Chapter 33: Foes Always Cross Paths

Chang’an! Chang’an!

This is the capital of Han, the metropolis of Tang, the soul of the world, the heart of the universe!

A gaunt man stepped through the city gates of the outer wall. Though soldiers guarded the entrance, they did not trouble him; instead, they greeted him amiably: “Oh, Master Jiao, you’re back! How many times have you been drunk this time, how many beatings have you suffered, and how much wine money have you evaded?”

The gaunt man, addressed as Master Jiao, instantly widened his eyes: “Nonsense! When have I ever been drunk, and when have I ever dodged payment for wine?”

“At Lady Lu’s place last time, who was doused with chamber pot water?” the soldier teased. “And before that—at the Immortal Guest Tavern in the Western Market—who was almost strung up?”

Master Jiao’s face flushed instantly, and he glared: “What do you know? I am a master of wine tasting! A master doesn’t need to pay for wine. And even if payment is required, a delay of a few days—how can that be considered evasion? At most, it’s just owing, not refusing to pay!”

The crowd burst into laughter, but none noticed the large bundle on Master Jiao’s back. For those familiar with him, this wine-crazed man surely carried things related to drinking—either fine wine or special drinking vessels.

Master Jiao wanted to argue further, but at that moment, he glimpsed in the distance a rider and a companion approaching. The rider was Ye Chang, and at his side was Shan Zhi.

“Ah, those two are coming as well—better hurry, better hurry!”

Just thinking of their peculiarities sent a chill down Master Jiao’s spine. Avoiding them was far more important than bantering with the gate guards! Without another word, he dashed away, leaving the soldiers chuckling.

“Huh, why did he leave? He usually spends half the day making a commotion,” the gate guard remarked in surprise. “Changed his temperament today?”

Before long, Ye Chang and Shi Shanzhi arrived at the city gate.

“Truly remarkable, absolutely extraordinary. No wonder all the monks at the temple who’ve visited Chang’an can’t help but speak of it!” It was the seventh time Shanzhi had repeated the same words, overwhelmed from afar by the grandeur of Chang’an. The straightforward monk had become a nagging old woman, murmuring endlessly. Ye Chang was certain that Shanzhi recited the name of Chang’an more times in a day than he ever uttered “Amitabha.”

But Ye Chang could not mock him, for he himself was equally awed.

Ye Chang was not untraveled, yet confronted with the imposing city of Chang’an, he too was nearly paralyzed with astonishment.

This city gate was the main southern entrance to Chang’an, named Mingde. It spanned nearly twenty zhang from east to west, with five passageways beneath, each over two zhang wide, and a wall a zhang thick between each pair.

Upon entering, Ye Chang was even more stunned by what he saw.

Passing through Mingde Gate, he arrived at Zhuque Avenue, the grandest street in Chang’an, fifty zhang wide—equivalent to about one hundred fifty meters in later times. Elms and locust trees lined the street, with drainage ditches beside them. Just past the Dragon Boat Festival, in the midst of summer, the trees cast stretches of verdant shade, cooling the great city.

On such a magnificent avenue, crowds surged ceaselessly. Among the throng were typical Tang citizens with black hair and eyes, as well as foreign merchants with colored hair and eyes. Ye Chang was struck by this scene, both familiar and strange, and stood in the middle of the street, momentarily forgetting to move.

Only when someone behind urged him did he start walking, making his way deeper into the city.

Chang’an contained two markets and more than a hundred wards, each ward encircled by walls with gates facing the four cardinal directions. However, the wards facing the imperial palace had only east and west gates, due to geomancy, and lacked north and south entrances. Almost all residences and shops had their doors opening onto the inner streets of wards or markets; only families of certain status were permitted to open onto the main avenue. Thus, as Ye Chang proceeded, he saw no storefronts along Zhuque Avenue.

“How long will it take to get all the way through?” Shanzhi asked after walking beside Ye Chang for some time.

“I’ll ask around. We’re supposed to be going to Lizheng Ward,” Ye Chang replied.

They entered Chang’an, and Ye Chang, being a commoner, had already dismounted and led his horse on foot. He stopped an elderly man walking slowly by the roadside, intending to ask directions, when suddenly a strong wind arose. The previously tidy city was instantly swept by yellow sand and dust, choking Ye Chang’s breath and preventing him from speaking.

The strange wind raged for a while before subsiding. The once awe-inspiring city was now concealed behind clouds of dust.

Ye Chang spat several times, expelling the sand that had gotten into his mouth, and suddenly recalled the famous Tang poem, “The morning rain in Weicheng moistens the light dust.” But this was no light dust—it was a sandstorm!

“Cough, cough… Elder, could you tell me how to get to Xuanping Ward?”

The old man had already used his sleeve to cover his nose and mouth before the dust came, so he was unaffected. He smiled, “You must be new to Chang’an. When the wind starts, cover your nose and mouth—remember that in the future.”

“Why is there so much dust in Chang’an?”

“There are many people, and the ground is muddy, so dust flies everywhere. Last autumn, there was flooding, which softened the ground all over the city, so this year the dust is worse than usual. You asked about Xuanping Ward? It’s not far—go north, then turn east between Jingshan Ward and Guangfu Ward, pass Yongle Ward and Yongning Ward, and you’ll reach Xuanping.”

The old man rattled off a string of ward names. Though he spoke simply, Ye Chang felt his head swim. The old man looked over their attire, “If I may advise, you two should find an inn first. There’s one right here in Baoning Ward. It’s getting late—within the hour, the curfew will begin. If you’re not settled by then, you’ll be taken by the city guards.”

Ye Chang knew this was the rule: after curfew, anyone lingering on the streets would be taken to the magistrate for a beating. He glanced at the sky—it was indeed growing late—and asked, “You’re right, Elder. But how do I get to Xuanping Ward tomorrow?”

“If you enter the city from the eastern Yanxing Gate, Xinchang Ward is right before Xuanping Ward. But from here… ah, do you see that carriage?”

Ye Chang looked toward the street and saw a strange, gray carriage longer than any he’d seen before, drawn by two horses, with a sign hanging from the side. The sign read, “Mingde Gate, Zhuque Gate,” and between these large characters were smaller ones—eighteen ward names.

A public carriage!

Ye Chang’s first thought was this, and he stared in astonishment at the strange carriage.

The Tang Dynasty already had public transportation! And the sign on the carriage was strikingly similar to those of modern buses.

“You take this oil-walled carriage, pay attention to the sign, and you’ll reach your destination,” the old man explained.

“Oil-walled carriage… ‘I ride the oil-walled carriage, my lover rides a blue steed…’” Ye Chang had not known its name before—his county was too small and had never had such carriages. But hearing the old man speak, he remembered the famous poem by Su Xiaoxiao from the Southern Dynasties—so this was the oil-walled carriage!

Coated with oil, the carriage walls resisted sun and rain, making it suitable as a public horse-drawn vehicle. The wealthy had luxurious, extended versions, adorned with colors and drawn by famous horses—true treasures on the road.

The Tang Dynasty used oil-walled carriages as public transportation in cities like Chang’an and Luoyang—a fact for which Ye Chang had never prepared himself. He inspected the carriage and noticed it still bore the main flaw of ancient Chinese vehicles: the lack of a steering mechanism.

“Hey, Eleventh, why are you staring at a carriage? The old benefactor already said—we need to find a place to stay… I’ve heard from the monks who visited Chang’an that the city has the best food—just a single flatbread, and there’s steamed bread, fried bread, soup bread, vegetable bread…”

“Enough, enough! We’ll settle in now—so you can gorge yourself, monk!” Ye Chang cut off Shanzhi’s rambling.

Following the elder’s directions, they entered Baoning Ward.

Ye Chang had previously thought that Chang’an’s markets were limited to the two main ones, East and West. He had wondered, with a city so vast, if anyone needed a needle or thread, would they have to trek all the way to the main markets? That seemed terribly inefficient. Now he realized how foolish his assumption had been. East and West Markets were renowned, bustling with merchants and travelers, akin to high-end commercial districts in later times. Yet every “ward” where residents lived had its own small commerce—shops selling sundries and snacks, inns for travelers, everything necessary.

“Ma’s Inn… Let’s stay here,” Ye Chang said, spotting the prominent banner.

As soon as they stopped at the inn’s door, someone hurried out to greet them warmly. The inn was not large, but had several courtyards. The attendant took Ye Chang’s humble horse to be cared for, and the two went to select their lodgings. Most would choose the cheap communal sleeping room, but Ye Chang, favoring comfort, requested a private room for himself. When he inquired about the monk’s lodging, the attendant replied, “The master doesn’t need to stay here—just a few doors down is Baoning Temple. He can lodge there, saving you a few coins.”

“You’re quite honest for an innkeeper—most try to pull in guests, but you send them away,” Shanzhi laughed.

“The master will surely wander outside—Baoning Ward isn’t that big. If he has to check out after seeing Baoning Temple, that’s troublesome. Besides, our Ma’s Inn is a century-old establishment—our reputation matters more than a few coins.”

Ye Chang chuckled, “Good, good. But this monk doesn’t like temple lodgings—too many rules, and he’s not strict about diet. If you’re saving me money, just put him in the communal room. Also, where’s the best soup bread shop? Tell us.”

“Certainly! The best soup bread is at Old Ning’s place—just east from here a few doors down, you’ll see their sign. People say the West Market’s flatbread is famous, but that’s what outsiders say. In Chang’an, the best soup bread is found in wards like Baoning.”

The attendant’s pride made Ye Chang instantly fond of the people of Chang’an. The city was at its peak—its people confident and optimistic, embodying the grandeur of a flourishing dynasty.

Inside the ward, they were safe from curfew—Tang’s curfew prohibited presence on main streets, but not within the wards themselves. Ye Chang and Shanzhi decided to try the soup bread at Old Ning’s, which the attendant had strongly recommended. No sooner had they stepped out than they heard a tumult of shouting and horses. The attendant rushed out excitedly to greet a group—over ten people—pouring in.

Their attire was unlike that of Tang citizens, yet not quite the Western barbarians either, likely frontier converts. Ye Chang was surprised—he had always heard that all the peoples of the world gathered in Chang’an, but had assumed they were limited to the bustling main markets. He hadn’t expected to see them in the wards.

His gaze caught the attention of one in the group, who, upon seeing Ye Chang, suddenly changed expression: “Huh!”

A companion asked, “What is it?”

“Look at that Tang dog over there!” the first man said. “Doesn’t he look like the one we killed?”

The companion glanced at Ye Chang and his face shifted as well: “Huh, he’s not dead?”

“Damn it, looks like he faked his death… Has he recognized us?”

“Seems not fully—just a bit suspicious… What should we do? If he goes to the authorities and exposes us, getting caught is one thing, but if he ruins the commander’s plans, our whole tribe will be wiped out!”

The two frontier converts whispered in their own tongue—Ye Chang could not hear them, and even if he had, he would not have understood. He only felt it odd that two of the foreigners kept staring at him with hostility.

“No matter what, we can’t let him live,” one of them said.

“But this is Chang’an—how can we act?”

“Keep an eye on him. See if he’s exposed the commander’s plans—if not, we’ll wait for an opportunity. If he has, we must report to the commander immediately.”

After a few more exchanges, they stopped watching Ye Chang, and he lost interest in the commotion, heading east with Shanzhi to Old Ning’s soup bread shop for their dinner.

Soon, the group of frontier converts dispersed throughout Baoning Ward, some entering Old Ning’s as well. They glanced at Ye Chang and Shanzhi with undisguised hostility. Even the blunt Shanzhi sensed something was amiss: “These fellows look truly unpleasant—could they be looking for trouble?”