Dunhuang was a great city of Hexi. Its city walls, built of pounded earth and timber, stood fifty-three chi high — tall, thick, and solid. Like all walls in the Western Regions, they were not faced with brick, but left bare to show the original color of the earth, rough and austere. The city sat on the western bank of Sweet Spring water, four hundred paces wide from east to west and six hundred and twenty-nine paces long from north to south. It was not a perfect rectangle, however — a quarter of the wall at the southeast corner angled inward. At all four corners of the wall, high, projecting bastions rose up, giving sentries an elevated vantage point for vigilance day and night.

What made Dunhuang’s walls distinctive was an additional outer ring of sheep-and-horse walls. This outer wall stood five chi high — reaching only to a person’s shoulder — but its base was also a full five chi thick. In the event of an assault on the city, this ring of walls, however low, would still present a formidable obstacle to attackers. Anyone climbing over would be subjected to fierce counterattack from the defenders, and anyone who succeeded in jumping over would find themselves in cramped terrain that left no room to deploy siege ladders or other equipment.

At this moment, however, as Xuanzang and Li Chan led their horses past, they discovered that the sheep-and-horse wall was actually being used as a pen — crammed full of real sheep and horses.

At Dunhuang’s city gate, Xuanzang and Li Chan presented their identification documents and travel permits, then led their horses into the city.

“Master, what are your plans now that you’ve come to Dunhuang?”

Li Chan asked.

Xuanzang looked out over the tawny frontier city, his eyes full of anticipation. “This poor monk has a very close friend by the name of Lv Sheng, and he is serving as an official right here in Dunhuang!”

The two entered through the north gate.

The Dunhuang of this era followed the layout established during the Cao Wei period: the southeastern portion of the city was designated as the Inner City, home to the government yamen and offices. The rest constituted the Outer City, which held the residential and commercial districts. The two sections were divided by a high wall, with two inner gates in the middle for passage. This meant Dunhuang had a total of three city gates; the west and south gates required passage through the Inner City, making the north gate by far the most convenient.

Entering the north gate brought one immediately onto Sweet Spring Avenue, which extended southward for the better part of the city before meeting the Inner City gate. The avenue also divided the Outer City into eastern and western halves. The eastern half was a neat rectangle of regularly laid-out residential wards, arranged in a grid like squares on a chessboard. The western half, owing to the crooked angle of the Inner City wall cutting through it, had taken on a triangular shape.

Strange as this layout was, it in no way diminished the city’s vitality. The permanent population of all of Western Shazhou was only a little over twenty thousand people — and yet merchants from the Western Regions and the Central Plains came and went in great numbers, and the city teemed with life. On the main thoroughfare, mules and camels passed by laden with goods; shepherds drove flocks of sheep out to pasture beyond the city. The crowd was a rich mixture: Han Chinese, red-cheeked Tuyuhun, Turks with their braided hair, Sogdians with their high noses and deep-set eyes in wrapped robes with round collars and tall hats, and even Bactrians and Persians from farther west — a spectacle that drew exclamations of wonder from Xuanzang and opened his eyes wide.

Li Chan said with a smile, “As for the rest of them, they are here in varying numbers — but the Sogdians in Dunhuang are truly plentiful. In the various rural townships there are even entire Sogdian villages. They have registered their household accounts with the authorities and entered the census. They are considered Tang subjects now.”

In the Inner City, the most prestigious ground: the prefectural and county yamen offices and the residences of the great aristocratic families and wealthy merchants all occupied its interior. The two walked along as Li Chan introduced Xuanzang to the sights and customs of Dunhuang.

“Master, what official post does this Lv Sheng you are looking for hold at the Prefectural Governor’s yamen?”

Li Chan asked.

Xuanzang thought for a moment. “He came to Western Shazhou in the eighth year of Wude — he was said to be serving as an adjutant.”

Li Chan smiled. “Master, you may not be aware — in the government yamen, there are adjutants of all sizes and ranks. At the prefectural level alone, there is the Record-Keeping Adjutant, and the heads of each of the six administrative divisions are all called adjutants as well. The difference in status is enormous.”

“We met in the seventh year of Wude, and he had already set off for his posting in Dunhuang in the eighth year before I went out on my travels — so I truly do not know what post he holds.”

Xuanzang smiled wryly. “However, in the capital he was of the eighth rank, upper grade.”

Li Chan shook his head repeatedly. “An eighth-rank upper grade official in the capital, even if transferred at the same level, would be at least a Record-Keeping Adjutant when posted to Western Shazhou. That is the fourth most senior position in the prefecture, surpassing even the Assistant Prefect in actual authority. A figure like that — couldn’t you simply have asked Wang Junke back at the Prefecture City Relay Station?”

“This poor monk wants to ask Lv Sheng for help in slipping out of the border.”

Xuanzang smiled ruefully. “I can simply leave when I need to — but if his superiors and colleagues later find out, I fear it will implicate him.”

Li Chan nodded. “I understand. But it is easy enough to handle — a Record-Keeping Adjutant of that rank need only be asked about at the prefectural yamen.”

They proceeded south along Sweet Spring Avenue from the north gate until they reached the Inner City gate. It was not wartime, so passage through the Inner City was easy. As the two entered the gate, they saw before them a soaring Buddhist pagoda — the White Horse Pagoda, built by the great monk and translator Kumarajiva of the Later Qin dynasty in memory of his white horse, which had died in Dunhuang.

The Western Shazhou prefectural yamen stood to the west of the White Horse Pagoda. Dunhuang’s yamen, unlike those of the Central Plains, placed little emphasis on formal appearances. Its pounded-earth walls were extremely tall and thick, enclosing a four-square inner compound like a small fortified city, with corner towers and projecting wall sections. The entrance gate, like a city gate with its arched opening, was rough and austere.

Armed soldiers stood guard at the door. As the two approached, an armored officer stepped forward. “Who goes there? Do not enter the yamen without authorization!”

Xuanzang pressed his palms together. “This poor monk has come to find someone. I am looking for the Prefecture’s Record-Keeping Adjutant, a man by the name of Lv Sheng.”

The officer was taken aback. “Record-Keeping Adjutant? Our prefecture’s Record-Keeping Adjutant is not surnamed Lv. There is no one named Lv Sheng in the yamen.”

Xuanzang and Li Chan both froze and looked at each other.

“Lv Sheng came to Dunhuang in the eighth year of Wude.”

Xuanzang asked. “Could he have been transferred elsewhere?”

The officer, seeing a monk before him and noting Li Chan’s fine attire, held his patience. “That I would not know. Our current Record-Keeping Adjutant is surnamed Cao, given name Cheng — he came to Western Shazhou the year before last.”

Li Chan said quietly, “Master, this Cao Cheng I know — he is right now at the Prefecture City Relay Station greeting Father. You must have the information wrong somewhere.”

Xuanzang thought it over and could not help smiling wryly. It had been four years since Lv Sheng was posted to Dunhuang — a change in official position was entirely normal. But the first priority was to find out where Lv Sheng had gone.

Directly across from the Prefectural Governor’s office stood Yongkang Ward. Its walls were thick and tall, with a gatehouse above the ward gate — it too had the layout of a small-scale fortified city. The ward sat right against the prefectural yamen, and its residents were primarily officials and aristocratic families. Xuanzang looked it over carefully as they passed through, and at the corner where the east-west and north-south lanes intersected, he spotted a wineshop with a worn facade. The wine-seller was about fifty or sixty years old, speaking in the local accent. Xuanzang entered.

It was already the hour of Si, and the wineshop had no customers yet. The wine-seller came forward warmly to greet them.

Xuanzang pressed his palms together and asked, “Old sir, are you a native of Dunhuang? How many years have you been running this wineshop?”

The wine-seller quickly demurred. “I would not presume. Dharma Master, my family has been in Dunhuang for generations. This wineshop has been in the family since my ancestors, for over a hundred and fifty years now.”

“Then perhaps I may ask you something.”

Xuanzang said. “In the eighth year of Wude, a Record-Keeping Adjutant by the surname of Lv came to Western Shazhou. Do you know of him?”

“You mean Adjutant Lv? He—”

The words burst out of him — then the wine-seller’s expression changed. He looked at Xuanzang and Li Chan with unease, not daring to continue.

Li Chan could tell something was wrong. Xuanzang, however, smiled calmly at the wine-seller and said, “It is Adjutant Lv indeed — do you know where he has gone?”

“Are the two of you not from Dunhuang?”

The wine-seller steeled himself and asked quietly.

Both men shook their heads. Xuanzang said, “This poor monk is from Luoyang, passing through this place. Years ago I had a single meeting with Adjutant Lv, and came especially to pay him a visit.”

“Since you are only passing through, Dharma Master, it would be better not to make further inquiries.”

The wine-seller carefully glanced around in all directions. “Our family has believed in the Buddha for generations, and we would never see a high monk brought to grief. In this city of Dunhuang, the name Lv Sheng is a forbidden word — no matter who you speak to, do not breathe it aloud. Finish your business and leave Dunhuang quickly. That is the wisest course.”

Xuanzang and Li Chan’s expressions grew grave.

Li Chan said with alarm, “Why? What has happened to him?”

The wine-seller wiped the table with studied indifference and said under his breath, “Adjutant Lv’s residence is on the east lane of the second turning in Chenghua Ward. Dharma Master, go and look for yourself — but please do not let anyone know it was this old man who told you.”

Xuanzang’s heart lurched with foreboding. He had no more heart for questions, and at once led Li Chan out of Yongkang Ward.

Chenghua Ward was not far — three wards north along Sweet Spring Avenue brought them to it. But the ward was quite secluded, tucked into a side lane off a cross-street. From the scale of the gate-posts and walls, it appeared to house no particularly high-ranking officials or great merchants. The two made their way to the east lane of the second turning, where a tall, imposing gateway stood before them on the street side: a solid pounded-earth outer wall enclosing a square courtyard, the perimeter lined all around with covered corridors. The entire compound occupied over two mu of land — a large mansion by city standards. A two-story gatehouse rose above, its massive elm timber pillars topped by elaborately carved and painted eaves — quite refined. Yet the whole compound stood abandoned, the roof tiles of the covered corridors broken and decayed, old cobwebs drifting in the breeze. Wild grass had invaded the front steps, growing to knee height. On the black lacquered double gates, remnants of official seals were still visible — though long since peeled and faded, the writing on them no longer legible.

Xuanzang stood in silence for a moment, then climbed the front steps and pushed at the two heavy black-lacquered gates. The gatehouse above him shuddered, but the gates would not yield. Xuanzang frowned, looked around, and searched about for some way to get them open.

“Master, are you truly going to investigate this?”

Li Chan asked.

“To the very bottom.”

Xuanzang said, one word at a time.

“In that case, why be so cautious?”

Li Chan raised his foot and gave the gate a flying kick, then quickly pulled Xuanzang back from the steps.

The gatehouse swayed back and forth several times, then came crashing down with a thunderous roar. One of the gates collapsed inward as well, sending a billowing cloud of dust into the air. Xuanzang could only smile ruefully.

The passersby on the street also looked somewhat dumbfounded, staring blankly at the two of them. From the surrounding houses, people came running out to watch, their faces changing color as they pointed and whispered. Xuanzang smiled at them, and they immediately shrank back indoors.

When the dust had settled, the two walked into the courtyard.

Immediately inside the gate was a long, wide outer courtyard. On both sides ran covered corridors — quarters for servants, it seemed — on one side was the kitchen, on the other a side gate that appeared to lead out through the outer wall to stables. Between the covered corridors stood the inner gate, also with a tall gatehouse above it, though its two wooden panels had long since half-collapsed.

The ground of the outer courtyard had been dug up into an uneven mess, the paving bricks pried up, with more than a dozen deep pits scattered about. Xuanzang crouched at the edge of one of the pits and examined it closely. Li Chan walked straight into the main courtyard, and his expression instantly changed. “Master, come quickly!”

Xuanzang got up at once, passed through the inner gate, and stepped inside — and froze where he stood.

The main courtyard was immense. The area in front of the hall was planted with elm and willow trees; all around ran a circuit of covered corridors. At the center of the courtyard, a raised platform had been built up, upon which stood the main hall — a typical layout for a Hexi residence. But the problem was that the main courtyard had likewise been dug up into utter chaos, pits everywhere. Even the thick trunk of a willow tree that would have taken two arms to encircle had a great pit dug around its roots. The thick pounded-earth walls of the main hall had even been hacked open: some to a depth of only one chi, others all the way through. The stone steps to the main hall had been dug out; the surrounding corridors were the same, with some of the load-bearing pillars even pulled away.

Stranger still, the ground and walls were covered in hundreds of densely drawn ritual symbols and thousands of connecting lines, in black and red pigment. The symbols formed a three-dimensional structure, each linked to the others by the tracery of lines.

Years of windblown sand and rain erosion had blurred some of the markings into obscurity, lending them an air of weathered antiquity.

“Master, what is all this?”

Li Chan asked.

“This is…”

Xuanzang said gravely, “A ritual array! A large-scale Daoist ritual array!”

“A ritual array?”

Li Chan was stunned.

“Not an ordinary ritual array at that — one that fuses sorcery and Daoist arts.”

Xuanzang pointed to the walls all around the courtyard. “On the far east wall are three ghost-killing-birth symbols — a step-constellations talisman. Following it in sequence are the Primordial Unity talisman, the Six Ding Six Jia talisman, the Butcher’s talisman, the Soul-Summoning talisman, the Thirty-Six Heavenly Marshals talisman, and the Twelve Time Periods talisman.”

Xuanzang moved carefully around the pits to examine them. “Look at the ground here — from the inner gate to this main hall, a Six-Jia Altar has been set up. On the left and right of the inner gate there are two stone cairns: these represent the door gods Shenshu and Yulei. The main hall itself has been set up as the position of the Three Mountains and Nine Marquises, with immortal positions on the left and ghost positions on the right. On both sides of the courtyard are six larger pits each — six Ding spirit positions on the left and six Jia spirit positions on the right.”

Xuanzang seemed to have encountered some perplexing problem, and stood in extended silence. Li Chan felt a chill running through him, and walked toward one of the side walls, intending to take a closer look.

“Do not move!”

Xuanzang suddenly cried out.

With a sudden crack beneath Li Chan’s feet, the ground gave way. He let out a startled shout and plunged downward. In the confusion, his hands shot out and seized a roof rafter nearby — with a snap, the rafter lodged crossways over the pit, suspending Li Chan in midair. He screamed, looked down into the pit, and saw at the bottom a row of sharp iron spikes over a chi in length, and among the spikes, patterned snakes writhing about.

Li Chan screamed and scrambled upward. There came a thunderous boom, and from the eaves of the inner gate a great shadow swept across the ground — a square iron plate, skimming along the surface, bearing rows of iron hooks and spikes. Anyone brushed by it would instantly find seven or eight great holes punched through their body.

Li Chan was out of his mind with terror. “Master, save me!”

Xuanzang stepped along the Daoist symbols drawn on the ground, his fingers silently working through calculations, and twisted his body left, stepped right, then abruptly stamped down on one symbol and swiftly pulled his foot back. With a thunderous boom, a great round timber burst through a window of the covered corridor and came hurtling forward — catching the iron plate squarely in midair. With a tremendous crash, both deadly instruments fell to the ground.

Xuanzang let out a long breath; Li Chan was too frightened to move. Xuanzang continued his calculations, stepping on the symbols and following the intricate tracery of lines, winding through several directions before at last reaching the edge of the pit. He seized Li Chan by the arm and hauled him up.

Li Chan sank to the ground, completely spent. “That nearly frightened me to death!”

Xuanzang looked genuinely remorseful. “I apologize, Heir Apparent. This poor monk had only just worked it out — this is a triple-layered ritual array. Besides Daoist arts and sorcery, there is also a layer of mechanical traps. The traps are distributed according to the Eight Trigrams positions — pit traps, crossbow mechanisms, animal snares, rope nets — layer upon layer interlocking with one another. No opening of life is set — almost all are gates of death.”

Li Chan stared at Xuanzang for a long moment. “Master, in just that short time, you not only saw through the three layers of the array, but also broke through them?”

Xuanzang frowned. “I would not call it breaking through. Mostly it is because after so many years of sun and rain, many of the mechanisms in this array have already failed.” He pointed up at spots above the main hall and inner gate, where several round objects could be vaguely made out through the grime. “Those are bronze mirrors — they gather sunlight by day and moonlight and starlight by night, and can very easily draw people into a trance. But they have long since corroded, and never had the chance to show their power. And these Daoist and sorcery symbols and connecting lines must have been mixed with various secret mineral pigments, but after so many years their potency has also long since faded. Do you see that wasp’s nest on the willow tree?”

Li Chan looked carefully, and sure enough, the tree’s burls were riddled with tiny holes — though now covered with cobwebs.

“Those are venomous insects bred for sorcery. After all these years — sun-baked, pecked at by birds, and eaten by spiders — they are all dead.”

Xuanzang said, “The person who set up this array was extraordinarily formidable. If these three layers had been freshly laid, I fear the moment you and I stepped into this courtyard, venomous insects would have bored into our eyes, ears, mouths, and nostrils, and drawn us into the array.”

“Master is a high monk and yet so thoroughly versed in the Daoist arts and sorcery!”

Li Chan could not help but be impressed.

Xuanzang shook his head. “These things I know nothing of whatsoever. But since the Great Way of Shakyamuni has been passed down to the present day, it has been adulterated by some fringe sects, who use it to overawe the common people and extract money from them. In order to pursue the Great Way, this poor monk had no choice but to investigate these things at their root, in order to separate out the dross.”

“Master,”

Li Chan still shaken, “who dug all these pits and set up this ritual array in Lv Sheng’s home? Whom was it all meant to be used against?”

Xuanzang’s heart was heavy. He shook his head slowly in silence. “The ones who dug the pits and the ones who set up the ritual array were not the same group of people.”

Li Chan was puzzled. “The pits are clearly part of the ritual array!”

“The pits were dug first. The ritual array was laid out afterward.”

Xuanzang pointed to the lines on the ground. “Look at these lines — some of them simply stop at the edge of the deep pits, or go around them; where they could not go around, connecting hinged panels were installed across the pits. This means someone came and dug the pits first, and only later did someone else come and set up the ritual array. As for the trap mechanisms — they simply made use of these existing pits as the situation presented itself.”

Li Chan looked carefully, and sure enough it was so. “Master has a discerning eye indeed.”

“Heir Apparent, let us go inside and have a look.”

Xuanzang said.

“Inside?”

Li Chan was startled. “Is that not even more dangerous?”

“Naturally, it is more dangerous.”

Xuanzang cautioned him, “As long as you do not walk about at random — stay close on my heels — there will be no harm. If you are afraid of the danger, you may stay in the courtyard. Only remember, do not move from where you stand.”

Having said this, Xuanzang gathered up his robe, pressed one hand through the finger-seals of a calculation, and fixed his eyes closely on the lines and symbols on the ground. Moving carefully, he changed his footing in a winding, zigzagging path. Li Chan steeled himself, gritted his teeth, and followed in Xuanzang’s manner — gathering up his robe with one hand and pressing the other through a seal. He had no idea what seal he was forming.

The two entered the main hall.

The main hall was in even greater disorder. Almost all the furnishings had been smashed and destroyed, the floor dug up with pits everywhere. The ritual array was even more dangerous than outside. At this hour, the afternoon sun shone through the broken window lattices, and even Li Chan could make out several threads of fine steel wire suspended taut in the air. The talismans and symbols covering the walls, floor, and ceiling were even more unbridled and imposing — every kind of demon face and devil mark, in a deep reddish-brown color that was somehow disturbing.

“This is blood.”

Xuanzang crouched down carefully, scraped off a flake, and examined it. His expression was grave.

“Blood…”

Li Chan shuddered, then suddenly pointed to a stretch of wall. “Master — there are words up there!”

Xuanzang looked up. Sure enough, on one undamaged section of the side wall, several lines of characters had been written. They could not be read from the doorway, so Xuanzang carefully stepped across several symbols and over several taut wires, avoiding the triggered traps, and made his way to the center of the main hall. On the wall, written in dark ink in cursive script, were these words:

That which cannot be touched and seen; that which cannot be grasped; that which cannot be spoken; that which cannot be set down in writing — this is called the Way.

Xuanzang stood motionless, staring at the writing. He reached out his hand and touched the abraded marks — as if his close friend from those years past had long foreseen his coming and left word that he had not forgotten the vow they had made together. Time crossed the six years between them. A young monk pushing open the doors of an ancient hall, the wind and brilliance of a man in white smiling at him: “You have come?”

All at once, Xuanzang’s tears fell, and he broke into silent weeping. Li Chan could not understand why, but he could feel the grief and pain within Xuanzang’s heart. He said nothing.

Xuanzang wiped his tears, then in silence crossed through the main hall and came to the covered corridors of the rear courtyard. Here too everything had been smashed to ruin; nearly all the furniture had been torn apart. On the left side, a room appeared to have been Lv Sheng’s study. The floor was piled with scattered books — mostly historical works, many incomplete, some so water-damaged they had rotted, covered everywhere with muddy footprints.

Xuanzang picked some up to look through them: mainly historical texts such as the Zuo Zhuan, the Bamboo Annals, the Book of Han, and the Book of Later Han; alongside literary collections such as New Account of Tales of the World and the Collected Works of Yu Liang; and works on surnames such as The Book of a Thousand Surnames, Surname Annals, and Textual Studies in the Book of Surnames.

Xuanzang leafed through a few, frowning in thought. Then he noticed that on the study wall, several characters had been written in a rather haphazard manner. He examined them carefully: the six characters long, jin, xing, huang, yi, tang — six isolated words with no apparent meaning.

“Master, what do these six characters mean? Why are they written on the wall?”

Li Chan asked. Xuanzang shook his head. “I cannot make sense of them yet. But looking at the position of these characters, they are on the wall to the right of the writing desk, as if written casually on a whim. Heir Apparent, look at these books — do you notice anything unusual?”

Li Chan was puzzled. “They’re just ordinary books!”

“Don’t you find the range of subjects too narrow?”

Xuanzang said. “Lv Sheng was versed in both Daoism and Confucianism, skilled in medicine, music theory, poetry, and literary composition. Why are there no Confucian classics in this study, no Daoist canon or medical texts or books of music and poetry — only historical works and books on surnames?”

“What does Master think?”

Li Chan asked.

“This poor monk thinks he wanted to read books of this kind.”

Xuanzang said.

Li Chan was speechless. “Master, you are entirely too correct.”

“Heir Apparent, might you trouble yourself to go and report to the yamen, and have some men come to carry these books away? This poor monk would like to read through them carefully.”

Xuanzang said.

“Of course.”

Li Chan agreed readily.

At that very moment, a Buddhist invocation rang out from beyond the main gate: “Amitabha. Do you not see — born and then dead, like ants moving in a cycle; living for food and clothing, like silkworms spinning their own cocoons. Even the most peerless scholar who wears jade and gold cannot escape the day when he is a lump of ash and a cinder in the furnace.”

Xuanzang and Li Chan hurried out of the covered corridor, through the main hall, and beyond the inner gate. Looking through the collapsed outer gatehouse, they saw an old monk standing outside. He was very elderly, with grey-white brows and whiskers, wearing a kasaya robe of solemn dignity, its golden threads gleaming in the sunlight as if he were a golden-robed arhat, standing there atop the rubble of the collapsed gate.

The old and the young monk faced each other from a distance. Xuanzang pressed his palms together and bowed. “Might I ask the Dharma Master’s name?”

“This old monk is the abbot of the Great Vehicle Temple, Zhai by family name, Fa Rang by religious name.”

The old monk smiled. “In my youth I traveled to the capital and studied the Way alongside Dao Yue. Hearing that his disciple had come to Dunhuang, I have come in clean socks and fresh attire to welcome you, Dharma Master.”

The Prefect of Western Shazhou, Wang Junke, had welcomed Li Yan into Dunhuang and arranged for him to stay at Changle Temple in the southern part of the city. This temple was one of the great temples of Dunhuang, and together with the Great Vehicle Temple in the north of the city and the Temple of the Holy Teaching at the Mogao Caves, it was known as one of the Three Great Temples of Dunhuang.

The Bodhi Courtyard of Changle Temple was the lodging Li Yan customarily used when making his rounds of the prefecture. Its scenery was serene and secluded; ancient cypresses with trunks too large to embrace cast shade over half the courtyard, making it delightfully cool. A water channel had been diverted into the yard, with waterweeds and duckweed floating on the surface and a gentle, murmuring current. Li Yan stood in the shade of the trees beside the channel, his mind full of worry, pacing slowly.

Wang Lishè, the Military Affairs Adjutant of the Military Governor’s compound, came striding in urgently. “Great Prince!”

“Have you found out where Chan-er has gone?”

Li Yan asked.

“The Heir Apparent and Dharma Master Xuanzang have accepted Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang’s invitation and gone to the Great Vehicle Temple.”

Wang Lishè said. “I saw them with my own eyes from the roadside, but did not pass word to the Heir Apparent to return.”

“Why not?”

Li Yan asked in surprise.

Wang Lishè said quietly, “It would be good for the Heir Apparent to spend more time with Dharma Master Xuanzang — if matters at court take a turn for the worse, he could flee west with Xuanzang!”

“Insolence!”

Li Yan was shocked and furious, and rebuked him sharply.

Yet Wang Lishè showed no fear. He said calmly, “This servant was born of base status — my grandfather, father, and I for three generations all served as retainers of the Li household. The Great Prince did not think this servant too lowly, allowing me to earn some modest merit in the army. He not only released me to free status, but also obtained an official rank for me from the court. This kindness could not be repaid even at the cost of my life. Everything this servant plans and schemes is only for the sake of the Great Prince’s safety and survival. I dare not spare myself.”

“You—”

Li Yan was even-tempered with those around him and not strict with his subordinates. Even hearing such outlandish words, he could only let out a long sigh.

From the Western Wei through the Sui and Tang dynasties, Wang Lishè’s family had been retainers of the Longyou Li clan. Li Yan’s grandfather, Li Wei, and Li Shimin’s grandfather, Li Bing, were both sons of Li Hu, one of the Eight Great Pillars of the Western Wei. After reaching adulthood, Li Wei and Li Bing separated their households, and from that point Wang Lishè’s family began serving the line of Li Wei. So-called retainers were bondsmen who had been freed but still depended on their master’s household — essentially the master’s property, with a status only slightly above that of a slave.

Wang Lishè had grown up at Li Yan’s side and was clever and full of resourcefulness. Li Yan arranged for him to earn some merit on the battlefield, released him to free status, and obtained an official post for him, promoting him to the Military Affairs Adjutant of the Military Governor’s compound at the eighth rank, lower grade.

Li Yan sighed. “Lishè, the situation has not deteriorated to that degree! Wang Junke was only alarmist — His Majesty’s intentions toward me are not yet conspicuous.”

“The Great Prince is mistaken.”

Wang Lishè said. “What is the court? The court is its officials. All the court’s intentions can be inferred from official appointments, and His Majesty gave you the post of Military Governor of Guazhou, granting you supervision of military affairs over three prefectures — yet he did not have you concurrently serve as Prefect of Guazhou. You have military authority, yet troop deployment must go through the prefects of all three prefectures. His Majesty’s wariness of you has been in place for some time!”

Li Yan started, and in shock pointed at him. “You… when I first arrived in Guazhou, you made the pretext of having no one to attend on me and urged me to summon Chan-er — can it be that you were…”

Li Yan’s hands and feet trembled; he did not dare to think further.

“That is correct.”

Wang Lishè said without flinching. “Should His Majesty send a minor official with an imperial edict to arrest and bring you to the capital, the Heir Apparent could still flee to the Western Regions, preserving the sacrificial lineage of the Prince of Caihe Commandery.”

Li Yan was left utterly stunned.

“This is what this servant, in imitation of Feng Xuan, has prepared as your three boltholes. Over these three years, you have deliberately cultivated Dugu Da — and after drawing him as a trusted ally, your position has considerably improved. At the very least, a single edict from His Majesty cannot move you now.”

Wang Lishè said.

“And then what?”

Li Yan was furious. “If His Majesty truly wanted to take me — as a descendant of our Great Tang’s Grand Progenitor, the Brilliant Emperor — am I supposed to defy the imperial command and rebel?”

“Of course not rebel.”

Wang Lishè smiled slightly. “But when you have true military authority in your hands, controlling the three prefectures of Gua, Sha, and Su, you have leverage to negotiate with His Majesty. If in the future he moves against you — even if you voluntarily give up your military authority and go to the capital to plead guilty — at most His Majesty would strip you of your princely title. He would not have you die in prison with a white silk rope, the way he did with Prince Li Youliang of Changle.”

“Why is that?”

Li Yan did not understand.

Wang Lishè said, “Because by voluntarily surrendering your authority, you would show all the civil and military officials of the court that you are utterly without treacherous intent! His Majesty prizes his own reputation and aspires to be recorded in history as a benevolent sage-emperor — he would absolutely not allow himself to appear flawed in any way.”

Li Yan let out a long sigh. His expression was weary, but he could not deny that Wang Lishè’s planning was thorough. “Lishè, then how should the current situation be resolved?”

“A marriage alliance!”

Wang Lishè said, one word at a time.

“A marriage alliance?”

Li Yan said in surprise. “With whom?”

Wang Lishè said simply: “I hear that Wang Junke has a daughter, the twelfth child, given name Yuzao. This servant respectfully requests that the Great Prince propose a match on behalf of the Heir Apparent, to take her as the Heir Apparent’s consort.”

By this time, Xuanzang and Li Chan had already been welcomed into the Great Vehicle Temple by Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang.

The Great Vehicle Temple was immense, and also bore the responsibility of conducting the incense-burning memorial ceremonies for the successive emperors and empresses whose deaths were commemorated on official state occasions — making it, in effect, the official state temple in Western Shazhou. In fact, Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang was himself a renowned monk of Hexi, who had in the former Sui dynasty served as the Clerical Administrator of Dunhuang Commandery, overseeing the monastic community of the entire commandery.

Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang had a great many administrative affairs, and just on the short walk from the entrance to the meditation chamber, countless monks came to report on matters of temple business: great ceremonies to be held on behalf of certain prominent families; approval of the money and materials needed for copying sutras; the harvest and storage of the agricultural land and orchards owned by the temple; repairs to the granary; monthly accounts for the mill, the winery, and the oil press; management of the over ten thousand head of cattle, sheep, and livestock; records of the interest on loans the temple had made to the common people; and arrangements for the weddings and funerals of the temple’s dependent laborers — people who were bound to the temple and provided it with labor.

Zhai Fa Rang walked alongside Xuanzang without stopping, while the monks seemed to shuttle back and forth at his side, one after another reporting their business. Zhai Fa Rang responded to each matter as it came, and the monks went flying off to carry out his instructions.

Xuanzang had entered monastic life at a young age yet had never been exposed to the economic and productive affairs of a temple’s operations. He quickly felt utterly lost, listening in a daze.

“Elder Brother!”

A middle-aged monk came hurrying over, an account book in hand.

“Fa Ding,”

Zhai Fa Rang quickly drew him aside and murmured, “How are the preparations coming?”

This monk, it turned out, was the Temple Administrator of the Great Vehicle Temple — Fa Ding.

Dunhuang’s temples owned vast productive enterprises and had large numbers of monks to manage them, so their division of labor was clearly defined. The highest administrative authority for temple affairs was shared by the Three Officers: the Temple Abbot, the Senior Monk, and the Chief Disciplinarian. The Abbot managed the temple’s general affairs; the Senior Monk focused primarily on leading the monks in religious cultivation while also helping manage temple affairs; the Chief Disciplinarian oversaw the monks’ miscellaneous matters. Below the Three Officers, there was the Head of Meals, who managed the rice and congee services; the Temple Steward, who managed secular affairs; and this Fa Ding — who was the Temple Administrator in charge of managing the temple’s assets.

“Elder Brother, it’s all in the account book.”

Fa Ding handed the book to him, but Zhai Fa Rang pushed it back.

“I have a distinguished guest and no time to read through it now. Just tell me directly.”

Zhai Fa Rang said.

“Yes.”

Fa Ding quickly opened the account book. “The commodity prices set by the market office these past few days are a little lower than last month. The upper-grade price for a sheep is five hundred and sixty wen; middle grade, five hundred and forty wen; lower grade, five hundred and twenty wen. With the autumn harvest just in, grain prices have also fallen. The middle-grade price for wheat is thirty-two wen per sheng. Peas, twenty-six wen per sheng in the middle grade. The price of raw silk remains stable as usual — four hundred and sixty-five wen per bolt at the middle grade.”

This much Xuanzang could follow. In every city, the market office appointed by the prefecture and county published daily commodity prices for each category of goods, divided into three tiers according to quality: upper, middle, and lower. Buyers and sellers could negotiate their own prices based on the actual quality of the goods, but not above the upper-grade price or below the lower-grade price.

“And at what price did they sell the wheat?”

Zhai Fa Rang’s expression was somewhat displeased.

Fa Ding opened the account book and reported column by column.

“Nine hundred and twenty-four shi, seven dou, and seven ge of wheat were sold for a total of two thousand, nine hundred and fifty-nine guan, sixty-four wen, and one fen.

“Three thousand, five hundred and forty-two sheep — since we needed the money urgently and had such a large quantity, we had to sell at ten wen below the middle-grade price. We received one thousand, eight hundred and seventy-seven guan and two hundred and sixty wen.

“Wine was sold at forty wen per dou. The stored wine from the temple’s two wineries was all sold off, bringing in three thousand, four hundred and thirty-five guan and one hundred and twenty wen.

“This year’s three hundred and three bolts of purple-hued finished silk, donated by patrons, were sold to the Shi-family fabric shop at sixty wen per chi, for one thousand, eight hundred and eighteen guan.

“All other miscellaneous goods sold come to a total of a few guan or a dozen guan each. The grand total recorded in the accounts comes to eleven thousand, seven hundred and ninety-two guan. Adding what the temple already had on hand, we can put together sixteen thousand, eight hundred guan.”

Xuanzang drew a sharp breath. So Fa Ding had sold off a portion of the temple’s goods and property, and within just a few days had obtained over ten thousand guan in cash.

“Master,”

Li Chan said quietly, “this Great Vehicle Temple is extraordinarily wealthy. The court’s fiscal revenue is divided into cash, grain, and cloth — and according to what Father has mentioned, the court’s total cash accounts last year came to only a little over one million two hundred thousand guan. Yet the Great Vehicle Temple has managed to raise over sixteen thousand guan within a matter of days! Truly, it might be said to rival the state’s treasury!”

Xuanzang said mildly, “The private affairs of another’s temple are not our business to comment on.”

Li Chan nodded to show he understood. In truth, even without Xuanzang’s reminder, he grasped it well enough: the Great Vehicle Temple was clearly raising this money to carry out some major undertaking, and outsiders naturally had no grounds to inquire further.

At that point, Zhai Fa Rang still looked troubled. “Too little — sixteen thousand guan is surely far from enough! Fa Ding, have all of it been converted into Kaiyuan Tongbao coins?”

Fa Ding smiled wryly. “Here in Longyou, where would one find so many Kaiyuan Tongbao coins? Part of it has been exchanged into large bolts of raw silk; part has been converted into Persian silver coins and Byzantine gold coins. It fills six large carts, and is currently stored in the temple treasury — I have arranged for the monks to guard it carefully.”

“Well, we can only do our best!”

Zhai Fa Rang said. “I must attend to my distinguished guest. Let the Senior Monk handle the rest of the business.”

Fa Ding nodded, pressed his palms together toward Xuanzang, and hurried away.

Zhai Fa Rang smiled ruefully. “The Dharma Master must find this laughable. As the temple’s abbot, every day is spent managing these mundane affairs. It has been a long time since I have given thought to the great cultivation of the Way — and who knows in what year or month it will come to completion.”

Xuanzang did not press further, but shook his head and smiled. “Until today, this poor monk did not know that behind my own ability to practice in peace, countless fellow monastics have given up their own cultivation to manage these tangled worldly affairs. This poor monk feels profoundly grateful.”

Zhai Fa Rang found deep resonance in these words. The three of them walked along, chatting as they went, until they arrived at the meditation chamber where Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang resided. On the steps below stood an elderly man in plain, light robes. He looked vaguely familiar, though Xuanzang could not quite place where he had seen him.

When he saw the three approaching, the elderly man came forward eagerly to greet Xuanzang with a bow. “I have been waiting so long for the Dharma Master’s arrival!”

Xuanzang was taken aback. “Might I ask—”

Zhai Fa Rang smiled. “Old monk, allow me to introduce you — this is the head of the Dunhuang Zhai clan for this generation, Zhai Chang, styled Hongye. Our Zhai clan has always revered the Three Jewels of Buddhism. Upon hearing that the Dharma Master had come to Dunhuang, Hongye came early this morning to wait for you here, hoping to make an offering to the Dharma Master.”

Xuanzang was quietly amazed. In the eyes of the Buddhist communities of Longyou, the reputation of the Dunhuang Zhai clan far surpassed even the Li clan that had produced emperors and the Zhang clan of equal renown — because the Dunhuang Zhai clan was the most devoted of all the Longyou aristocratic families in its devotion to Buddhism. From the time Buddhism first reached Dunhuang in the Western Jin dynasty, the Zhai had given offerings to the Three Jewels, built temples and cave shrines, copied sutras and cast images, erected pagodas and observed fasting rites. In every generation, great numbers of clan members had taken religious vows. Over hundreds of years, Zhai monastics spread throughout the eighteen temples of Dunhuang and across the temples of all Longyou, serving as Clerical Administrators, Precentors, Registrars, and Superintendents of Monks, assisting the court in overseeing the temples and monastic communities.

Among the eight great aristocratic clans of Dunhuang, the Zhai could not match the Li in the height of their hereditary prestige, nor the Zhang in ancestral distinction, nor the Song and Suo in cultural refinement, nor the Linghu in the number of officials and sons they produced. Yet in the religious sphere, they were absolutely a presence that neither all of Longyou nor the court itself could ignore. There was a reason Dharma Master Zhai Fa Rang had made a point of mentioning his secular family name when introducing himself.

Xuanzang exchanged greetings with Zhai Chang and was about to introduce Li Chan, when Li Chan quickly spoke up first. “I am Li Qi, a scholar who has followed the Dharma Master to Dunhuang to pay my respects at the Buddhist sites.”

Zhai Fa Rang and Zhai Chang exchanged a glance and let the matter pass with a smile.

When they had all settled in Zhai Fa Rang’s meditation chamber, Xuanzang immediately asked: “Dharma Master Fa Rang, how did you know this poor monk had gone to the old Lv family residence in Chenghua Ward?”

“It was Hongye who told this old monk.”

Zhai Fa Rang replied without concealment.

Zhai Chang said openly, “In fact, this humble one already saw the Dharma Master at the Prefecture City Relay Station. I had intended to invite you then and there, but at that time we were all receiving the Prince of Linjiang Commandery, and afterward the Dharma Master left again in quite a hurry.”

Xuanzang understood now. No wonder Zhai Chang had seemed vaguely familiar to him.

“That old residence of the Lv family is somewhat unsavory.”

Zhai Chang said with a smile. “Hearing that the Dharma Master was asking after Lv Sheng and had gone to Chenghua Ward, this humble one grew somewhat worried and quickly came to ask my uncle to intervene.”

Xuanzang glanced at him with a meaningful look, but did not press him further on how he had come to know that Xuanzang was asking after Lv Sheng. Sometimes it was better to remain comfortably uninformed.

“In truth, your worry was unnecessary.”

Zhai Fa Rang said with a smile. “By the time this old monk arrived at the Lv residence, the Dharma Master had already passed through the outer and inner courts and entered the main hall. Those unsavory things were no more than an axe-wielder’s display before the master carpenter, where the Dharma Master is concerned.”

Zhai Chang was visibly surprised. “The Dharma Master possesses such abilities!”

“These are all minor arts, nothing more.”

Xuanzang shook his head. “Clan Head Zhai, this poor monk would like to inquire — what exactly happened to Lv Sheng? How is it that such a terrifying array of traps and ritual mechanisms came to be set up within his residence?”

Zhai Chang let out a quiet breath. “Since I have invited the Dharma Master here, I will naturally make the reasons clear. Only… this humble one would first like to know — what is the Dharma Master’s relationship with this Lv Sheng?”

“Lv Sheng was known as the peerless scholar of Chang’an and the foremost man of Wude. This poor monk studied the Way in Chang’an and naturally came to know him — though we met only a handful of times.”

Xuanzang spoke lightly. “Hearing that he had come to Dunhuang to serve as an official, and having arrived in Western Shazhou, I simply came to call on him.”

“Foremost man of Wude?”

Li Chan was somewhat startled. “Master, that phrase is a little sensitive, isn’t it?”

Xuanzang waved a hand. “Never mind — those words were spoken by the Retired Emperor himself, in the Wude era. It was the sixth year of Wude, and the Great Tang had held its imperial examinations for the first time. Lv Sheng swept both the Superior Scholar and the Presented Scholar examinations to take top place. At the time, it was still the Wude era, and so the Retired Emperor spoke those words.”

Li Chan froze. By the time Lv Sheng’s name had shaken Chang’an in those days, Li Chan had still been at the family’s old home in Longxi Chengji. When he later moved to Chang’an after the realm was pacified, Lv Sheng had already blazed across the sky of Chang’an like a shooting star and vanished. And so Li Chan had never even heard of his name.

“Peerless scholar of Chang’an; foremost man of Wude.”

Zhai Chang murmured the words, and his expression carried an unmistakable sadness. “So the Dharma Master does not yet know — that Lv Sheng died as early as the ninth year of Wude.”

“He died?”

Even though Xuanzang had already begun to brace himself inwardly, his composure still broke and his face changed color. “How can that be? He had only just been transferred to Dunhuang in the eighth year of Wude — how could he have died so quickly?”

Zhai Chang and Zhai Fa Rang looked at each other, and both sighed.

Zhai Chang said gravely, “Treason.”

“What?”

Xuanzang was stunned.

Li Chan beside him also gaped in disbelief. “Trea… treason? The Great Tang’s double examination laureate committed treason? In a remote frontier prefecture like Dunhuang?”

Li Chan’s question was precisely Xuanzang’s as well. He said nothing, his gaze fixed on Zhai Chang.

Zhai Chang’s expression was troubled. He sighed. “In the third month of the eighth year of Wude, Lv Sheng was transferred to serve as Record-Keeping Adjutant of Western Shazhou. In the sixth month of the ninth year of Wude, the Khagan’s son, Yugushi, of the Eastern Turks advanced troops from Yiwu southward along the Spear-Shaft Road, broke through Xianjian Garrison, and came within three hundred li of Dunhuang. Upon receiving the urgent beacon fire dispatch, the then-Prefect of Western Shazhou, Du Yu, sent out troops, with the Commander of Zijin Garrison, Huang Xuzhang, as the vanguard and Lv Sheng as the military supervisor. They led five hundred soldiers on a night march and reached the mouth of the Qingdun Gorge, two hundred li away, and made camp at Qingdun Garrison.”

Zhai Chang narrated slowly. The events of three years past in Dunhuang — the smoke of the frontier, the desert and the beacon fires — seemed to hang in the meditation chamber still, as if the smell of gunpowder and blood had not entirely dissipated. The listeners were utterly silent.

“What exactly happened that night — no one witnessed it firsthand. But according to the soldiers who escaped back to report, Commander Huang set up defensive positions at Qingdun Garrison, intending to block the Turks at the mouth of the Qingdun Gorge. But that very night, Lv Sheng left the garrison post alone and admitted a merchant caravan. That caravan turned out to be Turks in disguise. In the middle of the night, they suddenly launched their attack and seized Qingdun Garrison. The Turkish main force then pressed from outside while the disguised Turks struck from within. The Tang troops fell into chaos; Commander Huang was killed on the spot. The surviving Tang soldiers, in their fury, cut Lv Sheng down where he stood on the battlefield, then fled into the desert.”

Xuanzang listened in silence. After a long moment, he asked, “Why did Lv Sheng collude with the Turks?”

“The specific details are unknown.”

Zhai Chang said. “Lv Sheng died on the battlefield and could not be questioned further. Lv Sheng had long had a private grievance with the Prefect Du Yu, and some speculated that he intended to use this means to bring about Du Yu’s downfall — but that could not be proven either. Du Yu arrived afterward, and although he managed to repulse the Turks, a military defeat of that scale could not be concealed. At the time, His Majesty had not yet changed the reign era, but had already ascended the throne. When he heard that the Great Tang’s top examination laureate had colluded with the Turks, he was heartbroken — and also deeply ashamed. He issued an edict fiercely rebuking Du Yu and stripped him of his post. The great and small officials of Dunhuang tacitly agreed not to bring up this person or this affair again, hoping that time would bury this disgraceful episode.”

Xuanzang buried his face in both hands, overcome with grief and unable to contain himself. The extraordinary man of his generation whom he had sworn to join in a lifelong search for the Way had died three years ago — and in a manner so humiliating and wretched! He suddenly thought of Fa Ya and Cui Jue — equally men of breathtaking talent and soaring ambition, yet who had taken wrong paths and brought themselves to ruin and disgrace. Why was it that throughout history, those who sought the great Way so often failed to reach the end, falling by the wayside on the journey?

And what would his own fate be?

The three said nothing to disturb him, and waited in silence. Xuanzang gathered himself, and asked, “The ritual array in the old Lv residence — who set it up?”

“It was several masters of yin-yang arts from the Suo clan and the Yin clan.”

Zhai Fa Rang answered. “After Lv Sheng died in disgrace and dishonor, the people of Dunhuang were overcome with fury. They immediately broke into his home to smash everything and heap abuse on his elderly father. His father, unable to endure the humiliation, was literally driven to death by outrage. As a result, several of the people who had stormed the Lv residence suddenly died without apparent cause. Word spread that it was the vengeful ghost of Lv’s father causing harm; the Dunhuang Yin clan and Suo clan were long known for their arts of yin-yang and divination, so several of their masters were engaged to lay down the ritual array. After that, no one broke into the old residence again, and the talk of vengeful ghost spirits causing harm died away.”

“In those days, Lv Sheng’s elderly father was in Dunhuang?”

Xuanzang said with a start.

Zhai Chang said, “He came to his posting together with his father.”

Xuanzang stared blankly at the empty space before him. As if in a half-sleep from long ago, he could still hear Lv Sheng murmuring: Rabbits creep in through the dog’s hole; pheasants fly across the beams. Looking upon the old homestead from afar — only pine trees by the grave mounds stand in rows. That had been the scene Lv Sheng saw when he and his father returned to their old home in Shandong Bozhou after the chaos of the end of the Sui. And yet many years later, it was as though those words had been a prophecy — the same desolate scene had come again in the old Lv residence in Dunhuang. Only this time, the entire family was dead, and there was no one left to come and mourn them with grief and lamentation.

Zhai Chang and Zhai Fa Rang exchanged a glance, and by unspoken agreement steered the conversation away from that subject.

Zhai Fa Rang said, “We have been speaking of nothing but these old events. Hongye, did you not want to make an offering to the Dharma Master?”

“Ah yes, I nearly forgot what I came for!”

Zhai Chang smiled. “Dharma Master, it has always been the custom of our Zhai clan to host and provide for the monks who come to Dunhuang. All eminent monks who come to Dunhuang are invited to our home and given every care. Hearing that the Dharma Master is well-versed in the Chengshi Treatise, might it be possible for you to come to the Zhai household and open a teaching session?”

“Since it is for the propagation of the Dharma, how could this poor monk refuse?”

Xuanzang pressed his palms together in gratitude. “Only this poor monk has just arrived in Dunhuang and has some personal affairs not yet attended to — might I ask the Clan Head to wait a few days?”

“Of course! Of course!”

Zhai Chang agreed at once. “If the Dharma Master encounters any inconvenience while in Dunhuang, please simply speak up. In this Western Shazhou, there is nothing that the Zhai clan cannot accomplish.”

Zhai Fa Rang called over the reception monk to complete the procedures for Xuanzang’s registration as a guest monk, and arranged two quiet meditation chambers in the Guanyin Courtyard for him to rest in. The two then personally saw Xuanzang to the Guanyin Courtyard before hurrying away.

Li Chan said urgently, “Master, is what Zhai Chang said about Lv Sheng’s treason true?”

“What he told us is not the full and honest truth.”

Xuanzang shook his head slowly. “This poor monk does not believe a single word. However, that Lv Sheng was killed — that is probably true. This poor monk’s close friend from those years — he may no longer be in this world!”