The fifteenth day of the fourth month, first year of Kaiyuan. Chang'an.
Ten days after An Lushan left, Chang'an looked the same as before.
Locust flowers outside the palace walls had fallen all over the ground; white petals were blown up by the wind, swirling on the bluestone slabs of Zhuque Avenue. Camel bells came from the direction of the West Market, jingling, as usual. People were still queuing at the entrance of the Chongren Ward dental clinic; Qingyuan was keeping accounts behind the counter, and Shen Yue was grinding medicinal powder in the back. Nothing had changed.
But I stood on the palace wall, looking at those falling flowers, and suddenly felt that something was different. The wind was still that wind, the flowers were still those flowers, but there was an indescribable smell in the air. Not the sweetness of locust flowers, not the bitterness of the pharmacy, but another—like the sound of silk threads tightening as a net slowly closes.
Xuanzheng Hall
Morning court was held as usual.
Zhang Li was the first to step forward. A侍御史 of the Censorate, rank nine, standing very far back in the court. But everyone heard his words.
"Your Majesty, Fanyang military affairs are heavy; General An supports them alone, which is truly not easy. Border achievements should not forget kindness; the court should show more consideration. This subject believes we must not let border generals be disheartened."
After he spoke, sweat slid down from his temples. His hands were trembling, but he had finished speaking.
He sat on the Dragon Throne, not speaking immediately. The hall was quiet for a moment. Yao Chong stood at the head of the civil officials, expressionless. Guo Ziyi stood at the end of the military column, head bowed, his fingers lightly stroking the old scar on his armor.
"Zhang Qing is right." He nodded. "General An has worked hard and achieved great things; I know it. Court dismissed."
Just that sentence. No praise, no blame, no reward, no punishment. But everyone heard it—His Majesty did not object.
When Zhang Li retreated, his steps were weak. The hem of his robe dragged on the ground, making a faint rustling sound. No one looked at him. But everyone noted it in their hearts—speaking for An Lushan was fine.
The next day, Li Yuan, a Langzhong of the Ministry of War, stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, Fanyang army is in a bitter and cold place; the soldiers risk their lives. This subject believes military pay should be appropriately increased to show the court's grace. Although Fanyang army's pay is already thicker than other armies, the hardship of the border is not something ordinary people can endure. It should be appropriately increased to solidify military morale."
He looked at him. "Fanyang army's pay is already thirty percent more than other armies."
"Your Majesty, General An has guarded the border for five years; the Turks dare not invade south. Thirty percent more is not much."
The hall fell silent again. He leaned on the Dragon Throne, his fingers lightly tapping the desk, once, once, and again. That sound echoed in the hall, like someone knocking on a heart.
"Let the Ministry of War discuss it and report."
"This subject obeys your decree."
When Li Yuan retreated, his steps were steady. He had stood in court for ten years; he knew when to advance and when to retreat.
Outside Xuanzheng Hall
After court dispersed, Yao Chong walked at the very back. His steps were very slow, as if calculating a very difficult problem. Guo Ziyi walked in front of him; his armor was still that old piece, the edges worn white, but polished very clean.
"General Guo." Yao Chong called him.
Guo Ziyi stopped, not turning around. His hand hung by his side, fingers slightly curled.
"General Guo, did you hear what was said in court today?"
"I heard."
"What do you think?"
Guo Ziyi was silent for a moment. The wind in the corridor blew through, fluttering the hems of their robes, and also blowing the falling flowers of that old locust tree outside the palace wall. "Fanyang army's pay is already thirty percent more than other armies. If more, other armies will have complaints."
"Anything else?"
"And—" He paused, his fingers lightly tapping the armor, the metal making a faint tremor. "There are more and more people speaking for General An."
Yao Chong looked at him. "General Guo, why do you think that is?"
Guo Ziyi turned around. His eyes were very calm, like a pool of water without ripples. But his hand paused on the sword hilt.
"Chancellor Yao, there are two possibilities. One is that General An truly has worked hard and achieved great things; the whole court sees it. The other is—" He didn't finish.
"What is the other?"
"The other is, some people are already speaking for General An. Not because they think General An has worked hard, but because they have to speak for General An."
Yao Chong looked at him, silent for a long time. The wind blew; a locust petal fell on Guo Ziyi's shoulder armor; he didn't brush it away.
"General Guo, you speak very directly."
"This subject only speaks directly."
"Then tell me, which one are you?"
Guo Ziyi looked at him. "This subject is the third kind. This subject doesn't speak."
He turned and walked away. The worn parts of the armor reflected light in the sunlight; his steps were steady, step by step, like measuring land. That petal was still on his shoulder; he never brushed it away.
Court of State Ceremonial
On the eighteenth day of the fourth month, another thing happened in Chang'an.
A young eunuch of the Court of State Ceremonial hanged himself in the duty room inside Donghua Gate. It was said he committed suicide out of guilt for stealing things from the Court of State Ceremonial's warehouse. But Li Rizhi didn't believe it. After seeing the scene, he came to find me. His face was pale; his fingers trembled slightly in his sleeve.
"Empress, that young eunuch didn't commit suicide."
"How do you know?"
"His fingernails." Li Rizhi's voice was very low, so low only I could hear. "A hanged person's fingernails turn purple. His didn't. He was strangled to death, then hung up. This subject has been in the Ministry of Justice for thirty years; I won't be wrong."
I stood by the window, looking at the locust flowers outside. "Who killed him?"
"Don't know. But this subject checked that he recently saw someone. A merchant named Shi, in the fur business. After that Turkic merchant ran, he took over the Turk's shop. Has been doing business in Chang'an for five years; no one knows where he came from."
"Is he working for An Lushan?"
"This subject can't find out. But that young eunuch handled a batch of documents before he died. Records of the Court of State Ceremonial receiving envoys. Turkic envoys, Tibetan envoys, Silla envoys—how many days each envoy stayed in Chang'an, who they saw, what they said—all recorded."
"Where are those documents?"
"Gone. The duty room was searched, the warehouse was searched, that young eunuch's residence was also searched. Nothing."
I stood there, not speaking. An Lushan had bribed people in Chang'an. Not court ministers, but young eunuchs in the palace. The most inconspicuous, the easiest to overlook, the ones who can work best in the dark. They were weaving a net. Every silk thread on the net was very thin, so thin it couldn't be seen. But the net was already woven.
"Minister Li."
"This subject is here."
"This matter, don't tell anyone else."
"This subject understands." He stepped back, bowing deeply. When he turned to leave, he stopped again. "Empress, that young eunuch was only nineteen. He had been in the palace for only two years. His hometown is in Lingnan; he has an old mother at home."
I didn't speak. He left. The door closed; the hall was quiet again.
Lingnan Circuit
On the twentieth day of the fourth month, an urgent report came from Lingnan Circuit.
Not a military report, but a civilian one. It said that several prefectures in Lingnan Circuit started using wound medicine distributed by the Fanyang army this year. Not distributed by the court, but sent by An Lushan. Said to be "border army can't use it all, sharing with the people." The medicine was free; white root, notoginseng, garden burnet, with honey added. The people of Lingnan Circuit were very happy, saying General An was a good person. Someone even set up a longevity tablet for him at their door.
I put down the urgent report, looking out the window. An Lushan was winning hearts. Not court ministers, not young eunuchs in the palace, but people thousands of miles away. He was making everyone feel he was a good person. He was making everyone feel the court was not as good as him. He was making everyone feel—without him, it wouldn't work.
Those people didn't know where his medicine came from. Didn't know where his grain came from. Didn't know where his soldiers came from. They only knew someone sent them medicine. No money, no return, just being good to them. They were sincere. Sincerely feeling General An was a good person. This was more frightening than anything.
The Bedchamber
In the evening, he came to the bedchamber. The candle flame on the glass lamp stand flickered; the landscape on the rosewood screen swayed in the light and shadow. I told him these things. He leaned on the couch, eyes closed. The candlelight flickered on his face, bright and dark.
"Longji."
"Mm?"
"More and more people are speaking for An Lushan."
"I know."
"There are his people in the palace. That young eunuch of the Court of State Ceremonial didn't commit suicide."
"I know."
"The people of Lingnan Circuit are using his medicine. Setting up longevity tablets for him."
"I know."
He opened his eyes, looking at me. The candlelight reflected in his eyes, like two small flames.
"Qingyan, do you know what I was thinking today?"
"What?"
"Thinking of Song Jing. He was right. Some people cannot be waited for."
"Then are you going to make a move?"
"Not now." He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open. The night wind of Chang'an blew from Zhuque Avenue, carrying the sweet scent of locust flowers and the camel bells from the distant West Market. "The net isn't big enough. Not enough people are speaking for him. Not enough people in the palace have been bribed by him. Not enough people in Lingnan Circuit trust him."
"Then how long must we wait?"
"Wait until everyone thinks he's a good person. Wait until everyone thinks the court is not as good as him. Wait until everyone feels—without him, it won't work." He turned around, looking at me, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, the smile not reaching his eyes. "Then, I close the net."
Outside the window, the moon over Chang'an rose. Moonlight passed through the glass lamp stand, falling on the rosewood screen, falling on the red sandalwood incense table, falling on his face. Shining on Zhuque Avenue, shining on the entrance of the Chongren Ward dental clinic, shining on the West Market's Hu wine shop. Also shining on that dead young eunuch's grave. No one burns paper for him, no one remembers his name. He was just a silk thread. A silk thread used and discarded. But the net was still there. The net was still closing. The net was still weaving.
"Longji."
"Mm?"
"He's not a person anymore."
He stood by the window, looking at the moon outside. Moonlight fell on his face, making his profile very clear. His brows were furrowed, exactly like when he had a toothache in the past. But this time, it wasn't his tooth that hurt.
"I know." He took my hand; his palm was warm. "He's already a net."
Outside the window, Chang'an's night was very quiet. Moonlight shone on this city, shining on the visible things, and also on the invisible things. Shining on that net that was slowly closing. The wind stopped. Locust flowers no longer fell. Even the camel bells rested. The whole city became quiet, as if waiting for something.
(End of Chapter 35)