Chapter 44: Tears of Nanzhou and Chang'an
Southern Zhou.
Yang Lue stood in the courtyard, Nan He at his side.
“The young lord has agreed to rebel—no, to right a great wrong!” Nan He could not hide his joy. “General, when will we return to the Great Tang?”
Yang Lue clenched his right fist. “When the young lord calls the banners.”
Nan He looked up and raised his arm.
A falcon dove from the sky like a bolt of lightning, gripping his fur-clad arm.
He untied a small tube, opened it, took out a slip of paper, and handed it to Yang Lue.
After settling the falcon, Nan He returned to find Yang Lue unusually lost in thought. He asked, “General, is something amiss?”
“No,” Yang Lue replied. “The young lord has already been appointed Prefect of Law.”
“So soon?” Nan He’s delight was plain to see. “Did someone help him… the Wang clan?”
“The young lord saw through the Southern Zhou spies’ trap and was promoted for his merit.”
Yang Lue turned. “Deputy Commander Zhou Yan of the Imperial Guards tried to steal the credit, but failed. He deployed troops to scour Chang’an, and… the young lord, together with students from the Imperial Academy, set an ambush at the North Gate, wiping out over thirty spies and seizing a large cache of gold and silver.”
Nan He was stunned. “This…” Then, joy overwhelmed him; he even leapt in the air, only to feel suddenly childish and cast Yang Lue an embarrassed glance.
“General…”
He had never seen Yang Lue falter, but now this resolute general’s tiger eyes brimmed with tears.
Yang Lue knelt toward Chang’an, bowing his head to the ground again and again.
“Your Majesty, your servant… has not failed your trust!”
…
The grand palace inspired not oppression but awe; standing outside, one was overcome by a sense of majesty.
Han Stone stood respectfully behind the emperor, speaking in a low voice, “The family from Yan City returned home today with their loved one in a coffin. He Huan of the He family is still bedridden… The constables and the Imperial Academy joined forces at the North Gate, slaughtered over thirty Southern Zhou spies, and seized a great amount of gold and silver.”
The emperor stood with hands behind his back, gazing at the palace, and said lightly, “He Huan? The Yang dog bites sharply indeed.”
Han Stone lowered his head slightly, eyes on his toes.
“Southern Zhou spies come to Chang’an every year… It seems there are more caches. No doubt they have succeeded before as well.”
The emperor’s tone was indifferent, as if these riches were mere strings of copper coins.
“Yes, the Prefect of Law for Wannian County, Yang Xuan…”
Han Stone’s report was cut short by the emperor’s faint snort.
“Does the Imperial Consort have any of that fruit she mentioned last time?”
Han Stone replied, “I sent someone to inquire, Your Majesty. There is some, but it’s from the south—too far, it may spoil on the way.”
The emperor snorted again, “Are the post stations for show?”
The Tang post stations spanned all major routes, each keeping fresh horses for messengers so that news from a thousand miles away could reach Chang’an swiftly. But sending fruit by relay station was unprecedented.
Han Stone, taken aback, quickly answered, “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll speak with the Ministry of War shortly.”
“The Ministry of War… Song Zhen is a fierce general. Stubborn, too. Grant hereditary privileges to two of Song Zhen’s descendants.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A palace attendant came running.
“Your Majesty.”
The emperor asked, “Does the Imperial Consort require something?”
The attendant stood with hands folded, “The Imperial Consort says the weather is very warm today and fears Your Majesty may be scorched by the sun.”
The emperor broke into hearty laughter. “Ha ha ha ha!”
When his laughter subsided, he nodded, “Let’s see what the Imperial Consort is up to!”
Han Stone whispered, “Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has arrived.”
The emperor frowned slightly and turned to see several attendants escorting Crown Prince Li Jing at a measured pace.
Li Jing was slightly plump, his face always adorned with a gentle smile that warmed all those around him.
He approached and bowed. “Father, you look much more spirited today.”
—“Father” here is the familiar address for one’s own father.
The emperor nodded, regarding him with some detachment. “What have you been occupied with lately?”
Li Jing smiled, “I’ve been discussing learning with several great scholars at home. Today, someone kindly reminded me—otherwise, I might have forgotten to come and pay my respects to Father.”
Han Stone glanced at the Crown Prince.
The words subtly implied that he had been so absorbed in study as to lose track of all else.
The emperor made a sound of acknowledgment, his tone mild. “One must not neglect learning for a single day. If you come upon anything you do not understand, you may seek guidance at the Imperial Academy. That Ning Yayun… I recall he is a refined gentleman.”
The Crown Prince slapped his forehead in delight. “Had you not mentioned it, Father, I would have forgotten. There are indeed some enlightening philosophies in metaphysics—I shall go tomorrow to learn more. Thank you for the reminder…”
The emperor turned away. “Let’s visit the Imperial Consort.”
“Yes.” An attendant led the way. Han Stone followed, casting a sidelong glance at the Crown Prince.
The prince’s smile was radiant, his eyes filled with both gratitude and childlike affection.
Yet the beloved Imperial Consort Liang—the emperor’s favorite—had once been the prince’s own consort when he was Prince of Xian.
Han Stone turned and glimpsed a flash of green.
The Crown Prince bowed his head, smile unwavering.
That smile remained fixed all the way to the Eastern Palace.
…
“Is everything ready?”
Zhang, the old wife from Yan City, turned and asked.
Her two sons, their wives, and five grandchildren all stood by the carriage.
Inside the carriage lay a simple coffin.
The eldest son answered, “Mother, all is prepared.”
Zhang approached the coffin, gently stroking it for a long while before whispering, “Come, I’ll take you home.”
The gate opened, and the carriage rolled slowly out.
The alley was empty; in the sunlight, even the moss in the corners seemed to cling more tightly.
Her grandchildren followed their mothers behind, each son guarding one side of the coffin.
The carriage rumbled on, their footsteps barely audible.
They left the alley.
The eldest son came forward. “Mother, why don’t you ride up front?”
“Your father always liked to stroll through the ward after meals, watching the smoke rise and the people pass. That, to him, was happiness.” Zhang shook her head. “If I sat up front, I would block his view.”
A woman came toward them, looked up, and, upon recognizing the family, was first surprised, then called out loudly,
“Master Yan is going home!”
The family froze in astonishment; the eldest daughter-in-law grew anxious. “Where’s Father’s portrait? Quickly, bring it out and tell them we’re escorting his spirit home, hurry…”
She fumbled in a panic for the portrait.
Footsteps rushed from all directions, then slowed,
as if fearing to disturb something sacred.
A man emerged from a side alley, followed by another and another.
Soon, a dense crowd gathered around, black as a tide.
The people moved forward in silence.
In her panic, the eldest daughter-in-law raised the portrait and cried, “We are only returning to our hometown…”
The crowd ahead was so thick that many were blocked in the alley.
“They say someone smashed Master Yan’s door in the night—look how frightened his family is now.”
Further ahead, Yang Xuan listened in silence.
Obliquely across the way, Zhao Sanfu also listened from another alley’s mouth.
“Master Yan left a testament, mentioning a few points… First, peasants who lost their land may be exempted from taxes for five years…”
Land annexation had grown ever worse, and the swelling population left too little land for all. More and more people were dispossessed, reduced to destitution. Yet still, they were taxed, so more fled as runaways.
Who were runaways? Households who, having lost their land and unable to bear the tax burden, vanished without a trace.
“Second, merchants may trade within the wards…”
Though many ward walls had been torn down and businesses appeared within, Tang law forbade commerce inside the wards. Petty officials and local bullies loved to use this as an excuse to extort or threaten shopkeepers—those who refused would be reported to both county offices.
“Third, reduce the tax on coarse cloth.”
Who used coarse cloth? The common folk. Lowering its tax made clothing more affordable.
Three seemingly simple suggestions, yet each considered the plight of the people.
“There was a censor who knelt outside the palace gates, bowing until he bled, begging His Majesty and the court to carry these out… and succeeded.”
“This Great Tang!” A choked old voice came from behind, “No matter when, there are always those who will speak for us.”
At this moment, the eldest daughter-in-law climbed onto the carriage, raised the portrait high, and called, “We are only going home…”
On the paper, Master Yan gazed at the people, brows slightly furrowed, as if both disappointed in their helplessness and compassionate for their suffering.
“Master Yan!”
An old man knelt down.
Yang Xuan struck his chest hard and bowed his head—a soldier’s farewell to a comrade.
Across the way, Zhao Sanfu pressed his palms together and raised them high.
The dense crowd slowly knelt in unison.
“Master Yan, fare you well on your journey!”
The sound rose like the crashing of mountains and seas.
Zhang staggered, turned to the coffin, and, through tears, patted it, crying, “They remember you—they still remember you!”