Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

Chapter 281 All Nations Pay Tribute

The 23rd day of the 12th lunar month in the second year of the Qiming era. The Little New Year.

After falling for half a month, the snow in Chang'an finally stopped. The sky was clear and the sunlight fell on the snow-covered palaces, reflecting a dazzling white light. The locust trees on both sides of the imperial road were covered with icicles, which tinkled in the wind like thousands of wind chimes.

Chang'an on this day was completely different from any other day.

From Kaiyuan Gate to Chengtian Gate, the ten-mile-long imperial road was flanked by golden-armored guards standing every ten steps, halberds in hand, motionless and solemn. In the middle of the road, newly laid yellow earth had been compacted and smoothed, sprinkled with water, and gleamed moistly in the winter sun. Outside the walls of the wards on both sides of the road, crowds of Chang'an residents thronged. Wrapped in thick winter clothes, they stood on tiptoe, craning their necks, gazing towards Kaiyuan Gate.

"They're here! They're here!"

Someone shouted first, and the entire crowd surged forward like a tide.

Outside Kaiyuan Gate, a procession stretching for several miles was slowly moving towards the city gate.

Leading the procession were the officials from the Court of State Ceremonial, riding tall horses and carrying ceremonial staffs, chanting and shouting loudly. Behind them were rows of colorful flags—each painted with a different design: some depicted eagles with outstretched wings, others roaring tigers, some the sun, moon, and stars, and still others exotic flowers and plants.

Behind every flag is a mission.

The first was the Goguryeo delegation.

The newly appointed chief envoy was Gao Jianwu's deputy, an elderly minister with graying hair and beard. Behind him were thirty warriors, their armor gleaming, long swords at their waists. Behind the warriors were fifty fine horses from Liaodong, their coats glossy, their manes flowing, their hooves pounding the snow with a dull "thump-thump." Behind the horses were ten large carts, laden with sable furs, ginseng, pearls, and a huge bronze mirror—a tribute specially commissioned by King Rongliu, its back inscribed with the four Chinese characters "May Your Majesty Live Long and Prosper."

The second group was the Bohai Mission.

The Bohai envoy led the way, holding the official letter, his expression solemn. Behind him were twenty Mohe warriors, dressed in fur robes and sable hats, with curved swords at their waists. Behind the warriors were ten gyrfalcons—birds of prey known as the "gods among eagles"—chained to specially made wooden frames, heads held high, eyes sharp, surveying their surroundings with disdain. Behind the gyrfalcons were five large carts, laden with sable furs, pearls, and Bohai's specialty, "Meituo Lake crucian carp"—an extremely delicious fish, chilled and to be delivered to Chang'an before thawing.

The third group was the Uyghur mission.

The Uyghur envoy was a young man in his early thirties, with a thin mustache, wearing a magnificent brocade robe and a jewel-encrusted cap. Behind him were twenty Uyghur cavalrymen, riding identical chestnut horses with exquisite Persian carpets hanging from their saddles. Behind the cavalry were ten large carts, laden with raisins, wine, and something never before seen in the Central Plains—Uyghur Buddhist scriptures. These were specially commissioned by the Uyghur Khan, supposedly written with gold powder on indigo paper, each page priceless.

The fourth group was the Khotan mission.

The Khotan envoy was an elderly man with white hair and beard, said to be over seventy, yet vigorous and with a steady gait. Behind him were ten Khotan warriors, clad in leather armor and with short swords at their waists. Behind the warriors were twenty camels, each carrying a huge wooden chest. When the chests were opened, a gasp of astonishment erupted from the crowd—

It is a beautiful jade from Khotan.

Box after box of Khotan jade, including green, white, yellow, and black jade, ranging in size from millstones to fists, gleamed with a warm luster in the sunlight. The old man personally held up a piece of green and white jade that was half his height, on which eight characters were engraved in Chinese: "May the world be one family, and may you live ten thousand years."

The fifth group was the Yanqi Mission.

The envoy from Yanqi was an old acquaintance, Sakya Pandita. He wore an official robe bestowed by the Court of State Ceremonies—a special privilege granted by the imperial court to those of distinguished virtue among the "perennial merchants." Behind him were twenty Yanqi merchants, each dressed in brand-new Hu clothing, their spirits high. Behind the merchants were thirty camels, their backs laden with goods: Khotan jade, Kucha ironware, Kashgar carpets, and—fifty dragon horses. These dragon horses were not tall, but their limbs were strong and their coats gleaming; they were said to be the finest horses from the Yanqi king's horse farm, specially prepared as tribute to the Celestial Empire.

The sixth group, the Ferghana Mission.

Ferghana, located in present-day Uzbekistan, is one of the most remote oases in the Western Regions. The envoy was a man with thick eyebrows and large eyes, dark skin, and bright gaze. Behind him were only ten attendants, leading ten extremely rare Akhal-Teke horses. These horses were entirely crimson, with long necks, and their sweat was like blood when they ran; they were said to be true descendants of the Ferghana horses. The envoy spoke in broken Chinese: "My king, having heard that the Celestial Empire has reopened the trade routes to the Western Regions, has specially sent me to offer my congratulations. I wish to forever establish a brotherly relationship with the Celestial Empire and exchange goods."

The seventh group was the Tibetan delegation.

The Tibetan envoy was a silent middle-aged man, dressed in a heavy sheepskin robe, his face ruddy from years of living on the high plateau. Behind him stood twenty Tibetan warriors, each with a long sword at their waist, their eyes wary. Behind the warriors were fifty yak yaks, their backs laden with Tibetan specialties: musk, deer antlers, cordyceps, and a fine woolen fabric called "kachi." The envoy presented a letter of state, its wording humble, but deep within his eyes lurked a barely perceptible wariness.

The eighth delegation was the Nanzhao delegation.

Nanzhao, located in what is now Yunnan, was the most powerful regime in Southwest China. The envoy was a middle-aged man in his early forties, dressed in a magnificent silk robe and wearing a golden crown, with an elegant demeanor. Behind him were twenty Nanzhao warriors, clad in rattan armor and wielding long spears. Behind the warriors were thirty Dali horses—not large in size, but with astonishing stamina, well-suited for mountainous terrain. Behind the horses were ten large carts, laden with Yunnan specialties: Pu'er tea, Panax notoginseng, Poria cocos, and a precious stone called "Diancang stone."

The ninth delegation was the Champa mission.

The Champa envoy was none other than Indravarman. He had only returned home this spring, and now he was back in December, bringing even more people and even more goods. Behind him were fifty Champa warriors, dark-skinned and with bright eyes. Behind the warriors were twenty elephants—tribute specially sent by the Champa king, each draped in colorful silk and adorned with golden bells that jingled as it walked. Behind the elephants were twenty large carts, laden with agarwood, rhinoceros horn, ivory, hawksbill turtle shell, and—a full one hundred sacks of Champa rice seeds.

The tenth delegation was the Srivijaya mission.

The envoy from Srivijaya was a lean, elderly man, whose skin was said to be dark and rough from years of seafaring. Behind him were only ten attendants, but the chests they carried were all incredibly heavy. Inside the chests were ten large boxes of spices—pepper, nutmeg, cloves, and cinnamon—each worth a thousand gold pieces. The letter of credence presented by the envoy was respectfully worded, yet it carried the characteristic arrogance of a maritime tyrant.

The eleventh mission was the Indian Mission.

The Indian envoy was a monk named Bodhidharma, said to have come from Nalanda Monastery in Magadha. Behind him were ten Indian monks, each wearing a robe and holding prayer beads. Behind the monks were five large carts, laden with Buddhist scriptures, statues, relics, and a plant never before seen in the Central Plains—sugarcane. Bodhidharma spoke fluent Chinese: "This humble monk has come to the Celestial Empire to spread the Dharma on the orders of my King. May the light of Buddha shine upon us, and may our two nations forever be bound by goodwill."

The twelfth mission, the Arab mission.

The Arab envoy was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and hair, dressed in a white robe, wearing a turban, and with a jewel-encrusted scimitar at his waist. Behind him were twenty Arab warriors, each tall and imposing, with eyes like eagles. Behind the warriors were twenty dromedary camels, their backs laden with Arab specialties: frankincense, myrrh, coral, pearls, and a perfume called "rose water"—distilled from rose petals, more valuable than gold. The letter of credence presented by the envoy was written in Arabic, Persian, and Chinese, its wording extremely respectful, yet deep in his eyes lay the shrewdness characteristic of Arab merchants.

The thirteenth branch, the Fulin Envoy Group.

Fulin, the Eastern Roman Empire. The envoy was an elderly man with white hair and beard, said to be over seventy, yet vigorous and with a steady gait. Behind him were only five attendants, but the chests they carried were all exquisitely crafted. Inside the chests were Fulin specialties: glassware, gold-threaded embroidery, amethyst, and a bronze mirror said to be able to see into people's hearts. The envoy said something in Greek, which was translated as follows:

"Your Majesty the Emperor of Fulin congratulates Your Majesty the Emperor Qiming on your ascension to the throne. May our two nations, though separated by thousands of miles, continue to exchange goods and services and forever maintain a brotherly bond."

Thirteen delegations, stretching for miles, slowly made their way along the imperial road.

The people on both sides, initially excited, gradually fell silent. Gazing at the flags they had never seen before, the faces they had never seen before, and the tributes they had never seen before, an indescribable feeling welled up in their hearts.

It was a sense of pride in being a citizen of the Celestial Empire.

"Dad, who are those people?" A seven or eight-year-old boy, riding on his father's shoulders, asked, pointing at the Arabs wearing white robes and turbans.

The father swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice calm: "Those are Arabs, from a very, very far place."

How far is it?

"So far away... even Father can't say for sure. But people from that far away all come to pay tribute to our Emperor. Tell me, isn't our Emperor amazing?"

The boy nodded vigorously: "Awesome!"

The father smiled, but his eyes were a little sore.

He recalled the end of the previous dynasty, when the world was in chaos, and barbarian cavalry raided the south. He and his family fled, all the way from Hebei to Guanzhong, and he almost died on the way. At that time, he never dreamed that one day he would be able to stand by the imperial road in Chang'an and watch those barbarians who he had only dared to dream of in his nightmares respectfully holding tribute and kowtowing to the emperor of the Central Plains.

"Dad, why are you crying?"

"I didn't cry," the father said, rubbing his eyes. "It was just sand and dust in my eyes."

At noon, the delegation arrived at Chengtian Gate.

On the Chengtianmen city tower, bells and drums resounded, their sound shaking the heavens.

Below the city gate, the envoys of the thirteen delegations lined up in order, guided by officials from the Court of State Ceremonial. Behind them were mountains of tribute; before them stood the majestic palace gate leading to the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

The palace gates slowly opened.

The Minister of Rites shouted loudly:

"His Majesty the Emperor Qiming has decreed—summon envoys from all vassal states to the Taiji Hall for an audience!"

The messengers stepped forward one by one, crossing the vermilion threshold.

Behind them, the people on both sides of the imperial road knelt down in unison, shouting "Long live the Emperor!" The roar was like a tidal wave, one wave after another, surging towards the sky.

The sun was shining brightly, and the snow glistened.

The sky above Chang'an was cloudless.