Chapter 809: Only the Land of My Ancestors Can Soothe My Sorrow

Chiwang Xuzan sat smugly inside the carriage. The loss of his ancestral inheritance, the humiliation, the disgrace — he felt none of it. Or rather, he simply did not care in the slightest.

The Tibetan warriors around him were still somewhat indignant, because at the Chengtian Liangzhou Prefecture, the Tsanpo had actually gone so far as to call that white-haired old woman his grand-aunt.

This was truly a disgrace beyond measure. How could the Tsanpo do such a thing?

Inside the carriage, a top-grade Sichuan bamboo mat was spread on the floor, and in the center stood an exquisite bronze basin holding ice blocks for cooling.

Around the ice were arranged fresh fruits from every corner of the realm — lychees from Lingnan, plums from Sichuan, pears from Hebei, cherries from Zhili, and honey melons from Beiting.

In season or out of season, there was always a ready supply.

The Tsanpo's maidservant used a small knife to shave the ice in the basin into fine chips — snick, snick — then placed them into a large golden cup, and poured in a very sweet Hami white wine, a syrup boiled from the finest rock sugar, and fresh ewe's milk.

These ingredients, neither too much nor too little, just covered the fine ice shavings in the golden cup. Finally, a long-handled silver spoon was inserted for eating, and a large cup of something much like the shaved ice of later ages was ready.

Zhumeng (the Tsanpo's principal wife) quickly snatched it away, and then, accompanied by finely diced Xizhou honey melon, noisily devoured the entire cup in moments.

Fresh ewe's milk paired with top-grade sweet wine and syrup — even in later ages, the flavor would be an excellent dessert, let alone in this era.

But the Tsanpo Chiwang Xuzan did not care for this. He and his younger brother Puti Rezha, who shared the carriage, picked up a silver wine flagon that had long been chilled.

The flagon held the finest Khotan purple wine — a wine the Tsanpo had once dreamed of drinking but could never obtain.

The two did not need the maidservants to attend them. They served themselves, cup after cup, accompanied by a few plates of dried fruit and cured meat, and soon grew pleasantly tipsy.

Puti Rezha swayed a little, as if he had drunk too much, then leaned closer to Chiwang Xuzan. "Elder Brother, I observe that this Great Zhou is as rich and prosperous as the Great Tang of old!

Since crossing the Huangshui Prefecture, all along the way — whether Chengtian Liangzhou Prefecture, Lanzhou, Longxi, or Tianshui — all are treasured lands teeming with people and countless brave warriors.

And we have not even entered Guanzhong yet. If we enter Guanzhong, how much more would it be!"

Zhumeng had by now finished that large bowl of fresh-milk syrup shaved ice, and nodded in agreement. "The Sage, our uncle, treats us well indeed!

Back in Lhasa, those dog-slaves of the Luhui family gave us only eight hundred strings of cash a year. With more than two hundred of us to feed and clothe, if we did not sell off some palace gold and silver every year, we could not even eat our fill. How could we have enjoyed fine wine and fresh fruit like now?"

Chiwang Xuzan narrowed his eyes. He was not truly a heartless, ignorant fellow — otherwise he could not have danced on eggshells in that perilous Lhasa, and kept dancing for over a decade without ever slipping.

But precisely because he was the cleverest man the Tsanpo family had produced in the last one or two hundred years, he clearly understood that the position of Tsanpo in Lhasa would sooner or later become the grave that buried him.

At present, the branches of the Tsanpo family alone included the Ali royal line, the Yaze royal line, and the Yalong Jue'a royal line. Adding Chiwang Xuzan's own line, which considered itself the orthodox Lhasa royal line, that made a full four royal lines.

And these were the major royal lines. Beneath them were many more cadet branches — the Three Kings of Shanggung, the Three Virtues of the Lower Region, and a whole host of others.

At the same time, the religious struggles on the Qingtang Plateau were also fierce: the various sects of the Bon faith, the several branches of Buddhism, and the Six Dharma Sect below the plateau. There were also dozens or even hundreds of feudal lords. Just thinking about it made his head ache.

In such a complicated situation, the Tsanpo of the Lhasa royal line, dwelling in the Potala Palace in Lhasa, was simply the most conspicuous living target.

No matter which line or which faith grew powerful, the first thing they thought of was to enter Lhasa and deal with them.

"Uncle is uncle, then. After all, even a hero like our ancestor Chisongzan (Songtsen Gampo) called the Central Plains his maternal uncle. This is nothing." As he spoke, Chiwang Xuzan let out a soft breath.

"I see that our uncle, the Son of Heaven, has ambitions that reach to the heavens. If he wants to pacify the plateau and surpass the Great Dynasty's Emperor Taizong the Civil, he will surely have use for us.

And he is not a ruler who delights in killing. If we are obedient, not only can we drink this sweet, mellow wine every day, but our descendants can also enjoy wealth and honor for generations.

I see the Ga'er family is doing quite well in the Central Plains. Had they stayed in Tibetans, they would long since have fattened some vulture or other — how could they have their present glory?"

A strange look flickered through Puti Rezha's eyes, and he leaned a little closer to the Tsanpo Chiwang Xuzan.

"If Elder Brother can think this way, then I, your younger brother, can also enjoy wealth and honor for a lifetime. But to be absolutely safe, we should still drive Duojie and the others away from our side.

I have observed that all along this journey, they have been full of indignation. I fear that in time they will harbor resentment and endanger us.

Since ancient times, how many kings who surrendered their lands and wished only to live in wealth and comfort were ultimately dragged into the ruinous path of rebellion by subordinates who failed to recognize the times?"

Duojie and the hundred-odd men with him were Chiwang Xuzan's personal guards. Although they had been affected by the commoners' uprising, the Tsanpo family was, after all, the founder of this great empire, and still had some loyal subjects.

Duojie and the others were the ones who had followed Chiwang Xuzan down from the plateau all along the way — the last loyal subjects of the once-radiant title of Tibetan Tsanpo, the kind who would even bring their own dog food if need be.

Chiwang Xuzan's chest heaved a few times. These hundred-odd men were the last armed force he could control. If he gave them up, he would truly become a lamb stripped of all protection.

Ah... no! Chiwang Xuzan suddenly thought again — these hundred-odd men did not seem to be of much use either. If the Son of Heaven of the Central Plains wanted to kill him, he still would not escape.

"Younger Brother, you do not mean to have me kill Duojie and the others, do you?" Chiwang Xuzan asked in a low voice.

Puti Rezha tugged at the hem of his robe somewhat flustered. "No, no! The Son of Heaven, our uncle, loves brave warriors most of all. Just let Duojie and the others turn and serve our uncle, the Son of Heaven."

"Good!" Chiwang Xuzan raised his golden cup and put on a brilliant smile.

"If I can have the rank of a prince or marquis, with fine wine and delicacies every day without end, then this is joy enough — I shall never think of Lhasa again!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Joy enough here, the greatest joy is here!" Puti Rezha nodded like a chick pecking at grain, and let out a long, relieved breath in his heart.

The rank of prince or marquis would come — not only for his elder brother the Tsanpo, but now for him as well.

"Tsanpo, Li Congzhao, the Surveillance Commissioner of Guanzhong and Governor of Fengxiang Prefecture, has sent men with twenty jars of Fengxiang's finest thick wine and Jiannan's Spring-Burning wine from Shu." The convoy suddenly halted, and a guard's report came from outside the carriage.

"Good. I have long heard of the fine reputation of Jiannan Spring-Burning wine. I must taste it." Chiwang Xuzan nimbly jumped down from the carriage, his face showing not a trace of drunkenness.

The man Li Congzhao sent was Guo Zhao, the judicial officer of Fengxiang Prefecture. He could be considered an old meritorious follower of the dragon, and he had come for one purpose only.

"Tsanpo, beyond Fengxiang Prefecture lies the Jingzhao Chang'an Prefecture. The ancestral temples of the Great Tang emperors, your maternal ancestors, are all within the city of Chang'an. I humbly venture to ask the Tsanpo to alight from his carriage and pay respects at the Chang'an Prefecture."

The paying of respects was a minor matter. What was truly important was that after the Tsanpo arrived in Chang'an, eunuchs from the palace would teach him the proper etiquette for meeting the Sage.

Moreover, Zhang Yuan, the Minister of Rites, had already arrived, and needed to discuss in advance with the Tsanpo the matter of his treatment after he reached the divine capital of Luoyang.

"I must pay respects. I absolutely must. I, this grandson, should have come to pay respects long ago."

After all he had seen and the treatment he had received along the way, Chiwang Xuzan had long since cast off the last shred of pride in his heart.

Since he had already decided to come out and "sell" himself, there was no need to keep up any coy pretense.

Stopping along with the Tsanpo's convoy were Talibu, Amir, and the other high-ranking captives from Transoxiana.

Although they did not receive the Tsanpo's treatment — priceless fine wine and delicacies at their disposal — they were still treated quite well. They were not bound hand and foot, had carriages to ride in, and enjoyed a constant supply of fine wine, fine food, fruits, and vegetables.

Even Guo Zhou'er received some preferential treatment. Although her carriage was very small, and each meal consisted of only one meat dish and one vegetable dish, with coarse and fine grains in equal measure, at least she no longer had to travel on foot, and could eat and drink her fill.

And this treatment already left Guo Zhou'er quite satisfied.

She stretched out her hand and looked at her once fair and tender hand, which had now begun to darken and yellow.

She curled up her feet and removed her silk stockings, revealing a thick layer of calluses on her soles. Now, even if you made her walk barefoot on the ground, she would not find it painful.

After walking ten thousand li, the original delicate young woman — who had some wiles but was rough-hewn due to her limited experience and upbringing, and whose short-sightedness came from never having seen how vast the world truly was — had shed most of that former self.

Qiniang rolled about happily in the tiny carriage. A child's power of recovery was truly remarkable.

More than half his body had already stepped through the gates of the King of Hell's palace, yet only a few days after being pulled back, he was already bursting with energy again.

Guo Zhou'er pulled aside the cloth curtain over the carriage window. Outside was scenery utterly unlike what she had seen in Transoxiana, and she gazed entranced at the villages and towns slipping endlessly backward.

Since passing Budu Fort, she had finally understood what the homeland her ancestors had yearned for in their dreams was really like.

Its produce was abundant, its population vast, its commerce flourishing. Even farmers working the fields wore neat, proper clothing — unlike in Transoxiana, where most serfs went about year-round with barely enough cloth to cover their bodies.

The great majority of children, astonishingly, could all attend school, and all the elderly received proper care. It was said that even the old and weak like them could eat two meals a day of dry rice cooked with oil and salt.

Each family's fields stretched to several hundred mu, and several families lived together, their houses built like fortresses — they looked even better than the iqta estates of Transoxiana.

What moved Guo Zhou'er most deeply was the Great Zhou's power of mobilization. Having passed through life and death, she could now read the deeper meaning in such things.

When the convoy was in Longxi, the Tsenpo's Tibetan guards robbed a common household of a sheep and several jars of wine. They had not gone half a li before the man of the house returned, and immediately spurred his horse in pursuit.

A single ordinary household, yet it had six able-bodied men who could ride at a gallop, and their archery was excellent.

They carried fine long-eared bows, rode tall, powerful horses, wore oxhide armor, and had spare bows and arrows, maces, hengdao sabers, and horse lances at their saddles. The burly man in the lead even wore a full suit of iron lamellar armor.

The twenty-odd men who came to their aid shortly after were all equipped in much the same way. These four households were neighbors who lived together with the victims.

In Transoxiana, this would be the basic establishment of an iqta!

A full thirty-one riders, three suits of iron lamellar armor, nine suits of leather armor, more than sixty strong bows — an iqta like this, it was said, numbered only around a thousand men in all of Samanid Persia.

Guo Zhou'er still remembered the ashen faces of the Tsenpo's guards from afar, because after those thirty-one riders surrounded them, they immediately sent men galloping off in all directions, beating the brass gongs in their hands.

In barely two quarters of an hour, more than fifty such "iqta" groups built around thirty-odd riders had assembled — which meant that in two quarters of an hour, they had been surrounded by fifteen hundred cavalry.

Another quarter hour later, mountain folk poured in from every direction in overwhelming numbers — at least two or three thousand.

Under the direction of the brass gongs, the front ranks carried long spears, swords, and shields, the rear ranks carried bows and arrows, and they advanced in formation, shoulder to shoulder, rank upon rank.

Although many among them were gray-bearded old men and youths whose downy whiskers had not yet fully grown, the battle formation they made was as square and sharp as if hewn by blade and axe.

Their steps were firm and unified, and as they chanted their work songs, there was no trace of fear on their faces — only the excitement of soon going into battle and a shared hatred of the enemy.

The Tsenpo was terrified. He came out personally to apologize, and had the plundering guards stripped and flogged in public. Fortunately, the garrison troops who had come to escort them arrived and persuaded the angry crowd to disperse, and only then was the convoy able to pass.

This incident gave Guo Zhou'er a tremendous shock — greater even than when the Duke of White Kucha buried thirty thousand men alive outside Talas.

Because she had come to deeply understand that in this land where her ancestors had lived, in this small place called Longxi Prefecture, a force of five thousand elite infantry and cavalry could be raised in less than a single hour.

And in this great country, there were at least a hundred prefectures like Longxi.

Only now did Guo Zhou'er know that behind her stood an empire that made men tremble to behold. The Taohuashi Tang Empire of legend, said to be able to fight all the way to the ends of the earth, was real.

And now, the Tibetan Empire, which had once been able to contend with the Tang Empire, was already preparing to submit.

The Abbasid Caliphate had long since splintered into countless fragments, and the Caliph had become a plaything of usurpers in every region.

In this world, there was no longer any empire that could be mentioned in the same breath as the Taohuashi Empire, which had been the first to revive!

Of course, Guo Zhou'er's understanding was still somewhat lacking. How could the security for important captives and surrendered men like them and the Tibetan Tsenpo possibly be so lax?

That day's scene had been staged entirely for the benefit of the Tibetan Tsenpo, Tri Wangxuzan.

Sure enough, Tri Wangxuzan understood immediately, and at once backed down.

Because the Great Tang had already recovered its strength, while Tibet no longer even deserved the phrase "declining day by day."

They could not win — absolutely could not win!

"Chang'an! Chang'an! Chang'an!" No one knew who shouted it first, but in an instant, the news that they had reached Chang'an spread swiftly through the entire convoy.

The reason for such excitement was that this convoy, besides men like Guo Guangyi and Talibu, also carried more than three hundred handpicked loyal subjects and righteous men of Suyab.

Men like Chi Tian, like Guo Tianfang, like Luo Dingzhong, who could barely count as half a loyal subject.

Punishment alone was not enough — there had to be reward as well, so that those who had held fast to loyalty and righteousness could feel that their perseverance would be repaid. That too was very important.

Beneath Kaiyuan Gate — the western gate of Chang'an through which the Indian king Arunasva had once been led by Wang Xuance like an ox or horse — now stood restored by the Zhang Zhou dynasty.

Li Shouling, Duke of Longxi Commandery, had turned eighty this year, but his ears were not deaf, his eyes were not dim, and he still walked with a vigorous stride.

After the founding of Zhang Zhou, most of the descendants of the Li Tang royal house had returned to live in Chang'an. Though they were all from distant branch lines, their numbers were not small.

They opened shops and wine houses in Chang'an, worked as minor clerks in the government offices, or even farmed the land.

Of course, their greatest function was on days like today — serving as the conduit that transferred the Great Tang's claim and glory to the Great Zhou.

It must be said, this was rare in any dynasty past or present: the former dynasty's imperial clan, after the fall of their state, could openly enjoy life without any taboo, and were deeply supportive of the new dynasty.

The first to step forward was naturally the Tsenpo, Tri Wangxuzan. Having already completed his ideological transformation, the Tsenpo wore a blue lan robe, a futou cap tied on his head, and walked with the measured steps of a court official, going straight up to Li Shouling, who was dressed in purple robes.

The Tsenpo lightly cupped his hands in salute. "May I ask, Grand-Uncle, is this grandson's return too late?"

A great "Hua—!" rang out. The tens of thousands of people gathered around Kaiyuan Gate gasped in unison.

Countless people looked at one another in astonishment, and finally erupted in earth-shaking cheers. The wave of sound surged outward from Kaiyuan Gate in all directions, and countless people ran to spread the news.

Tibet! This was the sworn enemy that had loved and fought the Great Tang, the only powerful rival state worthy of being called the Great Tang's opponent throughout its three hundred years.

They had risen almost simultaneously, and then, in their love-hate struggle, had fallen one after the other.

And the one who had thrown the last shovelful of earth over Tibet was none other than Zhang Yichao, the great-grandfather of today's Sage Zhang of Zhang Zhou.

Historically, after Zhang Yichao raised the banner of righteousness, all regions were greatly encouraged: Khotan restored its kingdom, and the Tuyuhun broke away.

Of the last great Tibetan commanders, Shang Bipi and Lun Kongre — one had his forces that fled to Ganzhou absorbed by Zhang Yichao, and the other was killed by Pugu Jun, whom Zhang Yichao dispatched, his head sent to Chang'an.

And with the loss of the heavy forces in the Longyou region, Lhasa's military strength was left thin. Its armed might was no longer sufficient to sustain the nobles' extravagance, and this ignited a commoner uprising that spread like wildfire — one could almost say it directly buried the Tibetan dynasty.

History turns in such marvelous cycles. Zhang Yichao was loyal to the Great Tang, and he laid the last shovelful of earth over the Tibetan Empire's final decline.

Zhang Zhao took up the Great Tang's mantle, and brought Tibet, the Great Tang's old enemy, into one great family from that day forward.

The Great Tang and Tibet — their historical grievances and affections had long since become completely entangled. Here and now, Tri Wangxuzan's single question of "too late?" produced an effect far more exquisite and far more powerful than Liu Shan's historical "This place is so pleasant I do not miss Shu."

Tears blurred Li Shouling's eyes. He looked at the Tsenpo, Tri Wangxuzan, who now seemed no different from a Tang man, and slowly stepped forward two paces, taking Tri Wangxuzan's hands.

"A late arrival is better than none. May the Great Tang and Tibet, beginning with the Tsenpo, become one family at last."

"Long live! Long live! Long live!" Every person of Chang'an puffed out their chest and thrust out their bellies. Even the old farmer drawing water by the Yong'an Canal in the distance set down his carrying pole and joined in the cheering.

Guo Zhou'er stepped down from the carriage and slowly came to Guo Guangyi's side. The bone-deep hatred in her eyes was gone, replaced by deep pity.

She raised a bowl of thick wine and held it to the lips of Guo Guangyi, who was bound hand and foot. Naturally, Guo Guangyi received no preferential treatment — he was still trussed up in the prisoner's cart.

Generally speaking, a person who has had a third of their tongue cut off does not live long.

Because besides helping with speech, the tongue's main functions are tasting flavors and, when chewing food, stirring and separating it to keep a person from being choked by food rushing straight into the esophagus.

Once the tongue is incomplete, first, one must eat with extreme care, bit by bit; second, one loses the tip of the tongue's ability to taste sweetness, spiciness, and saltiness, leaving only a faint sour taste and a great deal of bitterness.

This leads to a complete loss of the pleasure of eating, leaving only nauseating misery.

Therefore, without modern medical intervention, the great majority of people who lose their tongues ultimately die of malnutrition, or even starve outright.

Of course, the accompanying Embroidered Guard personal troops knew this well, which was why they chose to boil porridge with lard and then insert a bamboo tube directly into Guo Guangyi's mouth, force-feeding him like a duck being fattened, to keep the man from starving to death before reaching the divine capital Luoyang.

This bowl of thick wine was brewed with superb skill—sour-sweet and extraordinarily delicious.

Although Guo Guangyi could no longer taste sweetness, the areas on the sides of his tongue that handled sourness still had some function left, so he could taste a faint sourness.

For six full months, Guo Guangyi had tasted nothing at all—not even bitterness—and had long since lost all desire to live. He survived only because life and death were no longer his to decide.

Now, the sourness of the thick wine washed so vividly through his long-deadened soul that Guo Guangyi felt as though he had suddenly returned to the world of the living. He sucked at the bowl of thick wine desperately, greedily, until thunderous cheers rang out.

"My elder brother, do you see it? The Great Tang that our ancestors yearned for in their dreams and never forgot, the Great Tang that made all the peoples of the world look up in reverence—it truly exists.

With your abilities, you could have become a ruler of a state like Bai Kucha, dominating a region.

But now, you have destroyed me, and destroyed yourself even more. You will never again possess the identity of a son of Tang. You will rot in the mud like a dead dog of a mixed barbarian."

Guo Guangyi's eyes suddenly flew wide open, and tears of remorse poured down like a bursting dam as he let out a piercing, choked wail.

Guo Zhou'er, meanwhile, wiped the thick wine from her hands with a cloth and carefully followed behind Guo Tianfang toward the Kaiyuan Gate.

Amid the cheers, Li Shouling, Duke of Longxi Commandery, Luo Tongda, Prefect of the Jingzhao Chang'an Prefecture, and Guo Zhao, Judicial Officer of Fengxiang Prefecture, each held up a great jar of Xinfeng fine wine.

Chi Tian was the first to walk over. Kong Renzhang, Administrative Assistant of Jingzhao Chang'an Prefecture, held a brush in hand and lightly dipped it into ink mixed with cinnabar.

Kong Renzhang was the forty-third-generation descendant of Confucius. His elder brother Kong Renyu had just been enfeoffed by Zhang Zhao as Baron Who Honors the Sage and appointed County Magistrate of Qufu.

Chi Tian, his wife, and their three children knelt on the brickwork of the Kaiyuan Gate. Kong Renzhang held the brush and lightly touched it to the spot between Chi Tian's brows, intoning: "Know that you are loyal, steadfast, and righteous."

The people inside and outside the Kaiyuan Gate shouted in unison, "Good!"

Then he touched the spot between the brows of Chi Tian's old wife. "May you enjoy fortune, longevity, peace, and health."

"Good!" the people continued to shout in unison.

"You shall have the valor of Guan and Zhang." This was said to Chi Tian's eldest son, who was already seventeen or eighteen, and looked sturdy enough, though clearly not much of a scholar—so only his martial skill could be praised.

"You should be able to fill five carts with learning." This was said to Chi Tian's youngest son, a boy just over six, who had miraculously survived the bitter prison. He was still young, so there was hope he might pursue scholarship.

Then came Chi Tian's daughter, a girl of fifteen. Truthfully, she was not pretty, and having been violated after capture, she seemed very fearful of people.

Li Shouling stepped forward, took the brush from Kong Renzhang's hand, and personally touched the spot between her brows.

Then he took the girl's hand, turned her around, and let her face the crowd of Chang'an officials and elders behind her with composure.

Li Shouling laughed loudly at them: "This is the daughter of a hero, a fine daughter of our Han people. She is destined to be the wife of my great-great-grandson, Li Shouling. None of you need contend for her."

"Good! Good! Good!" Everyone cheered and laughed, their laughter full of praise and sincerity, and the girl's shrinking, evasive manner suddenly faded considerably.

Chi Tian had truly emerged from bitterness into sweetness, and he embraced his old wife, weeping aloud.

Guo Zhou'er, behind the crowd, was also streaming with tears. Ashamed of herself, she wanted to turn and flee, but in the end she forced herself to stay.

Guo Zhao, meanwhile, helped Guo Tianfang to his feet. He was a direct descendant of Guo Ziyi, one generation senior to Guo Tianfang.

Guo Tianfang looked at this uncle of his, his face full of shame. "Uncle, the Guo family of Suyab has produced a traitor. How can we face Prince Zhongwu of Fenyang and Prince Zhonglie of Henei!"

Prince Zhongwu of Fenyang refers to Guo Ziyi, Prince of Fenyang Commandery, whose posthumous name was Zhongwu.

And Guo Xin, in the Zhang Zhou dynasty, was given the posthumous name Zhonglie. Because his paternal grandmother was from Henei Commandery, he was posthumously enfeoffed as Prince of Henei Commandery, with the full title Prince Zhonglie of Henei.

Guo Zhao gripped Guo Tianfang's arms. "What family has no unfilial descendants? What state has no treacherous ministers? Suyab still has my nephew. The lost glory can surely be won back."

As he spoke, Li Shouling, Luo Tongda, and Guo Zhao raised their wine jars together, and the countless surrounding Chang'an commoners, as if by magic, produced all manner of gold and silver wine cups, and even earthenware wine bowls.

The pure white wine splashed and gurgled into the bowls and cups. Someone laughed: "When loyal and righteous men return home, how can we not drink until utterly drunk? Hahahaha!"

Amid the laughter, Guo Zhao handed his wine jar to a Guo family son, strode forward, and walked up to Guo Zhou'er, who was cowering and hiding behind the others in deep self-abasement. With his own hands, he offered her a bowl of Xinfeng fine wine from their homeland.

"My sister has endured countless hardships to reach this place. Seeing our homeland like this, was it worthy of our ancestors' sleepless yearning?"

Guo Zhou'er, trembling, drained a large bowl of Xinfeng fine wine. "A body laden with sin—I fear I am unworthy of the land our ancestors tilled."

"No!" Guo Zhao shook his head and poured Guo Zhou'er another bowl of Xinfeng fine wine. "My sister is steadfast. You deserve to follow in the footsteps of Lady Feng."

Lady Feng was Feng Liao of the Western Han, who accompanied Princess Jieyou in her distant marriage to the Wusun kingdom. She resolved not to fail her mission, and several times served as an imperial envoy, pacifying and governing the various parts of Wusun. She rendered immense service in helping the Western Han control Wusun.

At the time, all the states of the Western Regions called Feng Liao "Lady Feng." From the time she assisted the Wusun king Xingmi onward, until the reign of Emperor Taiwu of the Northern Wei, Tuoba Tao, more than five hundred years later, Wusun still received Northern Wei envoys with the rites of a vassal state.

This was the most successful and most cost-effective marriage alliance in Chinese history—utterly unique—which shows the ability and merit of Feng Liao.

Guo Zhou'er knelt on the ground and bowed toward the east. "If I may be forgiven, though I lack Lady Feng's ability, I am willing to emulate Lady Feng's deeds."

(I've decided to write a few more lines for this character; otherwise the story of the Western Regions won't connect and will feel very jarring.)

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