Chapter 712: Sage Zhang's Union of Tang and Tibet

Chengtian Liangzhou Prefecture, Yongxun Palace, Wenhua Hall.

Langyi grabbed a Xizhou honey melon and began noisily gnawing at it.

The Tibetan women who had come with her saw Langyi gnawing away, and at once, heedless of the hall's solemn atmosphere, they too picked up the melons and fruit from the tables and began chomping.

Langjie Jiangcuo's expression was deeply embarrassed; he had been a step too slow to stop his daughter Langyi's claws, and now Wenhua Hall was filled with the sound of rats gnawing melons.

Langyi did not much care. The plateau was a harsh place, and women sat at the bottom of the social order, so naturally they had to seize every chance to eat and store up energy for themselves — otherwise how would they endure the winter cold?

"The Sage Son of Heaven arrives!" A beautifully cadenced announcement rang out, followed by the sound of soft footsteps.

Langyi caught only a glimpse of a strange black garment; before she could see the face, her father Langjie Jiangcuo shoved her head hard to the floor.

Thud — two sounds: one was Langyi's forehead striking the floor, the other was the honey melon in her hand dropping to the floor.

This marmot-like Qingtang woman, even amid the sharp pain, hastily reached out and grabbed the half melon that had fallen, then tucked it away inside the hem of her skirt.

This melon is so sweet — I'll finish it off later!

"Your servants pay homage to the Great Emperor, Your Majesty!"

Great Emperor, Your Majesty — Zhang Zhao savored the phrase for a moment. Han people would never address their emperor that way.

It seemed these Qingtang people still did not regard themselves as subjects in the same way the Han did. Perhaps in their hearts, the Supreme Heaven was far more acceptable to them than the Son of Heaven of Zhou.

The atmosphere turned somewhat awkward. Zhang Zhao had prepared many fine words, but suddenly he could not bring himself to say them.

The Eight Qiang Tribes of the Western Mountains, the thirty-one Eastern Forts of Songpan, the Six Clans of Dafeichuan, and the other Qingtang people had already been here for nearly ten days.

In those ten days, whether from the Brocade Guard, the Ministry of Rites, or the monks of the Six Dharma Sect, one striking feature stood out in all the reports that came back.

Namely, that they had been able to accept the Six Dharma Sect so quickly, and accept Zhang Zhao's identity as the Supreme Heaven, because of one crucial precondition.

That is, these people all regarded Zhang Zhao — born in Shazhou and raised in Shazhou — as part of the former Tibetan Empire, or rather, part of the Tibetan cultural sphere.

Otherwise, these people would not so readily accept a pure Tang man, in their eyes, as their god.

I, Sage Zhang, did not know what to feel. Could it be that one of the reasons Heaven sent him here was to give a final resolution to the Tang and Tibetan sides that had contended for centuries?

Roll-roll-roll! Just then, a honey melon rolled to Zhang Zhao's feet, and at once a hand shot out from a panicked floral-patterned skirt, trying to grab the melon.

But in an instant her head was pressed down by the hand of another Tibetan man, his face full of alarm and embarrassment.

Zhang Zhao froze for a second, thoughts flashing through his mind like lightning. Enough! Enough! Tibetan bandits it is, then.

Compared to such empty fame, if he could fuse Tang and Tibet into one now, he could at least hold India as a de facto colony for several hundred years.

The surplus population produced by the population explosion over the next few centuries would also have somewhere to be sent.

Because at this time, apart from the northeast, only India could absorb large-scale emigration.

In terms of livability, India far surpassed Southeast Asia; in terms of ease of rule, India was several orders of magnitude beyond places like Transoxiana.

This was why Zhang Zhao valued the Qingtang Plateau. Any Chinese dynasty that wanted to maintain a powerful deterrent over India, to keep them from daring to rebel, had to make use of the Qingtang Plateau.

To bleed India dry, sending too few troops would end up like the now utterly treacherous Zhang Bingzhong, lord of Zhenyuan; assembling a large army from elsewhere to march on India was too far, and each expedition would cost more than it gained.

Only the Qingtang Plateau, perched on the mountaintops and looking down upon the great Indian plains, required gathering just a few thousand men, or even a few hundred, to acclimatize briefly, pass through a few warm, humid mountain passes, and swiftly sweep down onto the Ganges Plain.

Whoever refuses to submit — let the Qingtang warriors strike them!

After the fighting, give them some benefits and send them back up to the plateau, preserving this habit of descending south. Next time someone causes trouble, just repeat the process according to precedent.

In this way, although true direct control was unlikely, sending a batch of people to become masters over others, combined with the future prosperity of the maritime Silk Road, would make "bleeding" India entirely achievable.

At this thought, Zhang Zhao bent down and picked up the half melon. The Heluo refined speech he usually spoke shifted into Hexi official dialect, thick with Tibetan vocabulary.

"Whose daughter is this? She looks like she'd bear children well!"

Zhang Zhao tossed the melon to the attendant behind him, and as he spoke, his left hand pulled up Langyi, whose head was still pressed to the floor, while his right hand had already found its way to the Tibetan woman's waist.

Indeed, she was strong. The feel was not soft, but conveyed a peculiar sense of vigor, like grasping a blazing, unquenchable fire of life.

In Han territory, carrying on like this would certainly make everyone feel rather awkward.

The woman would think the Emperor was being disrespectful, and everyone else would think the Emperor was being frivolous.

But among the Qingtang people, this was pitched just right.

The rhythm immediately shifted into the familiar atmosphere of the Qingtang Tibetans, Qiang, and the rest, and the earlier awkwardness vanished at once.

Langyi was overjoyed. She had heard from many people that the Central Plains emperor's household had many rules, but she had not expected that the moment she arrived she would hear a language she knew, and the Emperor's behavior seemed to show that there were not so many headache-inducing rules here after all.

At once, this Tibetan lass proudly swayed her waist. Without moving her feet, while still in Zhang Zhao's grasp, she twisted with the supple grace of a water snake, using nothing but the strength of her waist.

This Qingtang little motor — impressive stamina!

"Your Majesty the Emperor, Langyi is very strong! No woman in Songpan can match me. My mother said I'm sure to bear ten sturdy fine sons!"

Zhang Zhao laughed heartily, released Langyi, and let her prostrate herself on the floor again.

"That would be wonderful. Heaven has also told Us that We shall have ninety-nine sons in the future!"

Seeing Langyi receive the Emperor's praise, the various Tibetan beauties who had come with their families immediately rushed out and stood on both sides, posing as if dancing, desperately displaying their beauty and vigor.

Zhang Zhao dropped all pretense. He ordered attendants to carry in great wine jars, and first walked to Su Shangzhi, chieftain of the Eight Tribes of the Western Mountains, personally filling a large bowl of wine for him.

"I have already recommended Duoji Jinzhu to sit beneath the seat of the Bodhisattva Sarvanivarana-Vishkambhin to hear the Dharma and cultivate virtue. Before long, the Buddha's benevolence shall descend upon your Eight Tribes."

Su Shangzhi knelt on one knee, received the wine bowl with both hands, and drained it in one gulp.

"The Eight Tribes of the Western Mountains shall forever be the most devout believers of the Supreme Heaven. This is the Buddha's guidance, and Duoji Jinzhu's lifelong wish!"

Zhang Zhao nodded, dipped a little wine from the jar with his fingers, and flicked it onto the heads of Su Shangzhi and the other six tribal leaders. The glistening droplets shone like night-luminous pearls in their thick hair.

Then Zhang Zhao poured six more bowls of wine and bestowed them upon the leaders of the other six tribes, who each bowed in thanks.

"Langjie Jiangcuo, We observe a general's star shining in the sky above Songpan Prefecture. One day a hero will surely emerge from this place. Remember this: recommend the talents of Songpan Prefecture to serve Us."

The hero Zhang Zhao spoke of was likely Pan Luozhi, already born or soon to be born, who would shine brilliantly in history.

But to Langjie Jiangcuo's ears, it sounded as though the Emperor was very fond of Langyi and was willing to give these local magnates of Songpan Prefecture a chance to earn merit.

He immediately prostrated himself and kowtowed in gratitude. "The men of Songpan Prefecture will surely become the most valiant and most loyal hawks and hounds of the Supreme Heaven."

Lun Jingxu wore the long robe commonly worn by Tibetans, but his son Lun Boren behind him wore a silver-white round-collared robe, dressed entirely in the Tang manner.

"Your servants Lun Jingxu and Lun Boren kowtow to the Sage!"

The Lun family was still quite clear-headed, knowing to pay respects to Zhang Zhao according to Han etiquette. In practical terms, the Six Clans of Dafeichuan led by the Lun family could already be regarded as part of Longyou.

Because the various tribes of Shanzhou in the Hehuang Valley had long ago been absorbed by Zhang Zhao and turned into Han people of Longyou, the people of the Six Clans of Dafeichuan all coveted the treatment the Shanzhou tribes received, and quite a few had openly or secretly joined the Shanzhou tribes.

Unlike the Songpan and the Eight Tribes of Xishan, they were not far from the core of Zhang Zhao's rule, so naturally they had to be more sensible.

At the same time, as for bringing the Six Dharma Sect up onto the plateau, and even continuing to march on Lhasa to make the tsenpos of the Lhasa royal line and even the Guge royal line submit.

Zhang Zhao certainly could not take part in these matters directly, and at the present stage the Zhou army could not go up onto the plateau either, so a capable subject was still needed.

The Lun family was precisely the most suitable choice.

When he heard that Lun Boren's father had changed his name to Lun Jingxu, Zhang Zhao knew that they had already renewed their generational ranking with the kinsmen who had remained in the Han lands.

Because the County Magistrate of Wannian County in the Jingzhao Chang'an Prefecture under Zhang Zhao's command was named Lun Jingli, who was precisely the Lun family's clan head in the Han lands.

Zhang Zhao raised his wine cup and on his own initiative offered wine to the Lun father and son. "In former years, the Loyal Commandery Prince of Bachuan entered the Han lands with seven thousand cavalry to guard and pacify the frontier.

In the Dazhong years, your ancestor again fought valiantly in service of the state and of his own accord returned to Dafeichuan — his merit was very great.

The Lun family served as the tsenpo's chief minister, making them a noble and great clan of Tibetans, and also served as a commandery prince of the Great Tang, making them a powerful house of the Han lands.

Now We wish to heal the several centuries of strife between the Tang and Tibetans peoples and unite them against outside foes. The Lun clan must hold this banner high for Us!"

Lun Jingxu and Lun Boren, father and son, were overjoyed at these words, knowing that Zhang Zhao was about to entrust them with a great matter.

Moreover, they had long been prepared. If Zhang Zhao was a Han man with a touch of Tibetans coloring who could quickly win the recognition of the Qingtang tribes, then their Lun family were true great houses of both the Tang and Tibetans states.

In a situation like today's, the Lun family was the most representative clan of Tang-Tibetans unity.

"We father and son will go through fire and water to spread Your Majesty's sagely brilliance and the benevolence of the Supreme Heaven throughout all of Tibetans!"

Zhang Zhao smiled and nodded, then turned and raised a great wine bowl toward the people of the other tribes in a gesture of offering wine.

"From this day forward, Qingtang and the Han lands are one family. How the Six Dharma Sect fares will depend on whether you are devout."

At these words, the chieftains of the various tribes prostrated themselves on the ground, then rose and loudly cheered in praise, drinking together the wine Zhang Zhao had offered.

As the clamor died down, Lun Jingxu rose of his own accord, took Su Shangzhi and Langjie Jiangcuo by the hand, and led them before Zhang Zhao to request: "Please allow the three of us to perform the dance of homage for the Sage!"

This time Lun Jingxu used "the Sage," proving he had a very good sense of proportion. Among these people, anyone could promote the Supreme Heaven, but he insisted on using "the Sage."

The dance of homage and thanks was not only a custom of the Tang people; the Tibetans people had it too.

Or rather, their custom of the dance of homage had been learned from the Tang people.

In particular, at the Changqing Alliance during the reign of Emperor Muzong of Tang, after the Tang court's envoys had the "Prince of Qin Breaking the Ranks" dance performed at Lhasa, in the tsenpo's summer palace, Tibetans also began to widely popularize the dance of homage for thanking the sovereign.

Zhang Zhao would of course permit it — this was the most important ceremony of this meeting.

Right there in the Wenhua Hall, the inner attendants pulled the tables and chairs aside to leave enough space, and the tribal leaders brought in the implements used for the dance of homage.

The crisp sound of Tibetans-style drums rose, and the first to take the floor were the daughters of the tribal leaders, sixteen in all.

After they came out, they gave a charming shout and in unison shed the skirts they wore, keeping only a close-fitting pair of short trousers, revealing their sturdy, gleaming thighs.

Then they draped themselves in cloaks made of feathers of various colors, their bodies hung with precious gem ornaments, holding flowers of four colors — red, yellow, pink, and purple — their movements now alluring, now soft and graceful.

This was the main form of women's dance in Qingtang at this time. It is also recorded in the Royal Genealogy, compiled by the great Qingtang monk and literary master Suonan Jianzan of the late Yuan, and in later ages it evolved into the Machia Xiabu Zhuo dance, also called the Qinghai-Tibet Peacock Dance.

After the women finished their dance of homage, it was the men's turn to take the floor.

The tribal leaders put on masks depicting fierce beasts such as lions, yaks, and tigers, and held yak tails in their hands.

The inner attendants in the hall struck the heavenly drum with great hammers, accompanied by pipa and cymbals, while the tribal leaders, bare-chested, danced to the drum music and let out roars imitating yaks, lions, tigers, and other fierce beasts.

There was certainly no snow leopard — although the creature could barely be counted as a fierce beast, its cry was simply too embarrassing.

These were called the yak dance, the snow lion dance, and so on. After the tribal leaders finished their dance of homage, they immediately shouted "Long live!" like a mountain roar.

At this moment, I, Sage Zhang, also shed my outer robe, revealing close-fitting martial attire, and personally took up the jie drum — the very drum that Li Longji held in Legend of the Demon Cat when he let down his hair and danced as accompaniment for An Lushan.

Legend has it that Li Longji was extremely skilled at the jie drum, and I, Sage Zhang, am not bad either.

Because his legal mother, the Benevolent and Sagacious Empress Dowager, was extremely skilled at it, and had once sent Zhang Zhao musical scores and music masters. In the past, apart from being famous far and wide for chanting Buddhist sutras, this body was renowned for the jie drum.

It was the only thing he had for entertainment in those years.

Seeing Sage Zhang take the floor, the women gathered around him and continued their peacock dance on all sides, while the men withdrew to the outer ring and continued dancing in imitation of lions and tigers, also continuing to imitate the cries of fierce beasts.

Sage Zhang spun swiftly while beating the jie drum — his drumming skill and dancing posture truly showed real mastery.

When everyone had danced until drenched in sweat, the drum music stopped, and the tribal leaders prostrated themselves once more, shouting "Long live!" three times.

At this moment, the atmosphere was extremely fervent, and the shouts of "Long live!" were even more heartfelt and sincere.

Zhang Zhao finally understood why the dance of homage was so prevalent in the Tang dynasty — indeed, dance was something that could greatly draw people closer together.

It was like in later ages, when a newcomer just entering a company still felt somewhat distant; after singing a song at KTV with colleagues and leaders, relations would instantly become harmonious.

After the dance of homage ended, Zhang Zhao and the tribal leaders withdrew and changed into fresh robes. Zhang Zhao then began scattering money on a grand scale.

He selected six of the beauties offered as tribute by the various tribes, and also bestowed upon the tribal leaders robes, gold and silver, porcelain, jade tablets, golden fish pouches, and the like.

At this moment, it had just reached shenzheng — that is, four o'clock in the afternoon — and the evening meal could be served. Zhang Zhao ordered the Bureau of Imperial Cuisine to begin preparing the banquet.

Almost at the same moment, just as the hourglass reached shenzheng, starting from Dayun Temple, the temples of Kumarajiva Temple, White Pagoda Temple, Haizang Temple, Guanyin Temple, and others collectively began tolling their bells, and the lingering sound of the bells echoed throughout the city.

The Longevity Temple in the Yongxun Palace of the imperial city, which prayed for blessings for Zhang Zhao's legal mother the Benevolent and Sagacious Empress Dowager and his birth mother the Compassionate and Sagacious Empress Dowager, and the Zhaoming Temple, which commemorated the twenty-eight loyal men of Hexi who had followed the emperor back to the homeland and offered sacrifices to the heroic dead, also began tolling their bells.

Amid waves of Sanskrit chanting, the monks of the Qingtang plateau who had come with the tribal leaders, wearing earth-yellow robes with their right arms bared and holding pellet drums in their hands, collectively chanted the Supreme Heaven Great Wisdom Scripture for Dispelling Calamity and Escaping Peril.

Zhang Zhao sat cross-legged in the center of the great hall, striking a wooden fish with one hand while rotating a pellet drum with the other.

The tribal leaders knelt and sat on the spot, touching their heads to the ground in an attitude of prostration and worship, their mouths also chanting the scripture.

Those who had come this time were not only the Eight Tribes of Xishan, the thirty-one Dongdai of Songpan, and the Six Clans of Dafeichuan, but also a considerable number of monks who survived in Qingtang.

They had all come down from the mountains by the Buddha's command to "further their studies," and for this purpose Zhang Zhao had specially opened Buddhist study classes for them at Dayun Temple, Kumarajiva Temple, and other temples.

The tribal leaders were one line of reasoning, and these monks together with the dharma-propagating monks of the Six Dharma Sect were another line of reasoning. With both lines of reasoning in place, there was nothing that could not be accomplished.

Just as the sound of Buddhist chanting rose throughout the Chengtian Prefecture of Liangzhou, all of Hexi and Longyou were being mobilized.

Zhang Zhao had seen a problem in the tiger-hunting warriors Li Zun and Fan Changgong. Originally he had not wanted to be so ruthless as to draw too much military force from Hexi and Longyou, fearing it would cause a labor shortage.

But now it seemed that not drawing them ruthlessly would not do. If he did not draw them ruthlessly, people like Li Zun and Fan Changgong, having trained a full set of martial skills with nowhere to use them, would inevitably band together in the villages and set themselves up as local overlords.

To solve the problem of small-scale local strongmen appearing in Hexi and Longyou, he had to harden his heart and draw military force from among them — as long as he did not drain the pond to catch the fish the way my Great Qing did when it drew the Solon people.

In Shandan Town, Li Cunhui sat astride a tall warhorse, solemnly regarding the thousands of brave warriors before him.

"By the Sage's decree! In any army where father and son serve together, the father returns and the son remains; where brothers serve together, the elder departs and the younger remains. Any only son of a household, or any man without a son already twelve years of age, must also return to his native place.

All others: soldiers of upper households shall furnish their own armor, weapons, and warhorses; soldiers of middle households shall furnish their own weapons and warhorses. In five days, we march beyond the frontier!"

(End of Chapter)

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