The Longest Day in Chang'an

Chapter 1: Si Zheng (10:00-10:59) Part 1

Translator: DragonRider

In the far distance galloped innumerable black riders, hang over the long river was a round setting sun of blood red, and from the Lonely City soared bursts of beacon smoke high into the dim sky at dusk.

Sizheng, 14th of the first lunar month, Tianbao Year 3, Tang Dynasty.

West Market, Chang’an County, Chang’an.

Sun shone brightly in the cold fresh air of Spring. It was a nice and sunny day without even a cloud to mask the sky.

The heavy gate of West Market was slowly pushed open revealing a hide flag hanging up high on the lintel. The street outside was already crowded with over a dozen of camel caravans who, when seeing the flag, all exclaimed with excitement, followed by busy laborers who forced the camels lying on the ground up with bullwhip, counted the goods and called for their companions, filling the street with incessant shouts and yo-heave-ho in foreign accents.

They were the last caravans who, after pressing forward day and night from Fulin (Byzantine Empire) or Persia, made it to Chang’an before the Lantern Festival, an important event when the lantern show would last for three whole days and aristocrats of Tang would stake a thousand tales of silver with one throw.

The petty officials of Bureau of West Market all stood by the two sides of the entrance to West Market with a workbook in one hand and a brush in the other, examining all the official passports and goods with an emotionless face. In this special day, the opening time for West Market was an hour earlier than usual and all petty officials did the inspection quicker as they desired to finish their job earlier so as to get home for the festival.

An old official registered quickly for a Persian merchant and beckoned to another one waiting in line to come forward. It was a man in short maroon robe with double lapel who immediately handed over the passport.

The old official was surprised when taking a look.

The document was perfect. The applicant was Cao Poyan, a Sogdian from Samarkand who came to Chang’an with 15 servants, 15 camels and a stallion carrying thirty wool carpets and furs that varied in color. On the document signed the permission from the guarding official of outposts along the way.

The problem lied not in the document, but the goods.

The old official had been in charge of inspection for nearly twenty years which facilitated him with a pair of sharp eyes for anything suspectable. A team of sixteen carrying goods so few would cause cost extremely high. Moreover, wool carpets were hard to sell in spring which even if sold out was not likely to cover all the expenditure for the journey. Was there really a merchant stupid as this?

The old official couldn’t help but frown upon what he found. Then he began to scrutinize the foreign merchant who was about thirty years old with prominent nose and unfathomable eyes. On his thin jaw grew whiskers that looked extremely hard and black just like a stiff bristle brush. Adding the felt cap with a white top, he would be over two meters high.

The old official asked a few simple questions which Cao Poyan answered in faltering mandarin of the Tang dynasty. His vocabulary seemed quite limited as he could only manage to repeat several words, his expression cold without any trace of a smile or tactfulness that a normal merchant would demonstrate. While answering the question, he involuntarily reached for his own waist which, upon the old official’s observation, was a habit developed from long years of holding a weapon. However, now hanging on his waist was an empty copper hook as, for security reasons, all merchants’ sharp weapons were confiscated by the gate guards when they entered the city, and only returned when they left the city.

Calm and collected, the old petty official put down his workbook and brush and circled around the caravan for a detailed inspection. The goods were safe of ordinary quality. The fifteen servants were all Hu people of similar age as Cao Poyan who all wore tight pants and pointed shoes, each leading a camel in silence with tight shoulders.

“These guys look nervous,” thought the old petty official who lifted his brush to comment “Dubious” on the document, meaning the identity of the caravan was suspectable for further inspection of the Bureau of West Market, when he was suddenly stopped by a big hand.

Raising his head, the old petty official saw a man with thick brows and wide face smiling at him.

“Cui Liulang?”

Cui Liulang was a broker with wide connections in West Market who was quite reliable for goods delivery, pawnshop finding, house renting, lawsuit assisting...Though not an official of any sort, he was quite popular in West Market.

Cui Liulang said with a smile, “Haven’t had your breakfast? I brought you a fried cake.” With that, he handed over a cake dotted with sesame seeds that smelt really good. The old petty official felt it and found a tale of silver inserted deep into the other side of the cake, which, upon his secret weighing, should be at least two Liang (a unit of weight in ancient China, 1 Liang=50g). Though not able be used as ready cash, he could use it to buy his daughter a great hairpin.

“Senior, please pardon them for their ignorance of the rules. These friends are visiting Chang’an for the first time,” whispered Cui Liulang.

The old official hesitated for a while before he took the cake and signed “Approved” on the document. Cui Liulang folded his hands to show gratitude then turned around to speak fluently Sogdian language. Cao Poyan only gave a slight nod without any delight or excitement on the face.

With Cui Liulang leading the way, the camel caravan flocked into West Market. Getting through the threshold, what greeted them was a spacious crossroad with wide lanes in four directions crowded with all shops that sold every from cloth, ironware, porcelain, jewelries, grains to musical instruments. Unlike native architectures in Chang’an, the roofs of these shops were flat not because the Hu merchants deliberately constructed this way as a token of missing home but for the purpose of storing more commodities.

At this time of the day, most of the shops were not open yet all signboards and flags were already hung up high which nearly shrouded the sky over the lane. On the gate of the shops already hang several lantern frames made in bamboo before the peach wood charms against evil for the Lunar New Year’s Eve were removed. These frames were prepared for the lantern show this night, which, though empty without lanterns, already displayed a jubilant air for festivity.

“Here in Chang’an, there are 108 Fangs, 14 north-south streets and 11 east-west streets. Each Fang is walled and is the region for food, entertainment, business and accommodation. In normal days, remember to stay in Fang for the night as there are curfews. Yet, today is exception. All curfews are lifted for the lantern show. In fact, the exact time of Lantern Festival should be tomorrow yet the show starts tonight.”

Cui Liulang introduced every regulations and sites for his guests quite enthusiastically as they walked. While Cao Poyan kept scanning around, looking quite vigilant like an untamed eagle. In the hustling and bustling street with horses neighing, carriages running, and passengers busy around, the small caravan was noticed by none.

Walking to the center of the Tenth Street, Cui Liulang stopped, “Where shall we go? Should I find you a hotel or you already have booked one?”

Cao Poyan fished out a folded paper from his chest and handed it over to Cui Liulang, who, after reading the paper, was in a bit of a daze. Then he smiled, “Ah! So you did book one. Then this way, please.” With that, he stretched his arm, pointed to the right in a rather exaggerated way and moved on with the others following behind.

Cao Poyan would never expect that everything he and Cui Liulang did was caught by the scout watching on the watchtower.

The watchtower was a wooden building with black paint about 26 meters high. Situated in the center of West Market, whoever standing on the tower could get a clear view of everything happening in the market. The scouts on the tower were all carefully picked ones with sharp eyes to spot anything abnormal.

Cui Liulang and Cao Poyan had been under the close watch of the tower from the very moment they entered West Market. Getting Cui Liulang’s gesture, a scout straightened up, took a black flag, waved it three times to the east then repeated the whole set of signal three times.

Moments later, the same black flag was waved on another tower about three hundred steps to the east, followed by the same response on the tower further east. The message was delivered like this from one tower to the other, which in just a few minutes was passed on to the Guangde Fang in the far east of West Market.

On the northeastern corner of Guangde Fang stood Jingzhao Office, next to it was Temple of Great Mercy. In between the two lay an inconspicuous mansion that was originally the residence of Sun Simiao the Great Physician, but now the traces of the great physician were gone, replaced by a serious atmosphere with a watchtower much taller and more magnificent that other towers in the middle of the yard.

The scout on the tower recorded the times that the black flag was waved on a wooden slip and threw it down without delay.

Under the tower awaited a tall messenger who ran straight into a great hall about thirty meters away when grasping the wood slip. Directly above the main hall hang a dark golden wooden plaque, on which wrote Jing’an Department in regular script that demonstrated vigor and great skill. It was apparently written by Yan Zhenqing (a leading Chinese calligrapher and a loyal governor of the Tang Dynasty).

Entering the hall, one would be greeted by a huge sand table of Chang’an with ramparts moulded by red clay and walls of Fang by beeswax, bringing the 108 Fang and 25 streets alive on the table as vivid and orderly as a chessboard. Even the paths in each Fang and canal were displayed clearly, with only one exception-the Imperial Palace that was left with a blank area, besides which stood a four-layer hourcopper (a device to measure the passing of an hour by the dripping of water) carved with a Chinese dragon. The speed of the dripping water was the same as the hourcopper placed before Shuntian Gate.

Overlooking the sand table with the help of the hourcopper was like overlooking the whole Chang’an high in the sky, which could enable one to get every tiny change of the city.

Besides the sand table stood two officials observing with great attention. The old one was white haired and grey beard. His purple robe was wide-sleeved and round-necked. On his waist tied a goldfish bag. While the youth had a little round face with residual greenness yet between his eyebrows already grew three faint wrinkles from overthinking. He wore a tight-sleeved robe of green, hanging on his waist was a silver-fish bag, while in his hand was a fly-whisk of Taoists.

The messenger stopped before the two officials with the slip in hand and reported in a loud voice that resounded through the hall, “Wolfpack in West Market, crossing Tenth Street.”

Officials in the hall remained still as a beautiful girl servant stepped forward, grabbed a moon stick for playing polo and pushed a black pottery figurine from the street outside West Market to the site where Cui Liulang and Cao Poyan stood.

The youth ventured after a while of silence, “Supervisor He?”

Not until several calls later did the elder open his eyes, “Changyuan, what’s your plan?”

The youth smiled and pointed to the sand table with his fly-whisk, “Cui Qi has already deployed a team of fifty men from Lubi Army (Imperial Guards) in West Market. He will breach the door and arrest the Wolfpack upon Cui Liulang’s signal. While in the periphery of the market, about a hundred The Indecent (A group of detectives and constables that report directly to the emperor) guard every street. And gate guards of West Market can close the door at any time. Besieged for three layers, no way the Wolfpack could escape.”

The girl servant immediately placed several scarlet pottery figurines around the black one, leaving no chance for it to escape.

“These Wolfpack believed they could get away with it under camouflage in the disguise of Hu merchants with a planted agent. Never could they expect that we’re fishing with a bait all the time. Success is assured with well-planned scheme against an unarranged one.”

The youth took back his fly-whisk with his jaw slightly raised, looking quite confident. While the elder just uttered a simple “Em” as a gesture of hearing the words before he closed his eyes again, making no comment.

For every quarter of an hour, the messenger would run into the hall, reporting in a loud voice the whereabouts of Cui Liulang and Cao Poyan.

“Wolfpack passed Saddle Shop of Fan, heading to the northwest of Tenth Street.”

“Wolfpack passed Silk Shop of Ruyi, turning right into the Er’hui Lane.”

“Wolfpack passed Third Bridge of Guangtong Canal, getting into the left lane of Lonely Willow.”