The Making of a Female Emperor

Wu Zetian’s ascent to the throne as China’s only female emperor was a journey paved with ruthless ambition and political maneuvering. Emerging from the shadows of the Tang Dynasty’s patriarchal system, she shattered centuries of tradition by seizing power in 690 CE. Her path to legitimacy required not just breaking glass ceilings but crushing opposition—real or imagined—through systematic terror.

The early years of her reign saw the rise of a notorious class of officials: the kuli (酷吏), or “cruel officials.” These were her enforcers—men like Zhou Xing, Lai Junchen, and Suo Yuanli—who specialized in extracting confessions through torture and eliminating perceived threats. Their methods became legendary for brutality, yet they served a crucial purpose: consolidating Wu’s power during her fragile transition from empress dowager to sovereign ruler.

The Machinery of Terror

Wu Zetian’s reign was defined by its elaborate systems of surveillance and punishment. The Zhiyu (制狱), or “special prisons,” became feared institutions where dissenters vanished without trial. Zhou Xing, one of her most infamous enforcers, boasted of inventing the “invitation to the jar” (请君入瓮)—a torture method where victims were roasted alive in giant urns. His colleague Suo Yuanli pioneered the “iron cage,” a contraption designed to slowly crush prisoners.

These men were not mere thugs; they were bureaucrats of cruelty. Zhou Xing, for instance, held the prestigious position of Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs while overseeing thousands of executions. Their efficiency was staggering—records suggest Zhou alone eliminated over 4,000 officials and nobles during Wu’s rise to power.

Yet their brutality served Wu’s immediate needs. By eliminating Tang loyalists and intimidating potential rivals, the kuli created the political vacuum necessary for her unprecedented reign. Their most symbolic act came in 690 when Zhou Xing formally erased the Tang imperial family from official records, declaring Wu’s new Zhou Dynasty.

The Turning Point: When the Executioners Became Targets

Wu Zetian’s political genius lay in knowing precisely when to discard her tools. Mere months after her coronation, she began purging the very enforcers who had secured her throne. The downfall of Zhou Xing became legendary—arrested by his protégé Lai Junchen using his own torture methods.

The emperor’s rationale was coldly pragmatic. As historian Denis Twitchett observed, “The terror had served its purpose; now stability required demonstrating imperial mercy.” By sacrificing her most notorious executioners, Wu could claim to be reining in excesses while maintaining deniability for past atrocities.

This pattern repeated with other kuli. Qiu Shenji, who had massacred thousands in Bozhou, was swiftly executed—likely because his knowledge of Wu’s role in her son’s death made him dangerous. Suo Yuanli met an ironic end when arrested for corruption and confronted with his own torture devices.

The Cultural Shockwaves

Wu’s reign fundamentally altered Chinese political culture. The widespread use of judicial torture became institutionalized, while the practice of “encouraging informers” (鼓励告密) created a society where anyone might be an accuser. Contemporary records describe officials whispering “another ghost candidate arrives” whenever new appointments were made—knowing most would soon face execution.

Yet simultaneously, Wu cultivated an image of Buddhist piety. Her 692 ban on meat consumption—ostensibly for religious reasons—became a tool for political humiliation, as seen when official Zhang De was betrayed by a colleague for serving lamb at his son’s celebration.

Most remarkably, Wu navigated the succession crisis with Machiavellian skill. Despite pressure to name her nephew Wu Chengsi as heir, she ultimately preserved the Tang lineage through her son Li Xian—recognizing that only a biological descendant would maintain her ancestral worship.

The Legacy of Contradictions

Wu Zetian’s reign presents history with profound paradoxes. She employed scholars like Di Renjie—the legendary detective-official who saved thousands from unjust persecution—even while unleashing the kuli. Her court simultaneously produced both the horrific “Invitation to the Jar” and the compassionate “Memorial on Behalf of the Wrongly Accused.”

Modern assessments vary widely. Some view her as a proto-feminist who broke gender barriers; others emphasize her authoritarian tactics. What remains undeniable is her political brilliance in balancing terror and legitimacy—a lesson in how power consolidates and reinvents itself.

The final years saw Wu gradually rehabilitate her image through Buddhist patronage and administrative reforms. By the time of her 705 overthrow, she had already begun dismantling the machinery of terror she created—proving that even history’s most ruthless rulers understand the limits of perpetual fear.

In the end, Wu Zetian’s story transcends simple villainy or heroism. It stands as a timeless study of how power transforms its wielders, and how even the most brutal regimes contain the seeds of their own reform. The kuli who thought themselves indispensable learned this truth too late—their fate a reminder that in autocracies, today’s executioner often becomes tomorrow’s scapegoat.