Thus it is said:

　　In the lofty jade towers of Luoyang (洛阳) City, when the gaze wanders afar, one beholds the vast Moon Palace.

　　If such wonders be born for the sake of mortal longing, then with the immortals and buddhas alike shall the Moon of Desire arise.

　　After the hundredth-day banquet of Princess Li Lingyue (李令月), the ministers of court, having no urgent state affairs, oft memorialized Emperor Gaozong (高宗) concerning the Rite of Fengshan.

　　One day, Huangfu Changbo (皇甫常伯), Minister of Rites, said:

　　“Your Majesty, though the hundredth-day feast of Her Highness the Princess is past, yet the petitions from the hundred officials regarding the Fengshan ceremony grow with each passing day. Why not heed the will of the people?”

　　Now, this Huangfu Changbo, styled Kuangzhi (旷之), hailed from Sanyuan in Yongzhou (雍州三原, modern Sanyuan County, Shaanxi), his ancestral home being in Didao of Longxi (陇西狄道, modern Lintao County, Gansu). He now served as Minister of Rites in Great Tang.

　　Omitting idle words, Emperor Gaozong replied:

　　“My beloved minister, think you I am unaware of this matter? Yet the entanglements within are manifold; it is no easy thing for Us to decide.”

　　Huangfu Changbo said:

　　“Does Your Majesty fear that such petitions reflect but the mind of the court and not the will of the common people?”

　　Gaozong asked:

　　“Has the Crown Prince, or Prince of Yue, spoken of state matters with you?”

　　Huangfu Changbo answered:

　　“Your Majesty’s wisdom is peerless. Indeed, Their Highnesses sought to ease Your Majesty’s cares, and spoke thus with us. If Your Majesty still harbors concern, why not command the Buliang Ren (不良人, Imperial covert agents) to seek the people’s voice in secret?”

　　Hearing this, Gaozong was somewhat pleased:

　　“Since you have a plan, let it be as you say. This matter I entrust to you.”

　　Huangfu Changbo received the command and departed at once.

　　That very night, he summoned the Buliang Shuai (不良帅, Commander of the covert agents). The man came clad in a round-collared robe, with a black gauze headcloth bound atop, a leather girdle at the waist, and long boots upon his feet. His brows were like twin swords, his eyes like burnished copper, his stature eight chi in height, his bearing awe-inspiring—he seemed about thirty-four or five years of age.

　　Huangfu Changbo said:

　　“His Majesty knows not the mind of the people concerning the Fengshan rite; therefore are you sent to discern their hearts and report to the Throne.”

　　The Commander replied:

　　“Such a rite—if all be rewarded—who among the common folk would not wish it? What intent doth His Majesty seek?”

　　Huangfu Changbo smiled:

　　“Even as you have spoken.”

　　The Commander answered:

　　“Understood.”

　　Thus saying, he took his leave.

　　Exiting the ministry, the Commander spurred his steed along the street. After but a moment’s gallop, he beheld ahead a lone figure in dark garb standing crosswise in the celestial avenue. At the sight, the Commander gripped his horizontal blade, silently gathering his inner strength.

　　Presently the man turned, and recognizing the face, the Commander dismounted at once, knelt, and paid homage.

　　Here let the matter rest.

　　One day thereafter, ere full light had touched the heavens, a fine rain veiled Luoyang; mists and drizzle lent the city a scene as of poetry and painting. Then Pei Judao (裴居道), General of the Left Jinwu Guard, came hastening through the rain, as though Heaven itself had fallen, his countenance most distraught. Passing through the South Duan Gate of the Imperial City, he entered the Shangyang Xianju Hall (上阳仙居殿), and reported to Cheng Wenyu (程文昱), Grand General of the Jinwu Guard, that he bore urgent news for the Emperor. Cheng at once had Gaozong awakened.

　　Of late Gaozong had found little rest; half in dream, half awake, he was roused and admitted Pei Judao.

　　“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said Pei, “for disturbing Your Heavenly repose. Yet this very dawn, upon the Tianjin Bridge under the waning moon, despite the rain, the common folk gathered, kneeling till they filled the span—ten thousand and more have writ petitions in blood, beseeching Your Majesty to journey unto the ‘Immortal Mountain and Buddha Kingdom’ and perform the Fengshan rite, proclaiming to all under Heaven and giving thanks above. The Jinwu Guard could not persuade them to depart. I beg Your Majesty to come to the South Duan Gate to address them.”

　　Gaozong said:

　　“Do not fault yourself; such a matter is indeed beyond your power. Assemble the guards—We shall come forth anon.”

　　Thus, with but slight preparation, Gaozong went with Pei Judao to the South Duan Gate. Ascending the city tower, he saw as reported: in the misty rain the bridge below was filled with kneeling folk. Upon beholding the Emperor, all cried in one voice:

　　“We humbly beseech Your Majesty to ascend the Immortal Mountain, perform the Fengshan rite, proclaim thanks unto Heaven, and bless our Great Tang for a thousand autumns and ten thousand years!”

　　The sound shook the clouds. Gaozong, seeing this, knew that to deny the people’s will would be to go against Heaven itself. His doubts dispersed, he proclaimed:

　　“Since both Heaven’s will and the hearts of the people so cherish Us, We shall in coming days journey to the Immortal Mountain and Buddha Kingdom, perform the Fengshan rite—giving thanks above to Heaven, answering below the hearts of the people. Now, return to your homes, lest the rain harm you.”

　　The people, hearing this imperial promise, slowly departed; the rain ceased, and the sun broke forth.

　　Thereafter Gaozong ascended the Ziwei Hall in the Purple Tenuity City, declaring:

　　“Today the will of the people upon the Tianjin Bridge was made plain; therefore shall We perform the Fengshan rite. Let each ministry prepare according to law.”

　　The officials rejoiced and cried as one:

　　“Your Majesty is most sagacious!”

　　At midday, the edict was drafted, countersigned, and issued to all under Heaven. It proclaimed:

　　> “Since Our enthronement, Our virtue and talent have been but slight; We have no great deeds, falling far short of Qin Shihuang and Han Wudi, and feeling shame before Gaozu and Taizong. Yet by diligent toil, the people now dwell in peace, the realm prospers.

　　In the second year of Linde, Heaven bestowed auspicious signs; under the cherry moon was born the Princess, to the joy of all. Now the people petition for the Fengshan rite to thank Heaven. How could We deny this? We have resolved with all the ministers to proceed to the Immortal Mountain and Buddha Kingdom to sacrifice to Heaven and Earth and our forebears.

　　Let the border prefectures keep their armies in place; let the princes of the imperial clan assemble in Luoyang to accompany Us eastward; let all officials and attendants keep the fast in reverence.”

　　The Ministry of Rites labored day and night to plan the rituals, altar, and offerings. The Ministry of Works prepared the inscriptions and ceremonial texts; the Ministry of Revenue proclaimed the news to all cities and villages.

　　In the far western frontier, however, one general disobeyed. Under pretext of the edict, he admitted rebel troops from the Western Regions into the city to join his own, plotting other designs. This was Fu Hui (腹虺), once surnamed Wang (王), a distant kinsman of the late Empress Wang, slain by Empress Wu (武后). Clad in bright armor, with the imperial dao in hand, he spoke:

　　“When the Emperor goes to Mount Tai, the palace will be weakly guarded. The demon-empress must remain behind. We shall march into Shangyang Palace, slay her to avenge Empress Wang, and then destroy the rebels. Thus shall Tang endure for ten thousand years.”

　　Elsewhere, in Jizhou, Prefect Xue Yi (薛顗) brought news to a mysterious lady—none other than the Nine-Tailed Spirit Fox (九尾灵狐). Behind a gauze curtain she appeared, her beauty unearthly. She murmured:

　　“Then I trouble you, Minister Xue.”

　　Xue, entranced, replied:

　　“To slay the demon-empress and safeguard the realm is my duty.”

　　In years past, when Wu was but Zhaoyi (昭仪), she had slain her own infant daughter, framing Empress Wang, thereby gaining the throne. Yet from that day she was haunted by dreams of the child, and oft prayed at Ganye Temple for release from her guilt. Now, with Princess Lingyue’s birth, she longed to accompany the Emperor to the Immortal Mountain to give thanks.

　　The next morn, when Gaozong spoke of this wish in court, many opposed it, saying:

　　“Never has a woman partaken in the great Fengshan rite.”

　　Yet Pei Judao reasoned:

　　“The rite honors Heaven, our ancestors, and the late Empress. That Her Majesty should go to honor Empress Zhangsun is the very flower of filial piety.”

　　Gaozong was moved; the opposition fell silent.

　　In the tenth month of that year, all was ready. Gaozong, with princes, ministers, and retinue, set forth to Mount Tai; Empress Wu led the court ladies. Yet a messenger’s pigeon reached Fu Hui’s hand:

　　“The demon-empress has left Shangyang Palace with the Emperor.”

　　Thus Fu Hui altered his plan, setting forth likewise toward Mount Tai, to bide his time.