Outside the southern gate of Dunhuang City, a great army stood arrayed in orderly formation, surrounding the area on all sides. The common people of Dunhuang came out one by one — the elderly supported by the young, every person clutching incense burners and holding sticks of lit incense — gazing upward and into the distance. The eight great aristocratic clans organized monks to perform a grand ritual, with Buddhist chanting filling half the city.
“She’s coming! She’s coming!”
Voices among the people cried out.
Amid the escort of countless soldiers, Zhai Wen slowly arrived in a horse-drawn carriage. The people cheered loudly: “Lady of Dunhuang County! Lady of Dunhuang County!”
Zhai Chang rode alongside with a beaming smile on his face. In the military upheaval of the past ten-some days, if not for the fact that Zhai Shu had died a heroic death, the Zhai family could truly be counted the greatest beneficiary.
“Wen’er, would you like to say a few words to the people?”
Zhai Chang leaned down to ask.
“Draw the carriage curtain.”
Zhai Wen said indifferently.
Zhai Chang was taken aback, but saw Zhai Wen lean forward and pull down the curtain, separating herself from the cheering crowd outside.
Zhai Chang could only smile wryly. “Very well, very well.”
It turned out that after Lv Sheng had ascended to the heavens, the great army had returned from the Demon City to Dunhuang. Li Chunfeng, having received the Emperor’s orders, had dispatched people back to Dunhuang in advance to convey the edict to the local officials, commanding them to construct a Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions within the city. Zhai Wen would conduct sacrificial rites on behalf of the court, honoring the Supreme Elder Lord, the Jade Emperor, and the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions.
Wang Junke had already relinquished his post as Prefect of the Western Shazhou when he was ennobled as Duke of Peng. The new Prefect appointed by the court had not yet arrived. Cui Dunli ordered Sun Chalie, the Administrative Assistant of Western Shazhou, to temporarily oversee the prefecture’s affairs, while simultaneously placing Wang Junke’s trusted subordinate, the Registry Official Cao Cheng, under arrest.
Sun Chalie did not know whether this great storm, which had swept through all three of the Gua, Sha, and Su prefectures, would implicate him as well. In anxious alarm, he threw himself diligently into handling all affairs with the utmost care and conscientiousness. In the two days between the army’s departure and its return to Dunhuang, he not only completed the Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, but also vigorously promoted throughout the city the story of Zhai Wen’s protection by the immortals, and mobilized nearly half the city’s population to come and welcome her.
A grand ceremony received Zhai Wen into the city.
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng remained outside the city, watching the jubilant spectacle from a distance. Xuanzang sighed: “Lv Sheng can rest in peace now.”
The two men fell silent, looking at one another — when they heard someone nearby say quietly: “Master!”
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng turned to look. Li Chan and Yu Zao rode up on horseback to their side. Xuanzang was greatly startled: “How do you dare to come here? Were you not told to pass through the Demon City and make your way to Gaochang and Yanqi?”
“Master,”
Li Chan said with a smile, “I wish to return to the Great Tang.”
Xuanzang was stunned. Li Yan had already been declared a traitor by the court, stripped of his clan membership, and demoted to the status of a commoner. His descendants would inevitably face collective punishment. That is why on that day in the Demon City, Xuanzang had advised them to leave the borders entirely — for returning now was a matter of life and death.
“Master, I did think about leaving the Great Tang. But watching Wang Junke abandon his country in flight, only to die in the Demon City, I realized I cannot leave. Because my mother is still there. My brothers are still there. My roots are still there.”
Li Chan smiled and took Yu Zao’s hand. “Yu Zao and I have talked it over. I will bring my new bride back to Chang’an, so my mother can see her son’s wife with her own eyes. Even if the whole family dies together — I imagine she would be glad.”
Li Chan called out toward the distant city gate: “Prefect Niu!”
A horse turned away from the entering procession and galloped out toward them. It was Niu Jinda. Niu Jinda’s face was dark as he looked only at Yu Zao. “Niece, what is it?”
“It is I who called for you,”
Li Chan said with a smile. “I wonder if the army has a prisoner’s cart? I ask that Grand Duke Niu escort me to the capital.”
“No!”
Niu Jinda finally gave him a glance, and said irritably, “Do you think we’ve all forgotten about you? We’re deliberately ignoring you — why don’t you just quietly slip away? Why make things difficult for everyone?”
Yu Zao said with composure: “Then I ask Uncle Niu to have one made. I will accompany my husband and be escorted to the capital along with him.”
“You——”
Niu Jinda was furious, but had no recourse. “Twelve Niang — His Majesty has not yet announced your father’s crimes. You are still the daughter of the Duke of Peng. Who would dare escort you?”
“But I am the wife of the Li family,”
Yu Zao said. “The household of the Prince of Linjiang is subject to collective punishment — naturally that can extend to me as well.”
Niu Jinda could think of nothing to say. He looked at Li Chunfeng. “You are His Majesty’s secret envoy. Make the decision.”
Li Chunfeng felt somewhat put on the spot. “Grand Duke Niu, what decision am I to make? Do you see anyone nearby? I don’t seem to see anyone at all.”
He looked this way and that, but deliberately avoided glancing in Li Chan’s direction. Niu Jinda was so staggered by his shameless behavior that he was left speechless.
“I am grateful for the great generosity of you both, and I will not make things difficult for either of you.”
A wave of warmth welled up in Li Chan. “Master, Yu Zao and I will make our own way back to Chang’an and turn ourselves in. You are soon to journey west — ten thousand li of road lies ahead of you. Please, take great care of yourself, and be sure to return!”
Xuanzang looked at this disciple of his. He felt deep sorrow, yet also a kind of heartfelt gladness. “Your Highness, take good care of yourself as well. Just as Lv Sheng said — no matter how arduous the road ahead in this mortal world, you must face it together, hand in hand.”
“I will, Master.”
Li Chan said.
“You must live. When I return from the journey to the west, I will come to see you.”
Xuanzang said with a smile.
“I will be waiting for you, Master.”
When Li Chan finished speaking, he and Yu Zao dismounted, bowed to Xuanzang in a deep and formal kowtow, then leaped back onto their horses and rode eastward.
Xuanzang stood at the city gate and watched for a long while. Long since lost in the bustling crowd, their figures were nowhere to be seen — yet he knew there would come a day when he would see them again. Because they would survive. In this life and for as long as they lived, they would never let themselves be parted.
“Dharma Master, if you wish to leave the pass, you had best make haste. All the chief officials of the Gua and Sha prefectures have come to Dunhuang for the ritual of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions. While you slip out of the pass, everyone can conveniently pretend not to notice.”
Li Chunfeng said.
Niu Jinda glanced at him but said nothing.
Xuanzang smiled. “This poor monk must still go into the city to find someone, and ask about one matter. Once that is done, I shall have no more ties to keep me in Dunhuang. Whether life or death awaits me on the road of the journey to the west — it will no longer matter to me.”
Li Chunfeng said no more, and invited him to enter the city together.
Xuanzang entered the Wenxiu Ward of the inner city, and immediately sensed something peculiar. He did not know who had chosen the site, but the Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions had been constructed in the open square opposite the Panguong — the prefectural school, which was located on the other side of a spacious plaza. Perhaps because Dunhuang placed great importance on culture and education, its literary tradition being particularly flourishing, the site had been chosen here in hopes of gathering the spiritual essence of heaven and earth.
The Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions rose to a height of seven chi. On the left and right sides were fourteen stone steps each, totaling twenty-eight — matching the number of lunar mansions. It was built of rammed earth, with its outer layer faced in blue stone. Below the platform, a water channel had been drawn from the river and built to encircle it. At the moment, however, the channel was empty.
The area around the platform was already packed densely with the people of Dunhuang. Accompanied by officials from the three prefectures and the eight great aristocratic clans, Zhai Wen came to the incense burner at the foot of the platform and lit her sticks of incense. Holding the incense up, she gazed at the platform before her as tears silently welled and fell from her eyes. She murmured her prayers: “For what reason do mortals walk so many narrow roads? Only because they must carry heaven and earth across. Both yin and yang are fated to lay their ambushes, and within heaven and earth a great slaughter is always concealed. Kui Lang — your wish is on the verge of being fulfilled. Are you glad?”
Cui Dunli stood to one side and could not quite make out what she was saying. He asked quietly: “My Lady, what was it you just recited? That was not the sacrificial invocation prepared in advance!”
“It was nothing. Open the dragon-head sluice gate.”
Zhai Wen said.
Sun Chalie beside her called out loudly: “Open the dragon-head sluice gate — release the water!”
Boom, boom, boom — drums sounded in a great rolling thunder. The laborers stationed at the sluice gate of the water channel turned the capstan and raised the gate, and the water of the river came rushing in torrents, flooding the channel beneath the platform in an instant. Zhai Wen finished her prayers and pressed the incense into the burner. The people erupted in cheers, and music and drums sounded on all sides as the monks circled the platform chanting sutras and performing their rites.
Xuanzang’s sense of unease grew heavier and heavier by the moment. Just then, someone let out a cry of alarm. Xuanzang looked over quickly, and saw the entire platform seem to shudder. He rubbed his eyes — and now more people were crying out in alarm. The ground beneath the platform was slowly heaving upward, as though some enormous creature were trying to break out from below.
The crowd cried out in shock and backed away in all directions. Some of the devout among the people shouted with joy and fell to their knees weeping: “The immortals are revealing themselves!”
“Something is wrong — there is danger!”
At that moment, one of the aristocratic clan’s servants went pale as a ghost. “The Ding Family Dam of the Western Grottoes collapsed exactly like this!”
Xuanzang was instantly reminded of that night of the Western Grottoes incident, when the solid Ding Family Dam had heaved and collapsed without warning, causing the waters of the Sweet Spring River to smash through the seven-story pagoda and expose the star charts that the aristocratic clans had been secretly studying to the full light of day.
The heads of the aristocratic clans instantly went pale, all of them recalling the same possibility.
The disturbance underground grew more and more violent. The ground churned and heaved — and the entire platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions collapsed with a thunderous crash, rubble tumbling in all directions. And from within that rubble, six stone stelae suddenly broke through the surface, standing upright among the debris!
“Those are tomb epitaph stelae!”
Zhang Bi cried out in a strained voice.
The stelae were worn and ancient, clearly buried underground for an untold number of years. Xuanzang stared at them blankly, but already understood in his heart what had happened.
The clan heads had not yet recovered from their shock when several bold members of the crowd pressed forward to look. Someone called out: “This is a tomb epitaph stele of the Yin clan!”
“This one is from our Fan clan!”
“Our ancestors’ stone stelae — the gods have sent them up from the earth!”
“An auspicious omen! A great and auspicious omen!”
Among those present, many bore the surnames Zhai, Yin, Zhang, and Fan. Upon hearing this, all of them were overjoyed and surged forward to look. The clan heads came back to their senses as if waking from a dream, and cried out as they lunged forward to embrace the stelae, shielding them with their bodies.
Yin Shixiong roared: “Get back! Anyone who dares to look — gouge out his eyes!”
The clan heads stared at their ancestors’ stelae exposed before a crowd of thousands, and could not stop themselves from bursting into sobs. An endless wave of humiliation, terror, and shame washed over them.
The crowd was in utter chaos. Even Cui Dunli, Niu Jinda, and Sun Chalie and the other officials were dumbfounded, asking questions of one another. Li Chunfeng naturally knew the truth of what lay behind this — he understood that this was the last act of revenge that Lv Sheng had left for the aristocratic clans!
Li Chunfeng could not help glancing over at Xuanzang — only to find that Xuanzang had already vanished, and the presiding sacrificer Zhai Wen was nowhere to be seen either.
Outside the western gate of Dunhuang, Xuanzang stood quietly beside the moat. Several men emerged from the livestock market inside the sheep and horse enclosure, leading horses. A slim figure dressed in men’s Central Asian attire, with a face veil covering her head, followed behind them. Catching sight of Xuanzang, she turned her head slightly aside and made to walk around him.
“Miss Zhai — this poor monk pays his respects.”
Xuanzang pressed his palms together and said.
The figure paused in silence for a moment, then removed the face veil. It was indeed Zhai Wen. She looked at Xuanzang with a puzzled expression. “How did you know I was here?”
“When you slipped into the crowd from the Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, I followed you.”
Xuanzang said.
The several men who had led the horses away stopped at a distance, neither too close nor too far, their eyes cold and watchful as they looked Xuanzang over.
Zhai Wen said: “So the Dharma Master has had his eye on me all along. What brings you here?”
“I wish to know — who was that person?”
Xuanzang stared at her and said, word by word.
“Which person?”
Zhai Wen asked, puzzled.
“The one who ascended to the heavens in the Demon City, his body dissolving into butterflies and fireworks!”
Xuanzang’s expression filled with sorrow.
Zhai Wen was greatly startled. “Dharma Master, what are you saying? That person was Lv Lang!”
“Was he truly Lv Sheng?”
Xuanzang said with deep sadness. “No — he was not Lv Sheng!”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Zhai Wen said angrily. “Do you know what you are saying? If not Lv Sheng, then who was he?”
“I do not know… I do not know who he was…”
Xuanzang said. “He played the role with extraordinary skill — almost flawlessly. His manner, his voice, his gestures, even his emotions — all utterly without flaw. Even standing right before me I could not see through it. Yet I knew it was not him.”
“Why would you think so?”
Zhai Wen asked in astonishment.
“I had an unsettling feeling that I could not shake off throughout our time in the Demon City — most of all when the celestial palace appeared before all creation. That was a mirage you deliberately fabricated, was it not?”
Xuanzang said. “In truth, everything in the Demon City was staged as a performance.”
Zhai Wen gave a cold laugh. “A mirage is a phenomenon manifested by heaven and earth — how could mere human effort fabricate one?”
“Human effort alone could not readily fabricate it — otherwise, how would you persuade the court?”
Xuanzang said quietly. “Yet it is not entirely impossible for human effort to engineer. Mirages are all said to be formed from the breath exhaled by sea clams. They appear most easily at sea, on snow fields, and in the desert. I had always assumed it was something of that nature. However, I heard that mirages tend to appear repeatedly at the same location, and that their appearance follows a certain pattern. This led me to inquire among the merchants and travelers in the city, and some Central Asian merchants told me they had witnessed mirages several times in the Demon City — always in the afternoon hours of the wei and shen watches, which are typically the time of day when the sun is most blazing and the desert most scorching. I therefore thought: the mirage of the Demon City might follow a predictable pattern. And since the Demon City is nearest to the Jade Gate Pass, it is likely that you and Lv Sheng had long since determined the pattern of when the mirage would appear.”
“Dharma Master,”
Zhai Wen shook her head again and again. “The moon waxes and wanes, bright and dark. Even if there is truly a pattern, a mirage does not appear every single day. How could it be possible for you and Si Lang to conjure up such a scene?”
“After you left with the army, I went deeper into the Demon City.”
Xuanzang said with a faint smile. “In a broad and open stretch of sandy terrain, I discovered coal that had been buried beneath the sand. I also found several dozen coal-burning kilns.”
Zhai Wen was startled. She was not unfamiliar with coal — it was produced abundantly in the Western Regions, and since firewood was precious there, people had been burning coal for warmth since the Han dynasty. Its fire was stronger and longer-lasting than firewood.
“Not just one heap, but several hundred — perhaps even thousands — spread over dozens of mu of ground, burned and then covered again with sand.”
Xuanzang said. “So I recalled that day when Lv Sheng had driven away the common people of the Jade Gate Pass, asking Pumiˈti to protect them and escort them through the Demon City to Yanqi and Gaochang. That night, they stayed inside the Demon City to lay the coal, did they not?”
Zhai Wen’s expression grew grave, but she said nothing.
“That day, we heard the voices of the immortals above the celestial palace calling out, transformed into the voices of countless living beings. In truth, that was the people hidden within the Demon City calling out — which is why the voice carried the hoarse rasp of the elderly, the deep rumble of men, the clear melody of women, and the bright ring of children.”
Xuanzang said. “I could not at first understand what purpose laying all that burning coal could serve. But later, crouching close to the ground, I saw the air near the surface shimmering and bending with the heat, distorting the landscape in the distance. Only then did I finally understand. A mirage is formed when the air above and below is heated unevenly, causing the light from distant objects to be refracted and projected. The surface sand, scorched by the blazing sun, heats up while the upper air remains cool, causing the air to distort. You and Lv Sheng observed this principle, and could therefore control the appearance of the mirage at the location where it occurred most frequently. And if it failed to appear on its own — what would that mean but that the ground surface had not been heated sufficiently? Hence the need to lay burning coal, heating the sand at the surface.”
Here Xuanzang gave a small wry smile. “That day, Li Chan and Yu Zao also escorted the common people to the Demon City — so they were involved as well, I take it? It seems this disciple of mine has grown up and learned to keep secrets from his master. He held his tongue without a single word.”
“I was unaware of these details — I was in Wang Junke’s army at the time.”
Zhai Wen said. “Besides, what does it matter who that person was? What does that have to do with the mirage?”
“The reason I analyzed the mirage was because I truly could not understand your and Lv Sheng’s purpose.”
Xuanzang said, furrowing his brow.
Indeed — according to Lv Sheng’s intentions, he had created the celestial palace in the heavens because he was dying, and wished to invest Zhai Wen with a divine sanctity that would allow her to return to her family. But if the one who died in the Demon City was not Lv Sheng, but an impostor — then the logic broke down entirely.
Zhai Wen sighed. “Why is the Dharma Master so certain that the one who died was not Si Lang?”
“Because… he said: how he wished that in this life he could have had a friend like you!”
Xuanzang’s eyes reddened, and he murmured. “We both knew that in one another’s hearts we had long since become friends bound by life and death. Yet on the verge of death, he spoke those very words.”
Zhai Wen was struck speechless.
“That was the regret of someone facing death. No matter how well he played the role, he would still cling to life, still feel the weight of what he had not done in this world. Perhaps that was the deepest regret in his heart. For he could not, as Lv Sheng had, possess a friend like me — or a beloved like you.”
Xuanzang said.
Zhai Wen could contain herself no longer. Her throat tightened and she lost her voice.
“Then later, when he said his farewell to you, the two of you at first still followed the script of the performance. But as it went on, your emotions broke through — you began to speak to him as though he were truly Lv Sheng, and poured out your anguish over the desolation of your life after his departure. You said: that is not us! Correct — the story he told was not the story of you and him, but of you and Lv Sheng.”
Zhai Wen quietly recalled those moments. Even now, an inexpressible pain remained in her heart. If he were before her still, she would still want to say to him: for the rest of my life I will never be able to touch you again; when I wake in the night, there will be no one to comfort me; when I am alone and lonely, there will be no one to keep me company; even if I searched to the ends of the mortal world, I could find no trace of you…
“That one sentence brought the defenses of that person’s heart utterly crashing down. He said he could not bear it!”
Xuanzang at last let tears fall. “He could not bear to do what? He could not bear to impersonate Lv Sheng and let himself burn alive! He pleaded with you not to stir his emotions any further. He was willing to die — but he did not want to suffer such anguish in the final moments before his death. He begged you not to tear him to pieces any further. Miss Zhai — it was because he loved you. Yet he never spoke that love aloud. He kept it buried in his heart. Even unto death he did not speak it, because he knew that the only way he could love you was to die in Lv Sheng’s place.”
Zhai Wen wept aloud. “Dharma Master, I told him — I said I regretted it!”
“Yet he did not regret it.”
Xuanzang said. “Your words brought him his greatest consolation. So he told you — he did not regret it, not until death. Because you could not bear to lose him.”
Zhai Wen wept uncontrollably. Before her eyes, she seemed to see that person still running forward with all his strength — his skin splitting apart in fragments, flames breaking through, his body dissolving into fireworks, into butterflies. For a fleeting moment, Zhai Wen felt a dizzying confusion — was she a butterfly dreaming of that man, or was she dreaming and saw the butterfly?
“Miss Zhai,”
Xuanzang drew a long breath and asked, “Where is Lv Sheng? Why did he need someone to impersonate him? Were you on your way to meet him?”
Zhai Wen looked down at the attire she was wearing and smiled through her tears. “Dharma Master, Lv Sheng is dead.”
Xuanzang stood rooted to the spot. He had believed all along that Zhai Wen was dressed in this Central Asian attire to go and meet him — never once imagining that Lv Sheng had actually died!
“He died…”
Xuanzang murmured. “When?”
“Three years ago.”
Zhai Wen said.
Xuanzang was completely thunderstruck. “But… this cannot be… then the Lv Sheng I have been seeing all this time——”
“Yes. It has always been that other person.”
Zhai Wen said with forlorn sadness. “For these past three years, the Lv Sheng I saw every day was also that other person.”
“What happened? How did Lv Sheng die?”
Xuanzang’s tears fell like a spring.
Zhai Wen walked blankly to the edge of the moat. The broad water channel reflected rippling light and shadow onto her face, making her seem wreathed in a dreamlike haze.
“It was the nineteenth day of the eighth month of the ninth year of Wude, at the hour of xu — dusk was falling. The most important moment of my life was approaching. I sat in the bridal carriage, being welcomed to my new home by the most handsome and promising young officer in Dunhuang, Linghu Zhan. I had met Linghu Zhan only a few times, yet I still felt this was the best destination I could hope for. For the Zhai and Linghu families had over six hundred years of friendship — both aristocratic clans of the Hexi Corridor. A talented young man and a beautiful young woman — it was the marriage envied by the whole of Western Shazhou. Others envied it — and was that not the very best?”
Zhai Wen spoke softly, as though telling it for Xuanzang’s ears, yet more as though lost in boundless memory.
“My life did indeed change that night — but not as a new bride. Instead, I was seized by a Heavenly Wolf and carried off into the sky.
When I came to, I was already in the middle of a sandy desert. Before me was a great furry wolf — yet also something like a furry human being. It was wrapped in human clothing, yet covered from head to toe in wolf-fur. I was frightened. I cried out and struggled to run, but in the boundless desert I was quickly seized and dragged back.
“Only then did I learn that this creature — who called himself Kui Mu Lang — was in fact the Registry Official of Western Shazhou, Lv Sheng. The Lv family had once come to my father’s house to propose a match, but my father had refused them. I had gone deliberately to catch a glimpse of him from a distance — his bearing was extraordinary, his talent and brilliance superb. They said that His Majesty the Retired Emperor had called him ‘the peerless scholar of the Great Tang, the foremost man of the Wude era’ — yet how had he come to be this half-man, half-wolf creature?
“Si Lang smiled coldly and told me the whole story of how the aristocratic clans had subjected him to this transformation. I was deeply shaken — so it was that my father and Linghu Zhan’s father-in-law had done something so horrifying and inhumane! I suddenly felt a kind of pity for this man, though more than pity I felt a profound and deep terror. My family had such a deep grudge against him — what would he do with me?
“In the days that followed, Si Lang came under the hunting and encirclement of the aristocratic clans and the army. He took me hostage as he fled. Sometimes he would flare up and kill without warning; other times he fled in desperate rout. In one such encirclement, clan troops let loose a volley of arrows, and one arrow came flying straight toward me. I cried out in shock — and Si Lang flung himself over me, shielding me from that arrow.
“Si Lang slaughtered all those clan troops, then ordered me to help him pull out the arrow and bind his wound. Afterward he brought me along as he staggered away to safety. On the road I asked why he had not let me die. He snarled and said he wanted to use me to take revenge on the Zhai family.
“His wound was grave. In the middle of a sandy desert, he finally could bear it no longer and collapsed to the ground. Nights in the desert are cold. He developed a high fever and drifted in and out of consciousness, talking deliriously throughout the night. In his delirium, he wept — weeping for his father, weeping for his brothers, weeping for the ideals he had once held. He spoke to them, wanted to go with them, said this mortal world held nothing left worth living for.
“His mind seemed to have been burned to confusion by the fever. In a frenzy he tried to tear the wolf-fur from his body, only to cry out in heart-rending anguish from the pain, and finally fell unconscious. I saw this as my chance to escape, and ran with all my might through the desert. By the time dawn came, I had found a merchant caravan out in the sandy wasteland. I was about to call out for help — but in the end I could not bring myself to abandon him in the desert to die. I used a gold hairpin to barter medicine and water from the caravan, then ran back to save his life.”
“Why did you save him?”
Xuanzang could not help but ask.
“Yes — why did I save him?”
Zhai Wen murmured. “After he came to, Si Lang asked me the same thing. Why did I save him?
I said I believed in the Buddha, and I believed that everything done in this mortal world was being watched by the Buddhas and deities above.
“Si Lang said nothing more, and brought me along as we continued on, arriving at the Jade Gate Pass. At that time, the Jade Gate Pass was occupied by a dozen or so Turkic horse-bandits. He ground some unknown plant into powder, held it in his mouth, and then spewed forth flames. He declared himself the celestial Kui Mu Lang, descended to earth, and said these bandits were the followers who had descended with him — called Star Generals. The bandit gang was overawed and submitted to him, from that point on obeying his every word.
“Word gradually spread that a divine being had taken up residence in the Jade Gate Pass. Countless refugees from all directions came to follow him. His magical arts grew more and more elaborate, the divine powers he wielded more and more formidable — yet his suffering grew more and more acute. Sometimes he would don fine clothing, cultured and refined. Other times he would strip off everything he wore, baring his wolf-covered torso. He had two razor-sharp steel wolf-claws, and later drew up designs and crafted more elaborate items — a wolf’s hind claws, a wolf-skull assembled from white bones. He had these made by craftsmen in Dunhuang. He also fashioned wolf-fur pouches that he concealed beneath his arms and across his chest and abdomen, reshaping his body so that he looked more like an enormous wolf.
“Sometimes he would revert to being Lv Sheng, quietly revising his three volumes of writings. Other times, in the depth of night, he would curse and howl, transforming into a wolf that ran along the ramparts of the Jade Gate Pass and bayed at the desert moon beneath the full light of night. I was terrified in those days, not knowing how he would treat me — yet he never once violated my person. When he was Lv Sheng, he spoke to me coldly, but with civility. When he transformed into the savage wolf, he would drive me away to a small house at the foot of the beacon tower, keeping himself far away from me.”
Zhai Wen said with desolate sorrow. “Yet I knew he still harbored hatred for me. Many a night I discovered him transformed into his wolf-form, slipping quietly into my room to crouch at my side, gnashing his teeth and suckling blood, muttering that he wanted to tear my flesh and devour it raw. I dared not speak. I forced myself to pretend I was asleep, not even daring to tremble.”
“It truly was the condition of a fractured soul!”
Xuanzang sighed. “He could no longer endure the suffering of what had been done to him — yet the moral code and self-discipline within his heart would not allow him to find relief by harming a defenseless woman. He had split himself into Kui Mu Lang and Lv Sheng — one savage and merciless, a demon incarnate; the other refined and cultured, like a fine gentleman of Chang’an’s markets. He transferred all his malice and suffering entirely onto the savage Kui Mu Lang, while he himself retained the greatest goodwill that the mortal world could offer.”
“Yes!”
Zhai Wen’s tears fell in streams. She choked out, “He also knew that he could no longer control himself, and so resolved to send me home.”
“He sent you home?”
Xuanzang was deeply moved. Knowing what Lv Sheng had endured, he now understood the immense difficulty of such a decision. This man — once the peerless scholar of Chang’an, who had taken the welfare of all the world as his duty — had even in his fractured state managed to hold onto his own moral limits, unwilling to burden an innocent woman with the consequences of his wrongs!
“He sent me home — yet I came back.”
Zhai Wen smiled through her tears as she spoke.
“Why?”
Xuanzang was puzzled.
“He waited until he had returned to his Lv Sheng self, then personally escorted me to Dunhuang City. But when I arrived in Dunhuang, I learned that my father and the Linghu family had already announced my death.”
Zhai Wen said with a bleak smile. “All the while I lived in daily terror and fear, my dearest family were not thinking about how to rescue me — they were covering it up, salvaging the family’s dignity.”
Xuanzang understood at once. Indeed, it had been exactly so. When he first arrived in Dunhuang, both Zhai Faran and Zhai Chang, as well as Linghu Demao, had all told him that Zhai Wen had been killed by Kui Mu Lang. Only Linghu Zhan suspected deeply, and spared no cost in his determination to battle Kui Mu Lang — seeking to find her remains as proof.
Xuanzang fell into a long, silent sigh.
“I had completely lost all faith in my family, and so I voluntarily returned with Si Lang to the Jade Gate Pass.”
Zhai Wen said. “Si Lang was still reluctant to take me in. But where else could I go? The world is vast, yet I was already a dead woman. I said I could cook, split firewood, tend horses, and sew clothing. Si Lang said later that it was that last skill which finally moved him.”
Zhai Wen smiled with a warmth tinged by tenderness. “In the Jade Gate Pass, Si Lang’s condition would flare up from time to time. When the wolf-fur had been pressed onto him, poison had entered his body. Festering wounds broke out on him constantly, and he was feverish. I stayed by his side, helping him brew medicine, wiping away his sweat, watching him suffer. I felt such guilt — such heartache. Later I stayed on with him. I told him I wanted to accompany him for the rest of his life. He said he did not have long to live. I said: however long it is, let it be.”
“So that is how it was,”
Xuanzang sighed. “This truly was a karmic entanglement born of grievous injustice.”
“An entanglement of injustice? I see it as a bond of fate — he was the finest companion heaven could have given me.”
Zhai Wen said. “At that time he was still suffering deeply from the fracturing of his soul. During the day he was Kui Mu Lang, and sometimes at night he would become Lv Sheng — or sometimes the reverse, with no discernible pattern. When he took on his Kui Mu Lang form, I would help the people of the pass with their daily labor. When he reverted to Lv Sheng, we would ride out together to look at the stars in the sky, and travel the length and breadth of the great desert and snow mountains. We lived in that small courtyard at the foot of the beacon tower — I tidied the rooms and cooked the meals; he split firewood and carried water. We were content together. Whenever he felt he was about to transform, he would hurry back to the cave-dwelling in the fortress, and those were the moments when I would see him off at the door — like a little wife saying farewell to her husband as he leaves.”
Xuanzang suddenly recalled a scene from his very first arrival at the Jade Gate Pass. So that had not been Lv Sheng and Zhai Wen performing for his benefit — it had been the daily rhythm of their lives. The realization pierced Xuanzang’s heart with a sudden, sharp ache.
“But within his heart, the suffering grew deeper and deeper. All along he had been secretly conspiring with Li Zhi to destroy the aristocratic clans entirely. They formulated a meticulous plan — they arranged for Elder Lv Shi to come to Dunhuang as a lay storyteller, arranged for Lv Li to pose as a wandering Daoist priest to draw close to Wang Junke, buried expansive stone below the Ding Family Dam of the Western Grottoes to breach the Sweet Spring River and smash the seven-story pagoda, and buried the tomb epitaph stelae beneath the plaza of the Panguong…”
“What was the expansive stone?”
Xuanzang asked.
“It is a kind of…”
Zhai Wen thought for a moment. “It is a kind of opaque stone that resembles crystal — slightly yellowish in color. Ground into powder, this stone swells violently upon contact with water. Those who quarry and split rock like to pack it into fissures in the stone to crack them open. Si Lang and Li Zhi hauled several large cartloads and buried them beneath the Ding Family Dam and under the plaza of the Panguong.”
Xuanzang suddenly understood everything. No wonder — the moment water was channeled in, the ground had begun to heave and churn, and the Platform of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions had collapsed, thrusting the tomb epitaph stelae up from the earth.
“All of these plans were arranged by Lv Sheng?”
Xuanzang said, utterly baffled.
“Yes — including the use of the Daoist priest Hou Li as a character to lure out Wang Junke’s ambitions, to draw him into the marriage alliance with the Zhang family, and finally to step by step tempt him into rebellion, dragging the aristocratic clans into it with him. All of these plans were mapped out by him three years ago. His great dream was to bring the aristocratic clans the most devastating retribution — to bring them to ruin and disgrace, their families broken and their names destroyed.”
Zhai Wen said.
Xuanzang let out a sigh. Although Lv Sheng had been unwilling to harm Zhai Wen, that was because he was unwilling to vent his hatred upon a woman — yet it did not mean he had shown any mercy to the aristocratic clans. “But this poor monk has always had one question. These plans were all drawn up three years ago — why were they set in motion so late? By the time this poor monk arrived in Dunhuang, things had only just begun, had they not?”
“Because before the plans could be set in motion, Si Lang died!”
Zhai Wen’s voice broke and she lost all composure.
Xuanzang opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. A vast sorrow enveloped his heart.
“In the Jade Gate Pass, he suffered day and night from the poison within his body. His physical strength declined with each passing day. In hopes of taking his revenge, he experimented with medicines to strengthen himself — and in doing so, produced those monstrous creatures known as Star Generals. He reduced the dosage for himself, giving himself strength vastly beyond that of an ordinary man and capabilities that surpassed human limits in every regard. Yet those medicines also ravaged his body. In only a few months’ time, he was spent, like a flame that had exhausted all its oil.”
Zhai Wen said. “Knowing his life was nearly at an end, his desire for revenge gradually faded. He cast aside everything, and spent every day and night at my side — as though hoping to fill an entire lifetime’s worth of companionship into that brief, brief span. Yet what he feared most was: after his death, what would become of me? He thought of countless solutions. He did not want me to remain in the Jade Gate Pass, for after his death, the pass was certain to be wiped out by the authorities. Nor did he want to send me to the Western Regions or to the heartland of the empire, for there I would have no kin, no one to lean on. Night after night he woke in the middle of his sleep, tears running down his face, murmuring to me: ‘Wen’er, what am I to do with you?'”
Xuanzang sighed quietly, seeming to see before him the image of Lv Sheng in the final stages of his illness — suffering and anguished, restless and afraid. He was like the Overlord of Chu at the banks of the Wu River, cornered and at the end of his road, abandoning all thought of life and death, yet gazing in sorrowful grief at his own Consort Yu and sighing — what was to be done?
“As that person in the Demon City told you, Si Lang wanted to arrange for me an absolutely free, absolutely happy life for the years to come — food and clothing, safety, reputation, kinship, and human connection — none of these could be missing. And in the end, he said: the only choice was to send me back to my family.”
Zhai Wen wept as she spoke.
Xuanzang knew that the person in the Demon City had been playing the role of Lv Sheng, and that everything he said was true — the emotions were also genuine. The difference was only that the true events had unfolded two and a half years ago, when Lv Sheng was gravely ill, his oil-lamp nearly burned dry.
Zhai Wen wiped away her tears and continued: “He abandoned the plan to take revenge on the aristocratic clans. Then he sent another secret letter to the Emperor, telling him that at the moment of his return to the heavens, he could cause the celestial realm and the Supreme Elder Lord to appear before the mortal world. His condition was that the court would provide me with food, clothing, and safety for the rest of my life.”
Xuanzang said quietly: “At that time he also intended to conjure a mirage, swallow the firefly flames, and dissolve his own body in fire?”
“Yes!”
Zhai Wen murmured. “He wanted to exchange his death for my lifelong safety, and to receive the court’s bestowal. Then he bribed Zhao Huishou, fabricating the story of the Daoist adept Zhouyi Shan of the Purple Yang school bestowing a celestial garment, in order to prove my chastity. He also arranged for Elder Lv Shi to perform a lay storytelling of the tale of Kui Mu Lang and the palace handmaid of the Spreading Fragrance Hall, transforming our ill-fated bond into what the world would believe was a moving love story between two celestial beings. He said what he feared most was that those close to me, and the common people, would look down on me, treat me coldly, or hold me in contempt. He said the woman he loved most could not endure even a single look of disdain from anyone. He wanted me to stand tall and upright, living openly and honestly among the people of the world.”
At these words, Zhai Wen burst into heartbroken sobs. Xuanzang did not urge her to stop — for in truth, his own heart was overcome with a grief he could not dispel.
“And then?”
Xuanzang waited until she had wept herself out, then slowly asked.
“Then he never received the Emperor’s reply. Not long after the secret letter was sent, one night he was gone — his oil exhausted, his flame spent.”
Zhai Wen’s gaze became empty and distant. “In his final moments, he gripped my hand and said: live. Live brilliantly. The more joyful your life is, the more at peace I will be after death. I promised him. I wanted him to leave this world without worry, and return calmly to the heavens — to be free of all further ties to this hateful mortal world.”
“And so——”
Xuanzang murmured.
“And so, I would carry out every unfulfilled wish he had left behind, one by one!”
Zhai Wen’s expression suddenly changed. Her eyes blazed with sharp brilliance, cutting and unyielding, as she said each word with precision.
“I took up every one of his plans again from the beginning — the breach of the Western Grottoes dam, the ensnaring of Wang Junke, the negotiations with the Emperor, the cultivation of the parasitic underworld worms, the planting of internal informants in Qingdun Garrison… Only when it came to taking revenge on the Zhai family, my heart could not be ruthless enough. So I used the Buddhist relic to trick Zhai Faran into bankruptcy and drive him to suicide. Because it was Zhai Faran who had applied pressure to my father and thus caused the death of Lv Sheng’s father. He was the one who had started it all.”
Zhai Wen’s expression was entirely calm, as though she were describing something that had nothing to do with her at all. “Only in the final step — manipulating Wang Junke into rebellion — I lost control. He harbored his own hidden designs, maneuvering Li Yan into rebellion while scheming to reap the credit for himself. Ah — if Si Lang were still here, he surely would have done it far better than I.”
Xuanzang looked at her wordlessly for a long moment. He had not expected that behind each and every one of these great events, the true orchestrator in the shadows was actually this woman. And they would say this was not good enough? Those who had fallen victim to her schemes would likely die of shame.
“And that person?”
Xuanzang asked quietly.
Zhai Wen said: “He was a family member of close kinship whom I found among the surviving Lv clan relatives — someone who bore a resemblance to Si Lang’s features. I then applied makeup, disguising him to look like Si Lang.”
“So that is how it was!”
Xuanzang looked at Zhai Wen in stunned astonishment. “But why did you do this?”
“Because I wanted Si Lang to live again and fulfill all his wishes with his own hands!”
Zhai Wen said in a firm, low voice. “The surviving Lv clan relatives were full of hatred to begin with — they gave their full support to my plan. The man they found shared the same bloodline as Si Lang and bore a very close resemblance. After I applied the makeup, he was the very image of Lv Sheng come back to life. And to make it more convincing — I also had the wolf-fur pressed onto him in the same process that had once been done to Si Lang!”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Xuanzang was completely dumbfounded. He stared at the woman before him — she had gone to such extremes! Was this the obsession of love, or the hatred burning within?
“I had not lost my mind. This was a joint demand of the surviving Lv clan members, and it was also a voluntary request from that person — because he wanted the truth, when it finally came to light, to show the world precisely how the aristocratic clans had persecuted and mutilated a First Scholar of the Great Tang!”
Zhai Wen said. “And precisely because of this, I planted the celestial garment worms in your body — for I thought: if even his closest friend in this life could misunderstand him as a traitor who was killed for it, then Si Lang would surely be very distressed. What he could not stop thinking about on his deathbed were the ideals he had been unable to realize in his life. I thought: asking you to bear witness to the full story of his life — perhaps that would bring him some comfort.”
Xuanzang did not know what to say. The hatred buried deep in the heart of this woman consumed her like burning ice, chilling him to the bone. Yet the desolate tragedy of Lv Sheng’s life left him unable to pass any judgment on those who had destroyed him.
“What was that person’s name?”
Xuanzang finally asked.
“He had no name. He said he was Lv Sheng’s shadow — and asked me to call him Nameless.”
Zhai Wen said.
Xuanzang gave a long, quiet sigh. Of course he understood what that person meant.
Nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth; Named is the mother of ten thousand things. This is the great Dao of the world.
For a son and subject, the worry is not in failing to obey, but in having no name. This is revenge carried out for the honor of one’s elders.
To entrust one’s life to another’s household; to bury one’s remains in a nameless grave. This is to live as another’s shadow.
“Very well, Dharma Master.”
Zhai Wen said with composure. “All causes and effects have been spoken through to the end. What Si Lang wished to accomplish, I have done, every one of them, on his behalf. He took revenge on the aristocratic clans, cleared away his unjust name, and obtained the court’s bestowal for me, allowing me to return to my family. In this mortal world, he has no more regrets.”
Zhai Wen turned to leave.
Xuanzang asked quickly: “Where are you going?”
“Naturally, to live the freest and most joyful life possible. Did you not promise him? That you would help me find enlightenment, and that I would live free and unfettered — without restraint, happier than when he was alive!”
Zhai Wen said with a smile.
Xuanzang felt immediately abashed. This lie had gnawed at him without cease. Even if he had wished to help, the Zhai Wen before him now — who had turned the three prefectures, the eight great aristocratic clans, and countless emperors and illustrious generals upon her palm — where would she ever need him to offer her enlightenment?
“But there is one thing Si Lang did not understand about me — he did not know that my greatest happiness was not to return to my family, to be kept in the depths of a household and waste the rest of my years as a resentful woman. He had already given me the finest life possible.”
Zhai Wen suddenly pursed her lips and let out a sharp whistle. From beside the moat, a dozen or more fine horses emerged without a sound. Pumiˈti and five Star Generals were among them, along with the wolf soldiers of the Jade Gate Pass.
Pumiˈti led forward a riderless horse and presented Lv Sheng’s white bone wolf-skull with respectful reverence. Zhai Wen took it apart with practiced hands and fitted it over her head — and in an instant, she had transformed into the visage of a ferocious great wolf!
Zhai Wen flew onto the horse, laughing freely. But within the great wolf’s jaws, her laughter became a thunderous, rumbling echo: “Dharma Master — when you hear, on your journey to the west, that a Heavenly Wolf is roaming the great desert, howling through a hundred kingdoms, then you will know that Kui Mu Lang has returned!”
She clasped her legs against the horse’s flanks, and the warhorse surged forward at a gallop. The Star Generals and wolf soldiers followed close behind. A dozen warhorses pounded the earth with their hooves and roared away in a surging cloud.
Xuanzang looked at the ancient and magnificent Dunhuang City, and then gazed at the rolling dust and sand as it receded — like the surging, turbulent river of history, churning ever onward. History is the brush; the red dust of the mortal world is the blade — it cuts down heroes and champions, grinds away emperors and conquerors.
In his ears, it seemed he could once more hear Yan Niang plucking her pipa, her voice rising in a melodious, lingering song:
For what reason do mortals walk so many narrow roads? Only because they must carry heaven and earth across. Heaven and earth shall inevitably fall into twilight, Nothing in this world is forever fixed and certain.
Both yin and yang are fated to lay their ambushes, Within heaven and earth a great slaughter is always concealed. Above and below there is only this one life — The word “fate” has weighed upon all ages since ancient times.
One who knows oneself does not blame others, One who knows fate does not blame heaven. Fortune, misfortune, survival, and ruin are all already determined — Everything follows from what one does with one’s own life…
(End)