Chapter 12: The Spring of Great Tang, Frightening to the Bone

As Li Bi had said, it wasn’t long after heading north along Zhuque Avenue that the crowds thickened past Jing Shan Ward; the attire of the passersby became more splendid, and the atmosphere took on the flavor of a bustling metropolis. The further north they went, the greater the throng; ward walls still lined both sides of the avenue, but rooftops and eaves rose above them in increasing numbers. Behind beaded curtains, vague figures could occasionally be glimpsed, and if one listened closely, a few coquettish laughs could be heard.

Li Zaixing’s lonely heart began to stir restlessly.

As the saying goes, after three years in the army, even a sow seems as beautiful as Diao Chan. Not only had he spent five years as a soldier in his previous life, but in this one, he’d passed eight years as an unofficial novice at Borei Temple. In total, more than a decade had gone by with barely a sight of women, much less any intimacy. Though he hadn’t formally taken monastic vows, he’d never had the opportunity to break the precept of abstinence. Now, arriving in Chang’an—the most prosperous city under heaven, teeming with beauties—how could his heart not race with excitement?

Li Zaixing glanced eagerly about, hoping to catch sight of a few Tang beauties and feast his eyes. He wasn’t alone; even Telerbia, his horse, was getting excited. There were plenty of riders on the road, and among them many fine mares. Telerbia snorted, wagged its tail, and showed off in every way, intent on attracting the attention of the passing mares. It seized the chance to rub necks with a chestnut mare until Li Zaixing noticed and kicked it twice, forcing a reluctant retreat. Yet after only a few steps, it set its sights on a white mare ahead and trotted over, lowering its head to nudge the mare’s raised hindquarters.

“Where did this wild brat come from, daring to harass my horse?” The man holding the reins was a tall, burly fellow with a shaggy beard, deep-set eyes, and a prominent nose—he seemed not of Han descent, yet his Chang’an dialect was more authentic than Li Zaixing’s own. Seeing Telerbia approach the white mare, he flew into a rage, glaring fiercely with green eyes at Li Zaixing.

Li Zaixing awkwardly reined in Telerbia and offered an embarrassed smile. He cupped his hands toward the elegantly dressed youth who had just turned around on horseback and said with a laugh, “Brother, I am truly ashamed—oh my goodness…”

He stopped mid-sentence, having finally seen the youth’s face clearly, and was startled into an involuntary cry, unable to finish his words. The face was truly shocking: a round, dough-like visage was one thing, but the swath of yellow across the forehead and large red patches on both cheeks made it seem like a performer in stage makeup. Most unsettling of all were the eyebrows and lips—the eyebrows were short and thick, like a broom, slanting upward. The lips were small as cherries, but perhaps left out too long, for they were black instead of red.

Yellow forehead, red cheeks, short brows, and black lips—Li Zaixing, wholly unprepared, was so frightened his heart thudded wildly, nearly sending him tumbling from his horse. If Wei Yingwu saw him this nervous, he’d certainly be left speechless.

Clutching his chest, Li Zaixing swallowed hard, his throat dry.

This was terrifying—was this a performer rushing between shows, too pressed for time to remove makeup? Scared the life out of me.

“Where did this wild brat come from, making such a fuss and frightening me?” The elegantly dressed youth was startled too, pressing a swollen chest and complaining in a sharp voice—it was unclear whether the pitch was pinched or natural. He glared at Li Zaixing, sizing him up and down, wrinkled his brow, and cocked his eyes with a hint of disdain. “Hmph, who knows which backwater you hail from—how disappointing.”

Before Li Zaixing could reply, Lu Hu stepped forward with a smile and a bow. “Young lady, I am truly sorry—my master is visiting Chang’an for the first time and unfamiliar with the rules. We apologize for any offense and ask your forgiveness.”

“That young lord speaks so formally—he’s a man of manners.” The elegantly dressed youth glared at Li Zaixing again, then addressed the still-angry foreign groom, “Let’s go, don’t waste time with these people and spoil the city’s dignity. Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

The foreign groom acquiesced, leading the white mare away at a brisk pace.

Li Zaixing, still bewildered, asked, “Was that… a woman?”

“Of course—a rare beauty at that.” Lu Hu replied with a smile, “The Tang dynasty is open-minded; many women go out dressed in men’s clothes. With time, you’ll see plenty of it and won’t be surprised.”

He watched the departing, rotund figure and recalled those broom-like eyebrows, feeling as if a thousand wild horses galloped through his mind. A woman—a rare beauty? Where were the willow-leaf brows, the slender waist? At least it was daytime for his first encounter; if it had been night, he might have been scared witless.

Hearing Li Zaixing’s question, Lu Hu continued to explain: the yellow across her forehead was called “forehead yellow,” also known as “flower yellow.” Her eyebrows were broad—the willow-leaf style he mentioned was a new trend, but not every woman favored it; many preferred broad brows. As for her lips, the black was called “raven lips,” a style imported from Tibet, rarely seen in Tang. Li Zaixing was amused and disappointed, rubbing cold sweat from his brow; his passionate spring heart cooled considerably. He thought of Princess Taiping as played by Zhou Xun in “Palace of the Ming Dynasty” and silently cursed the makeup artist—what a disaster. But on second thought, perhaps the artist couldn’t be blamed; if makeup truly followed historical accuracy, the show would be a flop.

Comforting his wounded heart, Li Zaixing and Li Bi continued to the end of Zhuque Avenue, where the southern gate of the imperial city, Zhuque Gate, stood before them. Compared to the Mingde Gate seen earlier, Zhuque Gate was even grander—just the palace wall rose over nine meters, and the gate tower was magnificent and splendid. In front of Zhuque Gate was Chunming Gate Street, running east-west—not as wide as Zhuque Avenue, but still over a hundred meters, about forty zhang.

Unlike the quiet southern end of Zhuque Avenue, the street before Zhuque Gate was lively beyond compare. People bustled back and forth, carriages clattered—perhaps not quite matching the grandeur of Beijing’s Dongdan in later ages, but not far off. The main difference was that people hurried along without pausing to admire the scenery; there was little to see, as shops lined neither side, only rows of willows and silent ward walls. The north side was dominated by palace walls rising over nine meters, silently proclaiming the majesty and supremacy of the royal family. As grand as Zhuque Gate was, it wasn’t something one could admire daily—only country folk like Li Zaixing, entering the city for the first time, would stop here.

Ah, the decadence of the class society. Li Zaixing sighed inwardly and followed Li Bi east along the street. After two or three li, they reached a crossroads where Li Bi stopped and cupped his hands. “Brother, ahead lies Pingkang Ward—I’ll leave you here.”

Li Zaixing returned the gesture. “Do as you wish, Third Brother. With Lu Hu to guide me, I shouldn’t encounter any trouble. If anything comes up, I’ll find you.”

Li Bi nodded, gave Lu Hu a few last instructions, then rode his donkey north. Li Zaixing, led by Lu Hu, continued eastward. Soon, they arrived at the north gate of Pingkang Ward. Li Zaixing noticed something—after leaving Zhuque Avenue and passing two wards, neither seemed to have a north gate; he asked Lu Hu about it.

Lu Hu smiled and explained: the thirty-six wards on both sides of Zhuque Avenue had only east and west gates, no north or south, because they faced the imperial and palace cities; to prevent royal energy from escaping, north-south gates were forbidden, leaving only east and west entrances. Other wards usually had four gates.

Li Zaixing was speechless—feudal superstitions truly harmed people. If they wanted to keep the royal energy in, simply closing north-south gates wouldn’t do; weren’t the streets between wards running north-south? All for a nonsensical reason, officials deprived residents of two gates, making life harder. In such a large neighborhood, even four gates seemed too few—let alone two.

Grumbling inwardly, Li Zaixing entered Pingkang Ward's north gate. Immediately, he sensed a different atmosphere. Compared to the busy Chunming Gate Street, Pingkang Ward was even more lively—not just crowded, but noisy, with a vibrant, bustling energy. Well-dressed men and women rode horses or traveled by carriage, coming and going ceaselessly; some paused to greet one another, voices rising and falling—some loud, some gentle, hearty laughter mingling with soft, flirtatious giggles. Perhaps because the roads were narrower, the crowd was denser, shoulder to shoulder, sweat pouring like rain. Fine horses abounded, even more than on the outer streets.

“Why is it so lively here?” Li Zaixing asked curiously.

Lu Hu glanced around. “The imperial examination results must have been announced; scholars are celebrating here with drinks.” He looked at Li Zaixing and pointed to rows of courtyards on the east side. “This is Chang’an’s most famous den of romance; not only do scholars gather here, but knights like Wei Third Brother also frequent it. Since you’re living here, you’ll have plenty of chances to meet them.”

“I’m staying at Bodhi Temple, not in a brothel.” Li Zaixing laughed. “Come now, Hu, you don’t think I chose Bodhi Temple just because it’s close to the brothels, do you?”

Lu Hu smiled without answering. Though Li Bi had assigned him as Li Zaixing’s attendant, he didn’t truly regard him as a master. His politeness was only courtesy; Li Zaixing’s intentions didn’t concern him. Judging by his behavior on Zhuque Avenue, he doubted this unordained novice was a paragon of abstinence. With the brothels nearby, it was natural to visit.

Li Zaixing didn’t press the matter. He guessed what Lu Hu thought, but saw no need to explain himself. The true reason for staying at Bodhi Temple was because his master, Lazy Monk, had once resided there, and the person who commissioned him had provided a token suggesting frequent visits to the temple.

But, after hearing Lu Hu’s introduction to the brothels, Li Zaixing suspected his master had chosen Bodhi Temple not merely for the convenience of the client. Since these brothels were gathering places for knights and men of the underworld, they were also hubs for all kinds of information; living here would facilitate the flow of news.

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