Chapter 866: We Too Once Dared to Venture Out Into the World

In the divine capital Luoyang, wave after wave of elephant trumpeting shattered the early-morning stillness.

At the sound, the people of Luoyang seemed to wake as one; they poured from their homes with whole families in tow and surged into the streets, then ran toward the Vermilion Bird Gate of the inner city.

Linking the outer city and the inner city was Vermilion Bird Avenue, and at the avenue's end stood the Vermilion Bird Gate, the main gate of the imperial palace in the inner city.

"Look, white elephants, white elephants — there really are white elephants! These are auspicious omens sent by Heaven, true auspicious beasts!"

An old man whose front teeth had all fallen out pointed at the foremost cream-white elephant and roared in astonished delight.

White elephants had been prized since ancient times, because they were not albino elephants — albino elephants are pinkish — and so a true white elephant was something one could seek but never demand, not a product of disease.

"How benevolent is the Sage! This old man has heard that in the time of Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor, the southern barbarian states once offered a white elephant as tribute, and never thought I would see one again today."

The old man was still too overcome to contain himself, carrying on as though he had lived from the time of the Great Tang's Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor down to the present, but the neighbors around him did not mind; they rather enjoyed hearing the old man tell tales of the past.

For the old man had been born in the fourteenth year of Xiantong of the Great Tang's Emperor Yizong — that is, 873 CE — and was eighty-two years old this year.

Such an age would be common in later ages, but in this era it deserved to be called a marvel of longevity.

And once you knew what he had lived through, you would think it a legend.

The old man's surname was Wang. At seven, just when the Great Qi Emperor Huang Chao entered Luoyang, Old Wang hid in a well and narrowly escaped with his life; of his whole family only an aged grandfather remained, and the two of them, grandfather and grandson, had struggled to survive in that age of chaos.

After that, the old man lived through Zhu Quanzhong's murder of Tang Emperor Zhaozong, Li Ye; the killing at the Xingjiao Gate of the Later Tang's Zhuang Temple; the rebellion of Prince of Qin Li Congrong, son of the Ming Temple; the Last Emperor Li Congke weeping his way from Fengxiang to the throne; Shi Jingtang's betrayal of the realm; and the Last Emperor burning himself alive with his whole family atop the Xuanwu Tower.

And then came Zhang Zhao's entry into Luoyang and his great battle there with the Khitan, when several hundred thousand troops fought bitterly for months and the land around Luoyang was all but reduced to ruins.

Yet through all these calamities the old man had survived them one by one. Now, at eighty-two, with children and grandchildren filling his house, he had seen with his own eyes the great dynasty rise again and lived to see a golden age — truly a legend.

Of the dozens of clansmen and companions of his own age back then, fewer than three in ten had lived to die a natural death, and he alone had lived past sixty.

The rest had died of cold and hunger, or perished in the chaos of war; those who could die of illness were counted fortunate.

Old Wang remembered clearly that when they passed away, most were in their teens or twenties, in the prime of life; many never married, and some never even ate a full meal.

A constable keeping order heard the old man say these were white elephants sent as tribute by a foreign state, and at once corrected him with a smile:

"Old Wang, these are no foreign tribute. See that fellow at the front, hands bound behind his back, black as a Kunlun slave?

He looks like a Kunlun slave, but his ancestors were Han folk. It was his ancestor who murdered officials and raised rebellion in Xianglin County of Rinan Commandery, the very culprit who caused Rinan to be lost for several hundred years. Today he does not even remember his own ancestors, and has come to look just like a Kunlun slave."

What the constable said was not quite right: Qu Lian was a Cham, not a Han, and his family had looked that way since ancient times.

Moreover, after Qu Lian's rebellion in Rinan Commandery, successive dynasties had recovered the territory.

During the Liu Song period, that Zong Que who wished to ride the long wind and break ten thousand li of waves led troops and crushed the kingdom of Linyi, recovering Rinan Commandery.

In the first year of Daye, Emperor Yang of Sui also sent the general Liu Fang to destroy the kingdom of Linyi once more and recover Rinan Commandery.

The true loss came only in the Great Tang period, when the Tang extended its power to Transoxiana, Persia, and Tokharistan, and truly had no energy left to manage the tiny Rinan Commandery; only then did the kingdom of Champa gain a firm foothold.

But such matters need not be explained one by one to the common folk below. They only needed to know that the court's great army had stormed the Champa capital, captured and killed several hundred members of the Champa royal clan, and recovered Rinan Commandery before returning — a great achievement unmatched in centuries, far surpassing anything in the Tang.

No sooner had the constable finished speaking than thunderous curses erupted. The people of Luoyang were both furious and utterly baffled; they simply could not believe that anyone would refuse to be a Han and choose to become a Kunlun slave.

It was simply too absurd!

But curses aside, the people of the divine capital could not help but thrill at the court's recovery of Rinan Commandery.

Just then, the figure the Wang clansmen had been straining desperately to find finally appeared: a burly man in a fiery-red jianfu uniform, a hengdao saber at his waist.

Shouts and cheers of "Dalang!" "Big Brother!" "Young Lord Dalang!" "Elder Brother!" "Uncle!" rang out one after another. The Wang family jumped and danced, and at once drew the burly man's attention; he too shouted and broke away from the ranks, running over.

Only then did the Wang family notice that Wang Dalang held two ropes in his hands, the ropes looped around the waists of two Kunlun slaves, and on each Kunlun slave's back was strapped a large bundle.

Still a dozen or so paces away, Wang Dalang was about to kneel and bow, but Old Wang flung aside his cane and bellowed:

"Improper! You are a warrior of the nation, in military dress — how can you kneel and bow at will!"

In Zhang Zhou, the jianfu uniform had evolved from a ceremonial garment meant purely to display valor and loyalty into a form of military dress, somewhat akin to the dress uniforms of later ages.

In Zhang Zhou, by law, when one wore military dress, even if the Emperor himself came in person one only knelt on one knee to salute; to kneel and bow to one's father or grandfather, one had to first remove the military dress. That was why Old Wang shouted in warning.

Hearing his great-grandfather's shout, Wang Dalang recovered himself. He gave a full formal bow with clasped hands and said, "Grandfather, Father, with military dress upon me, I cannot perform the full rites."

Only then did the family crowd around. With a glance from Wang Dalang, the two Kunlun slaves lowered the cloth bundles from their backs and opened them.

Whoa! Cries of astonishment burst out at once, for the great bundles were stuffed full of every kind of treasure.

With a clinking clatter, a golden wine cup gleaming with a dark golden light rolled out, its body set with emerald-green gems.

With a rustling tumble came two strings of pearls, their luster subdued but clearly worth a fortune.

Gold ingots, silver coins, rhinoceros horns, and alligator hides covered the ground. Wang Dalang then drew from his bosom a pair of ivory chopsticks wrapped in red silk, raised them high, and presented them to Old Wang.

"Great-Grandfather, these are treasured ivory chopsticks from the collection of the Champa prime minister. Using them has the effect of prolonging life."

Old Wang took the ivory chopsticks his great-grandson handed him, felt the gold-inlaid taotie-pattern band at the tips, opened his toothless mouth, and laughed heartily:

"Already in my eighties, and still prolonging life — am I to live to a hundred?"

As he laughed, a look of sorrow rose in Old Wang's eyes. "In the old days, our Eastern City Wang clan had more than thirty able-bodied men. Today I alone remain with descendants. My brothers and uncles all died by sword and calamity, their lines cut off.

That I alone have lived to see this day is thanks to the Sage, who swept away the rebels and brought peace to the realm.

I should live a few more years — otherwise, would I not be failing the Sage's benevolence!"

Old Wang's words struck a deep chord among the people of Luoyang. Yes — since the final years of the great dynasty, and especially after the death of the Zhuang Temple's Li Cunxu atop the Xingjiao Gate, Luoyang had suffered seven great calamities in twenty years, and lesser outbreaks of soldierly violence beyond count.

But from 945, when the Shaoming Sage entered Luoyang and established the capital in the Central Plains, in these ten years there had not been a single incident of soldiers harming the people. Government remained essentially clean, and civil officials, military officers, nobles, and great merchants all by and large behaved themselves.

A few years ago, the common people had still been anxious about this stability, for under Zhu Liang and the Later Tang there had been a few years of peace too, and even the false Jin had gone a few years without much upheaval.

But now, with the realm at peace for ten years, not only was the golden vessel unbroken, but even Rinan, lost for centuries, and Silla and Japan, which had never submitted, had all come to pay allegiance.

At that moment, everyone seemed suddenly to realize that the age of chaos and separation was over, and that days of peace had truly arrived.

The army's return to court naturally could not do without the ritual dance of gratitude. Come to think of it, this Zhang Zhou and the preceding Li Tang really did feel bound by an unbroken thread.

Much of Zhang Zhou's culture, institutions, and customs were essentially born from the Li Tang.

Of course, not the Li Tang after the Yan rebels' rebellion, but the Li Tang before it.

Boom-boom went the drums, rising over the city. The returning army, dressed in jianfu uniforms, danced and chanted like a mountain.

Atop the Vermilion Bird Gate, Emperor Zhang had also come with his sons — thirteen of them in all, every one eight years or older.

The thirteen princes clustered around Zhang Zhao. Zhang Zhao held a jiegu drum and followed the drumbeat, dancing together with the princes atop the Vermilion Bird Gate, thus expressing welcome for the brave soldiers' return home.

Someone shouted — no one knew who — that the Sage was also dancing on the Zhuque Gate. In an instant, the common folk lining both sides of Zhuque Avenue laughed and began dancing too, following the drumbeats and work chants.

For a time, dust rose from the broad Zhuque Avenue, and cheers rang out one after another.

Maids in patterned dresses, scholars in blue robes, commoners in hempen clothes, children grimy from play — some held hands, some formed circles, all dancing with wild, unrestrained postures and movements, to their hearts' content.

Everyone was in revelry; only the captured prisoners knelt on the ground, not daring to move.

Well, in this time and place, no one should be saying that Han people can't dance and only know how to shout "666."

Before the winds of conservatism began to blow, the Han people had also been passionate and unrestrained, able to sing and dance well — the most adventurous people of the age, a people who would take up a single hengdao saber and dare to carve out a piece of the world!

Once the triumphant return ceremony was finished, Zhang Zhao directly bestowed wine and meat upon the brave soldiers and sent them home.

At this point, no one had the patience for more elaborate ceremonies. To take the valor and spoils of the campaign home and share them with their families — that was their most urgent desire.

So Zhang Zhao even dispensed with the banquet, directly granting wine and meat to the officers and soldiers, letting them return to enjoy this imperial bounty with their loved ones.

Wang Dalang came home, having shed his bright and imposing jian'gao ceremonial uniform for a casual home robe with slits at the sides. Along with him came several merchants brought by the ward elder.

Gold wine cups, pearl necklaces, rhinoceros horns — ordinary households had no use for such things! And so merchants who specialized in buying up these spoils of war had emerged in response.

To prevent soldiers from being cheated by merchants, the ward elder of the neighborhood usually came along with the merchants, as did clerks from the Four Wards Inspection Office of the Divine Capital — petty officials equivalent to a market supervision bureau — along with several constables and runners.

Nor was it just one merchant doing the buying. Often seven or eight, even a dozen or more, would come together and bid in front of the soldier. Once terms were agreed, the soldier still had to sign and file a record before the transaction was complete.

Naturally, the yamen could also use the opportunity to collect taxes and fees — killing several birds with one stone.

One merchant took a fancy to Old Wang's ivory chopsticks, because they were truly beautiful. They looked to be the work of Han craftsmen — exquisite ornamentation, cool and warm to the touch, worthy of being called a work of art.

Wang Dalang had not wanted to sell, but Old Wang insisted. After watching the merchant take the ivory chopsticks for twenty strings of cash, Old Wang said to the gray-haired eldest grandson beside him:

"Tomorrow, go to the county yamen and have my pension cut off. From now on, I'll live on these twenty strings my good grandson's chopsticks brought in.

The Sage has it hard! I must save him some grain. There will be plenty of places to spend money in the future."

The so-called pension was the old-age allowance that the Zhang Zhou court paid to those over seventy.

It was not paid directly in money, but as a daily ration of one jin of coarse rice and two liang of pickled vegetables. In addition, each month they received three jin of white flour and polished rice, one jin of meat, one jin of wine, and three liang each of sugar and tea.

City and town residents collected it every three days. In the countryside, the county yamen dispatched constables to supervise the village elders and headmen, who purchased supplies locally every ten days and distributed the rice and meat.

These goods guaranteed the daily needs of a person over seventy. They were an extremely important part of the benevolent governance of the Zhang Zhou dynasty, and the most direct embodiment of Zhang Zhao's philosophy of ruling through loyalty, righteousness, benevolence, and filial piety.

They were also the most important assessment standard for the Zhang Zhou court's local officials and for village officers such as village elders and headmen.

The expenditure looked large, but in reality it was not much at all. Given the productivity and medical standards of the time, only a little over eighty thousand people in the entire country could enjoy it — roughly the cost of maintaining four or five thousand imperial guards.

But the impact was beyond measure, because every such elder had a host of children and grandchildren beneath him, influential not only within his own family but throughout his village and ward.

Through this court pension for the elderly, the Zhang Zhou court displayed a grand vision unlike that of the chaotic, fractious rulers of the past several centuries, and played an enormous role in restoring the customs of the people.

The clerk from the Four Wards Inspection Office raised his thumb in approval, and the ward elder chimed in with praise. No one objected.

For in Zhang Zhou, declining the pension after becoming prosperous was a way of demonstrating noble character.

The Wang family had now sold over three hundred strings' worth of spoils from Wang Dalang alone, making the neighbors green with envy. Declining the pension was only to be expected.

Once the gold cups and pearl necklaces had all been sold, the last to step forward was the clerk from the Four Wards Inspection Office. He looked at the two male Kunlun slaves kneeling behind Wang Dalang, inspected them carefully, and nodded with satisfaction.

"The Right Jinwu Guard truly are the Sage's claws and fangs. Their eye for choosing men is indeed remarkable.

In three days, please have the young lord send these two to the Inspection Office for registration. After sixty days, they should fetch a good price."

The Inspection Office clerk had reason to say this, because the Kunlun slaves of this era were not like the black slaves of later North America.

The black slaves of North America were sent to farm. But when it came to farming skill in this age, who could compare with our own countrymen?

Buying a Kunlun slave to farm — you'd likely lose your shirt. Better to rent the land out.

So the Kunlun slaves of this era were generally used in the inner quarters of great households.

Because the inner quarters usually contained many women, yet many tasks still had to be done by men. So households would keep Kunlun slaves to do the work.

The advantage was obvious: because Kunlun slaves looked different from our countrymen, the women of the inner quarters generally had no interest in these fellows who looked like black monkeys.

And even if they did take a liking — there were no condoms in this age. Once a woman became pregnant, the child was doomed the moment it was born.

For if a woman had an affair with a Han servant, she could deny it to the death, and without blood tests it was generally not easy to expose her. But with a Kunlun slave, the truth was revealed the moment the child was born.

The same applied to the male master. If the mistress placed a few female Kunlun slaves around him, first, it was hard for his aesthetic tastes to align with theirs; second, if a black child was born — just think of the plight of Yan Kunlun, Murong Yanchao — one could imagine how humiliating it would be for the master, especially a master of standing.

So these Kunlun slaves were, in practice, slaves serving a half-eunuch function for wealthy and powerful households. Their other functions were merely incidental.

Moreover, in the eyes of most people, Kunlun slaves basically did not count as human. They were protected by no law, and the burdens of using them in other respects were far smaller.

But since they were to enter the inner quarters, those who were fierce, cunning, or even too clever were unsuitable.

Therefore, before entering the interior of the Great Tang, the Kunlun slaves underwent a preliminary screening by their captors.

Those with the temperaments described above were basically thrown into mines, lumber camps, or used as cannon fodder.

That was why this Inspection Office clerk praised the Right Jinwu Guard, to which Wang Dalang belonged, for their professional eye in selection.

And at this stage, these docile, timid, less cunning Kunlun slaves would be sent to a yamen designated by the Inspection Office for sixty days of training, after which they could enter the market for wealthy households to choose from.

Of course, the prices varied. If the Wang family was willing to sell now, the males would go for ten strings each, the females around six or seven strings.

If they were willing to send them to the designated yamen for training, then bring them home to familiarize them with the living environment of the Great Tang, and sell them after sixty days, the price could generally double.

Of course, there were risks involved: death from illness, accidental death, or a sudden outburst of ferocity were all possible.

Wang Dalang was confident. He waved his hand: "Keep them for sixty days. Once sold, the money will be of great use to my family."

Hearing Wang Dalang say this, the last few merchants who specialized in the Kunlun slave trade left in disappointment. The Inspection Office clerk, after making arrangements with the Wang family, also rose and departed.

That night, the Wang household was filled with laughter and song. Whatever the true taste of the imperial food and wine, to eat it was the highest honor.

Great chunks of meat, big bowls of wine — even the children were allowed at the table. As the meal neared its end, Old Wang, shrewd with age, signaled his children and grandchildren to quiet down. Taking Wang Dalang's hand, he said:

"My good grandson wants to sell these two Kunlun slaves for a good price. Is there some important matter you still need to attend to?"

Old Wang had reason to ask.

This time, Wang Dalang had returned with spoils that sold for several hundred strings — enough for the whole family to live well.

Even his younger brothers could each receive a dozen or so strings, more than enough to marry and start families. There was no need to take the risk of training these two Kunlun slaves — unless there was somewhere he still needed to spend a great deal of money.

Wang Dalang nodded and said to Old Wang: "Your grandson wants to save more money because, when I returned, the old Duke Zhang of the Jiao State personally asked me about it."

He knew our Wang family runs a strict household. Erlang, Sanlang, and Wulang can all wield spear and staff, ride spirited horses, and are fine archers besides, so he wanted to ask whether anyone in our family would be willing to go to Guangnan.

The Duke of Jiaoguo said that as long as someone from our family is willing to go, his grandson can serve as a Chief Adjutant in the Left Guard of the King of Tang for five years.

Then the person who goes can choose between a centurion's post in the guard station or a junior patrol inspector, and will also receive three hundred mu of prime paddy land, eight hundred mu of dry land, ten servants, and three strings of cash for travel expenses."

"The King of Tang?" Old Master Wang asked doubtfully. There is no King of Tang at court right now!

One must not underestimate the people of Luoyang at this time. Transport them to a later age and they would be old Beijingers from Chaoyang District — they knew court affairs better than officials from the provinces.

Wang Dalang put on a mysterious air, lowered his voice, and the relatives around him leaned in with equally mysterious and excited expressions.

"The Sage has already decided that the Third Prince, Zhao Ge'er, upon reaching adulthood, will be enfeoffed as King of Tang and permanently garrison Guangnan. His consort will be none other than the Duke of Jiaoguo's eldest daughter."

"Oh!" The Wang relatives drew out the syllable, wearing the gossip-hungry expressions of people who had just had a revelation.

Old Master Wang listened and nodded heavily. In the chaos of war in former days, of all his sons only the second had lived to adulthood, and the second had only two sons and two daughters.

But fortunately, the second son's two sons — his two grandsons — were blessed, and together they had raised eleven sons.

Wang Dalang was the eldest great-grandson among them. The other Erlang, Sanlang, and Wulang were all heroic youths who had grown up after Zhang Zhou founded the state. Zhang Chengjiu had long been in the Divine Capital, so naturally he knew the reputations of these younger ones.

"The Duke of Jiaoguo offers such generous rewards even to Erlang and Sanlang, who have only served as long-campaign stalwarts. It seems Guangnan is sorely short of men!" Old Master Wang sighed.

Wang Dalang shook his head. "It is not really short of men. What it lacks is people like us — trusted confidants of the Sage, young men of the capital."

These words made Old Master Wang's aged face relax into a smile. He clapped his hands excitedly and, feigning delight, let out a hearty shout.

"Good grandson, go and tell the Duke of Jiaoguo: we of the Wang family will take both the centurion's post and the junior patrol inspector. Erlang and Sanlang will go together, so they can look after each other."

When the Wang family heard the old patriarch speak thus, every face wore an expression both solemn and joyful.

The joy was that the family would soon produce officials again. The solemnity was because this journey of ten thousand li meant they could never return to their homeland, and no one could say whether Erlang and Sanlang would adapt to the climate of Guangnan, or whether danger awaited them there.

Wang Dalang looked at his great-grandfather, who was forcing a cheerful expression, and said nothing, because he knew the Sage needed people like Erlang and Sanlang to go far away.

The state and the people — the nation too — needed people like them to leave the gentle, prosperous homeland of the Central Plains and go far off to the ends of the earth.

(End of Chapter)

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