Chapter 011: Chang'an

My goodness, could it really be that Wei Yingwu, the one who wrote “The lonely boat drifts at a deserted ford”? That can’t be—must be someone with the same name. There’s no way the renowned poet Wei Yingwu could be such a scoundrel.

Li Zaixing cursed to himself, then glanced at Wei Yingwu once more before nodding. “Kid, your martial arts are lacking, but you’ve got some courage. Fine, I’ve got it—no matter how far you run, I’ll wait for you. Just don’t keep me waiting too long. It’s truly dull with no worthy opponents.”

With that, Li Zaixing heaved a long sigh, turned his horse about, and rode off at a leisurely pace. Hearing that sigh, Wei Yingwu nearly coughed up blood from frustration. He could no longer hold himself up; his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. Watching Li Zaixing’s retreating figure, he clenched his teeth in fury.

A few of the wounded, finely dressed youths gathered around. One murmured, “Sanlang, should we report this to the authorities?”

“What’s the point?” Wei Yingwu barked, scanning the group. Seeing that his companions, though badly hurt, weren’t in mortal danger—and that the three dead were only attendants—he finally relaxed a little. Clutching his wound, he hissed in pain and cursed, “Are you blind? That scoundrel isn’t just a master fighter—he kills without hesitation and doesn’t fear our revenge in the slightest. If we report him and he’s actually caught, that’s one thing. But if he gets away, he’ll go on a killing spree for sure.”

He swept his gaze over them. “Which of you wants to have someone like that after you?”

The group instinctively shrank back.

“So what now? Just swallow this humiliation?” one of the youths grumbled indignantly.

“We start aboveboard—find a master to deal with him,” Wei Yingwu forced himself upright, grimacing as he struggled onto his horse. “Chang’an’s full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. I refuse to believe there’s no one who can beat him. Worst case, we just spend more silver.”

…

Li Zaixing tossed a handful of purses to Lu Hu, who was now serving as his page and naturally responsible for such things.

Li Mi’s face was grave, though there was no sign of panic. Clearly, he wasn’t worried about Wei Yingwu’s revenge, but he did seem displeased with Li Zaixing’s recent actions. Li Zaixing noticed but didn’t explain himself. He and Li Mi had different temperaments; seeking common ground while accepting differences was inevitable—he couldn’t let Li Mi call all the shots. In his eyes, a villain like Wei Yingwu could only be dealt with by someone just as ruthless. Reasoning with him wasn’t impossible, but first you had to beat him into submission.

Two things puzzled him: one, was this Wei Yingwu really the historical poet? And two, how could the Wei family get away with murder in broad daylight, even in Chang’an, the Tang capital? He had no answer to the first for now, but he could ask Li Mi, a native of Chang’an, about the second.

Hearing Li Zaixing’s doubts, Li Mi sighed, “In our Tang dynasty, military merits are honored, and young men often pursue the ways of wandering knights. Even someone like Li Bai has killed a man—why be surprised if these dandies do the same? As for the Wei family, their power is indeed great. Though they’ve suffered some setbacks in recent years, they’ve been a noble house for centuries—producing several chancellors and marrying into the imperial family more than once. They’re not people you can shake easily. Still, Wei dared attack you openly because you’re a commoner, and though my Li family is official, we’re just not in the same league as the Weis.”

“So, just because I’m a commoner, I can be killed at will?”

“Not that you can be killed at will—but few would risk crossing the Wei family for the sake of a commoner.” Li Mi sighed again. “Of course, Wei Yingwu may be a dandy, but he doesn’t kill indiscriminately. Today, he really set his sights on your horse. These knights are most enamored of beauties and fine steeds.”

Li Zaixing snorted, sensing Li Mi was holding something back. No doubt, Wei Yingwu—or those like him, who treated killing so lightly—were not rare in Chang’an. Life in this city was anything but easy. Good thing he had chosen to master martial arts at Banruo Temple before coming here; otherwise, he’d have been butchered before even entering the city.

Their conversation continued as they made their way toward Chang’an, turning onto a broad avenue over a hundred meters wide. This road stretched south from the city all the way to the foot of the southern mountains. Li Zaixing didn’t bother to ask, but he guessed this must be the famed Vermilion Bird Avenue. Still, he found it rather unimpressive—its only distinction was its width. Dust swirled in the air, and he imagined that in the rain it would be nothing but a muddy mess, far inferior to the paved roads of later ages.

“This is the famous Vermilion Bird Avenue. Follow it into the city,” Li Mi prompted, seeing Li Zaixing’s indifferent expression and feeling a twinge of wounded pride as a native of Chang’an.

“Oh,” Li Zaixing replied perfunctorily, pointing to the widest central lane. “Must have cost a fortune to build, but hardly anyone uses it—such a waste.”

Li Mi curled his lip. “That’s the imperial way, reserved for the Son of Heaven. Of course, no one walks there.” After a pause, he added, “Not just this road—all the main avenues in and out of the city have imperial lanes in the center for the emperor’s use; commoners aren’t allowed. Be careful when in the city, or the city patrols will catch you for it.”

Listening to Li Mi’s nagging, Li Zaixing smiled. In the end, it all boiled down to this: be careful in Chang’an, don’t act so brash. The capital is crawling with officials and nobles—Wei Yingwu is nothing compared to those who could have you killed without lifting a finger. In other words, Chang’an is a paradise for the powerful, but for ordinary folk, it means nothing.

Li Zaixing knew Li Mi meant well, fearing he’d be as reckless in the city as he was earlier. But from Li Mi’s warning, it seemed even families like his, with some official standing, dared not act out in Chang’an. Their reputation might mean something elsewhere, but here, it amounted to nothing.

With so many officials under the emperor’s nose, it was only natural.

They chatted as they approached the Gate of Manifest Virtue.

The Gate of Manifest Virtue was the southern main gate of Chang’an, the largest of the outer city gates, with five passages, each nearly fifteen feet wide—enough for two carts side by side. Between each passage was a thick rammed-earth wall, and in the center of each was a threshold of blue stone, carved with flowing scrollwork and reliefs of reclining beasts—powerful yet serene, exuding an air of confidence and leisure quite unlike the eerie or cutesy sculptures of later ages. In fact, they resembled Han dynasty carvings, but on a grander, more refined scale.

The city wall rose six meters high, surmounted by a gatehouse nearly fifteen meters long and about nine tall, connected to the wall for a total height of almost twenty-five meters. Its sheer size inspired awe—something you might not sense from afar, but up close, looking up at the towering gatehouse, Li Zaixing finally felt the grandeur of Chang’an and understood why later generations of scholars never tired of praising it in verse and prose.

It was an unspoken aura of majesty. Mere scale alone forced upon you a sense of confidence and power that looked down on the world.

Standing beneath the Gate of Manifest Virtue, Li Zaixing unconsciously held his breath, gazing at Chang’an with genuine reverence.

“Well?” Li Mi laughed, pleased to see the pride of a Chang’an native reflected in Li Zaixing’s expression.

“How can anyone bear to watch such a magnificent city consumed by war?” Li Zaixing sighed deeply. “Sanlang, time waits for no one.”

Li Mi’s face darkened, his pride evaporating. Li Zaixing’s words struck him to the core, reminding him of the ruins of Han Chang’an not far to the northwest. That ancient city had once been just as magnificent, yet now, after countless wars, it was nothing but overgrown wilderness, all traces of imperial glory lost.

Reflecting on the past, Li Mi realized the present Tang dynasty, at its peak, was riddled with hidden dangers—an emperor lost in pleasure, treacherous ministers clinging to power, frontier generals growing arrogant. The empire seemed to be sitting atop a pile of tinder, awaiting only a spark to reduce this prosperous age to ashes.

Even a rough warrior like Li Zaixing, with little formal learning, could see the dangers facing the Tang. He himself, raised on the classics and entrusted with great hopes, had been content with his own pride, blind to the looming disaster—something he now deeply regretted.

Li Mi was filled with self-reproach. Seeing this, Li Zaixing smiled slightly. As the saying goes, a gentleman can be deceived by virtue. Nothing could be truer; mention the right topic, and Li Mi’s passion for saving the country would flare up uncontrollably.

As they entered the city with the crowds, Li Zaixing found himself disappointed. Before him lay the true Vermilion Bird Avenue—broad indeed, but hardly bustling. Aside from hurried travelers, all he saw on either side were yellowish walls about three meters high, with no lively markets, no beautiful women—just emptiness and desolation, far removed from the bustling vision he’d imagined.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why is the city so deserted?”

Li Mi laughed. “The southern city is always quiet. The lively areas are all to the north, near the imperial city. The south is mostly poor folks.” He pointed to the walls. “The land here is low and damp—floods easily when it rains, so few want to live here. Those who can, all move north; these wards are mostly empty, some turned into vegetable patches, some just overgrown wasteland. Of course it’s deserted. If you follow this road, you’ll find more people after passing through Lanling and Jingshan wards.”

Li Zaixing suddenly understood—not all land in Chang’an was valuable. The neat rows of ward walls were more for show; within were plenty of slums and empty lots.

Living in the capital didn’t always mean living in luxury.

Please recommend and add to your favorites!