Chapter 110: At Death’s Door

The number of Tibetans in Chang'an is small. Aside from the delegation of several dozen, the rest are mostly itinerant merchants, though whether they bear some hidden mission remains unknown.

Chen-Shangjiexi Xuding is one of them. He arrived with the diplomatic mission but did not reveal his status, instead posing as an ordinary merchant. In truth, had he chosen to step forward, he would have been the natural choice for the chief envoy, not Xiyeduozan; in that sense, his anonymity saved the latter’s life.

Now, the mission has been wiped out. Only Xiyeduozan remains, escorted out of the country. He was permitted only a brief return to the guesthouse to pack his belongings, kept under the constant watch of the Imperial Guard, unable to send even a single message. As they exited the city, Xiyeduozan spotted him in the crowd. They exchanged a silent, wordless acknowledgment, and shortly after, Shangjiexi vanished into the throng. He had his own mission to fulfill.

This entire affair was a probe—a test of the Tang’s true attitude toward them. The result was more desperate than imagined. They had merely blocked the Crown Prince’s carriage without even making physical contact, yet they were mercilessly slaughtered. The one envoy spared was left only so the Tang could use his voice to convey their resolve back to the Tibetans.

With that single glance, both men understood the other’s heart. Those guards and members of the delegation had tested the "Heavenly Qaghan’s" resolve with their lives. The mission they failed to complete now fell squarely upon Shangjiexi.

Fortunately, the Tang had only expelled the mission and had not targeted the merchants. This was expected; Tibet is on the verge of collapse, and its people will soon become subjects of the Heavenly Qaghan. There is no need for total extermination or to stir up unnecessary tension. The heads displayed along the banks of the Wei River are warning enough to the world.

By nightfall, more good news arrived: the messenger sent to the Yang estate had returned unscathed. He had not been seized on the spot and had even held an in-depth conversation with someone in the household—reportedly a trusted confidant of Yang Guozhong, the new favorite at court.

Shangjiexi is staying at a famous Tibetan hostel in the city, where all manner of foreigners reside, their exotic clothing blending into the crowd—a perfect place to hide. His quarters consist of an independent courtyard, structured in the traditional Han style with three sections, including a warehouse for cargo and a stable.

"Do you think he will come?" Shangjiexi stood before the open window, looking out at the street. It was midday; the flow of people was moderate, with passersby hurrying home for their meal.

"The minds of the Han are hard to fathom. The man who received me was the very Tang commander who led the army to invade Nanzhao last year—the Jiedushi of Jiannan. He abandoned his army and fled in defeat. In our Tibet, his head would have been mounted on a pole long ago, and his family would be shamed for generations. Yet here, not only is he alive and well, but rumors say he is even being promoted."

His attendant recited the information he had gathered. Shangjiexi listened quietly. He had heard of such Han practices before; it was nothing unusual. If everyone were strictly law-abiding and unyielding, they would indeed have no hope.

Before him lay a massive metropolis, far exceeding his imagination in both scale and population. The Tang possess countless such cities. Even if some are smaller, the total number is unimaginable. To be an enemy of such an empire—if they act with the right methods—leaves the Tibetans with no hope of victory.

If not for the emperors of the past few generations, who wished to demonstrate the grace of a Celestial Empire, actively sending advanced farming techniques, political systems, crop seeds, books, and even women to Tibet, they would never have harbored such delusions. Even if this empire is somewhat unstable, occasionally suffering a coup, once it stabilizes—like under this current Son of Heaven who has ruled for forty years—everything seems so illusory.

Sometimes he wonders if the first Tang emperor known as the Heavenly Qaghan, Li Shimin, dug a massive pit and lured the Tibetans into jumping into it. Otherwise, how else could all this be explained? One must remember, when Princess Wencheng entered the Qiang lands, she was only sixteen, while her husband, Songtsen Gampo, was nearly seventy. More importantly, the Tang were in a position of strength at the time and had no need for a marriage alliance to gain anything.

It is close from here to Longyou, and therefore not far from the front lines of the war. The news Shangjiexi receives arrives far faster than it does in Lhasa. Geshu Han—that nightmarish man—has already launched his final, lethal strike. The last two fortresses in the Nine Bends region, Hongji City, fell after holding out for only three days, swallowed by the tide of the Tang army. As for Damo Gate? Shangjiexi passed through it on his way here; it, too, is surely in peril.

The Nine Bends is finished. Qinghai is lost. The next target is the neighboring Subi people, the source of Tibet’s grain, horses, and warriors. To win them over, the Tsanpo has promoted many from their tribes. Their leader, Molingti, makes no secret of his ambition for the position of Great Chancellor. Under such circumstances, how much hope can one really hold?

The sky over Chang’an is clear, and the sun shines upon the earth, yet Shangjiexi’s heart is shrouded in darkness. Even the sight of a carriage quietly pulling up nearby brings no relief. As the Han would say, all their efforts now are merely trying to cure a dead horse.

The carriage is empty, intended to collect them. Shangjiexi climbs in without hesitation, considering himself already a dead man. This opportunity was bought with the lives of dozens of Tibetans; even if it leads to hell, he must go.

Soon, the carriage enters an adjacent ward, takes a few winding turns, and drives straight through an open rear gate. As Shangjiexi is helped down, the gate slams shut behind him. He glances around casually; it appears to be a back garden. Several Tang servants lead them to a water pavilion and depart. Shangjiexi sits at the stone table, though his attendant appears nervous.

"If they wanted to kill us, they wouldn't need to go to such trouble. This is merely to humiliate us. But a Tibetan warrior who does not fear death—what is there to fear in this?"

Shangjiexi has miscalculated. Yang Guozhong has no leisure to toy with him. Meeting him is merely to understand the meaning behind the shocking words of the previous night. Thus, he chose a private villa belonging to his cousin, the Lady of Guo, rather than his own residence.

By the time Yang Guozhong arrives with Xianyu Xiang, they have been waiting for nearly half an hour. Compared to his attendant’s impatience, Shangjiexi appears quite relaxed, at least on the surface.

"This is Minister Yang. Can you finally tell us who you are?" Xianyu Xiang knows Yang Guozhong has no desire to entangle himself with the Tibetans, so he gets straight to the point.

"My master is the most trusted servant before the Tsanpo, the Great Shang of Tibet, and the lord of the ten-thousand-mile Qiangtang lands: Chen-Shangjiexi Xuding." His attendant introduces him.

"So, you are someone who can speak before the Tibetan Tsanpo?" Xianyu Xiang ignores the clutter of titles and stares at Shangjiexi.

As they approached, Shangjiexi had already stood up. Upon hearing this, he performs a Tibetan-style bow to Yang Guozhong, looks up, and speaks in fluent Han Chinese.

"Who I am is not important. What matters is what I can bring to Minister Yang, don't you agree?"

Yang Guozhong remains expressionless, signaling that he is listening.

"As far as I know, Minister Yang is the Jiedushi of Jiannan. Apart from treacherous mountains, rushing rivers, marshes, and snow-capped peaks, you border us. Therefore, in this offensive, your target is merely Nanzhao, a vassal state of ours, is it not?"

"Go on," says Xianyu Xiang, knowing his master will not speak.

"In the worst-case scenario, if we are pinned down by other armies and cannot rescue Nanzhao, Minister Yang achieves his goal. But what else will you gain? The Heavenly Qaghan’s edict does not mention this. Geshu Han may be made a prince, and Prime Minister Li, who orchestrates the entire plan, will gain supreme glory. Even in death, his legacy will bless his descendants, and no successor will ever surpass him. Minister Yang, is that not so?"

Shangjiexi’s words stir great waves in Yang Guozhong’s heart. The man is absolutely correct. This entire scheme is the work of that old dog, and most of the men involved are those he has promoted. His own Jiannan region is merely being used to assist in fulfilling an achievement that even Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong could not accomplish. Across the world, this has become the Tang’s sole path of conquest. If he ever ascends to that throne, how could he possibly surpass such a feat?

By wiping out the Abbasids?

Yet, knowing this does not change the fact that it is not only Li Linfu’s scheme but also the will of the Son of Heaven. How could he possibly stop it? Even delaying it brought a stern warning from Gao Lishi. Yang Guozhong stops letting Xianyu Xiang speak for him and says in a low voice:

"And what can you offer me?"

"Everything. Everything that originally belonged to Prime Minister Li."

Shangjiexi spreads his hands, a smile blooming on his face.