Chapter One: Arrival in Lingzhou

Crossroads ablaze with lights, fragrant clouds rising from the Ninefold Palace, the clear stars shining upon the blue vault at seven o’clock, travelers from all directions laying down their burdens, the six military camps echoing faintly with the sound of horns. At the Drum Tower, bronze vessels begin to drip their first drops. Mist settles dimly on all sides, smoke curls above the three markets, couples return two by two behind embroidered curtains, and a bright moon ascends in the east.

As evening approached, Li Zisheng and his companions arrived outside Lingzhou City. Zhong Bai had already given a rough account of Lingzhou’s situation, but their slow journey meant they reached the city only at dusk.

Within the Tang Dynasty, strict curfews prevailed; no one was permitted on the streets at night—be they nobles or commoners, servants or merchants. Those who violated this rule met harsh consequences.

Thus, Li Zisheng’s party had no choice but to camp on open ground outside Lingzhou.

The night was as cool and clear as water. After a modest meal, everyone retired to their tents to rest, Li Zisheng among them.

Inside his tent, Li Zisheng, by the dim light of the oil lamp, continued to read the books he had transcribed, not slackening for a moment. The lamp sputtered occasionally, and deep into the night, Li Zisheng finally closed his book.

His future on this journey was uncertain, fraught with great danger—a fact Li Zisheng was well aware of. He buried these complicated matters deep within, refusing to dwell on them, closed his eyes, and settled into quiet contemplation, awaiting the events that Lingzhou would bring.

“Master Li, are you asleep?”

A voice sounded outside the tent.

Li Zisheng recognized it; it was Eight Taels, the coachman for this journey and the young man he had aided before.

“I have not yet slept. What is it?” Li Zisheng asked curiously, wondering why Eight Taels had come.

“Young master, it has been some time since we met. I am grateful for your help this time.” Eight Taels lifted the tent flap and entered, speaking directly.

“It was just a matter of chance and affinity, nothing more,” Li Zisheng replied.

“Master, besides that, there is another matter I hope you will agree to.”

“Oh? What is it? Speak freely. If it is within my power, I will certainly help you,” Li Zisheng said, his curiosity piqued.

“Eight Taels wishes to follow you.”

“Why?” Li Zisheng was even more surprised; he was only eight years old and lacked any official rank, hardly someone worth following.

In the Tang Dynasty, slaves were rare. Those willing to become servants were typically attached to men of rank, which granted tax exemptions. If their master rose in status, their own position improved accordingly. But to serve someone without renown was self-degradation; servants ranked below even commoners.

“Why would you wish to follow me? I am hardly a worthy tree to lean against,” Li Zisheng said calmly, laying out his current situation clearly for Eight Taels, making it evident he was not a suitable choice.

“Eight Taels knows, master, that you are in great danger, and so you need protection. I have some skill in martial arts; ordinary men cannot best me. I am not one to forget kindness. You helped me out of a crisis before and gave me my mother’s keepsake, which is extremely precious to me. Unless absolutely necessary, I would never pawn it. Whether you believe me or not, this is my way. That is one reason.”

“You ask how I know you are in danger? Though I am but a minor figure, I have contacts in Lingzhou. I’m familiar with the local gang leaders, so I’ve heard much about you. Though your literary fame is widespread in Huile, you are in treacherous waters, unable to escape. I’ve also heard that several powerful families in Huile intend to suppress whoever gains the Lingzhou Academy nomination, which you have won.”

Hearing this, Li Zisheng understood that Eight Taels knew nothing of his entrusted mission, only that local gentry sought to suppress him—likely stemming from the Yan Ziqing incident. That was unsurprising; the nomination was a rare prize, and every win meant one less for others.

Yet as Eight Taels spoke, his expression never wavered. Either his mind was deeply shrewd, far beyond Li Zisheng’s expectations, or he was truly sincere, grateful, and upright.

“Very well, you may follow me for now. But shouldn’t you return the carriage?”

“Rest assured, master. My connections are vast; I’ll have the Huile lads take it back. It’s nothing. If you please, I’ll take my leave.”

Li Zisheng agreed, but did not fully trust Eight Taels. He would observe him further; after all, with dangers swirling around him, one more Eight Taels mattered little.

The night passed without wind. At dawn, the first rooster crow opened the gates of Lingzhou.

Li Zisheng, as always, carried his small cloth bag and wore his scholar’s robe. Eight Taels had already packed Li Zisheng’s things and waited quietly behind him.

The group had finished their preparations and lined up to enter Lingzhou City.

Lingzhou’s inspections were strict; not only were travel permits checked, but identities were verified. Even high officials and nobles were not exempt, for Lingzhou was the key garrison of the Inner Pass, guarded by a second-rank commander with troops at his command. None dared cause trouble here.

When it came to Li Zisheng’s party, Zhong Bai presented their documents one by one, and their identities were quickly verified.

Inside the city, the atmosphere was altogether different from outside. The crossroads bustled with people, and it was no wonder—the city was garrisoned by troops, and its prosperity exceeded anything Li Zisheng had seen. Even the accounts in his uncle’s travelogue paled beside Lingzhou.

Servants and merchants shouted their wares by the roadside, the streets were teeming with carts and horses, everywhere announcing the city’s flourishing state. Li Zisheng observed the surroundings: pavilions and towers, taverns and cloth shops, row upon row.

Zhong Bai and the others had been to Lingzhou many times and did not share Li Zisheng’s sense of wonder. They simply led the way toward the military camp.