Our servants came to us, all one hundred of them, bearing sacks on their shoulders. They helped me sit up, and then one by one, they bowed, weeping miserably. As they turned around to leave, I watched them, a lump in my throat. I had known them since I was born and called them aunts and uncles, but they had to leave. It was just as the proverb said, “When a tree falls, wretched monkeys have no choice but to scatter.”
Pushing back my tears, I turned to my mother and sisters, who sobbed beside me. I held them, trying to comfort them, and I swore I would protect them and take care of them, but I knew there was nothing I could do to take back our home. I could beg the nobles who had served Father to help me, but the greedy magistrate, whose words were law, was their superior, and no one would dare to defy him.
I did not know where we could stay either. All the family members on Mother’s side had died in the war, and Father had no relatives in Wenshui. I could ask to stay with neighbors, but we would be like beggars, relying on people’s charity. In the end, Mother said we should go to Qing, my half brother, who lived in Chang’an, the city where Emperor Taizong’s great palace was located. The eldest son from Father’s previous marriage, Qing was a greedy gambler who hated me and the last person from whom I would seek help.
But I decided to listen to Mother. We would go to Chang’an, for once I got there, I would seek every opportunity to see the Emperor and beg him to return our house and belongings to us.
The night grew cold. We huddled together under a tree to keep warm. I was hungry, exhausted, and my body was sore from the beating, but I could not shut my eyes as the night’s wind whipped my cold face.
At dawn, Mother sought out a traveling caravan that passed our town and paid them with my jade bangle. Together with my two sisters, I limped to the carriage and climbed in.
My chin knocking against the carriage’s window frame, I watched my home fade into the distance. I had drunk Wenshui’s water, walked on Wenshui’s muddy road, and grown up in Wenshui’s air. Now I had to leave.
? ? ?
Father used to say that Chang’an was the most glorious place under Heaven, and many people flocked to the Emperor’s city like moths attracted to light. Everyone—merchant, poet, mercenary, and prostitute alike—went there to realize dreams of fortune and decadence. It was also the destination of the Silk Route, where merchants from as far as Persia, Kucha, Kashgar, and Samarkand brought rare perfumes and hard-to-find luxuries for trade.
But when we approached the city wall near the Jinguang Gate, the scenery before me reflected none of Father’s description. The gray ramparts, looking like the jagged teeth of a demon, sprawled endlessly in the distance. Around me, many merchants, their faces netted with wrinkles and their lips parched with thirst, faltered on the road in fatigue, and the leaves of persimmon groves near a lake shriveled, looking on the verge of dying.
Once we entered the right gateway, the view of the city surprised me. White stone bridges arched in the shape of half-moons, stands of green willows edged deep ditches, vermillion-colored canoes and indigo-hued dragon boats floated on placid canals, and the enormous walled buildings—the residential wards, Mother told me—stood next to one another like fortresses.
I shielded my eyes to block the bright sunlight reflected from the canal. I did not wish to blink, unwilling to miss anything. The streets were as wide as the sky, and maples, elms, oaks, and junipers were spaced out neatly at the sides. Everything seemed organized and orderly; even the horses stopped nickering, as if awed by a silent code of obedience.
Two streets ran parallel to my left. On the far side, people ambled to exit the city, while the middle lane was unoccupied. Soon, a group of horsemen in hats and boots trotted along that street. At first I thought they were the Emperor’s guards, but when they drew closer, I realized they were noblemen. They were better dressed than anyone in my hometown, their hats thick with stripes of fur, their silk sleeves dropping low to their boots. In Wenshui, everyone greeted me on the street, but these people passed us as if we did not exist.
“Where is the palace?” I asked Mother.
“Look over there. See that red wall? That’s the palace wall,” Mother said, her arms around my sisters. Big Sister was sleeping, but Little Sister, who was born with a weak heart, moaned deliriously. She had fallen sick during the journey.