That night at the Mogao Caves, a wolf calamity descended upon the ancient holy ground, turning it into a scene of carnage.
That night in Dunhuang City, a city-wide search continued through all the dark hours, the populace trembling with fear while iron cavalry thundered through the streets like muffled drums.
Wang Junke and Sun Chalie worked through the night to deal with the aftermath. By the hour of si the next day, news came in: total casualties over one hundred, shaking West Shazhou to its core.
The following day, the prefectural office dispatched a large number of physicians to the Shengjiao Temple to treat the wounded; the Shengjiao Temple held services for the dead, chanting sutras to guide their souls. Abbot Zhai Faran hurried back to Dunhuang to manage affairs, leaving some monks behind to assist the Shengjiao Temple with the services. Xuanzang remained at the temple to help as well, chanting sutras to guide the dead and comfort the living, and following along with the physicians to treat the wounded — for several days running, without sleep or rest.
Below the Mogao Caves, the sound of sutra-chanting and the sound of weeping mingled. The entire temple was draped in white mourning cloth.
But on the third day, dreadful news suddenly arrived — Abbot Zhai Faran had passed away!
Xuanzang was deeply startled and set out with Li Chan for Dunhuang. They had traveled fifteen or sixteen li when they overtook a funeral procession stretching for several li, treading through the endless yellow sand toward the burial grounds in the sandy wastes. That was the final destination for the people of Dunhuang.
In the procession, a woman of about forty years of age, dressed in mourning white and supported by her maidservant, walked to Xuanzang’s side and bowed respectfully. “Are you leaving for the prefectural city today, Master Xuanzang?”
“Madam Zhao — are you well?”
Xuanzang quickly returned the salutation.
This Zhao Qiniang was the wife of the physician who ran the Shen Family Medical Hall, the largest in Dunhuang City. She had accompanied her husband to the Shengjiao Temple to treat the wounded, only to discover that one of her own family’s elders had been killed in the wolf disaster that night.
“The items you requested, I will have sent over. But where shall I send them?”
Madam Zhao asked.
“Many thanks, Madam Zhao.”
Xuanzang was pleasantly surprised. “I am temporarily taking lodging at the Mahayana Temple — please have them sent there!”
Madam Zhao nodded in silence and followed the funeral procession into the distance.
Xuanzang mounted his horse, gazed out over the sandy wastes at the several dozen new graves that had appeared in a single day, gave a tug of the reins, and said: “Let us go.”
Li Chan, considerably exhausted, silently took the reins and mounted. The two followed the desolate sandy path back toward Dunhuang City.
“Master, what did you ask her for?”
Li Chan asked.
“Lv Sheng’s father’s prescriptions and medical records.”
Xuanzang said. “Since Lv Sheng’s father was old and ill when he returned to Dunhuang, he would naturally have sought a physician and medicine. I inquired with Physician Shen a few days ago, and indeed the old man was treated at the Shen Family Medical Hall.”
“What do you want with those things?”
Li Chan was puzzled.
“There is no way to make inquiries about Lv Sheng directly in Dunhuang City, so I had to find another approach and learn about what happened to the Lv family from the side. Physician Shen refused outright, but his wife Madam Zhao is a devout Buddhist. I found her in the main worship hall for a discussion of Buddhist teachings — a rather… well, earnest appeal on my part — and she agreed, as a favor to the Buddha, to give them to me.”
Li Chan was at a loss for words. This was clearly a case of intimidation in the Buddha’s name. He suddenly thought of his own father, and a wave of discouragement came over him.
“The heir seems to be troubled.”
Xuanzang looked at him. “Worried about your father?”
Li Chan sighed. “Yes. My father, though in charge of military affairs and not involved in civilian governance, cannot easily escape responsibility for the Kui the Wolf situation — the creature has been occupying Yumen Pass, and that counts as a form of banditry. If the court pursues it, it could give them a pretext to remove my father. Given his current circumstances, any wind or movement could be used as an excuse to move against him. This undeserved disaster — I don’t know how he will weather it.”
“Why not stay by the Prince’s side?”
Xuanzang said. “The person this humble monk is looking for and the matter I am investigating have nothing to do with you. The Prince, on the other hand, needs you with him.”
“It is precisely because he needs me that I feel useless.”
Li Chan said bitterly. “Here with you, Master, I feel like I am actually of some use. Is the dharma not meant to ferry precisely those like me, who have lost their way in the world of dust?”
Xuanzang opened his mouth, but did not know what to say.
The two horses stepped along the firm sandy path; the four directions were vast and empty, not a soul in sight — two lone travelers, as if all the world existed only for them.
“Master, what are you going to investigate next?”
Li Chan asked.
“Let us first analyze this Heavenly Garment.”
Xuanzang held out his arm. “If you are not afraid of pain, feel free to touch my arm.”
“I… I am naturally afraid of pain!”
Li Chan cried out.
Li Chan urged his horse to bolt, but Xuanzang grabbed his reins.
Xuanzang held out his own right hand to show seven or eight red dots. “I am not trying to torment you. I only want to see whether touching myself and someone else touching me produces the same type of red marks.”
Li Chan was momentarily baffled. “Master, why are you studying this?”
Xuanzang’s expression was quite earnest. “If I cannot get this Heavenly Garment out, will my arm not be permanently ruined?”
“That’s true.”
Li Chan thought for a moment. “Shall I find you a dog?”
“I already tried that at the Shengjiao Temple!”
Xuanzang shook his head. “I also tried a horse — I observed the effects the Heavenly Garment produced on different types of living creatures.”
Li Chan asked: “And… what were the effects?”
Xuanzang shook his head. “No different from with humans. Whether a black dog or a horse, all shied and cried out in pain, with red marks appearing under the fur and skin as well. I then found a smooth-barked poplar tree and pressed my arm against the bark — the tree showed no change.”
Li Chan stared blankly at Xuanzang, a mental image forming of a monk pressing his arm against a poplar tree with focused intensity…
“I also went to the dining hall, took a burning piece of wood from the stove, and burned my arm with it — the skin blistered.”
Xuanzang said. “Now take your saber and cut my arm.”
Li Chan was alarmed. “Master, that won’t do! You are a son of the Buddha — even if cutting you doesn’t draw holy blood, the sin is not light. Absolutely not, under any circumstances.”
Xuanzang did not argue further. He reached over, drew Li Chan’s saber from under his arm, and cut his own arm with it. Blood flowed freely.
“Oh, Master — why must you torment yourself like this!”
Li Chan jumped down from his horse, produced wound medicine and silk bandaging, and dressed the arm.
Xuanzang stared at the wound and murmured: “The Heavenly Garment was forty li long; half is still twenty li. How is it that it covers only my left arm?”
Li Chan wrapped the wound and said offhandedly: “Maybe the wearing method is wrong. If I take a bolt of silk and wrap it only around my leg, that’s still possible, isn’t it?”
Xuanzang stared at him, utterly unable to refute this.
Xuanzang said: “Then this is very strange. The half Heavenly Garment has fused into my body, and apart from causing a stabbing pain when touched, it has no effect whatsoever!”
“But Mi Kangli said that a complete Heavenly Garment will free you from suffering through a hundred kalpas with all evil spirits retreating; it is the incomplete half, worn in its damaged state, that brings misery beyond measure, a life worse than death.”
Li Chan said.
Xuanzang sighed. “That is precisely the problem. I am wearing this half of the Heavenly Garment, and all it amounts to is that my arm cannot be touched. Nowhere near a life worse than death.”
“Master, what are you so preoccupied with? You have made yourself into a wound from head to toe just to verify the Heavenly Garment’s effects?”
Li Chan asked.
“Not exactly. I simply sense the smell of a conspiracy.”
Xuanzang shook his head. “The scheme behind the Shengjiao Temple auction is fairly obvious. The Linghu and Zhai clans have a deep blood feud with Kui the Wolf, and so they used this auction to lure Kui the Wolf into the trap and mount a hunt. As for Mi Kangli’s Heavenly Garment — either it was bait arranged by the Linghu clan in advance, or they learned he was coming with the Heavenly Garment to auction it and exploited the circumstance accordingly. But I am more inclined to believe Mi Kangli was a piece on the Linghu clan’s board.”
“That much is obvious!”
Li Chan said. “Mi Kangli wanted revenge, the Linghu clan wanted to hunt the wolf — the two were naturally in perfect accord.”
“But what does any of this have to do with me?”
Xuanzang said plainly. “Just before his death, Administrator Ding pressed the Heavenly Garment onto my arm — clearly intending to redirect Kui the Wolf’s attention toward me.”
Li Chan was about to speak, but Xuanzang stopped him and continued his own deductions. “His claim that he was protecting me from the disaster of tigers and wolves was naturally a pretext. As you witnessed, this Heavenly Garment is entirely unable to ward off the disaster of tigers and wolves. Instead it made me the target of Kui the Wolf’s pursuit without any justification whatsoever.”
Li Chan’s expression changed. “Then was Administrator Ding trying to kill you? But he and you had never met… could he have been acting under orders?”
Xuanzang nodded. “Administrator Ding was certainly acting under orders, yet the person who gave those orders may not necessarily have intended to kill me.”
“Why?”
Li Chan was unconvinced.
“Because wanting me dead would have been too easy.”
Xuanzang thought back. “In the chaos of that night, if someone had wanted to kill me, a single stroke of a passing servant’s blade would have ended my life — and they could have used Kui the Wolf as their cover.”
Li Chan nodded. “That’s true. Dressing you in the Heavenly Garment and letting Kui the Wolf come kill you — that is too roundabout a method.”
“And so, the one behind Administrator Ding who ordered my Heavenly Garment be pressed onto me did not want me dead.”
Xuanzang said word by word. “That person’s purpose was to draw me into the Kui the Wolf affair!”
“Why would they want to do that?”
Li Chan was astonished.
“Exactly — why would they want to do that?”
Xuanzang also asked himself.
Carrying these questions unanswered, Xuanzang and Li Chan returned to the Mahayana Temple. The temple was draped in mourning white, and the monks moved about with grief on their faces, making preparations for various ceremonies. The Zhai clan had mobilized nearly in full, rushing back and forth in busy disorder.
Xuanzang understood full well how great a blow Abbot Zhai Faran’s death was to the Zhai clan. In practical terms, it had very nearly severed the Zhai clan’s claim to leadership of the Buddhist community in West Shazhou.
Zhai Faran’s remains were still laid out in the meditation room. Xuanzang came to pay his respects and found Zhai Chang, eyes red and swollen, standing guard at the entrance. Every devotee, aristocratic clan member, and official who came to pay respects was blocked at the door — not a single person was allowed in.
“Dharma master has come.”
Zhai Chang said with a bitter expression.
“How did the abbot pass so suddenly?”
Xuanzang asked quietly.
Zhai Chang hesitated for a long while, then drew Xuanzang aside and said in a low voice: “He was deceived. The Buddha’s relics — it was all a fraud!”
“What?”
Xuanzang was astonished. On that day at the Mogao Caves auction, the Buddha’s relics had not been auctioned because Kui the Wolf had disrupted proceedings. The next day Abbot Zhai Faran had hurried back to Dunhuang in great agitation — apparently related to this very matter. It seemed he must have sought out the person possessing the Buddha’s relics to negotiate a private transaction.
Zhai Chang gritted his teeth. “That day, a merchant from the Western Regions announced that he had Buddha’s relics to put up for auction — specifically a fragment of a finger bone relic — and had shown them to the various senior monks of Dunhuang, who had confirmed them as a supreme sacred object. My uncle then became determined, and sold off nearly all the Mahayana Temple’s assets, resolving that he would receive the relics and enshrine them in the Mahayana Temple.”
Xuanzang already knew this. When he had first entered the Mahayana Temple, he had seen Abbot Zhai Faran selling the monastery’s assets and had calculated that he had raised sixteen thousand strings of cash.
“After the Mogao Caves auction was disrupted by Kui the Wolf and everyone fled in all directions, my uncle had someone make inquiries and learned that the merchant had returned to Dunhuang and would be leaving before long. My uncle grew anxious and rushed back to find the merchant. The merchant set a price of twenty-five thousand strings. My uncle had raised only sixteen thousand strings — far short of the sum — and so pledged the remaining monastery assets as collateral and borrowed nine thousand strings from myself and from the Li clan.”
Zhai Chang gave a long sigh, clearly regretting having lent the money. “My uncle brought twenty-five thousand strings of copper cash, silver-and-gold currency, and silk to the transaction with the merchant, and received the Buddha’s relics. But when he returned to the temple and opened the casket… he found it was fake!”
“Fake?”
Xuanzang was deeply shocked. “Was it not examined at the time of the transaction?”
“Of course it was verified.”
Zhai Chang said. “At the time everything was perfectly genuine. The relics were enclosed in five nested treasure caskets; my uncle examined them and placed them with his own hands into the innermost jade coffin, then sealed them layer by layer. But… but when the caskets were opened at the Mahayana Temple for the enshrinement, what was found inside was a wolf’s claw!”
“A wolf’s claw?”
Xuanzang was so startled he was dumbstruck. “How could it be a wolf’s claw?”
“No one knows how it happened.”
Zhai Chang murmured. “Afterward we speculated that the whole thing was a fraud from the beginning — designed specifically to drain the Mahayana Temple of all its resources and make my uncle a sinner in the eyes of the Buddhist community!”
Xuanzang’s heart ached. “So Abbot Zhai…”
“Yes, my uncle took his own life.”
Zhai Chang wept as he looked toward the meditation room. “Centuries of accumulated wealth of the Mahayana Temple, stolen in a single day, and a huge debt owed on top of that. Setting aside what the authorities would think, he could not face the monks of his own monastery — after all, more than a hundred monks of the monastery would hereafter have no reliable means of food and clothing. This person’s heart is truly vicious: this was designed to destroy my uncle’s reputation and bring him to ruin!”
“Who did this?”
Li Chan was also horrified.
“Given that the treasure casket contained a wolf’s claw, it must have been Kui the Wolf.”
Zhai Chang said with deep hatred.
“Kui the Wolf?”
Xuanzang and Li Chan were both taken aback. That Kui the Wolf might kill Abbot Zhai Faran would have surprised no one — but to force him to his death by this method, ruining his reputation in the process, was somewhat difficult to comprehend.
“This…”
Zhai Chang seemed to feel he had let something slip, and looked rather awkward.
At that very moment Linghu Demao came hurrying in. “Sir Zhai, come with me at once.”
“Where to?”
Zhai Chang said blankly. “I am currently—”
Linghu Demao’s expression was grave. He said word by word: “Wang Junke has summoned his commanders to a military assembly!”
Zhai Chang was taken aback. “Right, let’s go!”
He turned to Xuanzang with an apologetic look. “Dharma master, I have something urgent to attend to and cannot accompany you. For my uncle’s memorial — please simply pay your respects from outside the door. He said before he died that he wished to see no one.”
Zhai Chang accompanied Linghu Demao and left in haste.
Xuanzang understood the grief Abbot Zhai Faran must have felt in his final moments and did not linger further. He and Li Chan paid their respects and returned to his own meditation room.
“Master, the knots of mystery keep multiplying.”
Li Chan smiled ruefully. “Even a demon creature like Kui the Wolf has started using fraud to extort people into death. But what deep grudge was there between Kui the Wolf and Abbot Zhai Faran? Did it have to make him die in such a ruinous way?”
“There must be a deeper story behind all of this.”
Xuanzang said slowly. “Beyond what you have said, I have also tallied what I know, and my heart holds four remaining puzzles. First: why did Administrator Ding press the Heavenly Garment onto me? Second: why would Kui the Wolf commission the carving of blocks for Lv Sheng’s writings? Third: why has Yuzao been pursuing Lv Sheng’s fate at any cost? Fourth: what exactly transpired between Lv Sheng and the Linghu clan?”
“These…”
Li Chan thought for a moment. “These will all be hard to investigate. Whether it involves Kui the Wolf or the Linghu clan, the danger is incalculable. Suo Yi is a member of the Suo clan, yet he dared not reveal a single word.”
“Indeed. So this humble monk intends to start with what is easy, and go find that twelfth young lady, Yuzao. She has been tracking Kui the Wolf for years and must know quite a lot. First let us understand her connection to Lv Sheng.”
Li Chan stared at him in a daze. “Master, did you see me at breakfast when I was eating the steamed buns?”
“See what?”
Xuanzang said, puzzled.
Li Chan smiled. “While eating I was thinking of the twelfth lady’s gallant bearing, and I saw a few words drifting up from the steamed bun: ‘Her graceful, slender form makes me forget to eat.’ You truly are the master I was meant to have — you think exactly what your disciple thinks and are urgently moved by what he is urgently moved by!”
Xuanzang stared at him for a long moment and then finally said: “If you marry her, you may well forget to eat every day.”
“Why?”
Li Chan asked curiously.
“She will be busy filling your face with her fists.”
Xuanzang said.
Li Chan was speechless. He thought it over carefully, and his mood drooped considerably.
Three drumbeats rang out from the Magistrate’s office, deep and resonant, stirring the prefectural city. Wang Junke called his commanders to assembly; after the three-beat summons, every military headquarters, garrison post, and watch station in West Shazhou — with the exception of those currently on duty — sent their officers running to the Magistrate’s offices.
The Great Tang had carried forward the military organization of the Wude years. The military forces of a border prefecture like Dunhuang were broadly divided into two categories: the府 troops and the prefecture’s standing garrison and watch soldiers.
The府 troops were the national forces of the Great Tang. Once enrolled in the military register, commoners were granted land by the state; they farmed in peacetime and served as soldiers in wartime. The court established military headquarters throughout the land to administer those on the military registers. West Shazhou maintained three military headquarters: Shouchang, Xiaogu, and Xuanquan. Local authorities had no power to mobilize the府 troops on their own — the court’s pardon document and bronze seal fish-tally were required, and only after verification by three parties — the commander, the magistrate, and the headquarters commander — could the府 troops be summoned.
The garrison and watch soldiers were the prefecture’s standing forces: garrison troops stationed in the prefectural county, watch troops stationed at beacon towers, and guard troops watching over key roads. West Shazhou had three garrisons — Zijin, West Pass, and Longle — and four major watch posts: Xuanquan, Changle, Yanchi, and Ziting.
Wang Junke sat in grim-faced silence on the main platform, with the recording adjutant Cao Cheng seated slightly behind him, brush in hand. Wang Junke ran a strict military; no one dared be late for roll call. After the three drumbeats, the headquarters commanders and deputy commanders, garrison commanders and deputies, watch and guard commanders and deputies all arrived in full, uniformly dressed in their combat uniforms, sabers hanging from the left, bows from the right.
Ziting Watch Commander Zhai Shu stood on the platform as well, expressionless.
“The demon wolf at the Mogao Caves killed soldiers and civilians — fifty-two dead, eighty-seven wounded!”
Wang Junke brought a heavy hand down on the desk, voice roaring. “We bear responsibility for protecting the frontier and the people, yet we have allowed this demon wolf to roam through Dunhuang, killing our soldiers and commoners! This is an unparalleled humiliation for West Shazhou!”
Longle Garrison Commander Ma Hongda stepped forward and bowed. “Magistrate, we are willing to put down the Yumen Pass and exterminate the wolf menace!”
“Good!”
Wang Junke nodded. “Though the old Yumen Pass has been relocated to Guazhou and the old fortifications have long since fallen into ruin, the old Yumen Pass stands at the critical junction of the great desert route and must be pacified. Since taking up this post in Dunhuang, I have frequently received appeals reporting that Kui the Wolf has occupied the old pass, and some smuggling merchants have been slipping through the border via Yumen Pass. This cannot be tolerated. But Kui the Wolf’s forces reportedly number over three hundred; fighting them across a desert crossing of one hundred and eighty li will require more troops than our garrisons and watch posts can provide.”
Zijin Garrison Commander Song Kai stepped out. “The Magistrate is right. In the ninth year of Wude, I received orders to concentrate the six hundred troops of the Zijin Garrison, West Pass Garrison, and Yanchi Watch Post for an assault on Yumen Pass. During the desert march Kui the Wolf sent men to harass us continuously, slowing our pace greatly. By the time we reached Yumen Pass, the fortification was completely empty — Kui the Wolf had led the forces back into the Devil City. That Devil City has extremely complex terrain stretching hundreds of li, with walls, towers, and mounds of earth carved by wind and sand into a labyrinth on every side, ideal for ambush, and surrounded by quicksand and marshes. I dared not advance deep into it and had no choice but to withdraw.”
Wang Junke nodded, and Song Kai returned to his position.
“Our standing troops in West Shazhou are indeed insufficient.”
Wang Junke considered for a moment. “Setting aside the essential forces that cannot be moved, the garrisons and watch posts could muster perhaps a thousand men at most. A thousand against three hundred should be a decisive advantage. But once Kui the Wolf retreats into the Devil City, the numbers are no longer enough.”
Yanchi Watch Commander Zhao Ping said: “So a force must be split off to cut through the desert and position itself around the Niutou Beacon Tower west of Yumen Pass, cutting off Kui the Wolf’s retreat to the west. By my estimate, to annihilate Kui the Wolf’s band in a single engagement, a minimum of three thousand troops is needed!”
“Then we must mobilize the府 troops.”
Wang Junke nodded. “As General of the Left Wuwei Guard, I do hold the authority to mobilize府 troops in emergencies, but only in cases of foreign invasion or urgent border alarm. Though Kui the Wolf has been killing civilians, this does not constitute a military national emergency, and I cannot mobilize府 troops on my own authority. I and the Prince of Linjiang have each written memorials, dispatched express to Chang’an — first to seek punishment for ourselves from the court, and second to appeal to the Ministry of War for verification and authorization to summon府 troops for a deep desert campaign to exterminate Kui the Wolf.”
“We of the military headquarters are willing to march for the General!”
The three headquarters commanders stepped forward together and offered their petitions.
Wang Junke waved them off, his expression hardening. “I say all this also to make the rules of our military clear. West Pass Garrison Commander Linghu Zhan mobilized three hundred troops without authorization and has been arrested by me. Bring him in!”
Immediately the personal guards brought Linghu Zhan into the great hall. Two personal guards drove their knees into the backs of his legs; Linghu Zhan knelt on the hall floor, head bowed. Those summoned before this had guessed that Linghu Zhan would be dealt with today, and every one of them felt a chill. Zhai Shu glanced at Linghu Zhan and found Linghu Zhan staring back at him with fury.
Wang Junke said coldly: “Under the Tang Code, unauthorized mobilization of troops — ten men or more, one year of penal servitude; one hundred men, one and a half years; one hundred more men adds one grade of punishment; one thousand men, death by strangulation. Linghu Zhan, you mobilized three hundred men without authorization. Do you know your crime?”
Linghu Zhan bowed. “Magistrate, the demon wolf had slipped into the Mogao Caves — the situation was truly urgent. There was no time to report it before I mobilized troops.”
Wang Junke gave a cold laugh. “Urgent, you say? By my information, before the demon wolf arrived, you had already positioned soldiers in ambush within the temple. In other words, you had prior knowledge that the demon wolf was going to the Shengjiao Temple. Given the warning, why did you not report it?”
Linghu Zhan was momentarily unable to respond.
“One step back: according to the Tang Code, if troops must be mobilized urgently without time to report, they may be mobilized — but it must be reported with the greatest urgency. Where is your report?”
Wang Junke asked.
Linghu Zhan remained composed. “In reply to the Magistrate, the report from the West Pass Garrison was dispatched the same day of the incident by the Military Affairs Clerk to the Magistrate’s offices.”
Wang Junke turned back to ask the recording adjutant Cao Cheng: “Did you receive his report?”
“It was not received.”
Cao Cheng hesitated briefly and said in a low voice: “However, there is a document transferred from the Dunhuang county offices: the day after the Mogao Caves incident, a body was found in the corner of Xiashui Ward. It was the West Pass Garrison’s Military Affairs Clerk, apparently killed by followers of Kui the Wolf.”
Wang Junke’s eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth and let out a furious roar: “Outrageous! Linghu Zhan — to evade blame, you were brazen enough to kill a clerk? Do you truly think I can be kneaded like clay?”
“Magistrate,”
Linghu Zhan said loudly, “this subordinate would never stoop to such a depraved act. Please investigate the matter fully!”
“Do you think you can deceive Heaven, or merely deceive me?”
Wang Junke glared at him, about to continue, when Wang Junsheng hurried out from behind the screen and whispered a few words in his ear.
Wang Junke gave a cold smile and rose to his feet. “I had quite forgotten you are an aristocratic son!”
Without another word, Wang Junke walked directly out of the main hall. He gave no dismissal, and the assembled commanders did not dare disperse, immediately falling to murmuring among themselves. Only Song Kai gave a cold smile. “With that one stroke, the Magistrate has landed on quite a few people in this hall who are aristocratic clan sons!”
The assembled commanders fell immediately silent. Zhai Shu walked over and helped Linghu Zhan to his feet. “Brother, the Magistrate is gone — stand and rest for a moment.”
“Ptui!”
Linghu Zhan suddenly drove a fist into Zhai Shu’s face, sending him tumbling. Linghu Zhan leaped on top of Zhai Shu and began raining down blows. Song Kai, Ma Hongda, and others immediately ran over to pull the two apart.
“Stop this! This is the Magistrate’s great hall — what kind of behavior is this!”
Recording Adjutant Cao Cheng’s face went white with anger as he shouted.
Linghu Zhan paid no attention to Cao Cheng and glared at Zhai Shu. “Zhai eldest — you coward! If you hadn’t flinched at the critical moment, that demon wolf would have been long since hacked apart and stewed!”
“Brother, it was not that I flinched.”
Zhai Shu seemed to be enduring pain. He opened his robe — his back was covered in dried blood. “Father was furious with me and had me beaten. But for me, I am not only an aristocratic son of Dunhuang; I am also a frontier officer of Great Tang. You went too far!”
“We went too far?”
Linghu Zhan said sharply. “Whose sister was it that was taken by Kui the Wolf? Whose family’s person!”
Zhai Shu’s expression was anguished. “She is my little sister, yes. She is my only full sister, born of the same mother. Naturally I grieve. But brother, my little sister is already dead — dead at Kui the Wolf’s jaws. Even if you grind Kui the Wolf to dust, my little sister will not come back. Is it worth it, risking the court’s anger and the ruin of the family for the sake of revenge? In these three years, you have worn yourself out seeking my little sister. Our Zhai clan is deeply moved. But my little sister has been dead for three years — even the most persistent knot of resentment should by now be allowed to dissolve.”
The assembled commanders listened in silence, not a word spoken, their expressions rather uncomfortable. These were the private affairs of great aristocratic families. If this were not a formal military assembly, everyone would long since have plugged their ears and walked away.
“Is that what you think?”
Linghu Zhan murmured. “Is that what your Zhai family thinks?”
“I cannot speak for my father, but this is what I personally think.”
Zhai Shu looked at him with compassion. “These three years the Zhai clan and the Linghu clan have been as one — advancing and retreating together. But the person is gone, the marriage is no more. To maintain our unity by binding you in the obligation of a betrothal engagement that is already lost is genuinely unjust. Brother — let it go. Zhai Wen is dead. She had not yet been brought into your household, so the bond of husband and wife was never truly formed. The sooner you let go and remarry, the less painfully you will live.”
Linghu Zhan stood rigid on the hall floor, his teeth grinding audibly, blood seeping from the corner of his lip.
Xuanzang led Li Chan to the rear quarters of the Magistrate’s residence. After having a maidservant announce them, Wang Junsheng came out hurriedly to receive them. Xuanzang pressed his hands together. “Master Wang!”
Wang Junsheng said quickly: “Please, no need for that. I am the ninth in my generation — just call me Wang Nine, dharma master. Are you here to see the Magistrate?”
“No, no,”
Xuanzang smiled. “This humble monk’s visit is a little improper — I wish to call on your household’s young lady. I have some questions I would like to ask.”
“Please, dharma master, not at all. Our twelfth young lady is not one for formality, and you are a dharma master — naturally there is no concern. I’ll go to the inner quarters and ask the twelfth young lady to come.”
Wang Junsheng agreed readily, asked Xuanzang and Li Chan to be seated in the reception hall, and went to the inner quarters to fetch Yuzao.
Li Chan fidgeted and waited with eager anticipation. After a while, a chiming of jade ornaments, and Yuzao stepped out from behind the screen. Li Chan’s eyes went immediately straight. The night of their encounter, Yuzao had worn Central Asian men’s attire — narrow lapels, tight sleeves — spirited and dashing; but today, receiving guests formally, she had returned to women’s dress, in a long skirt and narrow sleeves, the round collar of her upper garment exposing a slender, fair neck. The skirt was fitted, with a light sash trailing from the waist, making her figure appear even more slender and tall.
“Yuzao greets the dharma master.”
Yuzao bent her knees in a curtsy, lowering her eyes with the composed bearing of a lady of a great household. Not a trace remained of the ferocious spirit of that night — drawing her blade and loosing arrows by moonlight, the image of a warrior — as if she were an entirely different person.
The reception hall had no rope chairs; it was furnished in the traditional Central Plains manner with floor mats — woven from rushes here in Dunhuang, where bamboo was scarce — with a fine woolen carpet spread in the center. Yuzao sat formally on her knees below Xuanzang’s seat, legs neatly together. Li Chan gazed at her with fascination, and noticed that Yuzao appeared rather worn — her eyes were red.
“Twelfth young lady, did you not sleep well last night?”
Li Chan asked with concern.
Yuzao glared at him coldly. “Whether I slept or not — what business is it of yours?”
Li Chan smiled awkwardly and retreated.
“What brings the dharma master here?”
Yuzao asked flatly.
Xuanzang bowed respectfully, pressing his virtual palms together. “For the twelfth young lady’s assistance that night at the Mogao Caves, no thanks have yet been given — my disciple and I are deeply grateful for your help.”
“No need.”
Yuzao’s expression remained composed. She turned slightly aside. “It was merely coincidence. Even if you had not come, my arrows would still have been loosed.”
Xuanzang smiled slightly. “From what this humble monk heard in your exchange with Kui the Wolf that night, it seems you know Lv Sheng?”
Yuzao’s eyes flashed. She narrowed them and fixed them on Xuanzang, her whole bearing shifting — like a leopard about to spring, choosing its prey. Xuanzang met her gaze with an unruffled expression and a calm smile.
“You know Lv Sheng?”
Yuzao slowly relaxed, with a trace of surprise.
“This humble monk lived in Chang’an for some time. ‘The matchless scholar of Chang’an, the finest talent of the Wude era’ — how could one not know Lv Sheng’s name in Chang’an?”
Xuanzang said. “From what this humble monk heard in the young lady’s words that night, you have seemingly been searching for news of him for years. Yet this humble monk heard in the ward the rumor that Lv Sheng died in the ninth year of Wude — did the young lady not know?”
Yuzao, who had been forcing herself to maintain composure in order to receive her honored guest, could no longer hold it back at this question. Tears streamed down her face and she broke into silent sobs.
Both Xuanzang and Li Chan were stunned, staring at each other.
Li Chan quickly said: “Twelfth young lady, speak calmly. My master has great powers; he even once saved the life of the current Emperor. There is nothing he cannot resolve. Do not cry — speak properly with my master, and he will certainly be able to help you.”
Yuzao was taken aback. “Is that true?”
“Of course!”
Li Chan had thoroughly taken charge for Xuanzang, acting as if his master were not sitting right beside him, making sweeping promises.
Yuzao thought in silence for a moment. “Dharma master, would you like to know some truths about Lv Sheng?”
Xuanzang nodded quietly, his expression carrying a note of sorrow. “An old friend has met with misfortune — naturally this humble monk wishes to understand what happened.”
“Good! I will tell you!”
Yuzao said decisively. “But the dharma master must do me a favor in return.”
“Leave it to me!”
Li Chan said, beating his chest with great magnanimity, completely ignoring the fact that his master was sitting right beside him.
Xuanzang was at a loss for words, but it was not appropriate to stop him.
Yuzao drew a deep breath. “Since returning from the Mogao Caves, my father spoke with me about something. The Prince of Linjiang sent someone to propose marriage — he wants me to wed his son, the heir Li Chan. I flatly refused, and had a great quarrel with my father over it. My father, though usually doting and indulgent toward me in every way, will absolutely not relent on the matter of marriage. Dharma master, I do not wish to marry that so-called heir. I earnestly ask you to persuade my father to decline this match!”
Both master and disciple were completely stunned. Xuanzang looked at Li Chan with sympathy. His improvised disciple had turned a full shade of white.
“Master—”
Li Chan was nearly in tears.
“Go ahead and speak for your master, disciple!”
Xuanzang encouraged him. “Your master has absolutely no objection!”
Li Chan said with a look of utter misery, stammering: “Twelfth… twelfth young lady, this is a wonderful thing! A wonderful thing! That… that heir Li Chan… is young and handsome, his aspirations high and noble, well-versed in the Three Classics, conversant in both Confucianism and Daoism. ‘Stacked stones like jade, lined pines like emerald. The young man’s beauty stands alone, without peer in the world.’ He is… he is a fine match!”
“Nonsense!”
Yuzao said in annoyance. “I asked your master to decline this marriage, and you are talking all kinds of rubbish! Answer me plainly — will you two agree to help me or not?”
“This…”
Li Chan was truly burning with humiliation and embarrassment, helplessly looking to Xuanzang for rescue. Xuanzang acted as if he saw nothing.
Li Chan was also getting desperate now. “My master is a high monk — how could he sever someone’s marriage? Helping others form a union is no different from building a stupa and creating images… this… sigh… why must you refuse this marriage?”
“Because I have fallen in love with someone else.”
Yuzao said.
Li Chan was struck as if by lightning. He went pale immediately and stared at her. Yuzao’s expression was composed, as if she were speaking of something that had nothing to do with herself — or as if she were speaking of something she had said to herself ten thousand times already, a fact as natural as breathing.
Xuanzang gave a quiet sigh. Meeting what one hates, parting from what one loves, failing to obtain what one seeks — the world’s sufferings came down to those eight kinds, yet manifested in endless variation, slowly cutting through all living beings.
“Who… who is it you love?”
Li Chan asked.
“None other than the person the dharma master is looking for: the matchless scholar of Chang’an, the finest talent of the Wude era.”
Wang Junke came to the second reception hall. Linghu Demao and Zhai Chang hurriedly rose to greet him with a bow. “We greet Lord Wang!”
“No need.”
Wang Junke entered the hall with an iron expression and sat down in the host’s seat. “My residence is in the middle of a military assembly. You two have come so urgently to see me — what is it you wish to say?”
“It is precisely about today’s military assembly.”
Linghu Demao said. “Linghu Zhan has offended Lord Wang’s authority. As his father, I am filled with trepidation and have come to seek the General’s forgiveness.”
Wang Junke gave a cold smile. “He has not offended me — he has offended the Tang Code. Why do you not seek forgiveness from the Tang Code?”
“If he has violated the Tang Code, he must naturally seek pardon.”
Zhai Chang said with a slight smile. “But whether it constitutes a violation is for Lord Wang to say. Setting that aside for a moment — my Lord, we two have come today bringing a gift.”
Linghu Demao waved a hand; a servant outside brought in a wooden box.
Wang Junke laughed. “Lords Linghu and Zhai — Linghu Zhan’s crime is the grave offense of unauthorized mobilization. Mobilizing troops without authorization — ten men or more, one year of penal servitude; one hundred men, one and a half years; seven hundred men or more, exile to three thousand li; one thousand men, death by strangulation. He mobilized three hundred troops. Is this something a mere gift can resolve?”
Linghu Demao smiled. “The Tang Code is strict in its majesty — we would never dare to bribe a magistrate with gifts. Besides, this gift was not given by the two of us. Lord Wang, have a look and you will understand.”
Wang Junke considered for a moment, opened the box, and found inside only a letter. Looking at the header, Wang Junke’s expression grew grave.
Your younger brother, the Vice Minister of Rites, Supervisor of National History, and Right Chamberlain of the Crown Prince, Defen, respectfully submits this.
It was a personal letter from Linghu Demao’s own younger brother — Linghu Defen! Wang Junke read it carefully, and his fingers actually trembled slightly.
“Can this… can this really be done?”
Wang Junke’s expression was one of utter disbelief.
It turned out that this past sixth month, the Emperor — recognizing that over the years dynastic changes, wars, and chaos had left the genealogical lineages of the great clans in disarray — had decided to revise the Clan Registry, which had not been updated since Emperor Xiaowen of the Northern Wei. He had summoned the Minister of Rites Gao Shilian, the Vice Minister of the Secretariat Cen Wenben, the Vice Minister of Rites Linghu Defen, and others to discuss the matter together.
Linghu Defen’s letter touched briefly on this matter, then turned to discussing his research into the genealogy of the Wang clan of Taiyuan. The Wang clan had, after the chaos of the Yongjia years, followed the Jin court south and divided into two branches: the Wang clan of Taiyuan and the Wang clan of Langya. Of the two main house branches of the Taiyuan Wang clan, the Jinyang Wang clan and the Qixian Wang clan, both had documented genealogies and recorded biographies in the historical records, with clear lineage and ancestry. But one branch — that of Wang Changyue, the eldest son — had no entry in the clan genealogy.
Linghu Defen continued: Wang Changyue had served as the Magistrate of Shi’ai in the Northern Wei, and he believed this line had possibly branched off — only to be scattered in the River Yin Massacre at the end of the Northern Wei. Linghu Defen asked his elder brother: “The Prefectural Governor Wang Junke, of the Wang clan — though his family has long been poor, they have dwelt for generations in the Bingzhou Shi’ai area. Could he perhaps be a collateral branch of the Taiyuan Wang clan? It might be worth asking Prefectural Governor Wang to compile a genealogy, re-establishing the family line, to clarify the lineage.”
Wang Junke read this and felt his heart racing. This was clearly a hint that he could pass himself off as belonging to the Wang clan’s illustrious lineage!
The Taiyuan Wang clan was among the foremost aristocratic families. Taiyuan, Bingzhou, and Jinyang were different names for the same place at different times; Wang Junke and the Wang clan were actually fellow townsmen. The difference was that Wang Junke knew perfectly well his own ancestors had not the faintest connection to the Taiyuan Wang clan.
After taking up his official position, Wang Junke’s greatest lifelong ambition had been to establish an aristocratic clan lineage for his family. But the divide between the nobility and the commons was as absolute as the Jing and the Wei rivers. Not only did the ancestral genealogy need to be mutually corroborated by the clan register and the historical records, but there also had to be prominent officials serving in court positions of the fifth rank or above for three or more generations before one could stand at the threshold of the gentry. Wang Junke was now of the fourth rank — he had just passed the threshold of the fifth rank required for gentry standing. For him to become a genuine gentry family requiring three generations of continuous distinguished official service was virtually impossible.
Linghu Defen held the power to revise the Clan Registry! If Linghu Defen were willing to assist — if Wang Junke were to pass himself off as belonging to the Taiyuan Wang clan lineage — he could directly enter the ranks of the gentry in his own generation! Even as a collateral branch of the Wang clan, he would still be among the foremost aristocratic families!
At this thought, Wang Junke’s entire being trembled with excitement.
“For Sir Defen to truly be willing to assist Junke…”
Wang Junke gritted his teeth. “…to restore membership in the Wang clan’s illustrious lineage?”
Linghu Defen’s courtesy name was Jixin.
Linghu Demao smiled. “Shi’ai was a minor county of Taiyuan Commandery. Though it has suffered much from warfare since the Northern Wei, and genealogical records have been scattered, if my younger brother searches carefully, there may still be something to find. Perhaps some elderly Wang family members could be found who, from memory, could verbally reconstruct the family genealogy. As long as the Grand Director of the Board of Merit in the prefecture approves, it would be possible to restore membership in the Wang clan.”
Wang Junke understood. This plan was, theoretically, perfectly feasible. The Grand Director of the Board of Merit was an official who, since the Han-Wei period, had been responsible for evaluating the local talent in each prefecture and commandery — ranking scholars and commoners by ability, virtue, and lineage into nine grades and reporting to the court, for the purpose of selecting officials. This was the origin of the Nine-Grade Central Arbitration System.
By the current dynasty, the Grand Director was no longer an official in the formal sense — he was only responsible for evaluating, examining, and certifying the illustrious gentry clans within the prefecture. Linghu Defen was the Vice Minister of Rites, and happened to hold precisely the authority to select and appoint Grand Directors. As long as there were elderly Wang family members who could “recite” a genealogy, and the Grand Director and the various clan records of the Taiyuan Wang clan and the historical sources could all be cross-referenced without contradiction, the application could be submitted to the Ministry of Rites.
“Handling this matter would not be difficult,”
Linghu Demao said. “There are only two complications. First, when Lord Wang finds elderly Wang family members to recite the genealogy, he must engage a Confucian scholar with a thorough command of history and literature to fill in any gaps and correct any errors — after all, the memories of elderly people may have their lapses.”
Wang Junke understood without further words. “Naturally.”
“Second,”
Linghu Demao said, “Lord Wang’s genealogy must be cross-verified with the Taiyuan Wang clan’s genealogy without any contradiction. So he must borrow the Taiyuan Wang clan’s genealogy for reference.”
“That is difficult.”
Wang Junke smiled ruefully. “What family would be willing to let an outsider see their clan genealogy?”
“Coincidentally, my younger brother happens to have a hand-copied transcript of the Taiyuan Wang clan genealogy.”
Linghu Demao smiled.
“Ah, of course, of course.”
Wang Junke suddenly understood. The court was planning to revise the Clan Registry; Linghu Defen was one of the revisers. The genealogies of the five great Shandong clans had probably all been copied and sent to him already.
Now that the matter had been made clear, all three parties dispensed with pretense.
Wang Junke said with feeling: “Truly a weighty gift. I wonder what it is that Lord Linghu needs me to do?”
“As has been mentioned,”
Linghu Demao said with a troubled expression, “my son has offended the Magistrate’s authority…”
Wang Junke looked at him steadily. “I noticed that the letter was dated the third day of the sixth month — why was it shown to me only now?”
Linghu Demao said: “To be frank with Lord Wang: the plan to hunt Kui the Wolf at the Mogao Caves was in the making for half a year. The operation necessarily required military forces to be deployed — but it could not be allowed to involve Lord Wang. And so the only option was for the Linghu family’s young son to mobilize troops without authorization. This move was bound to offend Lord Wang. This letter was prepared as an apology from the Linghu clan.”
Wang Junke narrowed both eyes. He had truly not expected that the Dunhuang gentry clans had the audacity to do something like this — using a clan member’s own family son, mobilizing troops without authorization. This was a capital crime in every dynasty that had ever existed. The Linghu clan, of course, understood the consequences. If they could not placate him, the Magistrate, this would be a case that could blow the sky open. That was why they had been planning from two months prior, having Linghu Defen deliver an irresistible favor.
Wang Junke slowly deliberated. “Kui the Wolf is ferocious and cunning; its followers actually intercepted and killed the Military Affairs Clerk, preventing the West Pass Garrison from making a timely report. The West Pass Garrison Commander shall be pardoned of the unauthorized mobilization charge — punished with twenty lashes of the rod and confined to his residence to reflect.”
“This…”
Zhai Chang was not entirely satisfied. “Lord Wang, why not pardon him entirely?”
Wang Junke said flatly: “To stop the mouths of public opinion — and of the court.”
Linghu Demao thought for a moment. “When can he be reinstated?”
Wang Junke smiled. “Come now, come now — my lords, I have a matter to ask of you. You both know that the day before last, the Prince of Linjiang sent someone to propose marriage, wishing for my daughter Yuzao to be wed to the heir as his consort?”
Both men were briefly taken aback, then together bowed their hands. “Congratulations, Lord Wang!”
Linghu Demao asked: “Lord Wang, could it be you wish the two of us to act as matchmakers?”
“Of course as matchmakers — but not for my daughter and the heir.”
Wang Junke laughed. “My lords also know that I have one son and one daughter. My son Yong’an currently holds a court position through the hereditary privilege system, and next year he will begin the selection process and be assigned an official post by the Ministry of Personnel.”
Both men offered congratulations, though somewhat puzzled.
Wang Yong’an was taking the normal path for sons of officials and nobility: the hereditary privilege system, whereby the children of imperial relatives, ranking nobles, and current court dignitaries of the fifth rank or above could enter official service by virtue of their father’s or grandfather’s position and rank. For sons of civil officials, they entered the National University or Imperial Academy; upon completing their studies and passing the examination, they would be assigned official posts by the Ministry of Personnel. For sons of military officials, they joined the Three Guards, the Thousand Cavalry, or the Escort, serving as guards of the Emperor or Crown Prince; when their term of service was completed, they would be assigned posts by the Ministry of Personnel.
“Yong’an will be twenty-two next year, and once he takes up his official post I wish to settle his marriage.”
Wang Junke smiled. “I have heard that the Dunhuang Zhang clan has a daughter named Tiao Niang — outstanding in appearance, gentle in temperament. I would like to ask you two to serve as matchmakers and go to the Zhang household to propose. What do you both say?”
Linghu Demao and Zhai Chang stared at each other in stunned silence.
“My father grew up poor. I know that. From boyhood he made his living selling horses. I know that today there is much criticism of my father throughout the court and in public opinion — some say he is a man of improper character, who stole from his own village. He made fish baskets with inward-pointing barbs, and when merchants passed by on the road, he would drop the basket over their heads and rob them. When the merchants took off the basket, they would not know who had robbed them.”
“Twelfth young lady, Wang Junke is your father — you do not have to speak of these things.”
Xuanzang said gently.
“No, I want to say it.”
Yuzao drew a deep breath. “I want the dharma master to understand why he is so determined to give me in marriage to the Li clan.”
Regarding Wang Junke, Xuanzang had heard some rumors even before entering Guazhou. It was said that in the chaotic years at the end of the Sui dynasty, when Wang Junke wished to raise troops and turn to banditry, his uncle refused. Wang Junke then falsely accused a neighbor of having an affair with his uncle’s wife, driving his uncle into killing the neighbor together with him, after which Wang Junke fled as a fugitive and assembled a band of outlaws.
Wang Junke was known for his cunning and deceit in warfare. After raising troops he had only a little over a thousand men; when the Hedong Commandery Deputy Ding Rong led forces to suppress him, Wang Junke expressed a willingness to surrender. Ding Rong led his troops up a mountain to receive the surrender, but Wang Junke had laid troops in ambush in the valley and routed Ding Rong in a single strike. He then encountered the renowned general Song Laosheng; in the initial engagement Wang Junke fared poorly and was pinned down on a mountain by Song Laosheng. Wang Junke feigned surrender to Song Laosheng again — speaking to him across a stream with earnest and heartfelt words of repentance. Song Laosheng was quite moved, and the two agreed that the surrender would take place the following morning at dawn. Yet that very night, Wang Junke used Song Laosheng’s unguarded moment to break through the encirclement and escape.
When Li Yuan raised troops against the Sui, he sent men to recruit Wang Junke. Two of Wang Junke’s subordinates, Wei Bao and Deng Bao, were prepared to submit. Wang Junke pretended to agree, but then caught the two off guard, ambushed them, seized their supplies, and went to join the Wagang forces. Later, not receiving much recognition under Li Mi, he and Qin Shubao, Cheng Zhijie, and others surrendered to Wang Shichong. These former Wagang generals were suspected and watched by Wang Shichong; they grew restless. Wang Junke proposed a plan of breathtaking boldness — to defect publicly in the open field, in front of both armies!
That was the origin of the celebrated story of Qin Shubao’s farewell to Wang Shichong on the battlefield between two armies.
“My father once said something to me: in the chaos at the end of the Sui, people devoured each other alive. All those who refused to submit to fate had to struggle with everything they had just to survive.”
Yuzao said slowly. “In the chaos at the end of the Sui, my father’s relatives all perished, his home was destroyed. I still remember — after he was enfeoffed as General of the Left Wuwei Guard and Earl of Pengze County, he returned to his home village to perform the ancestral rites, and he knelt in the ruins of the old village and wept without restraint. He said he had vowed to make the Wang clan an unshakeable aristocratic line for a hundred generations, so that his descendants would never again have to struggle to survive. He searched throughout Shi’ai County for Wang clan members — anyone with the surname Wang, he gathered together and treated as relatives. He even compiled a clan register, arranging them by generational name. My ranking as the twelfth daughter comes from this system; in truth, who the first eleven daughters before me are, I myself do not know. There is also a funny story behind it: when my father raised troops, he had a close sworn friend named Wang Junke — the character jun is different — who rebelled alongside him, went to Wagang together, and came over to Tang together. He has since been enfeoffed as Earl of Xinxing County at the current court. In the first year of Zhenguan, my father wrote to him, saying: you and I share the same surname and generational name, and though our native places are different, we may yet be brothers separated by upheaval. Why not join our Bingzhou Wang clan? Wang Jun’e wrote back, saying his family had been from Handan for five generations, with clear genealogical records going back, and he did not dare change his lineage. But my father could not let the idea go, and remained convinced that there must be a jun-generation within the Wang clan. He entered the jun generation into the genealogy and collected people with the surname Wang bearing this generational character, renaming them and listing them under it as brothers. That Wang Junsheng was a member of the Wang clan in Shi’ai — actually no blood relation to me at all — taken in and given a new name by my father, placed into the jun generation and treated as a brother. He says that in three hundred years, he himself will be the founding ancestor of the Bingzhou Wang clan.”
Yuzao murmured all of this, and could not help laughing at herself a little.
“Twelfth young lady, do not mock your father.”
Xuanzang said gently. “I am a few years older than you; how hard the lives of those of humble birth were in the chaos at the end of the Sui, I myself once experienced. Going back four hundred years, let alone in times of war — even in the most peaceful and prosperous era, the path of those born in poverty was difficult and their ambitions were hard to fulfill. Your father managed to survive and claw his way out; it is only natural that he would want his descendants to live more easily.”
“But he should not be using my marriage as a bargaining piece!”
Yuzao said with agitation. “His alliance with the Prince of Linjiang through marriage — it is nothing more than coveting the Li clan’s imperial lineage! In all his life he has had only one son and one daughter, and he has always doted on and cherished us. Yet now, for the sake of this illusory family prestige, he is throwing me to that useless heir — how much do I truly matter to him?”
Li Chan murmured: “That heir… is not useless…”
Yuzao glared at him. “Compared to Lv Sheng?”
Li Chan was lost for words. Much as he thought of himself, he did not dare claim he could match a scholar who had taken top honors in both examination subjects.
“Twelfth young lady,”
Xuanzang said with compassion, looking at her. “This humble monk understands your grievance and resentment, yet from the perspective of a parent, the Prince of Linjiang’s heir is genuinely a good match.”
Yuzao was silent for a moment, then said with desolation: “But my heart has long since been given to that matchless scholar of Chang’an!”
Xuanzang and Li Chan exchanged a glance. Li Chan shook his head with a rueful smile, feeling rather deflated.
“That was in the spring of the sixth year of Wude, when the Great Tang held the imperial examinations for the first time and the results were announced. The first subject to open was the Scholar examination — the most difficult examination since the previous Sui dynasty. Scholars feared the Scholar examination most, for it tested strategies for governing the realm, requiring the breadth of vision to encompass the world and the spirit of Great Tang magnificence. That year, two hundred and seventeen candidates sat the examinations; only six dared attempt the Scholar examination. In the end, on the empty wall of the Ministry of Rites examination office, in magnificent large characters, only one name was written: Lv Sheng!”
Yuzao wiped her tears, and a smile rose to her face. Through the daylight beyond the window, it seemed she had traveled back to that spring of the sixth year of Wude.
That day, the sun was warm and bright, and the peach blossoms of Chang’an were in bloom.
“That was the first time I saw his name. Several days later the jinshi examination results were posted, and again on the wall of the Ministry of Personnel examination office I saw his name, written in gold characters, at the very top of the list. That day, he too was in the crowd looking at the results. He smiled slightly and shook his head, seeming somewhat regretful. Just then the Emperor sent someone to summon him into the palace. He walked along the imperial avenue of the palace city; the palace walls towered on all sides, yet they could not dwarf his silhouette. In that magnificent, forbidden palace, it seemed as if all of it were no more than a handful of earth on his shoulders. I watched his retreating figure and always felt that even the Chengtian Gate could not stand as high as his shoulders. Afterward I asked him about it, and he said: ‘You are short — hurry up and grow taller!'”
Yuzao’s lips curved in a slight smile, and those curved corners seemed to hold the winding threads of a thousand lifetimes of tender attachment.
Li Chan watched with despair, his throat constricted and unable to speak.
“The first time I spoke with him was at the Qujiang literary gathering in the seventh year of Wude. I was taken there by older brother Chuliang of the Cheng family. He asked me what my name was, and I said Yuzao. He smiled and said: ‘The fish swims amid the water plants, tossing its great head. A girl with full, plump cheeks — what joy it is to drink together!'”
Yuzao smiled as she touched her own cheek. “I was thirteen years old then, and my cheeks were indeed a bit round. Then he raised his wine cup and said: ‘Big-headed fish — let’s drink together!’ From that day I knew — I had acquired a name: a name that belonged only to him.”
Li Chan murmured: “Did you two make a secret pledge?”
“No!”
Yuzao said with annoyance. “What kind of person is Lv Sheng? How could he do such a thing!”
“Praise the Buddha!”
Li Chan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Actually…”
Yuzao said, somewhat embarrassed. “I was still young then and had no idea how to make my feelings known. Lv Sheng — he was so renowned in Chang’an, moving through social gatherings and poetry competitions with ease. How could he ever take notice of a little girl who hadn’t grown up yet? Moreover, we had barely become acquainted when he took his elderly father and transferred to Dunhuang. With the passes and borders far away and Chang’an out of sight, I had thought this life would pass with no reunion possible — yet who could have known that in the first year of Zhenguan, my father was also posted to Dunhuang…”
Yuzao covered her face, sobbing aloud. “But when I arrived, he had already perished in the desert! Truly, there is no day of reunion after all!”
Xuanzang gave a quiet sigh. He stepped outside, scooped half a basin of water with a copper basin, and brought back a silk handkerchief and offered it to Yuzao. Li Chan looked on admiringly, not knowing what to do to help, feeling rather at a loss.
“That night, this humble monk heard what you said to Kui the Wolf — it seemed you believe Lv Sheng is still alive?”
Xuanzang asked.
“That is only the faintest wisp of a wish in my heart.”
Yuzao held the handkerchief over her face and murmured. “All these years I have been piecing together every scrap of news about Lv Sheng. Last spring, while wandering through the East Market on an idle stroll, I passed a bookshop and happened to notice craftsmen preparing woodblock carvings for the Three Discourses. I pressed them to show me the manuscript, and the shop owner produced it. He explained that a customer had brought it and commissioned the woodblock printing.”
Yuzao narrowed her eyes, wearing a dangerous expression. “I immediately had them bring the customer to me and detained him on the spot. He was highly skilled and immensely strong, impervious to arrows. I spent considerable effort subduing him — but was unable to keep him alive. Afterward, by pressing the innkeeper where he had lodged, I learned that this person was one of Kui the Wolf’s Star Generals: Kui Thirteen.”
Xuanzang listened with astonishment — this young woman had hunted and killed a Star General a year before.
Yuzao continued: “After that I began searching everywhere for Kui the Wolf’s followers. I also hunted several ordinary wolf bandits, yet none of them had heard the name Lv Sheng. Kui the Wolf descended to the mortal realm in the ninth year of Wude — and Lv Sheng died in the ninth year of Wude as well. Even though I know the two events may well be unrelated, I can only keep searching like this without stopping — because it makes me feel he still exists somewhere, that I am getting a little closer to him with every step, that his shadow still lingers and drifts through the desert, refusing to scatter. I hope that one day, as years pass like mellow wine slowly intoxicating me, Lv Sheng will turn around in the lone-pillar-of-smoke desert and say: ‘Big-headed fish — you’ve found me!'”
Yuzao wept silently. No one spoke. Around them, perfect stillness. A wind moved through the courtyard — it seemed to catch the sound of armor plates rustling on the guards beneath the eaves.
“Dharma master, please take me with you to find him!”
Yuzao bowed formally. “I believe in love, just as the dharma master believes in friendship.”
Xuanzang nodded. “Though this humble monk cannot promise to help you refuse the marriage, I will spare no danger to find the truth about an old friend! Twelfth young lady, the manuscript of the Three Discourses — is it still with you? May I take a look?”
Yuzao immediately went back to the inner quarters and returned with a silk-wrapped manuscript, which she handed to Xuanzang.
Xuanzang unrolled it, and a familiar hand met his eyes at once. When Lv Sheng wrote drafts, he used the regular script of Zhong Yao — yet built on Zhong Yao’s vigorous, richly textured style with slightly thinner brushstrokes, adding a note of cold and severe elegance. Xuanzang recognized it in an instant.
The manuscript was quite thick. Xuanzang first rolled it up and put it away. “Twelfth young lady, what have you been able to find out about Lv Sheng over these past years?”
“I see that the dharma master has also noticed — in Dunhuang City, Lv Sheng has become a forbidden topic that no one dares speak of carelessly.”
Yuzao fixed her eyes on him intently and said gravely. “Dharma master, do you know that when Lv Sheng first arrived in Dunhuang, he actually made a marriage proposal to the Zhai clan?”
“What?”
Xuanzang’s expression changed.
Even Li Chan was quite startled. From Suo Yi they had heard of the century-long blood feud between the Lv family and the Linghu clan — yet Lv Sheng had made a marriage proposal to the Zhai clan?
“Of course, it was not Lv Sheng himself who made the proposal — his father arranged a matchmaker.”
Yuzao’s expression was also rather uncomfortable. “Only the Zhai clan refused.”
Xuanzang was silent for a long moment before he came back to himself, murmuring: “And who was the proposed match?”
“None other than Zhai Chang’s eldest daughter — Zhai Wen.”
Yuzao said.
Xuanzang’s whole body trembled. He leaped to his feet. “Come — we are going to the Dunhuang County Office!”
Annotation: The combat uniform was the Tang military dress for lower-ranking officers presenting themselves to superiors. It consisted of a red forehead band, trousers, saber held in the left hand, and on the right a quiver holder (the combined bow case and arrow bag), giving the appellation.