“Your Highness, extraordinary times demand extraordinary measures. As the saying goes, ten thousand bones wither for a single general’s glory — all the more so for carving out a kingdom. Once we slaughter Ganzhou City, we will have an army that pledges its life in undying loyalty!”

Inside Changle Temple in Dunhuang, Wang Junke knew that Li Yan was a man of benevolence, and so he patiently worked to persuade this Prince of Second Rank.

“No, no, no — this prince cannot do such a thing…”

Li Yan leaped to his feet as though stung by a scorpion. “Ganzhou City has tens of thousands of innocent people!”

“Since Your Highness is merciful, then not all need die — seven or eight thousand would be sufficient.”

Wang Junke said.

“No, no — if this prince were to do such a thing… he would descend into Ni Li Yu!”

Li Yan was sweating profusely, his face ashen. “This prince is of the Li Tang imperial clan. To fail in protecting the people, and instead to slaughter a city — how could I face the emperors of generations past?”

“The Li Tang imperial clan is no stranger to slaughtering cities,” Wang Junke said coldly. “In the third year of Wude, His Majesty slaughtered Xia County — and far more than seven or eight thousand perished!”

Li Yan fell silent at once. In the second year of Wude, Liu Wuzhou had seized Jinyang and swept through Hedong. A man of Xia County named Lv Chongmao had seized the county seat and declared allegiance to Liu Wuzhou. At that time, Li Shimin was encamped at Baibi, locked in fierce battle with Liu Wuzhou. Emperor Li Yuan personally directed the campaign, dispatching Li Xiaoji, Dugu Huai’en, Tang Jian, and Liu Shiran to attack Xia County — but all of them were defeated and captured by Lv Chongmao and Yuchi Jingde.

Li Yuan suffered tremendous loss of face. Unwilling to forfeit so many of his prized generals, he offered rewards and titles, persuaded Lv Chongmao to surrender, and secretly instructed him to eliminate Yuchi Jingde — but instead Lv Chongmao was killed by Yuchi Jingde. Later, Yuchi Jingde departed Xia County and marched north to reinforce Liu Wuzhou. The two sides clashed at Baibi, and Liu Wuzhou was ultimately defeated and fled. Li Shimin led his army back, broke through Xia County, and carried out a sweeping slaughter of the city.

This affair remained an unresolved mystery at court. The crux of the mystery was not whether Xia County had been slaughtered, but who had issued the order — Li Yuan or Li Shimin? During the Wude years, the court’s unified position was that Li Shimin had ordered the slaughter, and Li Shimin tacitly accepted this, since he had been the commanding general. But when the Zhenguan era arrived, a current of rumor began to circulate claiming that the slaughter order had come from the Great Emperor Li Yuan himself. In the end, neither father nor son was willing to bear that infamy.

“And then there is… the Battle of the Breached Dike at Ming River!”

Wang Junke ground out those words through clenched teeth.

Li Yan stared at him in astonishment. Seeing the tormented, contorted expression on Wang Junke’s face, he too was instantly dragged back into his own unbearable memories of that brutal battle. His voice trembled slightly: “Say no more…”

“No — I will say it!”

Even when speaking of rebellion, Wang Junke’s composure never wavered — yet the moment the Battle of the Breached Dike at Ming River was mentioned, he could no longer contain himself. Tears streamed down his face. “Your Highness, Ming River is the stain of my life, and of yours as well. Tens of thousands of innocent soldiers were buried in vain, all to bring glory to our wise and magnificent emperor!”

Li Yan gave a long, desolate sigh. He patted Wang Junke on the shoulder, his heart heavy with shared grief.

In the first month of spring in the fifth year of Wude, Liu Heita declared himself King of Handong and established his capital at Mingzhou. The court dispatched Li Shimin to lead troops in suppression. The two great military minds engaged in a series of encounters centered on Mingzhou, with neither side gaining decisive advantage. Then, at just that moment, an entirely unforeseen event occurred — while Liu Heita was at the front lines, his subordinate Li Quhuo secretly surrendered Mingzhou City to Li Shimin.

Li Shimin received this as a priceless windfall and immediately dispatched Wang Junke with a thousand cavalry to urgently garrison Mingzhou.

This drove Liu Heita into a fury. His tens of thousands of troops surrounded Mingzhou City completely, assaulting it day and night without cease. Fortunately, Mingzhou was easy to defend and difficult to attack — water surrounded it on all four sides, fifty-some paces wide and three to four zhang deep — which was why Wang Junke was able to hold the city stubbornly with barely a thousand men.

Li Shimin’s main force also arrived at Liu Heita’s outer perimeter, attacking day and night as well, striving to break open a gap and reinforce Wang Junke.

Liu Heita meanwhile fought off Li Shimin on one front while furiously storming the city on the other. Both sides locked in a desperate struggle for Mingzhou — the decisive question being whether Wang Junke could hold the city.

Wang Junke too fought with red-eyed fury. He held off Liu Heita’s forces for five or six days and nights straight, battling without sleep or rest until he was reduced to a gaunt shadow of himself. Of the thousand-plus men, eight or nine hundred had been killed in battle, leaving only three hundred and some remaining. Wang Junke could hold out no longer, and sent flag signals to Li Shimin calling for emergency aid, indicating he could not hold the city and requesting permission to abandon it.

In truth, by the time the battle had reached this point, Wang Junke had already displayed every mark of a great general. After all, nearly every renowned commander of the Great Tang had crumbled before Liu Heita — even Li Ji had suffered two consecutive defeats, abandoning the city and fleeing at the very first clash. No one could find fault with Wang Junke in this battle.

Li Shimin understood, yet was deeply reluctant to give up. He asked his assembled generals: “Who can take Wang Junke’s place holding Mingzhou City?”

The fierce warrior Luo Shixin stepped forward with resolve, willing to defend the city.

So Li Shimin used flag signals to inform Wang Junke to retreat through the north gate.

Wang Junke led his remaining troops in a charge out of the north gate, while Li Shimin dispatched elite forces in a fierce assault on the north gate simultaneously. The inside and outside forces struck together, finally punching a breach through the encircling troops. Wang Junke escaped successfully — but Luo Shixin had entered the city with only two hundred men before Liu Heita’s forces sealed the gap behind him.

After Luo Shixin entered the city, Liu Heita personally directed his army in an even more ferocious assault on Mingzhou, ceaseless day and night, arrows falling like rain. He also constructed two pontoon bridges to the northeast of the city, enabling his forces of tens of thousands to pour through in an unending stream. Yet Luo Shixin held on with just two hundred men, withstanding the assault of over ten thousand — fighting until timber and stone were exhausted, blades and spears all broken. He held for a full eight days and nights.

Throughout those eight days and nights, Li Shimin attempted every conceivable angle of attack against Liu Heita — and was blocked cold at every turn, unable to advance a single step.

On the day of Dingchou in the first month of the fifth year of Wude, Mingzhou was finally taken by Liu Heita. Luo Shixin fought to the last man, was wounded, and captured. Liu Heita was deeply impressed by Luo Shixin’s ferocity and intended to offer terms of surrender — but Luo Shixin refused with unyielding words and bearing, and was executed. He was twenty years old.

Li Shimin grieved greatly and paid a heavy price to recover his remains for a proper burial.

Luo Shixin’s battle had been the most catastrophic and most glorious the Great Tang had ever fought in establishing its dynasty. Even dying at twenty, he had carved an undying name for himself as an unparalleled warrior of the Great Tang. And set against Luo Shixin’s glory, the praiseworthy, desperately hard-fought defense Wang Junke had waged was instantly eclipsed. The act of abandoning the city with three hundred men still remaining became the stain that followed Wang Junke for the rest of his life.

From that time on, Wang Junke languished in obscurity within the Tang military. Though he accumulated merit enough to be ennobled as a County Duke, many colleagues who had suffered even more dismal defeats were ennobled as State Dukes. Three years earlier, he had even been “exiled” by the emperor to the remote desert lands to “keep watch” over Li Yan, while an imminent war of annihilation against the Eastern Turks loomed — a war he would have no part in. One could easily imagine that this war would draw together a constellation of brilliant generals, with merit piling upon merit, and who knew how many commanders of lesser seniority than him would walk away ennobled as State Dukes.

Whenever his thoughts turned to this, Wang Junke could only wring his hands in anguish and helpless fury.

Mingzhou was also a place of sorrow for Li Yan. After Li Shimin defeated Liu Heita and returned in triumph, he left Li Yan as Governor of Mingzhou. But not a few months later, Liu Heita came back in force. Where Luo Shixin and Wang Junke had dared to hold the city with a few hundred or a thousand men for eight days and nights, Li Yan had long since been terrified out of his wits by Liu Heita — he fled without fighting a single battle. Had Crown Prince Li Jiancheng not interceded on his behalf, Li Yuan would have long since stripped him of his princely title.

For a long moment the room was utterly silent. The two men sat facing each other in a stupor, wrapped in boundless grief and desolation.

“I do not resent my own ill fortune. The circumstances at the time were what they were — I failed to find the resolve to die with the city. I lacked Luo Shixin’s willingness to meet death, and I lay no blame on others for that. But —”

Wang Junke erupted in fierce agitation. “The battle of the breached dike at Ming River that followed — that I refuse to accept! You took no part in that battle. At the time, His Majesty and Liu Heita were arrayed across the Ming River from each other. Liu Heita’s supplies were exhausted, and His Majesty knew he was desperate to give battle. So he had men dam the upper reaches of the Ming River, leaving it dry. His Majesty then challenged Liu Heita, who led his forces across the dry riverbed. Both sides clashed in fierce battle within the riverbed itself. His Majesty had issued one particular order beforehand: ‘On the day I strike the enemy, wait until the enemy is halfway across — then break the dam.'”

Li Yan stared in bewilderment. “His Majesty ordered the dam broken? But at that very moment, His Majesty and Liu Heita were both fighting within the riverbed!”

“Precisely! Tens of thousands of men from both sides were locked in combat in that riverbed — and His Majesty still had the dam broken!”

Wang Junke let out a cold laugh. “Only — His Majesty and we generals had already withdrawn from the battlefield beforehand, leaving the riverbed. Twenty thousand Tang soldiers were left behind, holding Liu Heita’s forces in a death grip. They had no idea they had already been abandoned by their own commander — they were expendable pieces, placed there solely to drag Liu Heita’s twenty or thirty thousand men down with them into death.”

Li Yan drew a sharp breath. “I had no knowledge of this?”

“Who would dare speak of it?”

Wang Junke laughed coldly. “At the time, His Majesty and the Crown Prince were locked in their struggle for succession — who would dare hand a weapon to the Crown Prince?”

“But Liu Heita did not drown, did he?” said Li Yan. “How did he escape?”

“Liu Heita was mid-battle when he sensed something wrong. He sent trusted men to investigate and discovered the dam had been breached. At that point Liu Heita had no other choice — with the two armies entangled as they were, ordering a retreat would have meant total collapse. So Liu Heita too made a ruthless sacrifice, quietly slipping away from the battle with a few hundred of his most trusted men, leaving the riverbed.”

Wang Junke sighed deeply. “Poor souls — those soldiers fighting in that riverbed with all their hearts’ blood for their commanding general had no idea their beloved commander had already abandoned them. But the most pitiable of all were those sons of the Great Tang, reduced to worthless pieces placed there to be buried alive. I stood on the bank and watched the Ming River surge and crash in great thundering waves — countless fine young men crying out in horror, becoming food for fish and turtles.”

Wang Junke choked back sobs as tears ran down his face. “Among those twenty thousand were comrades I had trained myself. They had followed me through the chaos of war, survived countless battlefield arrows and blades. They had made homes in Chang’an. Some had fathered sons, some had fathered daughters. Some had even returned to their hometowns and found their parents, bringing them back to Chang’an to spend their final years in peace…”

Li Yan wept silently. “At the time I too made inquiries — the various generals spoke evasively, only saying they had been held in place by Liu Heita’s forces and could not disengage.”

Wang Junke let out a suppressed wail of grief. “His Majesty issued me the order to abandon the army and leave with him. My heart was shattered with anguish, yet I dared not disobey. I rode away in secret, like a thief, like a traitor, like… like someone who had sold them to their deaths. Through more than a decade of war I killed countless men, and never once felt remorse. Yet often in the dead of night I wake, and there they are in my dreams — just standing there looking at me, faces swollen and pale, smiling coldly at me, saying I betrayed them…”

Li Yan sighed. Though no man of war himself, he was by nature sincere and generous, and he cared deeply for his soldiers — when he saw a battle was lost beyond saving, he would rather bear punishment from the court than send his men to meaningless deaths. Though, admittedly, this was also partly a product of his timid nature.

“And so, Your Highness,” Wang Junke dried his tears, “the emperor’s dragon throne is built upon heaps upon heaps of corpses. This has nothing to do with benevolence, nothing to do with righteousness. In the contest for supremacy on the battlefield — if you lose, everything ends. Your body becomes just another brick propping up someone else’s throne. As long as you are unwilling to die, slaughtering Ganzhou City is something you cannot avoid.”

Li Yan said nothing. He seized a cup of wine and drained it in one fierce gulp, his eyes red as blood. “And after that? Can we hold off the counterattack of Li Daliang’s fifty thousand troops?”

Wang Junke let out a cold laugh. “Fifty thousand troops? He won’t dare move a single soldier. Before we raise troops, we will naturally settle matters with the Eastern Turks and Tuyuhun. Once Xieli Kehan sees that we have taken Ganzhou and are threatening Liangzhou, if he cannot withstand His Majesty’s northern campaign, he will certainly push south along the Yellow River toward Lingzhou, seeking to strike Liangzhou in a pincer movement with us. And Tuyuhun is practically on Liangzhou’s doorstep — as long as Murong Fuyun makes a gesture toward moving north, Li Daliang will be completely unable to send troops to Ganzhou, because the supply line from Liangzhou to Ganzhou is far too long, and Fuyun could cut off his army’s retreat at any moment. So — as long as we hold Ganzhou, we can advance to strike Liangzhou in coordination with Murong Fuyun and Xieli Kehan, or retreat to hold the Hexi Corridor as our own domain!”

Li Yan fell into a long silence. Inside Changle Temple, a wind carrying sand arose. Fine grains of sand tapped against the bronze bells on the eaves, and amid the tinkling chime there came a rasping sound — as though insects were gnawing at a dead man’s white bones.

“What do you want?”

Li Yan looked at Wang Junke. “You are willing to risk ruin and disgrace to help this prince carve out a kingdom. What can this prince give you?”

“Once you and I have established our domain, when the court sends its armies to suppress the rebellion, I will inevitably face Li Jing and Li Ji on the battlefield — and perhaps Qin Shubao and Cheng Zhijie as well. I want the whole world to see that I, Wang Junke, am the true paramount general under heaven! I will defeat one by one every commander His Majesty holds in high esteem, and utterly wash away the shame of Mingzhou. Furthermore, I cannot wait for three or four generations, two or three hundred years, to establish a great aristocratic clan. I want to assist Your Highness in founding a state, and in my own generation establish a clan of towering prestige. Therefore, what I want is —”

Wang Junke spoke each word with deliberate weight: “Personal glory. The Wang clan’s rise to power!”

That night, starlight shone upon Changle Temple — and upon Jade Gate Pass as well.

Xuanzang stood beneath the starlight in the courtyard, staring blankly at the man before him: Lv Sheng. Lv Sheng gazed back at him with a smile. The two men stood in silence, eyes locked. From the seventh year of Wude to the present, five years had passed without a meeting between them — yet with a single glance, Xuanzang could be certain: the man before him was not Kui Mulang. This was Lv Sheng.

Standing there in the courtyard, Lv Sheng’s smiling eyes and graceful bearing instantly overlapped with the man Xuanzang had known at Daxingshan Temple in the seventh year of Wude, like fine aged wine — the years had seasoned it, yet had not changed this man in the slightest. He said nothing, yet Xuanzang seemed to hear his voice: “In the fifth year of the Daye era of the Sui dynasty — how many households were there in the realm? How many people?”

“Brother Lv — you truly are still alive!”

Xuanzang’s emotions surged. “What in the world has happened? How can this be?”

The rims of Lv Sheng’s eyes grew faintly moist. “Master, during this time you have labored tirelessly in your search, seeking to clear my name and right this wrong. My gratitude runs deeper than I can express. The reasons behind everything — I shall lay them out before you one by one.”

“Silang, why don’t you stay and keep the Master company over a drink? I’ll go make two bowls of buo tuo soup. The Master must be hungry.”

Zhai Wen said softly.

“Thank you, my dear.”

Lv Sheng gave a warm nod. Zhai Wen curtsied toward Xuanzang, then went into the kitchen.

Lv Sheng led Xuanzang back to the main hall and sat down on the reed mat. He went to the corner of the room and carried over a jar, removing the sealed top to reveal a jar of wine.

“Master, it has been many years since we last met — shall we have a couple of bowls?”

Lv Sheng said with a smile. “This is wheat wine brewed by my own wife. Wheat is a fine grain, not easily given to brewing wine — this jar she brewed from wheat she had been saving up for a long time.”

Xuanzang shook his head. “This poor monk is a monk — drinking wine is not permitted.”

Lv Sheng laughed heartily. “Monks of the Central Plains do not drink wine, but this is Dunhuang. Since Buddhist communities were established in Dunhuang, drinking wine has always been the custom here. Not only may one drink wine — one may even open a wine shop, brew wine, and sell it, without violating the local monastic code of discipline.”

Xuanzang smiled wryly. He had been in Dunhuang for half a month now and had stayed in the temple for many days — he naturally knew of the Dunhuang monks’ custom of drinking wine. On his very first day in Dunhuang, Zhai Faran had sold off the wine from the temple’s wine shop.

The principal reason was that Dunhuang was bitterly cold — after the eighth month, the cold was extreme, winter snows fell thick as mats, ice sealed a thousand li. Temple monks and monastics alike were largely required to perform heavy physical labor: repairing temples, grinding grain and milling flour, and carving grottoes, sculpting figures, and painting murals into the sheer cliff faces of the Thousand Buddha Caves. Without wine to ward off the cold, one might freeze solid in an instant. So from ancient times to the present, Dunhuang monks drinking wine had become a custom, wholly unlike what prevailed in the Central Plains.

“And so, Master,” Lv Sheng said with a smile, “from Chang’an to India is a journey of ten thousand li, crossing a hundred kingdoms, each with its own different customs and climate. If you cling rigidly to the rules of Buddhism as practiced in the Central Plains, you may find yourself unable to take a single step forward. The Buddhist traditions of India itself — where the Buddha taught — are likely quite different from the monastic codes of the Central Plains as well. As the saying goes, follow the local customs. Why not start this very evening?”

Xuanzang laughed too. “So Brother Lv wants to reenact the debate at Daxingshan Temple!”

Lv Sheng burst out laughing. “You’ve seen through me, Master — exactly so. I wanted to recapture the feeling of that first meeting all those years ago. And this time I’ve lost again, so as my penalty I’ll keep the Master company and drink grape juice!”

Both men laughed together. Lv Sheng replaced the lid on the wine jar and poured a bowl of grape juice for himself as well. The two raised their bowls, clinked them together, and drank in one swallow.

“Brother Lv — what in the world has happened?”

Xuanzang fixed him with his gaze. “I had guessed you might not be dead, yet I never imagined we would meet again in this manner.”

Lv Sheng was silent for a long moment, staring at the grape juice before him, as though sinking into distant memory. “In truth, there is much of these years that I cannot clearly remember. Fortunately, since the Master arrived in Dunhuang and began making inquiries on my behalf — tracing my past almost completely — I was at last able to see those earlier events clearly again.”

“How can this be?”

Xuanzang was startled. “Can it be because of Kui Mulang? What exactly is the relationship between you and Kui Mulang?”

“Two souls dwelling in one body.”

Lv Sheng said. “In the ninth year of Wude, I was framed and imprisoned in the dungeon at Qingdun Garrison. The jailer intended to strangle me. At the very moment the white silk was tightened around my throat and they were about to kill me, the spirit of Kui Mulang happened to pass by and struck a bargain with me.”

“He said he had descended from the Heavenly Court and had no vessel to inhabit in the human world. He wished to borrow my body for three years — and after three years he would return to the Heavenly Court and restore my freedom. I agreed at the time,” Lv Sheng said calmly, “and the moment his spirit entered my body, my consciousness remained, and I found that my entire body had suddenly grown wolf fur — I had transformed into an enormous wolf.”

“Can such a thing truly be!”

Xuanzang stared in speechless astonishment — he had not expected to witness something so supernatural with his own eyes. “So Kui Mulang — whether in wolf form or in your form — it was always Kui Mulang controlling your body?”

“Precisely.”

Lv Sheng nodded.

“And you?”

Xuanzang could not help but ask. “Where were you while he occupied your body?”

“Soul and spirit separated,” Lv Sheng said. “The Master surely knows of the Daoist doctrine of souls and spirits — a person has three souls and seven spirits. The three souls — named Taiguang, Shuangling, and Youjing — bear the vital essence of a person. The seven spirits — Goushi, Fushi, Queyin, Tunzei, Feidu, Chuhui, and Choufei — govern the physical body. After my soul and spirit separated, my consciousness was compressed into an infinitesimally small point, hidden in a place of total darkness. The seven spirits were then driven by Kui Mulang, who used them to control my physical body. The reason my memory is fragmented is precisely because of this soul-spirit separation — events from further back I remember with some clarity, but the period around when my body was taken is blurred and unclear.”

Xuanzang’s expression grew grave. He studied Lv Sheng carefully for a long moment before asking: “When he controlled your body — could you perceive the outside world?”

“Generally not,” Lv Sheng shook his head. “Unless his mental power was severely depleted and he had fallen into meditation. There was also another circumstance — he frequently needed to cultivate himself, sending his primal spirit out beyond the heavens, at which point I could regain control of the body. That is precisely what happened tonight: he is presently in meditation, which is why I can control the body and come to see the Master.”

Xuanzang looked at him, and suddenly felt a measure of sorrow. “He has occupied your body for three years now, has he not?”

“Indeed. He said at the outset that after three years he would return to the Heavenly Court and restore my freedom.” Lv Sheng’s voice was full of bitterness. “Three years have passed now — and yet he has grown attached to the splendors of the mortal world and refuses to leave. So this body of mine is left to serve him endlessly, without rest.”

Just then, Zhai Wen entered carrying the food. Two large bowls of buo tuo soup — the dough sheets had been rolled remarkably thin, drizzled with fragrant oil and scattered with spring onion, filling the air with a wonderful aroma. A steamer basket of oil flatbreads — kneaded with oil, fragrant and crisp — along with soft and fluffy steamed buns. She had also prepared three vegetables: bottle gourd, lettuce, and turnip — cooked and drizzled with sesame oil and sauce, fragrant and pleasantly crunchy.

Xuanzang was truly hungry. He and Lv Sheng ate with great relish, eating with tremendous satisfaction. Zhai Wen knelt at Lv Sheng’s side to attend them — all the very picture of a gentle, attentive young wife.

Watching Lv Sheng eating with great mouthfuls like a country farmer, Zhai Wen’s eyes grew somehow moist for reasons she could not quite name. She murmured: “For me and Silang, even a brief meeting is not easy — he rarely manages to come out. In his absence, I raise chickens, pound wheat, wash and starch clothes — like a wife waiting for a husband away at war. Sometimes when I miss him unbearably, I claim chest pain and have Kui Mulang treat me with his inner elixir, draining his mental power. That way, Silang gets a chance to come out and meet with me.”

“So you have no chest pain at all?”

Xuanzang drained the last of his soup and set down his bowl and chopsticks.

“None.”

Zhai Wen said.

“I have a question,” said Xuanzang, now that Lv Sheng had also finished eating. “In the ninth year of Wude, Kui Mulang had taken possession of your body and had no relationship whatsoever with Zhai Wen — so why did he abduct her?”

Lv Sheng and Zhai Wen exchanged a glance, smiling with a trace of bitterness. “Master, after my body was taken, many of my memories became blurred and unclear — those from further back I can still recall, but those around the moment of possession seem to have been erased entirely. I told this story to Wen’er at the time and had her tell you.”

Xuanzang quite understood this — in truth, for someone who had had six of his seven spirits seized, that Lv Sheng could still think like a normal person was already remarkable.

According to Daoist explanation, one who loses their spirits becomes a wandering soul; one who loses their souls becomes a walking corpse.

Zhai Wen steadied herself, slowly sinking into memory. “Silang told me that on that day, Linghu Demeng came to his cell and told him that night was the evening of Linghu Zhan’s marriage ceremony to me… Oh — Linghu Demeng is the elder brother of Linghu Demao.”

Xuanzang nodded to indicate he understood.

“He came deliberately to humiliate Silang. They had framed Silang as a traitor to the state, driven Silang’s father to his death, and now they were about to take Silang’s wife. Silang said his mind held only one thought at that moment — revenge. After Linghu Demeng left, he sent the jailer in to kill him. It was then that Kui Mulang descended and asked to borrow his body. So Silang told Kui Mulang — to abduct me, bringing the greatest possible humiliation upon the Linghu clan…”

As she spoke, Zhai Wen’s voice began to crack. When all was said and done, she had been the greatest victim of the hatred between the two parties. Whether she was happy now or not — at least she knew that once she had been happy, and all of it had come to an abrupt end on that single night.

Lv Sheng’s heart ached. He offered her a few words of comfort, then continued: “After that, the county authorities sent men to pursue us, and I took Wen’er and fled — fled into the desert. Kui Mulang had just taken possession of my body, and the bond between his spirit and my physical form was not yet stable. My body shifted between wolf and human, and my consciousness would at times fail and I would babble incoherently, while at other times my whole body would convulse with agonizing pain as though being torn in two. At the time Wen’er was my captive — and though she was frightened, she took pity on me and cared for me through entire nights. It was then that I felt the first stirrings of deep regret: Wen’er was such a gentle and good-natured young woman, yet I had ruined her life.”

A warm smile spread across Zhai Wen’s face. She extended her hand as though to take Lv Sheng’s, reached halfway — then quickly drew it back.

“We reached Jade Gate Pass, which at the time was occupied by a band of horseback raiders. Kui Mulang revealed his divine powers and brought that band of raiders under his control, settling in at Jade Gate Pass.” Lv Sheng gazed at Zhai Wen with deep tenderness. “By then I was gradually losing ground and was nearly completely overwhelmed by Kui Mulang. I reflected that Wen’er was, in fact, my wife — our union had been arranged by our parents and made proper through a matchmaker. I had been framed mid-journey and brought ruin upon her, forcing her into a marriage with Linghu Zhan. What right did I have to then vent my grievances upon her, abducting her and dragging her into an even more wretched fate?”

“No, Silang,” Zhai Wen said gently, “whether by proper betrothal or brought here by force — in this life I am always your wife. These three years with you have been the happiest days of my life. Even in the days when you cannot appear, accompanying that Kui Mulang is as though accompanying you.”

Zhai Wen took down from the screen partition that length of white silk embroidered with mandarin ducks, and handed the other end to Lv Sheng. His fingers slid gently along the smooth silk, stopping just short of touching Zhai Wen’s fingers. The two held the white silk between them — as though each holding the other’s hand — suffused with an air of quiet happiness.

Xuanzang felt a pang of sorrow.

“Later I gradually lost my hold, my consciousness fading into nothingness, my body on the verge of being completely taken. I implored Kui Mulang to look after Zhai Wen and send her back to Dunhuang. Strangely, though, either due to my influence on him or perhaps from some other cause, Kui Mulang said that he had descended to the mortal world to search for a woman. This woman, he said, had been a handmaiden in the Pixiang Hall of the Heavenly Court. They had met at a banquet and dance at Pixiang Hall — lonesome in the Heavenly Court, they had fallen secretly in love, yet dared not defile those sacred precincts. They had made a vow to descend together to the mortal world and live as husband and wife for a lifetime. After the Pixiang handmaiden descended first, Kui Mulang came down to find her — but as he explained, the handmaiden had descended through reincarnation, which veiled her spirit from the workings of fate, making it extraordinarily difficult for him to sense her presence. So he had searched for her through many years in the mortal world and could not find her.”

Zhai Wen’s voice was dismissive: “I am no Pixiang handmaiden whatsoever. Having merged with your physical form, Kui Mulang must have been influenced by you — causing him to develop this delusion about me and mistake me for that handmaiden.”

“And yet that is precisely what he believed.”

Lv Sheng said with quiet anguish. “Master, the relationship among the three of us is exactly this absurd.”

Xuanzang sat in a daze for some time. This entangled web of love was beyond anything he could have imagined. Two souls inhabiting one body — yet both falling in love with the same woman…

“At the time my soul was gradually separating further, and my influence over Kui Mulang was slowly diminishing. Yet since Kui Mulang had formed these wicked intentions, I had to find some means of protecting Wen’er from being defiled by him. By fortunate chance, a western merchant passed through Jade Gate Pass and approached Kui Mulang with wares, among which was an object called a Heavenly Garment —”

“Might that merchant’s name have been Mi Laiheng?”

Xuanzang interjected.

“What was his name?”

Lv Sheng asked Zhai Wen, with a slightly apologetic look. “In truth, I have no memory of these events — Wen’er witnessed them all firsthand and told me about them afterward.”

“His name was Mi Laiheng,” Zhai Wen said quietly.

“Ah, yes, that is right.”

Lv Sheng nodded. “Kui Mulang is himself a heavenly deity and has visited the Trayastrimsha Heaven — a Heavenly Garment was nothing particularly precious to him, and he had little interest in it. But I heard Mi Laiheng describe it: wear the Heavenly Garment, and you are protected through a hundred calamities, warding off evil, free from the cycles of suffering, never falling into hell, never meeting with poisonous harm, never encountering the disaster of wolves and tigers. My mind began to move. Taking advantage of a moment when Kui Mulang had sent his primal spirit out beyond the heavens, I seized control of the body, impersonated Kui Mulang, and led his star generals out to track down Mi Laiheng — pursuing him all the way into the White Dragon Mound desert before catching him. My intention was to purchase the Heavenly Garment, but Mi Laiheng’s demands were outrageous and without limit. In a fit of rage, I killed him and seized the garment — not knowing until afterward that Mi Laiheng had secretly torn away a length of it as he died. I brought it back and had Wen’er put it on. Little did I expect that this Heavenly Garment, whatever other properties it might or might not have, could not be touched — the instant anyone touched it, they would be stabbed with unbearable pain. When Kui Mulang returned he was incandescent with fury. He told me the Heavenly Garment was a garment of manifest law, responsive to its wearer’s will — once damaged, that intention could no longer be controlled. I felt regret, yet as far as I was concerned, the fact that Wen’er could not be touched served perfectly to protect her from Kui Mulang’s defilement. Only… wearing the Heavenly Garment brings no small number of inconveniences, and at times it even injures her own body — Wen’er has suffered greatly through these years because of it.”

“So that is the origin of it all!”

Xuanzang finally understood the full story of the Heavenly Garment.

“Silang, I am your wife. For a woman to guard her faithfulness for the man she loves — you cannot know what happiness that is.”

Zhai Wen smiled. “Though these years we have been unable to even touch each other, simply being by your side is all I need. And besides…”

Zhai Wen’s fingers gently stroked that length of silk. “When we hold this silk with the mandarin ducks between us — smooth, delicate, warm — it is as though we are holding each other’s hands.”

Only now did Xuanzang understand that this length of silk was the sole physical bond between the two of them. He glanced at the eight-panel screen, on which the detailed brushwork painting of Chang’an was naturally also Lv Sheng’s work. And this warm little home had naturally also been set up by the two of them during the moments when Lv Sheng recovered control of his body — built to allow them to be close for brief moments in this harsh environment, seeking an instant of warmth and tenderness.

“So,” Xuanzang said, “Kui Mulang is absolutely determined to kill this poor monk in order to refine the Heavenly Garment.”

Xuanzang recalled how Kui Mulang had been willing to endure the pain of the Heavenly Garment’s needles to heal Zhai Wen’s wounds, his expression full of love — and knew that Kui Mulang’s feelings for Zhai Wen ran deep. From seizing the Heavenly Garment at Mogao Caves to the present, Kui Mulang had massacred the congregation at Shengiao Temple and fought a fierce battle at Qingdun Garrison for the sake of this garment. It seemed certain he would kill Xuanzang to refine it, thereby breaking the Heavenly Garment’s curse upon Zhai Wen.

Lv Sheng and Zhai Wen exchanged a glance, both deeply troubled.

“Master — you must flee!”

Zhai Wen said.

Xuanzang smiled wryly. Stranded in Jade Gate Pass, escaping from Kui Mulang’s grasp would be no simple matter.

“Let us think through a careful plan — we will surely find a way for the Master to escape Kui Mulang’s clutches —”

Lv Sheng had barely begun when his face suddenly changed, and he sprang to his feet.

“What is it?”

Zhai Wen asked.

“He… he is about to emerge!”

Lv Sheng pushed up his sleeves, and silvery-white wolf fur suddenly began to sprout along his arm. His face changed drastically. “He must not find this place!”

Lv Sheng had no time for further explanation. He leaped up and ran for the door — and in just a few steps, more and more silver fur was surging from his body. Xuanzang now understood: Kui Mulang was about to awaken.

The two of them followed Lv Sheng at a run. By now the night was deep and all was quiet. The people who had been drinking inside the pass had all gone home to sleep long ago. All around was silence.

“Master — help me!”

Lv Sheng turned his head as he ran. “Help me recover the memories from those years! I want to know — what exactly happened in Dunhuang back then?”

As he spoke, Lv Sheng continued to sprint at full speed, his body beginning to slowly contort.

“Master, we cannot follow.”

Zhai Wen brought Xuanzang to a stop. “This home is something we have protected for three years — it is the only thought that sustains me and Silang. We absolutely cannot let Kui Mulang find it!”

Xuanzang halted. Suddenly there came a rustling sound from beside the wall. Xuanzang walked over and peered through a gap in the wall — inside was only a pile of firewood stacked in a pile, with no one else present.

Zhai Wen was not troubled by the possibility of being seen. She and Lv Sheng had built this nest here, and naturally they could not conceal it from the people of Jade Gate Pass — but Lv Sheng and Kui Mulang’s relationship was so strange and complex that others could never make sense of it. So no one would speak loosely of it, much less dare to.

Zhai Wen ran back inside the room and returned to hand him a bowl filled with goat’s milk. She dipped her fingers into some and sprinkled it over him. The entire process was extraordinarily swift, her expression entirely composed. “Master, go to the well over there, rinse your mouth, wash your face, and scrub your hands clean. I will go change my clothes and then come find you.”

Xuanzang did not understand the reason, but agreed and departed at a quick pace.

What Xuanzang did not see was that on the other side of the woodpile, Yuzao was sitting on the ground, a straight blade laid to one side, her makeup smeared, desperately pressing her hands to her face to muffle her sobs as tears flowed in an unending stream.