Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

Chapter 305 Empire

The fifth year of the Qiming era, the ninth day of the ninth lunar month. The Double Ninth Festival.

Autumn in Chang'an is the most beautiful season of the year. The sky is high and the clouds are light, the golden wind is refreshing, and chrysanthemums are in bloom all over the city. Yellow, white, purple and red chrysanthemums bloom one after another, and the fragrance of flowers fills the city when the wind blows.

Chang'an was even more bustling than usual on this day.

The eastern and western markets were teeming with people. Merchants from all over the world, dressed in colorful clothes and speaking various languages, moved between the shops. Persian carpets, Arabian spices, Indian prayer beads, Khotan jade, Kucha ironware, Yanqi dragon horses… a dazzling array of goods, everything imaginable. Merchants from the Central Plains were not to be outdone; silk, porcelain, tea, and lacquerware filled the shelves, ready for customers to choose from.

In the Xishi Hushang District, a long queue had formed in front of the "Saji Goods Store".

Saban sat behind the counter, his hands almost never stopping as he manipulated the abacus. Three years had passed; half of his hair had turned white, and the wrinkles on his face had deepened, but his eyes, weathered by wind and sand, shone brighter than ever before.

"Boss Sa!" a Uyghur merchant squeezed in. "Has that shipment of Indian spices you mentioned arrived yet?"

Saban didn't even look up: "We're here. But there are only three boxes left, so hurry if you want them."

Without a word, the Uyghur merchant pulled out his money bag, didn't even count it, and slammed it on the counter: "I'll take it all!"

Saba took the money and had the goods brought out. The Uyghur merchant inspected the goods and left happily.

A newly arrived young businessman nearby stared in disbelief and whispered:

"Boss Sa, your business is just too easy!"

Saban looked up at him and smiled.

"Young man, do you think doing business is just sitting here collecting money? I've been sitting in Chang'an for three years, do you know how I spent those three years?"

The young businessman was stunned.

Saban pointed to the foreign merchants coming and going outside the shop:

"See those people? They come from Persia, Arabia, India, Khotan, Kucha, Kashgar... Each one of them is a friend I've made one by one. They trust me, that's why they come to me to buy things. If you want to gain a foothold in Chang'an, first learn to make friends."

The young businessman nodded thoughtfully.

Saban lowered his head and continued fiddling with the abacus.

The abacus beads clicked and clattered, a clear and pleasant sound.

At the other end of the West Market, a new "African Studies Center" has opened.

Despite being called a "school," it actually consisted of only three rooms. One was a lecture hall with a dozen or so low tables; another was a library with dozens of copies of the "Thousand Character Classic," "Hundred Family Surnames," and "Enlightenment Primer"; and the third was where the teacher lived.

The gentleman was an elderly scholar in his fifties, surnamed Zheng. He had gray hair and a slightly hunched back, but was in good spirits. He was in the lecture hall, teaching a dozen or so children to read.

Among the children were Persians with high noses and deep-set eyes, dark-skinned Srivijaya people, Uyghurs with queues, and a few sons of merchants from the Central Plains. They sat together, repeating after Mr. Zheng:

"At birth, people are inherently good. Their natures are similar, but their habits differ..."

The reading was uneven, but everyone read it very seriously.

At the entrance, an Arab merchant with a white turban stood there, watching his son swaying his head as he read, his eyes slightly red.

Mr. Zheng looked up, saw him, and smiled:

"Abdullah, what brings you here today?"

Abdullah walked over and bowed deeply:

"Mr. Zheng, thank you. My son used to never study at home and just played all day. Since he came here, he studies every day and even says he wants to be a translator and help our Arab merchants in the future."

Mr. Zheng waved his hand:

"No need to thank me. He's just willing to learn. This child is smart and learns quickly. In another year, he'll be able to speak normally with people from the Central Plains."

Abdullah's eyes reddened even more. He took a small cloth bag from his pocket and stuffed it into Mr. Zheng's hand.

"Mr. Zheng, this is a small token of my appreciation. Please accept it."

Mr. Zheng opened it and found several gold coins inside. He quickly pushed it back.

"No, no, no! The salary the court provides is enough; you don't need to spend any more money."

Abdullah insisted on giving:

"This is not a salary, but a small token of my appreciation. Mr. Zheng, you have taught the children to read and write, so they won't have to spend their lives like me, relying solely on translation to interact with people. This kindness is priceless."

Mr. Zheng stood there, stunned, unsure of what to say.

Abdullah shoved the money bag into his hand and turned to leave quickly.

As Mr. Zheng watched his retreating figure, the one with the white headscarf gradually disappearing into the crowd, he suddenly realized that his old bones could still teach for another ten years.

Dongshi, Zhouji Guangyuanhao.

Manager Zhou was taking stock of the newly arrived goods. This batch of goods came from Guangzhou, filling three large ships, and consisted entirely of foreign imports: spices, rhinoceros horns, ivory, pearls, coral... piled high, filling an entire room.

"Boss," a clerk rushed in, "a few Persians have come in and say they want to see you."

Manager Zhou looked up and wiped his sweat: "Let them in."

Several Persian merchants entered, led by a middle-aged man with a thick beard and dressed in a magnificent brocade robe. As soon as he entered, he spoke in broken Chinese:

"Manager Zhou, I've long admired your name."

Manager Zhou hurriedly went to greet him:

"Not at all, not at all. Your presence is an honor to our humble establishment. Please have a seat and some tea."

After the host and guest were seated and exchanged a few pleasantries, the Persian merchant got straight to the point:

"Manager Zhou, we've come to discuss a big business deal with you."

Manager Zhou's eyes lit up: "I'd like to hear the details."

The Persian merchant said, "We have twenty trading companies in Persia. We want to transport Persian goods to Chang'an and then transport goods from the Central Plains back to Persia. However, we are not familiar with the situation in the Central Plains and need a reliable partner."

He looked at Manager Zhou:

"Manager Zhou, would you be willing to cooperate with us?"

Manager Zhou stood there, speechless for a long time.

Twenty businesses.

Twenty Persian trading companies.

What does that mean?

This means a continuous flow of goods, a continuous flow of profits, a continuous flow of...

He took a deep breath, stood up, and solemnly cupped his hands in a respectful bow:

"Thank you all for your high regard; I, Zhou, am happy to accept!"

The Persian merchant smiled, extended his hand, and shook hands with him.

"Okay! Let's sign the contract tomorrow!"

Noon, at Da Ci'en Temple.

The melodious sound of bells echoed throughout every corner of the temple.

Ennin knelt before the Buddha statue in the main hall, clasped his hands together, and silently chanted sutras.

Three years.

Three years ago, he came to Chang'an from Japan, bringing only a few boxes of Buddhist scriptures and a dozen monks. At that time, his thought was to copy as many as he could and learn as much as he could.

Now, he has copied three hundred volumes of Buddhist scriptures, learned the essence of the Faxiang, Huayan, and Tiantai schools, and has also taken in five disciples from the Central Plains.

Tomorrow, he will be setting off to return to China.

"Master," a young monk approached and said softly, "everything is packed."

Yuanren nodded without turning around.

The young monk hesitated for a moment, then said:

"Master, are we really leaving? Chang'an... Chang'an is so wonderful."

Ennin finally turned around and looked at him.

The young monk was someone he brought from Japan three years ago. He was only seventeen then, and now he's twenty. Three years in Chang'an have transformed him from a naive boy into a composed young man.

"Do you want to stay?" Ennin asked.

The young monk lowered his head, not daring to speak.

Ennin was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

"Stay if you want."

The young monk suddenly looked up: "Master?"

Ennin looked at him, his eyes full of affection:

"You've studied here for three years and grown up. The Buddhism in Chang'an is more profound than that in Japan. Stay here, study hard, and when you've mastered it, return to Japan. At that time, you'll be able to teach more than your master has taught you."

The young monk's eyes reddened, and he knelt on the ground, kowtowing three times heavily.

"Master...this disciple...this disciple will definitely study hard and return home once I have mastered the skills!"

Ennin nodded and turned to look at the Buddha statue.

The Buddha statue had a kind and benevolent face, with its eyes lowered, as if it were looking down on everything in the world.

"Buddha," he whispered, "Chang'an is truly wonderful."

At 1-3 PM, at the Imperial Academy.

Gao Yuan sat by the window, staring blankly at the old locust tree outside.

Three years.

Three years ago, he came to Chang'an from Goguryeo to study at the Imperial Academy. At that time, he was only fourteen years old, and his Chinese was halting; he couldn't even recite the Thousand Character Classic smoothly.

Now, he can read and write Chinese fluently, recite the Analects backwards, and discuss the meaning of the classics with the teachers at the Imperial Academy.

"Your Highness," his attendant Da Wu leaned closer, "are you daydreaming again?"

Gao Yuan snapped out of his daze and shook his head:

"No. I'm thinking about something."

Da Wudao: "What are you thinking about?"

Gao Yuan gazed out the window and slowly said:

"I'm thinking about when to go back."

Da Wu was stunned: "Your Highness, you want to go back?"

Gao Yuan nodded, then shook his head.

I want to, but I don't want to.

Da Wu scratched his head, not understanding.

Gao Yuan didn't explain. He just looked out the window, at the old locust tree, at his classmates reading under the tree, and at the distant, faintly visible palace.

Three years.

Here he learned to read, to be a person, and to be a good king.

Now, it's time to go back.

"Da Wu," he suddenly said, "go ask the master if there has been any news from Goguryeo recently."

Da Wu responded and ran out.

Gao Yuan remained seated by the window, gazing outside.

Outside the window, the autumn sun shines brightly, casting a warm golden glow on the young students reading.

At Shenshi (3-5 PM), in the Imperial Medical Academy's Herbal Garden.

Lan Fenghuang squatted in the Gu chamber, staring at the batch of newly cultivated Golden Thread Gu in the bamboo tray, her brows furrowed.

"A-Luo," she suddenly said, "do you think the silk threads spun by this batch of Gu are a bit thicker than the last batch?"

A'Luo leaned closer and looked for a while, then said cautiously:

"This servant...this servant cannot tell."

Lan Fenghuang sighed, stood up, and rubbed her numb knees.

"Never mind, let's leave it for now. We'll check on it again tomorrow."

She left the Gu chamber and went into the courtyard.

The courtyard was filled with various medicinal herbs, some brought from the Miao region, some trial-planted in Guanzhong, and some traded with merchants from the Western Regions. The autumn sun shone on the herbs, making them lush and vibrant with life.

"Your Highness," A'Luo followed, "Prince Ke has arrived."

Lan Fenghuang looked up and saw Chen Ke standing at the courtyard gate, holding a bunch of wildflowers in his hands, looking at her timidly.

"Ke'er? What brings you here?"

Chen Ke ran over and stuffed the wildflowers into her hand.

"Mother, I picked these in the Imperial Garden and gave them to you."

Lan Fenghuang looked at the bouquet of flowers, which was a mess, with all sorts of things mixed together, some of which were still covered in mud.

But she smiled.

She knelt down and hugged her son.

"Ke'er is such a good boy. Mother likes him very much."

Chen Ke leaned on her shoulder and whispered:

"Mother, I want to study medicine when I grow up."

Blue Phoenix was taken aback: "Why?"

Chen Ke said earnestly:

"Because my mother studied medicine and can save lives, I want to save lives too."

Lan Fenghuang's eyes reddened slightly, and she hugged him even tighter.

"Okay. When you grow up, your mother will teach you."

At the hour of You (5-7 PM), the Zheng Hall was erected.

Murong Mingyue sat by the window, gazing at the darkening sky outside.

On the emperor's desk lay a newly arrived report. It was the first report from the Anbei Protectorate, a thick stack of documents detailing the situation of the various tribes in the northern deserts.

She read it once, and then read it again.

"Your Majesty," the lady-in-waiting said softly, "His Majesty is having dinner at the Wenhua Hall tonight and said he won't be coming back for dinner."

Murong Mingyue nodded without saying a word.

She continued to gaze out the window.

Outside the window, the setting sun slowly sank below the horizon, bathing the entire city of Chang'an in a golden-red hue. In the distance, the outline of Zhongnan Mountain appeared and disappeared in the twilight, like a silent barrier.

Three years.

It has been a full five years since he ascended the throne.

In five years, they pacified the south, secured the north, opened up the western regions, and opened up the south sea. In five years, they had three sons, countless subjects, and this vast territory.

She suddenly remembered that when she left Beidu that year, she stood on the city wall, gazing at the city where she had lived for ten years, and only one thing was on her mind:

Whether this journey brings fortune or misfortune, life or death, I will go with him.

Now, sitting in the Lizheng Hall of Chang'an, gazing at this bustling capital, she is still thinking about the same thing.

She smiled softly.

"Someone come here."

The female official entered in response.

"Serve the meal. Tonight, I will eat alone."

At the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), in the Wenhua Hall.

After reviewing the last memorial, Chen Xing stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the night was deep. The lights of thousands of homes in Chang'an City shone brightly, stretching to the horizon.

He gazed at the sea of ​​lights, remaining silent for a long time.

He heard footsteps behind him. He didn't turn around.

"Prime Minister Jia, it's so late, why haven't you gone home yet?"

Jia Wen walked over to him and stood beside him.

"His Majesty didn't go back either, did he?"

Chen Xing was silent for a moment, then said softly:

"I'm thinking about something."

Jia Wen asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Chen Xing gazed at the sea of ​​lights and slowly said:

"I'm wondering how long these lights will stay on."

Jia Wen was stunned.

Chen Xing continued:

"How long can this empire I conquered last? How long can these rules I established last? How long can my sons maintain all of this?"

He turned his head and looked at Jia Wen.

"Prime Minister Jia, tell me, how long will it take?"

Jia Wen remained silent for a long time before slowly saying:

"Your Majesty, I do not know."

Chen Xing nodded.

"I don't know either."

He looked back at the sea of ​​lights.

"But I know that these lights are burning now. These people are alive now. This land is now in my hands."

He paused, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible:

That's enough.

The night breeze blew by, stirring his clothes.

In the distance, the lights of Chang'an City still shone brightly.