Xuanzang and the others had not ridden far before they heard a sound like muffled thunder rising behind them. Looking back, they saw a long plume of sand and dust curling up across the desert. Everyone knew it was Kui Mulang in pursuit and urgently spurred their horses into a gallop. They had ridden some twenty li when Kui Mulang was already drawing unmistakably close — the shape of the iron cavalry was becoming visible, and at its head Kui Mulang himself was clearly discernible.
Just then a ruined city wall appeared ahead — built of rammed earth, long since crumbled into a shapeless ruin, only its foundations still intact. The remnant walls stood nearly three zhang high, rising from a surrounding basin thick with dense reed beds and lakes that gave the place a somewhat hidden and secluded character.
Xuanzang asked what it was. Li Chuo had no idea, but Yuzao answered: “Master, this should be the River Granary City that the people of Dunhuang speak of. It is said to have been built by Li Guangli as a granary during Emperor Wu of Han’s campaign against the Dayuan — built specifically to store provisions for Jade Gate Pass.”
“Go — take shelter there. If it comes to it, we will cross into the reed beds and slow Kui Mulang’s cavalry.”
Xuanzang said decisively.
The group galloped to the base of the River Granary City walls — and stopped dead in astonishment. Standing amid the crumbling ruins was a middle-aged man: Wang Junke himself.
“Father!”
Yuzao cried out.
“Foolish girl — you have made a fine mess of things, haven’t you?”
Though Wang Junke was furious, seeing his daughter and Li Chuo alive and unharmed, he let out a breath of relief. “Get inside and take cover.”
“Commissioner Wang,” Li Chuo called out, “Kui Mulang has a large force of cavalry — over a hundred men. How can you hold them off alone?”
Wang Junke smiled slightly. The group urged their horses past him and entered the River Granary City. Inside, thirty soldiers were already stationed, and beside them stood several large carts. The soldiers were lifting heavy crossbows off the carts one by one, attaching their wheels with practiced efficiency. Once assembled, they wheeled the crossbows to the gaps in the crumbling walls.
The heavy crossbow was a weapon requiring two men to operate — in power it ranked just below the bed crossbow. It rested on two iron-banded wooden wheels, allowing it to be pushed forward. The crossbow frame was fitted with a windlass: one man turned the windlass to draw the string, the other operated the trigger mechanism.
This crossbow had a range of three hundred paces, and a single bolt could often pierce two men through. Wang Junke had brought fifteen of them in the large carts.
Wang Junke questioned Yuzao, and she gave a brief account of what had occurred at Jade Gate Pass — concealing only the news that Zhai Wen was still alive. Hearing that Lv Sheng had not died but had had his body seized by Kui Mulang, Wang Junke was greatly astonished, his brows knitting together in deep thought.
“Master — can something so strange truly be as described?”
Wang Junke asked Xuanzang.
Xuanzang considered: “If what we witnessed is not the truth — what does the Commissioner believe the truth to be?”
Wang Junke gave a rueful laugh. “Since my daughter and the young… and the Master are still alive, for my purposes that is all that matters.”
In a moment, the thirty soldiers had set all fifteen heavy crossbows in position at the base of the River Granary City walls. The iron cavalry was now sweeping in like a great whirlwind, the rumble of hooves like rolling thunder shaking the desert.
Wang Junke watched the distance. When Kui Mulang reached three hundred paces out, he suddenly raised one hand. A single heavy crossbow smashed down on its trigger. With a thunderous boom the entire crossbow frame shook violently, and the long bolt hurtled through the air, flashing three hundred paces in an instant. With a thud it planted itself in the sand directly in front of Kui Mulang’s horse, sinking a full foot deep.
Kui Mulang pulled up sharply on his reins. The horse let out a long neigh, its front hooves rearing up, and came to a sudden stop. The cavalry behind him fanned out, spreading in a line to either side of Kui Mulang.
Kui Mulang studied the crossbow bolt in the sand, and could not help but feel a jolt of alarm at its raw power. He looked toward the River Granary City in the near distance — fifteen heavy crossbows standing side by side, an imposing and intimidating sight. Kui Mulang circled his horse in place, his expression shifting.
Wang Junke swung up onto a horse, whistled once, and rode down from the River Granary City. Kui Mulang, seeing he came alone, understood there were things to be said, and rode forward as well. The two men halted facing each other at a distance of roughly two hundred and fifty paces from the city.
“Kui Mulang — well met!”
Wang Junke pressed his fists together in greeting.
“You intend to block this master’s way?”
Kui Mulang said coldly.
Wang Junke laughed. “You are here to kill my daughter — of course I will block your way.”
“Fair enough,” Kui Mulang said coldly. “And you think those few heavy crossbows are enough?”
“As for killing you with heavy crossbows, that may not be sufficient — but killing all your star generals certainly is. One simultaneous volley, fifteen bolts — at three hundred paces I have time for three volleys before you reach me. That is enough to kill every one of them. The remaining soldiers are no threat to me.”
Wang Junke said with a smile.
“But they are enough to capture you and your daughter.”
Kui Mulang said.
“Are they? Truly?”
Wang Junke raised an eyebrow. “A hundred men cannot break through a city held by thirty?”
Kui Mulang stared at this city built atop a raised earthen platform. Crumbling as it was, the terrain was easy to defend and difficult to attack — he could not deny Wang Junke’s judgment.
“Moreover, my only target in this exchange is to pick off the star generals. Once all fifteen star generals are dead, my Western Sandy Prefecture forces can take Jade Gate Pass effortlessly. Where would Kui Mulang go then?”
Wang Junke said with a smile. “I have heard that star generals can die and be reborn — though I imagine it is not so easily done, and that finding suitable bodies for them is not simple either?”
Kui Mulang fixed his gaze on him: “You have come to negotiate with this master?”
“Indeed — since my daughter is alive, naturally you and I can negotiate.”
Wang Junke said. “I would like to know — what does Kui Mulang want?”
“What?”
Kui Mulang was puzzled.
“What is it you want most, now that you have come to the mortal world?”
Wang Junke asked.
The question left Kui Mulang unexpectedly at a loss. Three years in the mortal world, and he had never once thought about this question. He had grown accustomed to solitude in the Heavenly Court. Seizing Jade Gate Pass had felt satisfactory enough — spending his days with Zhai Wen, unable to touch her, yet feeling a kind of contentment. But now… Kui Mulang suddenly felt as though all his desires had turned to ash.
“What does the mortal world have that the Heavenly Court does not…”
Kui Mulang murmured.
“Though I have never visited the Heavenly Court, I can imagine it — surely it lacks for nothing in the way of rare and wondrous treasures. Gold and silver of this world would be no different from rubble there. None of that would be what Kui Mulang desires,” Wang Junke said. “But there is one thing the Heavenly Court surely lacks greatly.”
“What?”
Kui Mulang asked, curious now.
“The incense and devotion of the mortal world!”
Wang Junke spoke each word with deliberate weight.
“The incense and devotion of the mortal world…”
Kui Mulang repeated the phrase, somewhat perplexed.
“I do not know from where the divine powers of the Heavenly Court and the Western Paradise of Bliss derive — but I know that in this world, Buddhist temples stand in great numbers, with incense burning day after day, sutras chanted, the names of Buddhas extolled. And there are countless Daoist shrines where incense never ceases and the names of the Jade Emperor of the Highest Clarity are recited without end. The power of this world’s faith — surely it is of no small benefit to divine beings?”
Wang Junke said.
Kui Mulang stood stunned for a moment, then asked: “How would you give me the incense and devotion of the mortal world?”
“I can make you the object of faith for a million living souls in the mortal world — temples built in great number, your true likeness enshrined, incense offered and worship paid day after day,” Wang Junke said. “I can make you the National Preceptor of a state — with everyone from the emperor down to the ten thousand common people prostrating themselves before you daily.”
“You are a mere prefectural commissioner — how can you possibly accomplish this?”
Kui Mulang was skeptical.
“Never mind for now how I am able. Let me first ask Kui Mulang this: is there anything else you want?”
Wang Junke said.
“What else can you offer me?”
Kui Mulang asked.
Wang Junke said gravely: “Whatever you desire — I can provide it all.”
Kui Mulang fixed Wang Junke with a penetrating gaze: “Do you know that years ago, when I came to inhabit this body, Lv Sheng and I struck an agreement?”
Wang Junke shook his head: “I had not yet arrived in Dunhuang at that time. What was the content of the oath?”
“To help him kill a person,” Kui Mulang said. “At the time I thought it was simply a matter of killing someone — an easy enough thing — so I agreed. Yet in all these years I have been unable to find this person’s whereabouts. That has presented a considerable difficulty. So I have been delaying all this time. But since an oath was sworn, it must be fulfilled.”
Wang Junke thought for a moment: “Who is this person?”
Kui Mulang said calmly: “First tell me what you want.”
“Very simple,” Wang Junke said gravely. “I need the Eastern Turks and Tuyuhun to launch an attack against Liangzhou — or at minimum to make a show of attacking. As the God of the Celestial Wolf, you are the totemic deity of the various steppe tribes. I trust this would not be difficult to arrange.”
Kui Mulang gazed at Wang Junke for a long moment, then suddenly broke into laughter: “Done!”
With that he wheeled his horse, let out a whistle, and led his iron cavalry rolling off into the distance.
Wang Junke stood on the sandy flats and watched Kui Mulang’s retreating figure — and only then felt the sweat drenching his back. Xuanzang, Yuzao, and Li Chuo came riding over.
“Father — how did you persuade him to leave?”
Yuzao asked.
“He simply saw my heavy crossbows, knew he could not win, and temporarily withdrew.”
Wang Junke shook his head. “Yuzao — we must return to Dunhuang quickly. There is important business to attend to.”
“What business?”
Yuzao asked.
Wang Junke swept a glance between her and Li Chuo’s faces, and said with a smile: “Your marriage with the heir of the Prince of Linjiang!”
“I will not marry!”
Yuzao said flatly.
Wang Junke’s face fell. “Nonsense! Marriage is decided by the command of parents and the words of a matchmaker. Do you think you can simply refuse?”
“Even if there is the command of parents — what sort of person is this young heir Li Chuo? What does he look like? I have never laid eyes on him. How am I to know whether we would be compatible in the future?”
Yuzao was indignant. “If you wish to forge an alliance with the Li family, why not have my elder brother marry the Prince of Linjiang’s daughter?”
Li Chuo shot a pained, rueful look at Xuanzang.
Wang Junke’s expression darkened. He said sternly: “What kind of talk is this? This marriage was settled long ago between myself and the Prince of Linjiang — the date is already fixed. There is no going back. Have I not been indulgent enough with you over the years? You have been running all over searching for Lv Sheng and I never objected. Now you have found him — alive or dead, you have your answer. It is time for you to settle down, marry, and build a life. Say another word like that and I will have no daughter.”
Yuzao looked at her father through brimming eyes and said hotly: “Then so be it — you have no daughter!”
Yuzao swung up onto her horse and galloped away. The assembled group was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Li Chuo cried urgently: “Commissioner! Commissioner — stop her!”
Wang Junke’s face was iron-grey. He walked to one of the heavy crossbows, nocked a bolt, drew the string, and took aim at Yuzao.
Xuanzang and Li Chuo were horrified. “Commissioner — you must not!”
Wang Junke slammed down the trigger. With a thunderous boom the enormous bolt flew out like a lightning bolt. By now Yuzao had ridden a full li away. The bolt tore through the air and struck the horse dead center beneath its belly — passing entirely through the horse’s body — a spray of blood flying out. The bolt buried itself in the sand.
The horse collapsed and died in an instant. Yuzao was thrown and pinned beneath it.
Li Chuo was frightened nearly to death and scrambled to pull Yuzao out from under the horse’s body. Looking at the bolt, it had passed clean through the horse — missing Yuzao by barely one foot. This was Wang Junke’s most severe possible warning to his daughter.
Yuzao was covered in blood. She sat on the ground in a stupor for some time, feeling the killing intent in her father’s heart. She rose with an expressionless face, followed Li Chuo back, and said not another word to Wang Junke.
Wang Junke had someone bring Yuzao a fresh horse. The soldiers followed behind with the large carts. The four of them returned to Dunhuang in complete silence.
Li Chuo murmured: “Master — this marriage of mine does not seem as pleasant as I had imagined.”
From the River Granary City heading east along the Western Frontier Wall, the way was lined with beacon towers built in dense succession during the Western Han dynasty — long since fallen into ruin, buried in drifting sand, bathed in the sweep of the setting sun. They stood like warriors weathered by a hundred battles, frozen into a row of monuments.
The Western Frontier Wall followed the Shule River. This stretch of land was thick with lakes, and Xuanzang’s group passed more than a dozen large and small ones along the way. The largest were Daquan and Yunüquan — dense with reeds, thick with flocking birds. The great lake at the easternmost end was the famous Salt Lake.
This was in fact the vital pass by which the Western Sandy Prefecture controlled the main road through the Desert of Jade Gate, and also one of the two great pastures belonging to Dunhuang County. The court had stationed a Salt Lake Guard here at the lake’s edge.
The Guard commander, one Zhao Ping, was on hand to receive the Commissioner’s arrival with great warmth.
After the group had rested for the night, they set out before dawn the next day. Travelling along the post road past Santao Spring, Erdao Spring, and Toudao Spring in succession, they entered the Dunhuang oasis.
The atmosphere throughout the journey was one of deep silence. Apart from the occasional exchange between Xuanzang and Wang Junke, no one spoke. Li Chuo stayed close to Yuzao’s side, yet she was hollow and lost, and Li Chuo could not find the words to comfort her. In the end all his unspoken feelings simply passed like the wind through the desert — a single sigh, and gone.
They arrived at the Prefecture Relay Station at noon, and found Wang Lishe there waiting to receive them. Wang Lishe let out a long breath of relief to see Li Chuo return safely. He was about to speak, but Li Chuo discreetly pointed toward Yuzao.
Wang Lishe understood.
Wang Junke had the station master prepare rooms for Yuzao and Xuanzang to rest and wash. He accompanied Wang Lishe and Li Chuo to the main hall, and had someone cut up a few melons and set them out.
Wang Lishe said urgently: “Young Lord — you are back at last! Praise be to the Buddha!”
“Registrar Wang — how did you come to be here? Where is my father?”
Li Chuo asked quickly.
It turned out that Li Yan had departed Dunhuang before dawn the previous day and returned to Guazhou. Anxious over Li Chuo’s safety, and though he knew Wang Junke had gone to Jade Gate Pass to provide support, he remained uneasy — so he had left Wang Lishe behind to wait for news.
“Young Lord,” Wang Lishe said with a smile, “His Highness’s return to Guazhou this time is to make preparations for your betrothal ceremony — in ten days’ time he will be coming to Dunhuang to receive the bride. We have our arrangements to make in Guazhou, and from there you must still come to Dunhuang for the wedding ceremony itself. The round trip alone takes five or six days, and time is rather pressing. His Highness instructed that once you returned, please make haste to travel with me to Guazhou.”
“This…”
Li Chuo hesitated for some time. As for this marriage, he both looked forward to it and felt a measure of dread — as though he were about to pluck and kill the wildflower he loved most dearly in the mountains. Even if he obtained it at the end, held it in his cupped hands — would it not wither and die within a few days?
“Commissioner Wang,” Li Chuo said sincerely, looking at Wang Junke, “might I be permitted to remain in Dunhuang? When the bridal procession my father has arranged enters the Prefectural Relay Station, I could proceed directly from there into the city for the wedding?”
“For what reason?”
Wang Junke was immediately displeased. As the young heir, the proper conduct was to travel the three hundred li of the Guasha Ancient Road and come to Dunhuang in person to receive the bride — a gesture of respect for the Wang family in giving their daughter in marriage. What was this fellow about, not even wanting to make that journey?
“Commissioner Wang has misunderstood.” Li Chuo hastened to explain. Struggling to find the words, he said: “Yuzao is still cross with you. I am genuinely worried that during this time she might do something rash and upset you further. If I remain in Dunhuang, at least I can help you try to persuade her.”
Wang Junke understood. He said after a moment’s thought: “She still has not guessed your identity?”
“She has not.”
Li Chuo said.
“It is time to tell her,” Wang Junke said. “The two of you have spent many days together — you must have some feeling for each other by now. Then stay in Dunhuang, and tell her privately.”
“Many thanks to the Commissioner!”
Li Chuo was overjoyed.
“Registrar Wang,” Wang Junke said in a reflective tone, “why did His Highness leave in such a rush? I had hoped to sit down with His Highness for a proper talk after returning to Dunhuang.”
Wang Lishe understood what he meant and said with a wry smile: “Commissioner — something has happened in the prefecture. This trouble was of your making, and His Highness, not knowing your intentions, found it awkward to be involved, and so departed first.”
Wang Junke and Li Chuo both froze.
Something of grave consequence had indeed occurred in Dunhuang City.
Several days prior, Wang Junke had ordered the Zhang clan’s commercial house raided and arrested six of its principal agents along with the market supervisor Zhang Kezhi. Wang Junke’s intention had been to press Zhang Bi into capitulation — but Zhang Bi proved unexpectedly unyielding, and by the time Wang Junke left for Jade Gate Pass two days before, Zhang Bi had still not appeared at his door to offer submission.
So before departing, Wang Junke had ordered interrogations under torture, and placed the Recording Registrar Cao Cheng in charge of the case.
Cao Cheng was Wang Junke’s most trusted aide. He immediately subjected the principal agents of the Zhang clan’s commercial house, the foreign merchants, and the traveling merchants from the Gaochang kingdom to severe interrogation. Under such duress, who could hold out? Within less than a day, the merchants and agents had confessed everything entirely.
The court’s prohibitions on border trade were principally three: first, Tang subjects were forbidden from crossing the border to trade; second, Tang subjects were forbidden from trading privately with foreigners — all trade had to take place in the Western Market and at prices following the reference rates issued by the market supervisor; and third, “brocade, damask, gauze, silk wadding, raw silk, spun silk, cloth, yak tails, pearls, gold, silver, and iron” were forbidden from being transported out through the border.
Against these three prohibitions, the Zhang clan’s commercial house had employed a method of jointly establishing a commercial house with the Zhang clan of Gaochang — with the Gaochang commercial house crossing the border to trade. Goods brought in were then “sold” to the Zhang clan’s commercial house at the market supervisor’s fixed price, then transported by that house for sale throughout the Hexi prefectures and even into the interior of the realm.
The price at which the Gaochang commercial house “sold” to the Zhang clan’s commercial house was set at cost, while the difference in profit was secretly returned to the Zhang clan’s commercial house. After all, the court-imposed commercial tax was extremely low, so nothing much was lost in any case. And since the market supervisor Zhang Kezhi was himself a member of the Zhang clan, there was no possibility of any trouble arising.
In truth, this was the standard practice among most of Dunhuang’s major commercial houses — and now Wang Junke had dragged it into the open, targeting it specifically against the Zhang clan’s commercial house.
Based on the confessions of the agents and the foreign merchants, silk that could be confirmed amounted to over five hundred bolts. Under Tang law, this was sufficient grounds for exile of several thousand li.
And then there was an even more serious problem — prohibited goods.
Porcelain, lacquerware, and tea could certainly turn a profit when sold in the western regions, but the truly enormous profits lay in silk — brocade, damask, gauze, wadding, raw silk, woven silk — every variety of silk product was eagerly sought in the western regions. The Gaochang side would pass it to the Sogdian merchants, who then transported it further to Persia, Byzantium, and other kingdoms, where it fetched a price equal to its weight in gold. Many merchant caravans departing through the border carried cartload after cartload of silk, smuggled out. This was precisely why Li Chuo had said that what Lin Sima was guarding was a golden road.
The Zhang clan’s commercial house and the Gaochang commercial house had not only bribed the border garrison commanders to smuggle silk out, but had also opened secret trails through the desert to bypass the beacon towers and slip past the frontier passages.
Under Tang law, private passage through a border pass without authorization carried a sentence of one year’s hard labor; crossing outside the designated passage added one degree.
Passing through a border post by stealth was called private crossing; bypassing the beacon towers entirely was called clandestine crossing. Both offenses constituted iron-clad cases. Most critically, Tang law stipulated that “for reckless crossing, private crossing, or clandestine crossing, if the matter is disposed at the direction of the household head, even if the household head did not personally participate, the household head alone bears the punishment” — this was the principle of “when household members offend together, the punishment falls solely upon the elder.” Who was the household head of the Zhang clan’s commercial house? Zhang Bi.
This put the arrow pointed directly at Zhang Bi. Once the agents broke under torture and confessed, Zhang Bi would be implicated.
Wang Lishe laid this all out while Li Chuo could not help drawing a sharp breath: “Registrar Wang — if this case truly is traced back to Zhang Bi, would he not face exile of a thousand li?”
“Far more than exile!”
Wang Lishe looked at Wang Junke, saw his expression grave and controlled, and could not help adding: “Young Lord — do you know what Cao Cheng is interrogating about now? The clandestine crossing — specifically what it was they smuggled?”
Li Chuo thought for a moment and felt a sudden tremor run through him. Given that the Zhang clan’s commercial house had already bribed the border garrison commanders, large-scale smuggling of silk could easily have been conducted through the official crossing points directly. Yet they had gone to the trouble of opening secret desert trails to bypass the beacon towers and slip across the frontier — whatever they were smuggling through those routes was something even the bribed garrison commanders could not be allowed to know, which suggested something far more serious.
Wang Lishe said: “Under Tang law, if private goods — items an individual household may legally possess — are transported without authorization across a border pass, the punishment is reduced by three degrees from private crossing. For ordinary prohibited goods, the maximum is three years of hard labor. That is to say: privately smuggling goods that individuals may legally own draws three years at most. But: privately supplying prohibited weapons to those outside the borders — death by strangulation.”
Li Chuo stared at Wang Junke in alarm: “Commissioner — you intend to implicate Zhang Bi on this charge?”
“It is not a matter of my intending to implicate him. It is a matter of whether he actually did privately ship prohibited weapons across the border.”
Wang Junke said flatly. “Everything must be based on the facts.”
Li Chuo only now understood why his father had rushed out of Dunhuang so hastily. Wang Junke was about to overturn the sky itself.
“Why go this far, Commissioner?”
Li Chuo said with earnest feeling. “Zhang Bi may be arrogant and disrespectful — he may have dared to insult you by offering a concubine’s daughter — but to do this is to cut yourself off from the Dunhuang clans entirely!”
“Does the Young Lord think this is merely my revenge against Zhang Bi?”
Wang Junke said coldly. He was about to continue when he caught Wang Lishe shaking his head urgently at him. He caught himself and changed course: “Registrar Wang — what is the current state of affairs in Dunhuang City?”
“Yesterday, following the interrogations, officials at both the prefectural and county levels have been falling ill one after another — by now over ten of them. The prefectural and county administrations have effectively ground to a halt.”
Wang Lishe said with a wry smile.
Wang Junke was untroubled. “This was entirely to be expected.”
“And there is more… Yesterday afternoon, news arrived,” Wang Lishe said with difficulty. “The office funds are bankrupt.”
“What?”
Wang Junke was taken aback.
After the Great Tang was founded, the Great Emperor Li Yuan had reformed the system by which the various government offices received their operating funds. The court no longer allocated operating expenses and salaries to each office directly, but instead established a system of “office fields” and “office funds” — the court gave each office an allotment of land and currency and had the officials go out and rent it, lend it, and manage it themselves, using the earnings as operating expenses and salaries.
For example, the prefectural administration — it was initially given fifty thousand Kaiyuan copper coins, and the prefectural commissioner was expected to go out and lend it at interest himself. Li Yuan had also taken into account that each commissioner’s financial management abilities would differ, resulting in varying interest earned, and so he had simply fixed the annual lending interest rate at one hundred percent. His thinking was sound: with this arrangement, the prefectural administration would earn fifty thousand coins in interest annually, which would be enough to cover expenses.
The problem was — who would be willing to borrow at such staggering interest?
The problem was also that commerce and trade during the Wude years were not flourishing either. The vast majority of people earned their living from farming. Those needing to borrow money were very few, and sometimes loans simply could not be placed at all. Even when loans were placed, the interest rate was so high that merchants only borrowed for short periods. As a result, the office funds of administrations at every level had become an object of sheer dread. Prefectural commissioners and county magistrates alike spent every month fearing their hair would fall out from worry — yet no matter how much hair fell out, they still had to get those office funds lent out, otherwise none of the officials and clerks under them would receive their salaries.
Particularly for the prefectural commissioners of the Wude and Zhenguan eras — men like Wang Junke who had spent their lives slashing and fighting on the battlefield — interpreting legal codes and governing prefectures they could manage, but when it came to finance, they were simply at a total loss. Many administrations reportedly could not recover their loans at all and simply went bankrupt.
The Western Sandy Prefecture had been relatively fortunate — being a center of flourishing trade, the prefectural administration employed a registrar specifically charged with placing loans and collecting interest. With the support of the great clan families, income and expenses had just barely remained balanced, with no trouble arising. But now that Wang Junke had moved against the Zhang clan, the office funds immediately went bankrupt.
Wang Junke felt a creeping sensation along his scalp, and hardening himself, asked: “Bankrupt, meaning… the interest cannot be recovered?”
“Gone,” Wang Lishe said, a look of deep sympathy on his face. “Not only is there no interest — the principal is gone too.”
Wang Junke went rigid as a carved statue in that instant. Was he to understand that his prefectural administration had gone bankrupt? There was no money left?
“How can this be?”
Li Chuo was perplexed. “How could even the principal vanish all at once?”
Wang Lishe sighed: “The merchants who had borrowed the funds encountered catastrophe within a single day — some were robbed on the road, losing both goods and men; others were cheated out of everything. As for the major borrowers — they happened to be the very commercial houses Wang Junke had seized. With the commercial houses all sealed, what money could remain?”
“But — but — the money seized from the commercial houses is still there, isn’t it!”
Wang Junke said quickly. “Just deduct the office funds from what was seized!”
Wang Lishe looked at him as though regarding a fool: “Commissioner — major commercial houses are quite different from small traders. A single cargo run requires thousands upon thousands in funds. The entire capital of a commercial house sits in its outstanding loans — and sometimes these houses even borrow from one another. Once the Zhang clan’s commercial house ran into trouble, the other commercial houses immediately demanded repayment of debts, cancelled contracts, and seized goods. In the midst of all this, the clan families of course also put their fingers in and made their moves, draining the Zhang clan’s commercial house completely dry — not a single copper coin remained.”
Wang Junke frowned in heavy thought. He understood: the clans had launched their counterattack.
“Let’s go!”
Wang Junke gritted his teeth. “Back to the prefecture city! This official refuses to believe they can overturn the sky itself!”
Xuanzang had not expected that the moment he returned to Dunhuang he would be walking straight into Wang Junke’s great showdown with the Eight Great Clans. Dunhuang City, Shouchang County, and the entire Western Sandy Prefecture were in a state of sharp tension, the populace unsettled.
Xuanzang had no wish to be caught up in this. Yet he was also worried about Yuzao. He and Li Chuo brought her together to the Commissioner’s Residence. Once inside the rear quarters, Wang Junke immediately instructed Wang Junsheng to have Yuzao placed under watch, confined to the inner quarters and forbidden from leaving the residence. Wang Junsheng, not knowing what had transpired, received them all with a wide apologetic smile and invited Yuzao back to her room. Yuzao didn’t spare her father a glance, and departed coldly.
Wang Junke followed her to the gate of the inner courtyard and seized her by the arm. He said coldly: “If you try to threaten me with your life — I will tell you now: even if you were dead, I would have your body loaded onto the bridal sedan.”
The corner of Yuzao’s mouth twitched. She walked toward the inner quarters with a hollow, rigid step.
Xuanzang had not heard Wang Junke’s words, yet the look of utter desolation on Yuzao’s face — the quiet of a heart that has given up on everything — pained him deeply. But this was a family matter, and Wang Junke was bent on climbing to a higher station. The Buddha’s teachings offered no remedy for this.
Li Chuo was heavy with worry. Xuanzang pulled him aside, intending to lead him out of the Commissioner’s Residence and return temporarily to Daci Temple.
But Li Chuo said: “Master — I think… my time studying under you may come to an end here.”
Xuanzang stared at him in surprise: “Why?”
“Because I have found what I need to take responsibility for.” Li Chuo’s bearing was desolate. “The reason I came to study under you was because I, as heir, was simply useless. I could be of no service to the state, could share none of my father’s burdens — all I knew how to do was hide in the gap between the emperor and my father. But today, seeing Yuzao like this, I feel there is something I need to do. This is my own feeling — something I must take on. I may not be able to make her happy. But at the very least I need to stay close to her and make sure nothing happens to her.”
Xuanzang gave an approving nod: “Do you intend to remain in the Commissioner’s Residence?”
“That would be impossible!” Li Chuo said with a rueful smile. “My staying in the Commissioner’s Residence would damage Yuzao’s reputation. I…”
He looked around in either direction. On the street outside the Commissioner’s Residence, on this side of the Changning Ward gate, there was a wine shop — besides wine, it also served food.
Li Chuo walked straight in. The wine shop attendant came to receive him: “What would the gentleman care to order?”
“I am here to work,” Li Chuo said.
The attendant was immediately dumbfounded, looked him up and down. Li Chuo was handsome and elegant, his clothing of fine silk — the attendant could not help gaping: “Are you having a joke with me, sir?”
Li Chuo immediately stripped off his silk robe, wrapped up the jade pendants and jade belt buckle that hung from him, and set the whole bundle aside. “Give me a set of your rough hempen clothes. I’ll start working today — no wages needed.”
The wine shop’s proprietor had also come rushing over by now. He and the attendant stood staring at this strange scene, both dumbstruck.
Xuanzang smiled slightly and said nothing. He pressed his palms together, murmured a quiet phrase, and silently withdrew. A needle-sharp pain ran through his palm. Yet in his heart there was something almost like lightness.
From the moment he entered Dunhuang City until now, Xuanzang had returned once again to a state of solitude.
In truth, the road west had always been like this — from the moment he left Chang’an, he had walked it alone, just like this. People of every kind had come, and people of every kind had gone. In the end, he remained as he had always been — like a newborn child, facing this world alone. Because what others wanted was close at hand, while what he wanted was far away. He simply had to keep walking — walking to the edge of heaven and earth, walking to the point where life itself ran out.
Yet he was still grateful for the companionship these people had given him. Where there are many, there is a multitude; where there is a multitude, there are all living beings. What he wished to see was the world of all living beings — brilliant human lives. That was not to be found in any sutra. It was there only in these two eyes.
Xuanzang had just reached the White Horse Pagoda and was about to pass through the inner city gate when a sudden clamor arose from the south gate. Crowds of people and merchant caravans came flooding into the city from the gate, faces filled with fright and confusion.
Xuanzang quickly stopped a middle-aged merchant and asked. The merchant, seeing it was a monk, dared not be rude, and pressed his palms together: “Master — there is a mutiny!”
“What?”
Xuanzang was greatly shocked. “What has happened? Where is this mutiny?”
“Right here in our Western Sandy Prefecture! Over five hundred soldiers of the Xiguan Garrison have mutinied and are marching toward the prefecture city! Any moment now —”
The merchant cast a glance toward the city gate and let out a shout, then turned and ran.
Xuanzang pushed against the tide of people flowing toward him and reached the city gate. Outside the south gate, he saw spread across the open plains an uncountable number of soldiers converging from all directions toward the gate. Peasants, merchants, and herders outside the city were crying out and fleeing toward the city walls. Yet the soldiers were not killing anyone — they advanced beneath their banners in grim silence. The soldiers moved in ordered columns, fully armed — fire teams of ten, squads of fifty, companies of a hundred — their formations perfectly ordered. Yet throughout the whole force there was not a single officer of any rank — not even a squad leader to be seen.
The entire column radiated a grim and deathly stillness, like a silent volcano.
The outer wall of Dunhuang City was a six-foot sheep-and-horse wall. Beyond that wall ran a moat — forty-five feet wide and nine feet deep — fed by living water channeled from a great spring to the southwest. Across it lay a wooden bridge nine feet wide. Wide as it was, with the crowd pressing in from both sides, carts, people, and livestock jammed together in a hopeless tangle. Many people were shoved over the edge and fell into the water.
As the mutinying soldiers drew closer, the crowd fell into even greater panic, cries rising from all sides. But the soldiers stopped at the outer edge of the moat and — as though responding to some unspoken command — sat down in unison. One by one they fixed their eyes on the prefecture city, and did not speak a word.
The people on the bridge also noticed something strange. Some bewilderment spread among them, then quiet. People looked at each other, none of them knowing what to do.
Xuanzang followed the soldiers’ gaze up to the top of the city wall, and saw at a glance Wang Junke, Wang Junsheng, and Cao Cheng standing behind the parapet. Behind the battlements, a scattering of soldiers had drawn their bows and trained their arrows on the area below.
“Worthless!”
Cao Cheng was berating the deputy garrison commander of the Xiguan Garrison. “The Commissioner stripped Linghu Zhan of his post and entrusted you with command of the Xiguan Garrison — the defense of the prefecture city was placed in your hands. You cannot control your own soldiers. What sort of garrison commander are you?”
“This is not as simple as just removing Linghu Zhan’s post!” the deputy said with a pained expression. “The personnel of the garrison are deeply entangled — the two senior officers and four squad leaders and ten unit commanders were all personally promoted by Linghu Zhan, long since thoroughly penetrated by the Linghu clan. But I cannot dismiss them either — without them, how would we fight?”
Wang Junsheng and Cao Cheng both looked blankly at Wang Junke.
Wang Junke said coldly: “No need to rush. Look — isn’t Linghu Zhan arriving now? Let’s see whether he chooses loyalty to his family or loyalty to the court.”
At that moment, Linghu Zhan came charging out of the city gate on horseback. His attendants swung their whips to clear a path through the crowd from the gate to the bridge, forming a corridor. Linghu Zhan galloped through, circled once around the sitting soldiers, and came to a stop before the mutinying troops.
His face was iron-grey. He seized his riding whip and lashed at the soldiers without mercy. The soldiers did not flinch — even those knocked flat rose again quickly and resumed sitting. They did not move.
“Where are your senior officers? Where are Zhu Cheng and Liu Dingwei? Get the hell out here!”
Linghu Zhan rode through the ranks of soldiers with his whip. “And your squad leaders? Are they all dead?”
“In response to the garrison commander!” a unit commander said coldly. “The deputy is up on the city wall. The senior officers — their wives scratched their faces up, and they’re hiding at home and won’t come out. The squad leaders’ fathers have all taken ill — they have no money for medicine, and they’re home weeping.”
“What?”
Linghu Zhan stared. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything in particular. The office funds went bankrupt — salaries can’t be paid, the officers can’t make ends meet, and we common soldiers haven’t received our campaign stipends or grain rations. So we came to the prefecture city to ask the Commissioner for justice.”
The unit commander said.
It emerged that the Tang military was divided into two types of soldiers: conscript militia and recruited soldiers. The two were together called the mobilized force.
The greatest difference between them was this: conscript militia soldiers were registered on the military rolls, assigned land by the court, farming in peacetime and fighting in wartime, with no regular pay. Recruited soldiers were different — recruited soldiering was not a fixed system with fixed troops and organization. Men were recruited when needed and dismissed when the need passed, or rotated after a set term. When a soldier returned home, he reverted to civilian status.
Because the border prefectures constantly faced frontier threats, and summoning conscript militia required a long lead time with cumbersome procedures, they maintained standing recruited soldier forces, permanently stationed at their garrisons.
Accordingly, recruited soldiers received regular military pay.
Military pay for recruited soldiers came in two forms. The first was the campaign stipend — a grant of silk bolts given by the court before a campaign, for making military clothing or exchanging for money to support families — five bolts of silk per man per year. This came from the budget of the prefecture or county where the soldier was stationed. The second was food rations — also supplied by the prefecture or county — at the rate of “two sheng per day, six dou per month, seven dan and two dou per year.” As for the officers and garrison commanders, their regular salaries came from the office fields and office funds, just like civilian officials. Now that the office funds had gone bankrupt, the officers naturally received nothing.
But the soldiers — up on the city wall, Wang Junke had also had the full cause of this mutiny investigated, and asked: “For the officers the office funds are gone — but the soldiers’ campaign stipends are still due in silk bolts as usual. There should be silk bolts stacked in the treasury in sufficient quantities. Why haven’t they been distributed?”
Cao Cheng looked somewhat uncomfortable: “Commissioner, you may not be aware — after the office funds went bankrupt, the officials at every level were in an uproar, crowding around in tears of grievance. Someone at the time suggested stabilizing the officials’ spirits by taking the silk bolts from the prefecture treasury and converting them into cash for distribution. And so I… I…”
“Distributed it all?”
Wang Junke’s expression soured.
“Not quite all of it,” Cao Cheng said in a low voice. “Perhaps two or three tenths remain. The soldiers heard that their campaign stipend silk had been handed out to the officials, and fearing they would receive nothing this month, they began agitating and rose in mutiny.”
“One move after another!”
Wang Junsheng said with fury. “It is obviously the clan families behind all of this!”
“Do I need you to tell me that?”
Wang Junke said coldly. His face betrayed nothing, though he also knew trouble had come.
Below the walls, Linghu Zhan was by now also piecing together the cause of this mutiny.
Had his own father and the other clans made a move? But why had they not informed him? And moreover — with the Xiguan Garrison in mutiny, would he not be held accountable by the court? Even setting aside his own safety — the Linghu clan had poured enormous resources into this, along with his own ten years of military service and repeated risking of his life, all to earn him the position of garrison commander and give the Linghu clan a foothold in the military. How could his father simply let it go just like that?
Linghu Zhan’s thoughts were in turmoil, and a measure of desolation crept over him.
He had always believed he had earned his position through military merit — yes, the clan had contributed much, but his own standing in the military had been won sword-strike by sword-strike. And yet now, when mutiny erupted, he found he could not control the army at all. The deputy, the senior officers, the squad leaders — all of them answered to the clan families behind them, not to him as their Tang garrison commander.
But he was a frontier commander of the Great Tang — not a household retainer of his clan! Caught now between the two, what was he to do? Linghu Zhan’s expression fell into one of limitless desolation. He turned and looked back up at Wang Junke on the city wall, and then suddenly gave a start — for there were his father, Linghu Demao, and Zhang Bi, walking up together onto the city wall, taking their position at the parapet.
Linghu Demao and Zhang Bi cast a glance below, their expressions impassive. They moved to Wang Junke’s side. Cao Cheng and Wang Junsheng, faced with these two men, could not entirely conceal a measure of deference, and quietly stepped back a few paces, taking their places behind Wang Junke.
“The spectacle below is quite worth watching. The two family heads have arrived at just the right moment.”
Wang Junke said flatly.
“A mutiny!”
Zhang Bi clicked his tongue twice. “A prefectural commissioner who has provoked a mutiny among his own soldiers — one wonders what the court will make of that.”
“What the court makes of it?”
Wang Junke laughed. “That would come after I have settled accounts with you, would it not?”
Zhang Bi’s eyes shot fire as he glared at Wang Junke, quivering with fury but unable to speak.
“Commissioner,” Linghu Demao said mildly, “better to think about how to pacify the soldiers first. The prefecture city has no troops to speak of — if these soldiers force their way inside, that would be beyond anyone’s control. Soldiers gone rampant, with opportunists looting and burning in the chaos, and the whole Western Sandy Prefecture could descend into disorder.”
Wang Junke smiled: “Looting and burning… I doubt the Commissioner’s Residence has much worth looting. The ones worth looting would be the wealthy great houses within the city. What do I have to worry about?”
“You —”
Zhang Bi was speechless with fury and roared: “You are the people’s official! The shepherd of an entire prefecture!”
“And do you regard me as the people’s official?”
Wang Junke’s expression shifted in a sudden blaze of anger, and he roared back: “Destroying the office funds, inciting mutiny — which of these is not a crime of treason? Gentlemen — soldiers are not to be deceived. Take care you do not play this game too far and set yourselves on fire! Once they force their way into the city and their greed runs beyond control, the first to suffer will be wealthy great houses like yours!”
“A pointed remark, Commissioner!”
Linghu Demao said calmly. “The office funds went bankrupt due to poor management — administrations throughout the realm have gone bankrupt for this reason, and even if you pursue this before the court, you cannot pin it on us. And the Xiguan Garrison mutiny —”
“And what of the Xiguan Garrison mutiny?”
Wang Junke said coldly. “Your son Linghu Zhan is the Xiguan Garrison commander. His soldiers mutinied — even if the Linghu clan cannot be implicated, Linghu Zhan still bears inescapable responsibility.”
“Is Zhan still the garrison commander?”
Linghu Demao raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise. “As I recall, you removed him from the post some time ago. Ah — Deputy Yang is here, is he not? Commissioner, did you not already order him to serve as acting garrison commander? For failing to control the soldiers and allowing a mutiny — what should the punishment be?”
Deputy Yang’s eyes went wide. He looked to Wang Junke for rescue, but dared not open his mouth.
Wang Junke was blocked by this thrust and felt no small amount of discomfort. Yet in truth, this was the reality — for an ordinary garrison commander, regardless of whether he had been dismissed, the blame could still be laid at his door. But with the Linghu clan, Wang Junke could not do it.
Wang Junke said with a cold laugh: “A fine stratagem! If I dismiss Song Kai of the Zijin Garrison, or Zhai Shu of the Ziting Guard — would the Zijin Garrison and Ziting Guard mutiny as well?”
“That you would have to ask Song Chenghan and Zhai Chang.”
Linghu Demao said mildly. “I came on behalf of the people of Dunhuang, to implore the Commissioner to bring this mutiny to an end quickly. At the same time, a county office memorial has been submitted to the court, urgently requesting the court to conduct a strict investigation. The dispatch has already been sent out by five-hundred-li courier. The document bears the joint signatures of the Dunhuang community elders.”
“Quick work indeed — even the county office has become your instrument, and you have dared to use the five-hundred-li courier service. If you wanted speed —”
Wang Junke glared at him — “why not light the beacon fires? That is even faster!”
“We may very well do that.”
Linghu Demao held his gaze without blinking. Between the two men the air crackled like thunder and lightning.
“Commissioner,” Zhang Bi sneered, “you had better start thinking about how to get out of this.”
“No need to remind me.”
Wang Junke glanced at him, then pointed toward the southwest. “The two gentlemen need only be patient.”
Linghu Demao and Zhang Bi exchanged a look and glanced toward the distance — and froze. To the southwest over the sandy flats, a whirlwind had risen at some point, stretching out slowly and growing longer.
The whirlwind from the southwest drew closer and closer, iron hooves thundering within it like a rolling peal of muffled thunder. A cavalry force swept in, with a mass of infantry following behind — it was the troops of the Longle Garrison.
The Longle Garrison was stationed in Longle Township, not far to the southwest of the prefecture city, protecting Shouchang County — the other county seat under the Western Sandy Prefecture’s jurisdiction. The garrison commander, Ma Hongda, was a battle-hardened veteran. One look at the mutinying soldiers sitting quietly on the ground told him there was no intent to fight. He immediately led his cavalry circling in tight loops around the mutinying soldiers at a gallop.
The mutinying soldiers were seasoned fighters — the moment they saw cavalry approaching they leaped to their feet and formed a defensive formation: an outer ring of spear and pike troops, with archers within, standing in readiness. As the cavalry closed in, the two sides had entered a standoff. One wrong move and control would be lost, and a bloody slaughter would follow in an instant.
As he rode, Ma Hongda called out in a loud voice: “This officer is Longle Garrison Commander Ma Hongda!”
The soldiers around him immediately repeated his words in loud voices, carrying Ma Hongda’s words to every mutinying soldier through the thundering din of the cavalry: “This officer is Longle Garrison Commander Ma Hongda!”
“Acting on the Commissioner’s orders — to call upon all of you to return!”
“Acting on the Commissioner’s orders — to call upon all of you to return!”
“The Commissioner says: you were led astray by others, and if you return at once, there will be no punishment!”
“The Commissioner says: you were led astray by others, and if you return at once, there will be no punishment!”
“Your campaign stipends will be distributed within three days!”
“Your campaign stipends will be distributed within three days!”
“Those who disobey will be charged with mutiny! Your parents will be implicated!”
“Those who disobey will be charged with mutiny! Your parents will be implicated!”
“Sit down — do not move!”
Linghu Zhan rode into the wall of spears and pikes and shouted furiously, swinging his whip: “You are soldiers of the Great Tang — do you truly intend to rebel? Anyone who takes one step forward will trample over the body of Linghu Zhan!”
A unit commander in the ranks shouted: “If they won’t give us the campaign stipends today, we’re not going back! Ma Hongda has only three hundred cavalry — they can’t stop us!”
Someone else shouted: “Fellow soldiers — there’s not a single soldier blocking us inside the city. The Commissioner won’t agree, we push our way in and demand justice!”
“That’s right — push our way in! Demand justice!”
Once the agitation started, the soldiers — men who had lived by the sword — grew feverish with excitement, each one fired up and ready.
The situation was on the verge of spinning out of control. Then suddenly from within Dunhuang City the sound of horns rang out in great blasts, and a peal of iron hooves like muffled thunder resounded through the city. A force of soldiers appeared on the city wall, occupying the battlements, bows drawn and aimed at the area below.
A senior officer in full armor approached Wang Junke and announced in a loud voice: “Salt Lake Guard Commander Zhao Ping, reporting as ordered with five hundred guard soldiers to suppress the mutiny!”
Linghu Demao and Zhang Bi, who had been watching with satisfaction, were dumbstruck on the spot. Even Cao Cheng and Wang Junsheng were somewhat taken aback. Ma Hongda arriving was understandable — the Longle Garrison was only about ten li away, barely a moment’s ride. But the Salt Lake Guard was over eighty li distant. How had Zhao Ping managed to arrive so suddenly?
“Masterful strategy! Masterful planning!”
Linghu Demao ground his teeth.
“You are no less so yourself, Demao.”
Wang Junke said with a cheerful smile.
Linghu Demao and Zhang Bi, faces iron-grey, turned and left without a word.
Cao Cheng and Wang Junsheng both let out long breaths of relief, knowing the battle was won.
Cao Cheng said under his breath: “Commissioner — when did you summon Commander Zhao?”
“Last night, returning from Jade Gate Pass, I passed by the Salt Lake and had Zhao Ping bring his guard soldiers to follow about ten li behind me.”
Wang Junke said calmly. “From the moment I had you interrogate the Zhang clan, I knew the great clans would make their move. Originally I had prepared for more than just the Xiguan Garrison — I had not expected only the Xiguan Garrison to come out, with the Song and Zhai clans staying put and not moving.”
Wang Junsheng said admiringly: “Commissioner’s strategy is divine!”
“Zhao Ping,” Wang Junke asked, “is the situation within the city under control?”
“Not only have men been posted at all five city gates — soldiers have been posted at the residences of the Eight Great Clans as well. A single word from the Commissioner and arrests can be made immediately.”
Zhao Ping said.
“No rush to make arrests,” Wang Junke said, watching the scene below. “Let us stay as the arrow on the bowstring — hold our position — and see how those clan families get themselves out of this.”
Below the walls, the mutinying soldiers were also growing uncertain and ill at ease. The Salt Lake Guard was above them, the Longle Garrison at their backs. All of them were veteran fighters who knew that if the situation escalated any further, bodies would be lying everywhere. Their momentum began to flag.
At the city gate, Xuanzang surveyed this scene and knew that no blades would be drawn in this mutiny. When all was said and done, it was the clans issuing a show of force and a warning to Wang Junke — and at the same time laying out their bargaining chips. The contest of wills between the two sides would require at least a few more rounds yet. It was only a matter of which side would give ground first.
Xuanzang let out a deep sigh, turned, and walked through the city gate.