Chapter Fifty-One: The Return of Langqiong (Part Two)

Eastern Capital Luoyang, the Sifang Hall—a guesthouse established by the Ministry of Rites for entertaining foreign envoys. The Tang Dynasty’s diplomatic exchanges were frequent, prompting the Ministry to set up such halls in every major city, along with commercial lodges for foreign merchants. The Sifang Hall, as the grandest among them, sat south of the Luo River in the Shangshan Ward, facing the Imperial Palace of Taichu across the water.

The King of Langqiongzhao, Bang Shixi, was currently residing in the western annex of the Sifang Hall. The Ministry of Rites had assigned more than a hundred well-trained maids and servants to attend to him, while the rest of his delegation were housed in three adjacent smaller courtyards. High-ranking officials enjoyed private rooms, while those of lesser status had to share cramped quarters.

It would be unfair to accuse the Ministry of Rites of stinginess. Word had spread that the Celestial Empire would soon receive Langqiongzhao as a vassal state at the Palace of Myriad Phenomena. Many envoys from other vassal states were deeply dissatisfied: when they had come to pledge fealty, the ceremony was held at the grand Chengtian Gate of the Daming Palace. Yet now a mere local chieftain from the southwest, newly submitted, was to receive greater honors—an intolerable affront. Among the vassals, Silla in the northeast and the distant island nation of Wa were most aggrieved; the Silla envoy had even attempted several times to hang himself in protest in the great hall of the Ministry.

Moved by their plight, the Empress issued an edict allowing some vassal envoys to observe Langqiongzhao’s investiture. Thus, the Sifang Hall became crowded with dignitaries from all directions. The Langqiongzhao delegation, learning of this, basked in pride; though their lodgings were a bit cramped, their hearts brimmed with delight.

To become a vassal of the Tang Empire was no simple matter. Langqiongzhao had to undergo countless formalities: at the Ministry of Ceremonies, Bang Shixi was required to provide the birth dates of his ancestors up to eight generations, details of tombs, wives, concubines, children, and descendants—all for the court to grant or withhold favor as it saw fit. At the Ministry of Lands, every detail of Langqiongzhao’s territory, population, tax revenue, treasury, grain stores, and seed reserves had to be verified. The few literate members of the delegation were run ragged.

Bang Shixi, however, was spared these trivialities. Besides a minor embarrassment on the Hangu Pass road, his journey north had been a string of pleasures—food, drink, diversions, and even the delight of the bedchamber, all to his satisfaction.

“Your Highness, an envoy from the Celestial Empire has come to pay his respects,” announced his chief secretary at the door, ushering in a Tang official.

Bang Shixi’s expression darkened at once, sensitive as he was to color. Until now, the officials who called on him had all worn the deep purple of high rank; this one’s robe was a lighter crimson, signifying a lower status. With a stony face and feigned innocence, he remarked, “I suppose another envoy must have arrived in the Eastern Capital, and the Grand Minister has gone to greet them?”

“Your Highness, no envoy has arrived,” replied the official, a Director of Protocol from the Ministry of Ceremonies. “The Grand Minister has been careless in his duties, thus disgracing the Celestial Empire, and has been exiled to Lingnan.”

“Oh?” Bang Shixi shifted in his seat and raised his teacup. “Forgive my rudeness. I find myself so content here, I scarcely think of Langqiongzhao. If you have no other business, you may take your leave.”

“As you wish, I shall withdraw,” said the Director, bowing with a smile; the visit had been mere formality.

When he was gone, Bang Shixi immediately asked, “Do you know why Li Sansheng was exiled?”

The chief secretary, who had been busy filling out forms but also gathering news, replied, “I’ve heard the Grand Minister was accused by the Censorate of accepting bribes from the envoy of Linyi. Though he denied it, the stolen goods were found in his home and he could not defend himself. The court decreed exile.”

Bang Shixi sighed, pressing his chest. “The laws for civil officials in the Celestial Empire are severe; even a minor misstep is met with no leniency. Truly admirable.”

“Your Highness speaks the truth. General Qu Chongyu, the Grand General of the Left Imperial Guards, was exiled as well. Though he held a third-rank title and great honor, a mishap during an escort—when a startled horse disrupted the imperial procession—was enough to strip him of position and send him three thousand miles away.”

Bang Shixi was visibly moved. “Such majestic authority! With a government so strict and just, how could the empire not flourish? You all must make as many friends as possible while here, and learn what you can. When we return, I shall reward you well.”

Taichu Palace, Jiuzhou Lake, Yaoguang Hall.

The sounds of qin, flute, and konghou blended in ethereal harmony, music floating like immortals’ song. Golden-scaled fish swam in the waters as Quan Ce sat uneasily.

The flutist was Wu Sansi, the konghou player Xie Yaohuan, and the qin was played by the Empress herself. She wore a simple white robe, her hair loosely tied, wholly absorbed in the strings.

When the piece ended, all three musicians looked to their lone audience. Quan Ce managed a dry compliment: “Wonderful, wonderful—music that lingers for days, its echoes never fading.”

The Empress laughed softly, her words carrying a pointed undertone. “Sansi’s skill has declined. If you spent less time busying yourself and more time on the flute, it would cultivate both mind and spirit.”

“You speak truly, Your Majesty. I shall mend my ways and practice diligently,” Wu Sansi replied, abashed. “To play with Your Majesty is already a strain for me. If I continue to neglect my art, I’ll soon be unworthy to play before you at all.”

Turning to Quan Ce, the Empress asked, “I have observed your command in battle; you always act differently from others. Why is that?”

“Your Majesty, in my youth I was weak and frail, but you placed your trust in me, so I forced myself to lead. I see myself as a clumsy bird, needing to fly first. Whether commanding the Thousand Oxen or the Thousand Riders, I have always remembered eight words: ‘Lead from the front, obey orders without fail.’” He spoke plainly, unashamed, as if such conduct were nothing remarkable.

The Empress nodded. “Easier said than done. Of those who can truly live up to these words, there is perhaps one in ten thousand.”

Quan Ce bowed in humility.

She stepped toward him. As he tried to rise, she waved him back down and, reaching out, pinched his chin. “Can you play any instruments?”

“I cannot,” he replied, blushing. He could play the guitar, but such an instrument did not exist here.

“You have mastered poetry, calligraphy, and painting—how could a gentleman neglect music, one of the six arts?” The Empress seemed genuinely surprised, her gaze distant, lost in memory. “The late Emperor Gaozong loved to cradle the pipa and play it beautifully. When Princess Taiping was small and threw tantrums, his playing would instantly calm her. I once thought she had a gift for music, but it turns out she only enjoys listening, not performing.”

After a moment’s reverie, she waved him off. “Go learn an instrument. In time, you can play in duet with Yaohuan, so that I may hear you both.”

Quan Ce exchanged a glance with Xie Yaohuan, then quickly looked away. “I shall do my utmost, though I fear I may only trouble Lady Xie.”

Xie Yaohuan pursed her lips and said nothing.

The Empress gave a soft humph, returning to her seat at the qin. Changing the subject, she said, “The matter of the vassal states’ submission is of utmost importance. From today on, the security of the Eastern Capital rests with you. You may go.”

Quan Ce accepted the order and withdrew. Behind him, the qin’s music resumed.

Leaving Taichu Palace by the Chongguang Gate, he followed the Luo River embankment home, accompanied by Shazha Fu and his elite guards.

Quan Ce deliberately slowed his horse. “Tomorrow, on my behalf, send an invitation to Zhao Liu, Grand General of the Left Imperial Guards; to Zheng Zhong, General of the Thousand Oxen Guards; and to Gong Siyi, Sima of Luoyang. Request their attendance at the Thousand Riders’ headquarters at the Xuanwu Gate to discuss affairs.”

The high palace walls soon fell behind, and they entered the bustling wards of the Eastern Capital. Storefronts and towers stretched in endless rows; the streets thronged with people. The city's prosperity was ever greater. Wu Youji, the nominal vice-minister of revenue, had been hard at work relocating wealthy merchants from across the land to Luoyang, filling the city with commerce, goods, and opportunity.

Suddenly, a deep red tangerine fell from the upper veranda of a shop. Quan Ce caught it in his hand.

A childish wail sounded from above. A little girl, no more than three, pouted and cried—clearly the tangerine was hers. Her mother stood beside her, embarrassed yet smiling.

Quan Ce laughed and was about to toss it back, but changed his mind. Instead, he had Shazha Fu buy some pastries from a street vendor, which he tossed up to the mother and child, bidding them farewell with a smile, the tangerine still in his hand, tossing it lightly as he walked, much amused.

Back home, Quan Ce peeled the tangerine. Inside, instead of fruit, he found a bundle of wheat husks and a slip of paper—so light, it weighed far less than a real tangerine.

The paper bore only large numerals. Quan Ce fetched a copy of the “Strategies of the Warring States,” cross-referencing the codes, and his expression grew steadily more grim.

“The imperial son-in-law is making suspicious moves, secretly contacting the Gatekeeper of Anxi.”