Gold ingots, heavy and brilliantly yellow gold ingots – the young Tuyuhun prince reached into his clothes and casually pulled out a handful, trying to press them into Li Yuanxu’s hands.
Among the two secret meetings with Sang Sai, this was the scene that left the deepest impression on Li Yuanxu.
The translators like Fen Dui explained to him that the Hu merchants’ camel caravans traveling between the Central Plains and the countries west of the Onion Range, transporting goods like silk, traditionally had two routes, north and south. The northern route went from Dunhuang and Yangguan to Gaochang, passing through the desert and small Western Region city-states, yielding more profitable trade along the way. But in recent decades, the Turks’ constant warfare in the Western Regions had led to rampant banditry on the northern route, causing many caravans to hesitate to use it.
The southern route was the Qinghai Road through the Tuyuhun grasslands, from Yizhou and Songzhou to Fushi City, crossing westward through the desert to reach Khotan and eventually the Onion Range. Though it had a sparse population and was desolate and treacherous with less profit potential, it was much more peaceful.
Whenever there was unrest in the Western Regions, Hu merchant caravans were forced to take the southern Qinghai Road instead, making Fushi City, an essential stop, bustling and prosperous. The great Hu merchants gave lavish “tributes” to the Tuyuhun royal family, and with river beaches and caves around Lake Qinghai rich in placer gold and nuggets, which Hu craftsmen skillfully refined and distributed, the Tuyuhun nobles accumulated vast stores of gold. Sang Sai, on his mission to disrupt the Chang’an court, had also brought numerous gold ingots and cakes to bribe Tang officials.
“Did Kang Sabao also take your gold to work for you?” Li Yuanxu asked Sang Sai during their discussion. The latter shook his head, telling him that Kang Sumi sought much more than that.
The merchant Hu had also built Zoroastrian temples in Fushi City, and the presiding Sabao was Kang Sumi’s brother, who had always maintained close relations with the Tuyuhun royal family. It was through his introduction that Sang Sai came to Chang’an to seek out Kang Sumi. This merchant Hu had once completely controlled the policies of the Turk Great Khagan Jieli for several years, and now they wanted to repeat their old trick, making both Tang and Tuyuhun people serve their trading profits…
Li Yuanxu’s back chilled slightly, and his foot pressed too hard, causing a stone to break loose from the cliff face, tumbling down with roots and soil, rattling as it fell into the boundless darkness.
A strong hand reached over, gripping Li Yuanxu’s rope-holding arm, both steadying his body hanging on the cliff and warning him not to move or make noise.
This was the tall Hu man who called himself “Chibibi Luo,” Sang Sai’s most capable subordinate. After midnight, Li Yuanxu and Yang Xinzhi had secretly left their residence to meet these horse-delivering Hu men at the rear mountain valley of the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard and began climbing the cliff together. Chibibi Luo had stayed close to Li Yuanxu’s side, his intent to monitor clearly understood without words.
Da’an Palace was built on hills in the northwest of the forbidden garden, with limited space within its defensive stockades. The main palace complexes were arranged according to the mountain terrain, actually not very far from each other. The Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard in the valley was mainly separated from the inner palace of Da’an Hall, where the Emperor Emeritus and his consorts lived, by this tall and steep Cuiyun Peak. Climbing up the southern cliff of the peak, breaking through the watchtower at the top, then down a gentle slope northward would lead to the Emperor Emeritus’s bedroom in Da’an Hall.
When Sang Sai revealed this route of action during their meeting, Li Yuanxu was greatly shocked. Whoever devised this plan must be extremely familiar with Da’an Palace’s terrain and defensive arrangements.
Before the Zhenguan era, Da’an Palace had served as the Prince of Qin’s residence for four years, carefully renovated and strictly arranged by military strategists in service to the Prince of Qin. At that time, circumstances prevented the Prince of Qin – the current Emperor – from maintaining many warriors within the palace. The entire defensive concept was “controlling the whole through key points, emphasizing outer over inner defenses,” with limited guards mostly deployed on the outer perimeter’s high and low, mutually supporting stockades and abatis. The major areas within the palace were mostly separated by natural peaks, valleys, and streams, with watchtowers built on high points for surveillance and signaling – the Prince of Qin Li Shimin of that time never considered scenarios like “what if the eighteen scholars in the outer court have illicit relations with my concubines in the inner court.”
After the Xuanwu Gate incident, the Prince of Qin’s residence was converted to Da’an Palace, prepared as the Emperor Emeritus’s residence. The imperial guard still couldn’t be increased much, and the defensive system was inherited. The original outer court became the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard where the Emperor Emeritus’s sons lived. The chief secretaries, commanders, and storehouse guards were officials who needed to be separated from the inner palace full of consorts, concubines, maids, and eunuchs. The method of separation was reinforcing and heightening the Cuiyun Peak watchtower, increasing the guard detail from three to six men.
Even these six guards’ main duty wasn’t watching for people climbing up from the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard below – from their position in the watchtower, unless they leaned out over the railings to look straight down, they couldn’t see the cliff face below them at all – but rather to watch for disturbances in the southern part of Da’an Palace and the forbidden garden, and as the command center closest to Da’an Hall, to issue messages to surrounding watchtowers and outposts through flags or smoke signals.
Therefore, this route of “climbing the cliff from the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard up Cuiyun Peak” planned by Sang Sai and his men was indeed cutting through the weakest point in Da’an Hall’s defenses, almost like the blind spot right under the lamp. Of course, they still had to overcome three major difficulties:
First, how to break through Da’an Palace’s outer layers of defense and bring a group of assassins into the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard without alerting anyone – on this point, Li Yuanxu took undoubted pride in his contribution;
Second, they had to quietly climb the Cuiyun Peak cliff in the moonless night – if they climbed during the day, while the watchtower above might not see them, any of the people coming and going in the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard below might notice the moving dots on the cliff face with a casual glance upward;
Third, after climbing the cliff, they still had to deal with the guards in the watchtower and the imperial guards and servants outside Da’an Hall. These people were usually few, but after the recent chaos with the palace servant Xiena, Da’an Palace’s security had been strengthened and should be able to quickly overwhelm the limited number of infiltrating assassins.
These were just the difficulties before reaching Da’an Hall. As for how this group would escape after succeeding or failing, Sang Sai only said he had a way but wouldn’t explain it to Li Yuanxu beforehand. Li Yuanxu didn’t press hard for answers either – he had his plans, which were certainly different from Sang Sai’s.
The two young princes each harboring their schemes met in the Seventeenth Prince’s courtyard in the late night, and the group stealthily made their way to the chosen climbing point by the cliff. At the base of the cliff, Li Yuanxu was surprised to find two thick ropes already hanging down the cliff face from the darkness above, held by two of Sang Sai’s men, as if someone had climbed up earlier to set them in place.
Everyone wore tight black clothes, head wraps, and black neckerchiefs, ready to cover their faces after climbing the cliff. Li Yuanxu was similarly dressed and had also worn two layers of thick half-sleeves under his outer robe, hoping to make his shoulders and chest appear more robust to avoid being easily recognized by his monkey-like thin frame.
As for Yang Xinzhi who had followed him to the cliff base, Li Yuanxu had never planned to have this meat tower of an attendant climb up – his body was too heavy to possibly scale rocks. Even if he made it up, his build would immediately give away the truth at Da’an Hall, bringing death to both him and his master Li Yuanxu. Yang Xinzhi was assigned other duties, though he was very reluctant to let Li Yuanxu go alone with Sang Sai’s dozen or so men.
Two or three men led the way, followed by Sang Sai, then Li Yuanxu and Chibibi Luo, with the others behind them. The dozen or so men slowly climbed up along the two thick ropes in sequence.
The night was deep and dark, all sounds hushed, with only occasional torch flashes from night patrols on distant corner towers and stockades, leaving everything else in endless darkness.
After climbing just a few zhang high, Li Yuanxu confirmed that night climbing would be impossible without the ropes to hold – though this cliff wasn’t smoothly cut like with knife and axe, with grass clumps and shrubs growing between the uneven rocks providing footholds, the problem was that human eyes couldn’t see clearly. The light was too poor; no matter how wide he opened his eyes, he could barely make out the grass, rocks, and soil a few feet in front of his face, with nothing but an endless abyss above and below.
He could only grip the ropes tightly with both hands, moving them up alternately, while his feet carefully probed the cliff face for stable footing. Three or four times his foot slipped, leaving his whole body swinging by his arms on the rope, but fortunately “Chibibi Luo” on the rope beside him would always reach over to grab him, helping him stabilize and regain his footing before continuing to climb.
Who knew how long they swayed between life and death like this – when he finally sensed changes in the wind sound and light above his head and felt the rope’s angle becoming gradually more slanted, it seemed like several lifetimes had passed. With one final push of his legs, his head and face suddenly emerged into space, the night wind sharp and sweet against his face.
He climbed onto the cliff top using both hands and feet and ignoring everything else, first knelt on the ground for a while, only then realizing his undergarments and two layers of half-sleeves were completely soaked, sweat seeping through to his outer robe. The Hu men following also climbed up one after another, their heavy breathing rising and falling, but no one spoke.
Li Yuanxu raised his head to see the solid foundation of the Cuiyun Peak watchtower right before him. The starlight and moonlight were unobstructed at the peak top, and with slightly better visibility, he could see that the two thick ropes he had climbed up meandered across the ground, ending… tied to two support pillars at the watchtower’s foundation.
“You don’t need to worry about climbing the cliff, someone up here will help!” Sang Sai’s impatient voice sounded in his ear. This was the assistance he had mentioned – indeed capable, having tied these two thick ropes right under the watchtower guards’ noses, throwing them down the cliff for them to climb up.
Right under their noses… Li Yuanxu’s thoughts stirred as he struggled to his feet and covered his face, following Sang Sai and Chibibi Luo’s group up onto the watchtower’s foundation and through the door.
The watchtower had three levels, with the top level being an observation platform with a canopy and railings, while the lower two levels had no windows. The first floor had neatly arranged bows, crossbows, arrows, and other weapons, with a fire basin flickering beside the dining table, but was eerily empty. Chibibi Luo whistled softly through his lips, receiving an identical response from above. The Human first drew his waist knife and held it ready, using his other hand to grab the wooden ladder under the watchtower’s central hollow frame, leading the way upstairs.
Li Yuanxu also drew his blade and followed. As soon as his nose cleared the second floor, he smelled the heavy scent of blood. By the weak firelight from below, he saw several imperial guards lying scattered on the second floor’s sleeping positions, appearing peaceful as if asleep, yet bleeding.
A black-clothed figure stood up from the corner, speaking quietly with Chibibi Luo – presumably Sang Sai’s inside contact who had killed these guards and lowered the ropes. Though his face was also covered by a black cloth showing only his eyes, Li Yuanxu felt this person was extremely familiar.
The hollow floor’s wooden ladder shook as Sang Sai also climbed up, similarly holding a short knife, and walked directly to the black-clothed insider, speaking in the barbarian tongue. Chibibi Luo translated: “The prince asks if you killed all the guards here. How did you do it?”
Li Yuanxu silently counted four corpses on the second floor, with two more presumably on guard at the third-floor observation platform. He heard the black-clothed insider chuckle softly: “This humble one put sleeping medicine in their food. Not long after eating, they all slept like the dead. Then it was just a matter of quick knife work, one stab each!”
Li Yuanxu recognized the voice – that oily, glib rogue’s tone belonged to Yin Tuo, nicknamed A’ta, Consort Yin De’s brother and Deputy Palace Supervisor of Da’an Palace.
Judging by his nimble movements, he must have escaped completely unscathed from the recent battle with the palace servant Xiena.
The dozen or so Hu assassins who had climbed the cliff had all entered the watchtower, most remaining quietly waiting on the first floor. Sang Sai sent one man up to the third-floor observation platform to monitor the overall situation, while he and Chibibi Luo spoke quietly with Yin A’ta, first asking about the current defensive arrangements around Da’an Hall.
Besides Li Yuanxu, two other masked Hu men in black had come up to the second floor. Yin A’ta glanced at the three of them but didn’t recognize Li Yuanxu, focusing on gesturing to Sang Sai and his companion: “Past a grove of trees downhill, there’s another palace wall with guards patrolling outside, but they’re easy to avoid… Over the wall is Da’an Hall, no guards inside but eunuchs and palace maids keeping watch in the corridors… Avoid who you can, quick knife for those you can’t…”
When Li Yuanxu first recognized him, he was somewhat surprised but quickly understood. This Yin A’ta truly lived up to his reputation as a street-smart man.
His only support in the palace was Consort Yin De, and her support – Emperor Emeritus Li Yuan – was already in his last days, and could pass at any moment. Once the Emperor Emeritus died, Consort Yin De, who had acted outrageously for years earning universal hatred, would instantly lose power, and this Yin A’ta would certainly meet a bad end. What better option did he have than taking this chance to cooperate with Sang Sai, make a fortune, and perhaps even flee Chang’an and Tang territory to seek refuge with the Tuyuhun?
However, Sang Sai’s group had found Yin A’ta, and both sides had immediately hit it off. As the current supervisor of Da’an Palace’s internal and external affairs, things like adding something to the watchtower guards’ food were trivial matters for Yin. And regarding the staffing arrangements inside Da’an Hall’s walls, there was likely no one more knowledgeable than him.
With Yin A’ta leading the way and the others following, they silently left the watchtower, passed through the hillside grove, and reached the palace wall. This was a decorative latticed wall more for show than defense, and not very high. The Hu assassins hid behind trees, waited for the night patrol to pass, then ran to the wall, made several human ladders, and quickly all climbed over and dropped down.
Inside the palace wall, flowers and trees grew abundantly, with the multi-eaved roof outline of Da’an Hall dimly visible against the night sky. The high pavilion west of the main hall was the Emperor Emeritus’s bedroom palace. Li Yuanxu hadn’t been allowed in this courtyard for several months and unexpectedly felt his eyes moistening at the sight.
But now was certainly no time for self-pity. The line of black-clad figures followed close behind Yin A’ta, winding between rocks and flowers, soon silently cutting the throats of two corridor night-watch eunuchs, getting closer and closer to the western pavilion, making Li Yuanxu increasingly tense.
This complex of palace buildings was built on a gentle slope, and due to the terrain constraints, the layout wasn’t particularly orderly, with various buildings connected by corridors. The Emperor Emeritus and Consort Yin De’s bedroom palace had corridors both front and back, with many servants and eunuchs keeping watch and patrolling with lanterns – it would be impossible to assassinate them silently without alerting anyone like before.
Yin A’ta led Sang Sai’s group to a false mountain rock very close to the western pavilion’s corridor, gesturing for everyone to stay low, while he whispered to Sang Sai:
“Prince, this is as far as we can go – any further will alert people. Do as you will, as agreed, I’m withdrawing first.”
The masked Sang Sai turned to look at the still quite distant western pavilion, asking, “Really can’t get any closer?”
“Really can’t. The Emperor Emeritus sleeps in that building, just charge in.” Yin A’ta’s face oozed as he held out his palm. “What was agreed… hehe… the second installment…”
Sang Sai rolled his eyes, shook his head, and reached into his clothes. Li Yuanxu knew this gesture well – it was the motion for taking out gold ingots.
But before Sang Sai’s hand emerged, Chibibi Luo’s bowl-sized fist struck the back of Yin A’ta’s head, a downward strike that drove his face into the soil behind the rock, incidentally muffling his scream.
He hadn’t used too much force – Li Yuanxu estimated this blow wouldn’t be fatal, just knocking Yin A’ta unconscious. This certainly wasn’t out of mercy; perhaps in their plans, they would still need this valuable inside contact later.
Sang Sai took a deep breath looking skyward, muttering some barbarian words that seemed like a prayer, then drew his waist knife and rose, keeping as low as possible while charging straight for the western pavilion’s corridor.
The other Hu men followed behind him, drawing their knives and charging in sequence. Li Yuanxu deliberately lagged behind, waiting until shouts of alarm and warning chaos erupted ahead before sprinting forward, his first step accurately landing on the prone Yin A’ta’s neck, producing a crisp sound of breaking bones.
Ahead there were already screams and shouts, confused footsteps, and fleeing shadows. Li Yuanxu, steel knife in hand, followed the dozen or so foreign killers charging toward the bedroom palace where his sovereign father lay.
Note: The “gold (silver) ingots” mentioned at the chapter’s beginning are actually the same as later generations’ “gold (silver) ingots,” but common Tang Dynasty gold and silver items (most frequently excavated) weren’t short yuan-bao shaped, but rather long strip-shaped. Comparatively, gold was more commonly used than silver, for major goods transactions, gifts, etc. Silver wasn’t a common currency in the Tang Dynasty, generally used for paying taxes, tribute, bribes, etc.