Chapter 10: The Gift Upon Arrival in Chang'an

Zhao Sanfu left the main hall, walking beside a middle-aged man.

The man's name was Xin Quan, one of the twelve stewards of Mirror Terrace.

Xin Quan smiled warmly, but the other stewards nearby deliberately distanced themselves from him, as if he were a fearsome ghost.

“They’re all afraid of me,” Xin Quan said, his smile still gentle.

Zhao Sanfu, his subordinate, grinned shamelessly and asked, "Steward, they say that back in the Northern Frontier, during the years you fought against spies from Northern Liao, you were once surrounded and, out of starvation, ate human flesh. Is it true?"

Xin Quan’s smile remained soft. The fine lines on his face creased as he looked at Zhao Sanfu.

It was a huge rumor, never proven, and Zhao Sanfu’s heartbeat quickened, feeling he might finally stand out today.

Xin Quan watched him for a long moment, then patted his shoulder. "A young man should have curiosity, but sometimes curiosity can be deadly."

Zhao Sanfu relaxed, thinking it was better not to know. Otherwise, facing an officer who had once eaten human flesh would always make him uncomfortable.

Xin Quan moved ahead, Zhao Sanfu followed by his side.

“You shouldn’t have requested to see Gatekeeper Wang without permission today,” Xin Quan nodded and smiled at a passerby, who smiled back but subtly stepped aside to avoid him. Xin Quan seemed not to notice and continued smiling. “Back then, you were a scout in the army, quite well-known…”

“Not just well-known, but famous!” Zhao Sanfu protested. “Steward, I killed countless Northern Liao scouts in the north. People called me the top scout of Tang. I was about to be promoted, but you tricked me into coming to Mirror Terrace. If not for that, I might have become a general.”

Xin Quan chuckled. “Tang and Northern Liao have put away their banners now. Scout warfare was just a warm-up. I dealt with Northern Liao spies myself and knew they had plans to kill some outstanding Tang scouts to make their mark. Besides…”

Xin Quan looked at him in surprise. “When I stayed in the military camp, I heard you, drunk, say you wished for Tang’s prosperity to last ten thousand years, and you’d die for it. Such passionate youth—I had to bring you back to Chang’an, or you’d die in the frontier sooner or later.”

But you didn’t have to trick me!

Back then, Xin Quan had earnestly said Mirror Terrace needed men like him for the country’s service, so he came happily. Yet after several years, he was still just a pawn. Supposedly serving the nation, but mostly watching over Chang’an’s elite, like a watchdog. All this left Zhao Sanfu dissatisfied and full of complaints.

Xin Quan suddenly grew stern. “Crossing ranks is never good. Don’t act on your own—always consult me first. Remember that. Also, since Gatekeeper Wang told you to watch that boy, you must be thorough. Watch closely, but don’t use crude methods. Be like spring rain—gentle, silent.”

Their relationship was unusual. Otherwise, Zhao Sanfu’s report today would have earned Xin Quan’s wrath. Yet Xin Quan never sought power and preferred idleness, which suited Zhao Sanfu’s ambition.

Xin Quan pointed at the sky. Zhao Sanfu looked up and realized it had started raining.

Spring rain was like silk, more like oil, falling without sensation. A few tender green shoots by the wall swayed in the rain, brimming with life.

Xin Quan squatted outside the duty room, tending a small stove with a pot simmering soup. He smiled in contentment, making Zhao Sanfu shiver, suspecting the rumor might be true.

Zhao Sanfu went off to find Yang Xuan, pondering how to approach the boy.

After a while, he raised his brow. “If I want Tang’s prosperity to last ten thousand years, I must become a high official. Mirror Terrace is a place that devours people. If I want promotion, I must kill!”

“That boy looks a bit slow, should be easy to kill. But… may I? If he’s a villain, then so be it…”

Yang Xuan, killed several times in Zhao Sanfu’s mind, followed the address given by Yang Lue and searched his way along.

The streets of Chang’an were absurdly wide, bustling with carriages and crowds, everything orderly. Yang Xuan, carrying a huge bundle, looked around, the very picture of a country bumpkin.

“Weren’t there supposed to be ward walls?”

Yang Xuan saw a gap in the wall by the street, exposing the houses within. The largest was grand and resplendent, with two gatekeepers smiling proudly at him.

In his village, someone had once visited the prefecture office and returned boasting, saying Chang’an was full of ward walls, each containing a hundred thousand households, and at night all lights must be extinguished, or else one would be killed.

This was what Yang Xuan disliked most about Chang’an, but where were the ward walls?

The commoners freely entered and exited through the huge gap, while the patrolling soldiers ignored it.

“Young man, come up for tea!”

A woman called out. Yang Xuan looked up to see the second floor of a wooden building with windows open. More than ten women, dressed in ways that quickened his heartbeat, were waving. The third woman on the right was calling to him.

Was this a tea house? But weren’t businesses forbidden inside wards in Chang’an?

Yang Xuan pointed at his own nose, his face as red as a monkey’s bottom. “You… you mean me?”

What did this woman want? Tea? Yang Xuan had tasted tea before, at the village head’s wedding, where there was a big bucket of tea. He got a cup, tried to savor it, found it awful, but had to praise it like the other villagers. Later, Yang Ding bought some cheap tea to appear cultured, but Yang Xuan never got any.

The woman covered her mouth, giggling, her companions laughing even more flamboyantly. “Oh! He’s a fledgling, just arrived in Chang’an. Young man, come, it won’t cost you anything.”

Yang Xuan recalled a profession. In the village, the men would gather at the entrance to chat, discussing women after so-called worldly matters. They spoke of prostitutes in the county, saying one was beautiful but too expensive to visit.

Yang Xuan lowered his head and hurried on, the women laughing even more wantonly.

An old man stood below, shouting, “Seducing young men in broad daylight, shameless!”

“Hey!”

A prostitute leaned out from upstairs. “Then how about seducing you?”

The old man replied righteously, “I keep myself upright, you lot shouldn’t…”

She waved at him. “Half price, and skilled hands.”

The old man scowled, “Nonsense, hmm! Why am I thirsty? I’ll go in for some hot tea.”

Yang Xuan stood across the street, gloomily realizing Wang Xian’er was right: Chang’an was full of cunning folk. Like this old man, who moments before seemed aloof, now entered with a serious face to frequent the brothel.

What was this called? Hypocrisy?

Yang Xuan shook his head, his mood improving.

He found a woman and respectfully asked, “Madam, may I ask where Yongning Ward is?”

The woman pointed. “Go ahead two wards, then the third on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Yang Xuan ran excitedly. When he saw Yongning Ward, he carefully avoided the broken wall and dog holes, choosing the main gate instead.

At the gate stood several burly men, looking fierce. “Where are you from?”

Yang Xuan answered enthusiastically, “Yuan Prefecture.”

Not far away, Zhao Sanfu was rubbing his chin, telling his subordinate, “Those thugs are planning to extort that boy, looks like they’ve been targeting him since earlier. Tsk tsk! Should I be the hero saving the beauty—no, the hero saving the boy?”

He squinted, thinking of the tense atmosphere at Mirror Terrace lately. After the emperor ordered Mirror Terrace to notify the Five Great Families, the mood in Chang’an shifted. Outside the Five Families’ gates, a stream of carriages and endless officials clamored for audience, and the records at Mirror Terrace grew numb.

Zhao Sanfu felt this was a sign of major events brewing. He was a beneficiary of peaceful times, and hated turmoil. Anyone stirring trouble in Chang’an or Tang became his enemy. He sighed, “Why can’t people just live in peace? Must they stir up storms?”

His subordinate, knowing exactly what he meant, turned pale. “Zhao Stake, that’s an imperial order. We’re the emperor’s hounds in Mirror Terrace, don’t dare speak like that.”

Mirror Terrace had over a hundred skilled operatives, called 'Stakes,' dedicated to external missions.

Zhao Sanfu frowned, “Who came up with the name 'Stake'? I’m not a tree stump. Damn it, the originator will have no heirs.”

He felt satisfied with his show of wit, but noticed his subordinate was as pale as a prostitute’s backside, making him think of a poem comparing the moon to a prostitute’s rear—quite apt. “Why so panicked? Is it the Prime Minister?”

The subordinate’s eyelids twitched madly. “It’s… Gatekeeper Wang.”

Damn!

Zhao Sanfu’s gaze shifted. “What did you just hear?”

The subordinate hesitated, then answered honestly, “I heard…”

“You heard nothing,” Zhao Sanfu cut him off forcefully, then grew excited. “Those thugs are making their move! Here’s my chance. Remember, act like a bystander to build my reputation. I’m going in.”

Meanwhile, several thugs surrounded Yang Xuan, pushing and shoving as passersby shook their heads and avoided the scene.

Yang Xuan blocked their blows, asking, “What are you doing?”

He had just arrived in Chang’an, had no enemies, so why was he being attacked? He considered resisting, but worried they might be officials—resisting would be like rebellion, so he suppressed the thought.

The thugs’ pushing was nearly equivalent to beating.

The leader sneered, “We’re government men. You don’t look decent, and resemble the thief who spied on Lady Yang bathing. Come to the county office with us!”

Yang Xuan was startled, recalling the best defensive posture from when Yang Ding and his wife beat him: he quickly hugged his head, squatted, placed his bundle in front, clamped it with his legs, and shouted, “I just arrived in Chang’an today!”

The thugs knew this, which was why they targeted him. Outsiders, first day in Chang’an—perfect for extortion.

“Still dare to deny!”

He was beaten soundly, Yang Xuan defending his head.

Zhao Sanfu appeared, full of righteousness, pointing at the thugs and shouting, “Stop!”

The thugs looked up, one sneering, “Where’s this fool from? Stay out of our business!”

Zhao Sanfu wanted to be the hero, so he acted his part. “This is Chang’an. You claim to be officials—where’s your badge?”

The thug narrowed his eyes. “Our badge isn’t for you to see. Get him!”

They left Yang Xuan and pounced on Zhao Sanfu.

Zhao Sanfu kicked one over, punched another down. The third thug came at him with a wooden club, cursing, “Courting death!”

Wham!

The club swung straight for Zhao Sanfu’s head.

Should he keep acting?

Zhao Sanfu wrestled internally. To win Yang Xuan’s favor, he should get injured. But would this blow kill him?

A fist appeared above his head.

Bang!

The club struck the fist—so solid it didn’t break, just glanced off to the side.

Bang!

Zhao Sanfu’s internal struggle ended, as a huge bump rapidly swelled on his forehead. His eyes grew dazed, his body wobbled…

Yang Xuan had just tested if his fist could withstand a club, and it could. Not as strong as Yang Lue, who could shatter blades with a punch, but respectable. He remembered Zhao Sanfu had helped him, turned and asked with concern, “Are you all right?”

Thud!

Zhao Sanfu collapsed stiffly to the ground.

…

Five minutes later, there will be another chapter.