
But what Kongming might not have realized was this: even debased coins were now scarce.
Common folk in Jiangdong still used bad money to survive, but merchants settling large transactions relied on Shu brocade and Shu sugar, both of which sold effortlessly in Cao territory.
Beyond that, Lu Su had personally seen another instrument: a "gold note," said to be issued by Liu Bei, redeemable at Jiangling's official markets for dozens of shiploads of supplies. It was highly favored by Jiangdong's great clans.
As far as Lu Su knew, nearly every major household in Jiangdong, including Marquis Sun himself, was attempting to imitate these notes.
Hearing Lu Su's question, Kongming laughed.
"Zijing, that makes little sense. Jiangling can barely control its own merchants, let alone those of Jianghuai."
Lu Su didn't bother arguing the point. Instead, he pressed on.
"In your view, how can this flood of debased coinage be cut off?"
For someone like him, well-versed in statecraft, such a dilemma was the perfect examination paper. Only by laying out policy could true ability be shown.
As for the temple issue, Lu Su couldn't even be bothered to mention it. That was merely top-down imitation. Once "Wu" was gone and the emperor stopped worshiping the Buddha, the danger would resolve itself. The difficulty wasn't even in the same league.
Kongming burst into laughter and began enumerating his points as if reciting treasured items.
"To eradicate bad money, official administration must be strengthened. Copper production must be controlled. Minting must be expanded. Only then can debased coinage be addressed."
"To regulate bad money, border markets must be handled first, then capital markets reorganized. Harsh penalties must be enforced. Private copper mining and minting must be punished according to law."
"Use official markets to guide, let private markets self-adjust. When proper coinage is sufficient, debased money will naturally wither."
Watching Lu Su's astonished expression, Pang Tong chuckled.
"Monetary policy is something Kongming and Liu Zichu debated endlessly back in Chengdu."
…
In the Ganlu Hall, Zhangsun Wuji was making much the same case, his conclusions aligning closely with Kongming's.
"…Thus, by using the Sui dynasty's Kaihuang monetary reforms as precedent, we see that suppressing debased coinage requires both severe punishment of illegal actors and expanded official copper mining and minting."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Moreover… the Tang has charity granaries to aid famine relief. If surplus copper exists, perhaps a dedicated bureau could be established to regulate currency."
"When coinage cheapens, collect coins into the bureau. When coinage becomes scarce, release them into the market…"
His voice trailed off as he went on. Li Shimin understood. At a glance, the idea seemed flawless. On closer inspection, it was riddled with problems.
Under what authority would coins be collected? In what form would they be released?
And the greatest problem of all lay in four words: if surplus copper exists.
Thinking of that alone made him smile bitterly.
Still, whenever money was discussed, Li Shimin's gaze drifted involuntarily toward the great map of the world. Across the sea, Wa now seemed a little more enticing.
He still clearly remembered the later generations saying that land possessed silver mines supplying thirty percent of the world.
If it had so much silver… then what about copper? And… gold?
His breathing grew slightly heavier, but in the end, he restrained himself and nodded to Zhangsun Wuji.
"Refine what you've said. Put it to paper and submit it formally."
Zhangsun Wuji was overjoyed and quickly agreed.
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[Another prominent issue during the Wu Zhou era was the phenomenon of runaway households.
There's no need to dwell on how runaway households came to exist. Di Renjie had already said it plainly: during the Wu Zhou period, all that extravagant spending had to come from somewhere. "If it does not drain the people, whom does it drain?"
Commoners were squeezed from both sides. Temples seized land, while great households used debased coinage to strip wealth. Fleeing became the most reasonable option.
Runaway households plagued the entire feudal era. At its root lay the land annexation driven by rent-seeking elites. Without transcending the era itself, the problem was unsolvable.
So there's no need to be overly harsh on Wu here.
One can only say that in dealing with runaway households, she turned in a failing grade. But at least it was better than handing in a blank paper.
As for the severity and consequences of runaway households under Wu Zhou, Wei Sili's memorial explained it clearly:
"Of the realm's registered households, more than half have fled. Tax revenues decline, state resources are insufficient."
Land annexation by wealthy landlords drove self-sufficient farmers, the backbone of taxation, into flight. Rent, labor service, and levy revenues plummeted. Meanwhile, Wu continued massive construction projects.
If the treasury didn't run dry, that would be the real miracle.
After satisfying her imperial ambitions, Wu did attempt to address the problem. Beginning in 698, she spent five years conducting a population census, the so-called "household registration sweep."
This census failed for two main reasons.
First, it was astonishingly sloppy. Many individuals dead for twenty or thirty years remained on the rolls, inflating population figures.
Second, all discovered runaway households were forcibly returned to their original registered locations, regardless of actual circumstances, triggering even greater unrest.]