Chapter 14: I
Yang Xuan turned around, and Zhao Sanfu managed a smile, though it was somewhat forced. He gazed at Yan City, his eyes clouded with melancholy.
This was an official burdened with worry for his country and its people. Though his frame was lean and fragile, it seemed to contain boundless strength—yet what lay ahead for him was nothing but a field of thorns.
Those men’s smiles faded, as if their previous threats had been nothing but a jest. Yet Zhao Sanfu knew it was no joke, and Yang Xuan knew it as well.
“How did you know?” Zhao Sanfu asked, curiosity piqued.
Yang Xuan replied, “Before a beast hunts, it grows silent, seemingly calm. The greater the calm, the sharper the attack that follows. Those beasts that roar the loudest are often weak within; the louder the roar, the quicker the death.”
Zhao Sanfu was surprised by Yang Xuan’s insight. He watched Yan City mount his horse and ride away, then whispered, “He’s a good man.”
He looked up at the blue sky, murmuring so softly it was barely audible, “I wish to be a good man, too.”
But he was only a minor functionary, a mere post in the imperial bureaucracy; the great matters of the court were never his to decide.
Yang Xuan nodded, approving the assessment. “Is patronage really so terrible?”
The two walked slowly through the crowd. Zhao Sanfu sneered, “Patronage is a gift bestowed by the emperor upon the children of the powerful, allowing them to become officials directly. In truth, the children of the privileged remain privileged.”
He mocked, “Who can guarantee the sons of the powerful are all good men? Over the years, the flaws of patronage have been innumerable, but who dares stand up against it? Only Yan City. No—”
He paused to think. “Back when the Honored Emperor was on the throne, his chief bodyguard, Yang Lue, was also bold, and dealt with many sons of the nobility.”
Turning, he saw Yang Xuan stop in his tracks, stunned. Zhao Sanfu chuckled, “What’s wrong, does it seem frightening?”
Yang Lue...
Yang Xuan felt his mind in turmoil, forced a smile, “Yes! Those nobles are so formidable, and yet someone dared to deal with them—such courage!”
Zhao Sanfu assumed Yang Xuan was frightened by the situation and smiled gently, “He was the chief bodyguard of the Honored Emperor, of extraordinary status, so naturally he dared to take on the nobles’ sons.”
Yang Xuan wanted to ask who the Honored Emperor was, but feared Zhao Sanfu’s suspicion, so he glossed over it and finally mentioned his intention to study at the Imperial Academy.
“The Imperial Academy?” Zhao Sanfu was envious. “A fine place—study well, and you’ll be an official someday.”
Had he been able to attend the Imperial Academy, he wouldn’t have needed to risk his life on the northern frontier for his career.
Yang Xuan asked, “Where do you work?” He had long wanted to ask, but felt it was too forward.
This youth only now asked such a question; clearly, he was shy. Zhao Sanfu had already prepared his answer. “I work in the court.”
“An official?” Yang Xuan was startled. His travel papers had been forged by Yang Lue; if discovered, the consequences...
Zhao Sanfu laughed, “Just a lowly clerk, nothing important to do most days, so I can wander about.”
Yang Xuan said admiringly, “To have food and money without working, what a life.”
“Indeed!” Zhao Sanfu looked ahead; Yan City’s figure had just disappeared. Worry weighed on his heart as he thought of the recent changes in court, fearing that the Tang Dynasty would fall into unpredictable strife.
Yang Xuan pondered the name Yang Lue. He suddenly felt foolish; after all, there were many with the same name. The Honored Emperor’s chief bodyguard... Considering Yang Lue’s forbidding demeanor, what emperor would want such a man as chief bodyguard?
Most likely not.
Yang Xuan relaxed once more, while Zhao Sanfu remained troubled. “Come, let me treat you.”
Yang Xuan hesitated. “But I won’t be able to return the favor anytime soon.”
Zhao Sanfu was surprised. “Why?”
Yang Xuan replied, “I don’t have much money left.”
This youth!
Zhao Sanfu had thought Yang Xuan unimportant, planning to apply for the lifting of surveillance on him in a few days, but after hearing this, he felt he could lift it now—this drinking session would be a farewell.
They drank together; Zhao Sanfu, tipsy, drew his saber and rapped it against the table, singing border poems in a loud voice.
Those poems... were nothing special.
Yang Xuan recalled the verses in the scroll, feeling a bit lost. He tried, “Fine grape wine in a luminous cup; about to drink, but the pipa urges me onward from horseback...”
He saw Zhao Sanfu’s mouth fall open, unable to close, and regretted showing off, yet felt a secret delight—were these poems and songs truly unknown here?
“Drunkenly lying on the battlefield, do not laugh; since ancient times, how many return from war?”
Yang Xuan finished reciting.
Zhao Sanfu’s eyes gleamed with green light. He had never imagined the youth he was monitoring was so talented. Excited, he exclaimed, “You truly have such poetic talent?”
Yang Xuan felt guilty, heat rising up his spine. “I heard this poem recited by a traveler in Yuanzhou.”
Zhao Sanfu relaxed. “A fine poem.”
But my mind holds many more—if I recite them all, will you not lose your sanity?
After the drinking, Yang Xuan was half-drunk. Zhao Sanfu wanted to see him home, but a subordinate nearby signaled him—something urgent.
“Be careful!” Zhao Sanfu hurried off.
Yang Xuan waved, the exhilaration of drink making the air seem fresher, every sight dazzling.
Chang’an truly was a wonderful place.
He strolled toward Yongning Ward, raising his head to see the blazing sunset bathing Chang’an, rooftops shimmering in every household. Tall trees on either side stood lush and verdant, leaves dripping with green.
The drums began.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
It was the signal for the night curfew, but pedestrians on the street walked home unhurriedly.
Since the ward walls had been torn down, the curfew had become more symbolic. But if the Imperial Guards took it seriously, those caught would certainly be punished.
Yang Xuan knew only Zhao Sanfu in Chang’an, so dared not risk breaking the law, hurrying toward Yongning Ward.
The sky was growing dark; Yang Xuan saw Yongning Ward, and a familiar figure.
Boom, boom, boom!
The drumbeats echoed faintly.
Yan City led his horse slowly, head bowed, his hand gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles whitened. He shook his head now and then, clearly troubled and lost in thought.
Not far away, a young man surrounded by others eyed Yan City with disdain. “This man wants us to carve the flesh from our bones for his gain—he deserves to die!”
Someone laughed, “Yan City hasn’t trained in martial arts. If we send two men to kill him, he’ll surely die. Once he’s dead, the plan to reduce the number of patronage officials will be abandoned.”
The young man sneered, “Yan City is just bait—let’s devour him!”
Two men emerged from the alley, one before, one behind, closing in on Yan City.
Yang Xuan saw this, his whole body cold, the effects of wine evaporating swiftly.
These men were going to beat Yan City... No, the man behind's right hand glinted—it was a weapon!
They dared to kill an official!
Country bumpkin Yang Xuan hid in the shadows, trembling.
What should I do?
Hide?
If I hid, Yan City would certainly die.
But what is his death to me? He’s nothing to me!
Yang Xuan trembled, taking a step back, but then stopped.
Today, Zhao Sanfu had spoken of patronage’s harm to the Tang Dynasty and its people. Yang Xuan, reflecting, remembered his days in Yuanzhou...
In the little river village, life drifted by, unchanged for centuries, impoverished and bleak. When villagers chatted, Yang Xuan would listen, hearing them speak of past days, of hopes for the future, yet their greatest wish was to continue living in poverty.
Why?
Yang Xuan couldn’t understand. Later, he asked Yang Lue. Yang Lue pondered for a long time, his eyes filled with reminiscence and sorrow, and spoke slowly, “After the fall of the Chen Kingdom, the Tang Dynasty was founded. Chen had Emperor Wen’s revival, but even so, its reign lasted only one hundred fifty years. Then the world was torn apart. The learned of Tang have all pondered the reasons for Chen’s demise. After much thought, none dared say it was due to the greed of the powerful...”
The greed of the powerful!
This was Yang Xuan’s first true understanding of the fate of nations.
If the powerful were allowed to run rampant, the Tang Dynasty would follow Chen into ruin. The people would have no voice, only be butchered at will.
Why should the powerful act with impunity?
Who will speak for us?
Yang Xuan’s drunkenness vanished. His right hand slowly found the handle of his short blade. He whispered, “If no one cares for our words, then we must speak for ourselves.”
...
Zhao Sanfu rushed to the Bureau of Mirrors. Xin Quan stood outside the duty room, hands behind his back, gazing at the night sky. When Zhao Sanfu arrived, he beckoned him in. Inside, Zhao Sanfu grabbed a cup and drank deeply, catching his breath. “What is so urgent?”
“Were you headed to the brothel? No need now.” Xin Quan sighed. “I’ve been waiting for news—those men are about to make a move on Yan City...”
Zhao Sanfu’s body shook. “When? Who?”
“You ask when, not who.” The lines on Xin Quan’s face seemed deeper in the candlelight. He smiled bitterly, “It’s the same men as always. The leader is from a minor family attached to one of the Five Surnames, young and full of vigor.”
“I’m going to see.”
Zhao Sanfu rushed out of the duty room. Behind him came Xin Quan’s slow voice, “Yan City wants to carve the flesh of the powerful—he’s doomed. Sooner or later, he’ll die. You’ll be... too late!”
“You did this on purpose!”
Zhao Sanfu understood Xin Quan’s intent in summoning him: to keep him from acting rashly. Once Yan City was killed, his rage would be powerless.
But what of Tang?
Yan City would die, Tang would live—but it would live bent and broken!
A soft sigh followed him. Zhao Sanfu dashed out of the Bureau, leapt onto his horse. “Hyah!”
...
On the roadside, the young man squinted at Yan City, mocking him as a cat toys with a mouse. “Does he think Tang belongs to anyone but the emperor and the Five Surnames? He wants to carve the flesh of the Five Surnames—that’s carving the emperor himself. He deserves to die!”
At these words, Yan City sensed something was amiss. He turned to see the men closing in, his body stiffened, then he shouted angrily, “You dare kill an official?”
The young man spoke softly, “Kill you and that’s that—who will save you?”
The burly man seemed to share his mind, grinning fiercely. “Kill you and that’s that—who will save you?”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Footsteps approached.
Everyone turned.
The waning moon rose, its cold light shining down. A youth stepped out, and with utmost seriousness, declared:
“I will!”