Xuanzang knew India intimately. After journeying a great distance, he returned at last to Kanyakubja — only to find the great horns sounding outside the gates, banners and flags fluttering, and the Grand Minister Bana himself come out in person to offer a welcome. Xuanzang asked the people nearby and learned that Yizihou III had actually come to India in person.

This truly astonished Xuanzang. Since ancient times, it was extremely rare for the ruler of one country to go in person to another — especially given the current relationship between Persia and India. Why would Yizihou III come to Kanyakubja himself? Was he not afraid King Harsha would detain him?

Just then, in the distance, dust rose in great clouds and iron hooves thundered. The first thing that met the eye was rank upon rank of Persian royal banners, followed by the five-hundred-man Immortal Guard rolling forward with a mighty roar. This armored, fully plated iron-clad force carried an awe-inspiring power wherever it went. And Yizihou III, escorted by the Immortal Guard, came slowly forward, accompanied on either side by officials of the Harsha Empire.

Xuanzang knew the figures of the Persian court well. Looking carefully, he could not see Damuge or the military commander Firuz; those escorting Yizihou III were two legion commanders, Herun and Niuduoman. By this time Grand Minister Bana had gone forward to meet them, and the two exchanged greetings with formal courtesies. To the sound of drums and music, Bana welcomed Yizihou III into the city.

“Elder Brother — how did those two end up together?” Nashun was quite puzzled.

Xuanzang shook his head. “I would guess that while we were on our way to Tibet, there were further developments in Gandhara. After all, the wager has to be considered a loss for the Persians.”

Wang Xuance had learned all about the events in Gandhara along the way, and smiled. “This kind of strategic maneuvering and rivalry between great powers — the breaking apart and coming together again — is nothing unusual. Yizihou III may have lost this wager, but that may very well be exactly what he wanted.”

Xuanzang was intrigued. “Oh? Was he actually hoping to lose on purpose?”

“Whether he intended to lose is one thing,” Wang Xuance explained, “but losing may suit his purposes perfectly well. The Persians want to enter India and take refuge, and with King Harsha here, military force is essentially out of the question. So they negotiate. But until now, the two sides have been equal great powers. Even though the Persian Empire has been destroyed, Yizihou III still holds the dignity of an emperor — any negotiations would be extremely difficult to conduct. But now that he has lost the wager, if he adopts a more humble posture, it creates precisely the right opening for negotiations.”

Xuanzang understood all at once. “This kind of great-power stratagem — Master is truly not adept at it. Now that you explain it, it resolves a doubt I had in my mind. But can you predict how the two of them will negotiate?”

Wang Xuance was helpless. “How is your disciple to predict that? Master, why not enter the city and ask, and then it will be clear?”

Xuanzang laughed at himself, and once the ceremonial proceedings were over, followed the stream of people entering Kanyakubja.

It was Wang Xuance’s first time in Kanyakubja, and he was quite curious, looking around with interest as they walked. The city of Kanyakubja was surrounded by square walls, built of brick, high and massive, imposing in scale. Inside the city, however, it was nothing like Chang’an with its orderly layout — the streets and lanes curved and wound in all directions, shops and taverns filling both sides of the roads. Yet the buildings were far taller than those in Chang’an; wealthy residences and temples of every faith stood three or four stories high, stories stacked upon stories, rising into mid-air. The eaves and rafters were carved with marvelous patterns, and the doors and walls were covered in colorful paintings.

The royal palace of King Harsha was even more imposing — tower upon tower and pavilion upon pavilion, chambers rising above chambers, their peaks topped with towers. The entire palace was like a fine and intricate work of art.

The three arrived at the palace gate. By this time, Yizihou III had already been welcomed inside. Xuanzang announced himself and requested an audience with King Harsha. Xuanzang’s name was by now renowned throughout India — virtually no one had not heard of him — and the palace guards did not dare be negligent. They immediately reported upward. King Harsha heard that Xuanzang had returned and quickly sent someone to invite him in.

They arrived at a courtyard of the royal hall. King Harsha, accompanied by Bana, came out in person to welcome him. The moment he saw Xuanzang, he broke into a broad smile. “Master — on that day when I asked you to help me recover Gandhara, you rode away alone on a single horse across the river. I was worried about you ever since, and now that Master has returned safely, I am finally at ease.”

“This humble monk is ashamed,” Xuanzang said. “I promised Your Majesty at the time that I would recover Gandhara, and now that I have returned without fulfilling my promise, I am truly in debt to Your Majesty’s trust.”

“Master — there is no need for such modesty. Gandhara has already been recovered — by you!” King Harsha laughed heartily. Seeing that Xuanzang was clearly at a loss, he explained: “As Master knows, the predicament in Gandhara was that no one dared be the first to reach out a hand — for doing so would inevitably attract blows from all three sides. But why did I dare to mobilize my forces to close in? Because Master found me a justification! That is: you won this wager on my behalf! According to the terms of the agreement, the King of Gandhara must bring his entire kingdom to take refuge in the Dharma, and the Persians must withdraw completely. But what is the situation now? The King of Gandhara vacillates and keeps everyone guessing, and Yizihou III lingers and refuses to leave. So I send in my forces to press them, to compel them to honor the terms of the wager — and this is what it means to have a righteous cause! Master is the one who found me that righteous cause!”

“Your Majesty has already sent troops?” Xuanzang was startled.

“Of course,” King Harsha said proudly. “I dispatched fifty thousand troops and stationed them along the Indus River, pressing Yizihou III in the name of the wager.”

Xuanzang was taken aback. “But at the time you told this humble monk that you would wait for the King of Gandhara to convert, then form a secret alliance with him, and only after that march your troops across the river, recover Gandhara without bloodshed.”

Wang Xuance, now finally understanding the full story of why his master had gone to Gandhara, could not help but shake his head and smile ruefully.

As expected, King Harsha laughed heartily. “Master — can I really gamble on whether the King of Gandhara has a sincere heart for the Buddha? Even if he were willing to convert, would that mean he would be willing to ally with me? What I truly asked Master to do was to have the King of Gandhara convert — and thereby arouse the suspicion of the Western Turks — and only then would I march in. With my forces bearing down on him, only then would he be willing to ally with me!”

“So,” Xuanzang said, now understanding everything, his tone flat, “as long as this humble monk went there, it was essentially inevitable that a war would result?”

King Harsha heard the displeasure in Xuanzang’s voice and fell into thoughtful silence without speaking.

Bana smiled. “Master, please do not blame yourself. This war was going to erupt sooner or later — it was only a matter of when it would erupt and which side would have the advantage when it did. Master — you gave our Harsha Empire the advantage. The result is that with the army barely deployed in position, Yizihou III had no choice but to come personally to Kanyakubja to negotiate with His Majesty. This is all to your credit — yours and Suopo Mi’s!”

Xuanzang said no more. He quietly fingered the string of beads in his hand, his expression tinged with a faint sorrow.

King Harsha could see Xuanzang’s mood and said no more, leading Xuanzang into the royal hall. In a garden space within the palace, a canopied pavilion had been set up and was receiving Yizihou III. By now evening had fallen; in the garden, bonfires burned, and on dozens of food-tables, fruits, wine, and food were piled high as mountains. The empire’s great ministers were receiving these Persian guests. Yizihou III saw Xuanzang arrive and showed an expression of joy, coming personally to pay his respects.

“Master — you left without a word of farewell that day, and I had people searching for you everywhere without success. I had not expected we would meet today in Kanyakubja,” Yizihou III said with a smile.

“This humble monk is also surprised that Your Majesty would come to Kanyakubja in person,” Xuanzang said.

Yizihou III’s smile took on a somewhat bitter quality. “I lost the wager, yet leaving Gandhara I have nowhere to go, and so I have come to speak with King Harsha.”

“Does Your Majesty not fear putting yourself in harm’s way?” Xuanzang asked.

“What harm could compare to what a Persian warrior faces on the battlefield?” Yizihou III sighed. “They gave their lives to protect me. How could I not take some small risk for them?”

“Your Majesty is compassionate,” Xuanzang said, genuinely full of respect for Yizihou III. This fallen emperor was, in truth, a mild and benevolent young man.

“There is no need for flattery, Master,” Yizihou III said with a smile. “Before I came, I sent a formal letter of state. King Harsha personally gave his assurance of my safety. If anything were to happen to me, King Harsha’s reputation would be utterly ruined.”

The Indians spread mats on the grass, lit bonfires, and roasted small lambs. After presenting Xuanzang and the others with dairy products, melons, and other vegetarian fare, everyone gathered around the bonfires, eating meat and drinking wine, calling out with great abandon and cheerfulness.

King Harsha, when the wine was going well, rose to dance, and as he danced he sang verses from the Rigveda:

The desires of men are of every kind — the carpenter waits for the cart to break, the doctor hopes for a man to tumble, the Brahmin hopes for a patron to come. O Soma wine, let it flow for Indra!

The blacksmith has wood by the fire, has feathers to fan the flames, has a stone anvil and a blazing furnace, waiting for the patron with gold to come forward. O Soma wine, let it flow for Indra!

I am the poet; father is the doctor; mother is busy turning the millstone. We are all like oxen — laboring for happiness. O Soma wine, let it flow for Indra!

The horse hopes to pull a lighter cart; the merry man laughs and makes noise; the man hopes for the woman to come to his side; the frog longs for the great rain. O Soma wine, let it flow for Indra!

Indians are, for the most part, fond of song and dance, and one after another they joined in. Some of them pulled Wang Xuance and Nashun along too, and everyone circled the bonfires, happily singing this song of the Soma Wine. For a time it was a scene of great and boisterous festivity.

King Harsha danced a measure, then walked over holding his wine cup, smiling. “Why do these two not join in a round?”

Xuanzang smiled. “This humble monk only knows how to recite scriptures — not how to dance.”

“And what of His Majesty Yizihou?” King Harsha laughed. “Surely the Persian Emperor does not only know how to live in pleasure?”

Yizihou III heard the mockery in his words and was not angered, but said mildly: “That was in days long past. The me of today knows only how to die for my country.”

King Harsha narrowed his eyes and stared quietly at Yizihou III. The two rulers of their age stood less than a foot apart, yet it seemed as though wind and thunder clashed and mighty waves surged between them. After a long time, King Harsha slowly nodded. “At this moment, the armies of our two kingdoms face each other across the Indus River, and war could erupt at any instant. Since you dared come to my city of Kanyakubja, I believe you must have brought something that can make me happy. You may as well say it.”

Yizihou III knew the real negotiation had arrived, and became somewhat tense. “Shall we start just like this?”

King Harsha laughed. “Tonight, our conversation — I wonder how many countries and how many kings are anxiously waiting to hear the outcome. Why make them wait any longer?”

Yizihou III burst into hearty laughter. “A moment when the entire continental world waits in anxious suspense — I have not experienced that for a long time. Once upon a time, I sat in the palace of Ctesiphon, and ten thousand kings came to pay court. A single word spoken, and from Khorasan in the east to Constantinople in the north, from Egypt in the west to the great desert in the south — half the world would be swept up in a great wind. What a pity that the wind and rain have carried it all away. But tonight — all eyes must watch me. It is a great relief, a great relief!”

Yizihou III laughed until he was doubled over, then gazed at the blazing lights of the palace, at the shifting wind and clouds, and murmured: “This makes me feel as though I am still in Ctesiphon. As though I can still set the winds and clouds of this continent moving…”

Xuanzang offered comfort: “Your Majesty, the rise and fall of dynasties is not the work of a single morning or evening. You are simply bearing the bitter fruit of what the rulers before you sowed.”

Yizihou III stared at Xuanzang, and something like being moved showed briefly in his eyes, but in the end he sighed: “My own failings — I know them myself. I will bear the guilt for the rest of my life, and I do not dare shift the blame to others.”

He gazed at King Harsha. “Your Majesty wishes to negotiate — then let us negotiate. Four years ago, after my country was destroyed, I fled in every direction, like a dog without a home. In the beginning, the people who followed me numbered as many as a million. They fought to the death against the Arab forces to protect me, dying on the roads and in the ditches one after another, and by now only six hundred thousand remain. We sleep in the open wilderness, with no roof over our heads and no place to lay ourselves down. The old starve, and infants die in their first months. I often think: where am I to bring them? How do I give them back a home in which they can live and thrive in peace?”

Yizihou III slowly shed tears. Moonlight and tree-shadows intertwined in the sky above the palace; a wind arose and light and shadow danced. The Buddhist towers and statues of Bodhisattvas and Vajra guardians on the palace walls seemed to come alive, together bearing witness to the unbearable memories of his past. Xuanzang and King Harsha said nothing, quietly listening.

“Shiladitya Your Majesty, I am truly weary. I am tired of war and tired of killing. Unless there is absolutely no other way, I do not want to go to war with you. I hope you will be so good as to grant this,” Yizihou III said, bowing to King Harsha.

King Harsha considered. “And how do you propose we turn hostility into friendship?”

Yizihou III spoke with great gravity. “If Your Majesty is willing to receive the Persian people and allow us to find a foothold in the Punjab, I will relinquish the imperial title. Persia will relinquish its national name. The Persian people will gladly become vassals of the Harsha Empire, guarding the frontiers of the empire generation after generation, and never betray this oath!”

King Harsha was visibly taken aback. “You are the Emperor of Sassanid Persia…”

Yizihou III smiled bitterly. “Sassanid Persia is already gone! When I first fled Ctesiphon, I always thought of restoring the kingdom and recovering its former glory. But in these years of desperate flight, the Arab forces have grown stronger and stronger. That hope is long since a castle in the air, flowers in a mirror. What I must do now is give the several hundred thousand people who have followed me a homeland to rest in; let the sacred flame of our Sassanid Persia burn without ceasing in the wind and rain. As for me — whether I am an emperor or a vassal king — what does it matter?”

Xuanzang was filled with deep respect. “Your Majesty’s act in this matter is of the highest goodness.”

King Harsha, however, laughed coldly. “I cannot tell yet whether this is goodness or deceptive goodness.”

Xuanzang was startled. “What do you mean by that?”

King Harsha gazed at Yizihou III. “Let me ask you plainly — the Punjab is divided into eight kingdoms, the largest of which has a population of fewer than five hundred thousand. If I let your six hundred thousand Persians into the Punjab, how would I control them?”

Yizihou III was momentarily at a loss, and hastened to explain: “We Persians only want a homeland to settle in. We have absolutely no intention of breaking our oath!”

“Even if you restrain yourselves when you first arrive, bearing all things for the sake of survival,” King Harsha said, “what about after you have stabilized? Could you then contentedly accept the authority of a country weaker than yourselves?”

Yizihou III fell silent. “Your Majesty pushes the point rather too far. What about King Kumara? Your most powerful ally, in command of eastern India with a million subjects — does he dare contest your supremacy?”

“That is because we are the same people, and from ancient times until now we have formed a set of rules for coexisting!” King Harsha smiled coldly. “The great and the small Samantas, layer upon layer, mutually restraining each other. No one dares to unilaterally break these rules. But you are outsiders. Look at Gandhara — six hundred thousand of a foreign people suddenly entered, and how many conflicts with the local people have arisen? As time goes on, the whole Punjab will be thrown into utter chaos. My empire’s western frontiers will be perpetually unsettled, and once you harbor any ill intentions and combine forces with a foreign power, my western frontier will be wide open — repeating the disaster of foreign invasion of old! Yizihou Your Majesty — the moment I let you in, you would effectively be gripping my…” King Harsha pointed at his own groin, “…vital organs!”

Yizihou III had not expected King Harsha to be so resolute, and an expression of despair showed on his face.

“Then what method does Your Majesty see that would avoid war?” Xuanzang asked.

“Why should I avoid war?” King Harsha smiled coldly. “I will not deceive you, Master — what I think about, day and night, is building a great empire whose martial glory echoes through history, and recreating the might of the Maurya dynasty! As long as I can gain Gandhara, defensively I can hold the Indian subcontinent, and offensively I can contend for supremacy in the western world. Therefore I must conquer Gandhara! If the Persians do not withdraw, this war is inevitable!”

“Your Majesty — the moment war begins, rivers of blood will flow and mountains of bones will rise. Can the lives of tens of thousands of common people truly not outweigh the desires within a sovereign’s heart?” Xuanzang’s tone grew severe.

King Harsha laughed heartily. “Master — by taking Gandhara, my people will forever be free from the disaster of foreign invasion. As long as I answer to the people of India, as long as I am not ashamed before heaven and earth, what in this world need I fear?”

“Then this humble monk has one more question to ask. From the day of your accession until now, having campaigned against one kingdom after another — can you truly fear nothing? Can you truly feel no shame before the conscience of heaven and earth?” Xuanzang’s expression also became somewhat impassioned.

King Harsha’s eyes narrowed, and through them flashed a trace of cold severity. “Does Master intend to become my enemy?”

“This humble monk is a person of the Buddhist order. What this humble monk sees is not the difference between one nation and another, but the indistinguishable sameness between one living being and another. To this humble monk, an Indian and a Persian are no different — the blood they shed is the same color, and the sky above their heads is the same shared sky. So I am sorry, Your Majesty — this humble monk’s feet stand in the world of all living beings, and not merely on the soil of India,” Xuanzang said.

“Hmph.” King Harsha smiled coldly. “Master — but you eat and drink what the people of India provide as offerings! The knowledge imparted to you was given by the monasteries of India!”

Xuanzang was silent for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Indeed. And so this humble monk does not wish to fail India’s generosity. I only beg Your Majesty’s compassion.”

For a moment all three of them fell silent, facing each other in the garden of the palace. The moonlight illuminated the resplendent golden halls, and also illuminated the ancient forests and rivers within the courtyard — the rivers like ribbons, the forests like ink — weaving into a pattern of light and shadow that seemed to divide the three of them into different worlds.

In the small alleyways of Kanyakubja, Xuanzang walked with difficulty alongside Wang Xuance and Nashun. Unlike the clean and orderly streets of Chang’an, the lanes of Kanyakubja twisted and curved; the residential buildings along both sides had no surrounding walls and opened their doors directly onto the street. Garbage lay scattered on the roadway, dirty water ran in rivulets, cow dung was everywhere, and from time to time a few cows mooed their way past, blocking the alley entirely.

At the entrance to a dilapidated house, Xuanzang told Nashun to knock on the door.

Nashun knocked and called out: “Is Merta Hoja there?”

Hoja was the word for a eunuch. This Merta had been a eunuch in King Harsha’s royal palace more than twenty years ago; ten or more years back, growing old and enfeebled, he had left the palace to live among the common people. Xuanzang had put in considerable effort to find out that Merta had once served the royal consort Yanluona, and had made his way here accordingly.

A middle-aged man came out. Seeing Xuanzang’s robes and knowing him to be a venerable monk of great virtue, he did not dare be negligent, and bowed. “Venerable One, what errand brings you to seek my father?”

“Merta is your father?” All three of them were taken aback.

The middle-aged man looked somewhat embarrassed. “I am the adopted son my father took in after he left the palace, to care for him in his old age.”

Everyone immediately understood.

Xuanzang said: “This humble monk wishes to inquire about a matter from the palace from more than twenty years ago. Is your father at home?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the man said hurriedly. “Father is old now, bedridden all year. He is lying in his room.”

He respectfully led Xuanzang in, through a long passageway, into a dark and damp bedroom. Merta was lying in bed, aged and frail, his gaze murky. Xuanzang sat down beside him and said gently: “Hoja — do you still remember the royal consort Yanluona?”

“The Royal Consort…” The old eunuch’s gaze slowly sank into recollection. “Of course I remember. Royal Consort Yanluona was the finest of mistresses. I have never again seen a woman as beautiful and as gentle as she.”

“In which year did you serve her?” Xuanzang asked.

“The very year His Majesty Rajyavardhana ascended the throne,” the old eunuch said. “At that time we were still in the city of Thanesar. His Highness Crown Prince Rajyavardhana had brought back a beautiful woman from the great snowcapped mountains and wished to take her as his consort. At that time the late King Prabhakara-vardhana was still on the throne, and strenuously opposed it. We later learned that this woman was actually a courtesan. Yet Rajyavardhana loved her dearly, and the conflict between father and son grew quite fierce. Rajyavardhana was willing to be stripped of his position as Crown Prince in order to marry her. It was only after the late King Prabhakara-vardhana died and Rajyavardhana came to the throne that he brought her in and made her his queen. And it was in that same year that I was assigned to serve the queen.”

“What happened after that?” Xuanzang asked.

“In truth, I did not serve her for very long — altogether only about a year,” the old eunuch sighed. “The two of them were deeply devoted — I have never seen a king and queen so filled with love for each other. Sadly, only a year later, Rajyavardhana went on a far campaign against Malwa and was treacherously killed by King Shashanka. After that, Emperor Shiladitya came to the throne and transferred me away to serve him. And Royal Consort Yanluona shut herself away deep in the inner palace, seeing no one from the outside world. After that I never saw her again.”

Xuanzang frowned. “Old Hoja, even if you were transferred away, surely you would have known when Royal Consort Yanluona died? Exactly how did she die?”

“She died when a palace wall collapsed and fell on her. At the time, the Royal Consort was walking along the base of the wall. Who could have foreseen that the wall was old and poorly maintained and had been soaked by the heavy rain — it collapsed, and buried her beneath it. By the time she was rescued, she was already dead,” the old eunuch recalled carefully, sighing deeply. “Such a good person — how could she have gone unprotected?”

“A wall collapsed?” Xuanzang shook his head slowly. “That is not right. That is not how she should have died. Think again — was there anything unusual at the time?”

“Unusual?” The time was long past, and he had not witnessed it himself. The old eunuch thought hard, and suddenly his murky eyes brightened. “I remember something!”

At that very moment, a confusion of footsteps rang out from all around. The three of them were startled — and then, from every direction, the windows shattered, and seven or eight figures came crashing into the room. These mysterious figures were clearly well-trained; their faces were covered with masks, they wielded recurve knives, and they launched themselves forward like lightning.

Nashun and Wang Xuance reached out and drew their scimitars, blocking Xuanzang behind them.

“Who are you people?” Nashun roared.

The mysterious figures said not a word, and raised their blades in attack. In the confined space of the room, countless figures flashed and crossed like lightning; the ring of steel on steel sounded without pause, and in an instant the two sides had exchanged dozens of blows. Xuanzang watched with growing alarm — every one of these people was a highly skilled fighter. The recurve knives wove back and forth freely, forcing Nashun and Wang Xuance back step by step. Before long, both had taken cuts, and blood flew. Yet Nashun’s scimitar had also landed hits on two of the attackers — and amid the clashing of metal, sparks flashed from those two figures’ bodies as their clothing was sliced open, revealing beneath it the scales of a fish-scale armor!

“I’ll protect Master — retreat quickly!” Wang Xuance shouted. He kicked the table up, hurling it at the group of assailants. As everyone raised their blades to deflect it, Wang Xuance wrapped one arm around Xuanzang and, with a tremendous crash, burst through the window behind them, and the two of them rolled out into the courtyard.

Strangely, the moment Xuanzang was out of the room, the group of mysterious figures also withdrew and vanished in an instant into the depths of the lanes. The sound of hoofbeats receded urgently into the distance, leaving only Nashun standing inside the room, dumbfounded.

Xuanzang suddenly understood. “They were not here to kill me!”

Xuanzang hurried back into the room. As he had feared — the old eunuch’s throat had been cut, and he was already dead. Even his son had been cut in the throat and killed.

Wang Xuance froze. “Their target was actually the old eunuch?”

Xuanzang’s face was grim. He closed the old eunuch’s eyes and quietly recited scripture.

“Elder Brother,” Nashun said, unable to understand — yet still shaken by the attackers’ ability. “These people were so formidable — why would they kill a feeble old eunuch who couldn’t even overpower a chicken?”

“Because this old eunuch was about to expose a secret from the palace twenty-four years ago!” Xuanzang said evenly. “Wujing — you are the Chieftain of the Bureau of Investigation, and skilled at this sort of examination. Quickly look and see whether any clues can be found.”

Wang Xuance smiled ruefully. “Master, I fear the situation has become complicated.”

“Why?” Xuanzang asked.

“Just now these people used recurve knives,” Wang Xuance said quietly. “Recurve knives are a weapon unique to India, used in the greatest numbers by the military. These people are well-trained, their coordination seamless — clearly veteran soldiers long accustomed to battle.”

“The Indian military?” Xuanzang’s expression changed. “Are you sure of your judgment?”

Wang Xuance nodded, then held out a palm — in it was a small metal fragment. “This is something your disciple found in the room.”

Xuanzang took it and examined it closely: the fragment was fashioned from fine iron, with two small round holes in it. “What is this?”

“This is a piece of armor!” Wang Xuance said gravely. “It was struck from the armor by Nashun’s scimitar. This type of fish-scale armor is the typical style of an Indian breastplate. Master — recurve knives, fish-scale armor — these people are without question Indian soldiers.”

Xuanzang’s expression was deeply troubled. He said slowly: “In India, very few soldiers wear armor, and especially the type made of the finest iron such as this — it is likely to be found only among the Kshatriya palace guards!”

The three of them fell silent. After a long while, Nashun said: “Elder Brother, this matter is becoming more and more dangerous.”

“It is,” Wang Xuance agreed. “Master — for the other side to dare deploy the Kshatriya palace guard to kill a person, it means two things: first, they are concealing a matter of great importance; and second, it is most likely also a warning directed at us. If we press the investigation any further and provoke their anger, we will truly be in extreme danger.”

“What do you mean?” Nashun glared at him furiously. “I said it was dangerous — not that I wasn’t going to investigate! If you are afraid of dying, go hide yourself somewhere, and I’ll investigate on my own!”

“Do not quarrel.” Xuanzang cut the two of them off. “This humble monk will absolutely see this matter through to its end. Nashun — go to the market and buy a copy of the Biography of King Harsha.”

“The Biography of King Harsha?” Nashun was puzzled. “What is that?”

“Twenty years ago, the court poet Bana wrote a biography praising King Harsha, which is what is called the Biography of King Harsha. King Harsha had it issued and distributed throughout the land — you should be able to buy a copy. And there is another thing,” Xuanzang said. “Ten years ago, King Harsha had six bronze plaques cast with inscriptions to commemorate his elder brother Rajyavardhana. Go buy a set of those as well. These commemorative plaques may be difficult to find — inquire carefully.”

Nashun was quite confident. “Elder Brother, have you forgotten what we Sogdians do for a living? As long as it exists somewhere in this world, I can certainly find it and buy it. Ah — and Elder Brother, what will you be doing?”

“I will go to the palace and find King Harsha to see if I can look into the movement records of the Kshatriya palace guard,” Xuanzang said.

Wang Xuance was alarmed. “Master — going directly to King Harsha — is that not alerting the snake by striking the grass?”

Xuanzang’s expression was grave as he nodded. “By now we are already in the open. Whatever we want to do, the enemy knows perfectly well. Since that is the case, is it not better to startle the snake into the open?”

“But,” Wang Xuance hesitated, “that is truly too dangerous.”

Xuanzang sighed. “Seeking the Dharma, seeking the truth — both require risking one’s life and pressing forward. Let us go!”

Xuanzang and Wang Xuance went to the palace. The moment he brought up what had happened that day, King Harsha flew into a fury and ordered a thorough investigation. Grand Minister Bana brought out the thick records of palace guard movements, but found no record of any Kshatriya palace guard leaving the palace freely that day. Xuanzang, however, would not give up, and told King Harsha he could identify one of the palace guards. King Harsha ordered all Kshatriya warriors to assemble in the palace, for Xuanzang to identify them.

Three thousand Kshatriya palace guards stood rigidly before Xuanzang. Accompanied by Bana, Xuanzang walked past each one of them in turn. The equipment of these soldiers was indeed identical to that of the assassins who had killed the old eunuch — fish-scale armor and recurve knives. At this moment they wore no outer robes, and the fish-scale armor gleamed brilliantly.

Xuanzang walked past all three thousand men, and half an hour later had still not finished. At this point Wang Xuance came running over urgently and said something softly to Xuanzang. Xuanzang nodded, and told Bana: “This humble monk has arrived at a conclusion and need not look further.”

Bana was taken aback. “Master — did you find the assassins?”

Xuanzang nodded, then shook his head, thoroughly confusing Bana.

After taking his leave of King Harsha, Xuanzang left the palace appearing somewhat mysterious, which left King Harsha and Bana both thoroughly at a loss — even Wang Xuance was somewhat puzzled. Xuanzang offered no explanation, and led Wang Xuance to meet up with Nashun.

Nashun had indeed obtained the Biography of King Harsha and the six commemorative plaques. Xuanzang found a quiet spot in the city, sat down on a stone, and pored over them — for a full several hours without lifting his head. As the daylight began to slant toward the west, Wang Xuance suddenly sensed something amiss in the surroundings. He looked carefully — and saw that the normally bustling street had gone utterly quiet and still.

“Trouble, Master — we must go!” Without another word, Wang Xuance grabbed Xuanzang and started moving. In the moment Xuanzang was caught off-guard, from all around came the humming of a great number of arrows released simultaneously, dozens of them shooting in. Nashun let out a roar, and this seventeen-year-old youth actually lifted a large handcart that stood by the roadside, holding it in front of all three of them like a shield. The arrows struck the boards of the cart and penetrated three or four inches deep — evidence of the extraordinary power of the bows.

“Go!” Nashun shouted. The three of them pressed flat against the walls. Nashun held the handcart up to deflect the arrows; when they reached a doorway, Wang Xuance kicked the door in with one blow, and the three ducked inside. They ran through the deep, winding alleyways of Kanyakubja in a desperate flight. The group of archers came sprinting after them. This time the assassins wore no armor and carried no standard weapons — only bows and arrows, with which they shot in rapid succession as they ran. Each of them sprinted and leapt through the narrow alleyways with complete freedom of movement, bending their bows and releasing arrows while running and jumping in a fluid, seamless motion.

Nashun and Wang Xuance shielded Xuanzang, at times breaking into a flat-out run, at times lying in ambush — and when the assassins came past, they would burst out suddenly to cut one or two of them down. The group fought and retreated, but the assassins surrounding them grew more and more numerous, with some jumping to the rooftops in pursuit.

“Go — to the Grand Minister’s residence! Only there is it safe!” Xuanzang shouted.

The three changed direction and ran at full speed toward Bana’s residence. Once they reached the neighborhood where senior officials and wealthy households lived, the group of assassins seemed to grow considerably more cautious — at the very least they dared not shoot their arrows freely, for fear of hitting passersby. The three ran for their lives, and once they reached Bana’s residence, they burst in without regard for the warriors blocking the gate and fell headlong inside. Xuanzang scrambled up from the ground and turned to look — only to see the group of assassins arrive at the gate but dare not come a step further. One of the assassins drew his bow and was about to shoot, but another assassin slapped him hard on the arm; the group hesitated for a moment, then dispersed without a sound.

By this time Grand Minister Bana was inside the residence and came hurrying out. The moment he saw Xuanzang, he froze. “Master — what on earth has happened?”

“Ha,” Xuanzang said with a rueful smile. “We were just set upon by assassins and had to take refuge in your residence. Please do not take offense.”

“Who would dare set upon Master?” Bana was furious. “This old man will immediately order the entire city searched.”

“That would be of no use.” Xuanzang shook his head.

“Why would it be of no use?” Bana was surprised.

Xuanzang looked at him with a smile. Bana was somewhat uneasy. Seeing that Xuanzang said nothing, he had no choice but to first invite them inside. The four of them sat down on couches, and Bana ordered servants to bring fig juice. Nashun and Wang Xuance had been through a fierce battle and were both tired and hungry; they picked up the cups and were just about to drink when Xuanzang stopped them: “Hold a moment — first test it with a silver needle.”

Both of them gave a startled jump. Wang Xuance was shaken. “Master—”

“Master — what is the meaning of this?” Bana was displeased.

Xuanzang thought for a moment, and gave Bana an apologetic smile. “Forgive me — this humble monk was mistaken. Go ahead and drink then.” Just as Bana’s face relaxed slightly, Xuanzang added: “After all, so many people have seen us come to the Grand Minister’s residence — they won’t have us die here.”

Bana flew into a fury. “Master — are you accusing me?”

Nashun and Wang Xuance instantly had their hands on their sabers, while Bana’s attendants also surged into the room. Both sides were on the edge of open confrontation.

Xuanzang sat without moving, took a quiet sip of his fig juice, and said slowly: “Grand Minister Bana — although you have the authority to move the Kshatriya palace guard freely, at first I did not actually suspect you. Do you know when you revealed yourself?”

“What flaw did I reveal?” Bana said coolly.

Xuanzang held up the iron fragment from the armor. “You should be familiar with this type of armor fragment — it is unique to the Kshatriya palace guard, and it was struck from one of their armors by this disciple of mine with his scimitar during the killing of old Hoja. But when I inspected all three thousand Kshatriya warriors in the palace, not one of them had a damaged armor.”

“But you never finished looking!” Bana was growing heated.

Xuanzang nodded. “This humble monk certainly did not finish — because there was no longer any need. When I had you summon all the Kshatriya warriors, I had already ordered my disciple Wujing to go to the Repair Workshop. As you know, the palace’s Repair Workshop is specifically for mending weapons. I had Wujing go there to ask about one thing only — whether anyone had brought in damaged armor for repair that day.”

Bana’s face turned ashen. “So that was where your real purpose lay.”

“Precisely,” Xuanzang said, looking at him with compassion. “The assassin’s armor was damaged, and he would certainly know it. When I had you summon the Kshatriya warriors, he would surely realize I wanted to inspect this damaged armor. And so without time to think, he rushed it off to the Repair Workshop for mending. The reason for requesting the urgent order from King Harsha was precisely to leave them no space to think. Wujing — did you get the name?”

Wang Xuance handed Bana a palm-leaf slip with two names written on it.

Bana did not look at the slip. “And how did you determine that I was the one behind it?”

“You control the palace guards in the palace. Anyone who wanted to falsify the movement records — who would dare do so, with you able to examine them? And yet the records had been falsified!” Xuanzang said. “But even then I was not certain. It was only when we were set upon again just now that I decided to take a gamble and flee to your residence. If these assassins had been sent by someone else, seeing this humble monk flee to the Grand Minister’s residence, they would certainly have feared I would inform the Grand Minister of them — and most likely they would have risked everything to charge in and kill me. But what happened? Those assassins did not dare shoot a single arrow through the gate. What does that tell us?”

Bana sat stupefied, slumping back onto his couch.

Xuanzang looked at him apologetically and said quietly: “Truly I am sorry. This humble monk only wanted to find Lianhuaye and had no wish to probe the rights and wrongs of twenty years ago.”

Bana sighed bitterly. “Unfortunately — to find Lianhuaye is to make the rights and wrongs of twenty years ago impossible to keep concealed any longer.”

“You know where Lianhuaye is!” Nashun rushed forward. The attending guards instantly brought the tips of their sabers to his chest, but Nashun would not retreat. He roared: “Where is she?”

Bana, his heart now cold and desolate, waved his hand. “Go — bring Lianhuaye here.”