bayedsolid Chapter 939 Seeking Death, Really Seeking Death
Chapter 939 Seeking Death, Really Seeking Death
The wind outside Chang'an City always carries an indescribable smell.
In peaceful times, the wind, wrapped in the moisture of the Wei River and mixed with the aroma of beer wafting from the taverns outside the city, feels warm when it blows on people's faces.
But today was different. The wind was mixed with the dryness of dust and a faint smell of blood, which made the hem of Guo Ziyi's battle robe on the top of the city rustle, and also made his usually calm face tense like a fully drawn bow.
Guo Ziyi held the blue bricks on the top of the city wall with his hands, and stroked the traces left on the bricks over the years with his fingertips - there were military bugles carved by the soldiers defending the city in the early years, small portraits secretly drawn by children, and shallow pits dug by arrows when the rebels attacked the city last year.
He squinted his eyes and looked towards the dusty distance, his brows furrowed into a knot.
According to the scouts' reports, the remnants of the rebels must have made a comeback in the past few days. He has set up three lines of defense on the city wall and even placed crossbows behind the battlements, waiting for the enemy to get close so as to give them a head-on blow.
But when the army gradually approached and revealed its flags and armor, Guo Ziyi froze in place, and even the hand holding the hilt of the sword loosened slightly.
Guo Ziyi held the sword at his waist, his eyes fixed on the army below the city - it was not the dark black wolf flag used by the rebels, nor was it the red Vermillion Bird flag familiar to the Tang army, but an ochre flag decorated with animal bones, with a crooked goshawk pattern embroidered on the flag. When the wind blew, the goshawk seemed to swoop down and peck at the flesh and blood of Chang'an City.
Behind the battlements, the soldiers' grips on their spears tightened. According to the scouts' report from the day before, the remnants of the rebels were about to launch a counterattack from Hedong, and Guo Ziyi had already deployed three lines of defense.
Crossbows were placed behind the parapet, their arrows soaked in kerosene; boulders were piled on top of the city walls, each one strong enough to smash through iron armor. Even the young and strong men in the city were organized and stood guard at the city gates with hoes and sickles.
But at this moment, the army under the city had armor made of tanned animal skins with dried animal teeth hanging on the edges. The soldiers' faces were painted with blue-black oil paint, and what hung around their waists were not weapons, but several strings of shiny things - only when they got closer could they be seen clearly that they were children's silver locks and women's jade hairpins, all looted property.
"General, they are Uighurs!" the deputy general's voice trembled.
Guo Ziyi didn't respond, but sighed heavily. He recalled the secret letter from half a month ago, which said that the Uighur Khan had taken away 30,000 dan of grain and 1,000 rolls of silk on the pretext of "helping the Tang Dynasty suppress the rebellion," but then turned around and allowed his soldiers to burn, kill, and loot in Hedong.
Even though he knew they were burning, killing and looting, he couldn't do anything, because at least the friendly forces of the Tang Dynasty
Suddenly, the sound of horse hooves drifted in the wind. Guo Ziyi turned around and saw two groups of people coming from the end of the city road.
In front was a chestnut horse, and on its back sat an old man in a long green cloth gown. His hair and beard were half white, but his back was still straight. It was Mr. Qi.
An ebony carriage followed behind, its wheels creaking as they rolled over the gravel road. A corner of the curtain was blown up by the wind, revealing Zhang Xuanwei's hand holding a scroll - the scroll was wrinkled, and it was obvious that he had not had the heart to read it all the way.
Mr. Qi pulled the reins of his horse and when he dismounted, the hem of his long gown swept across the dry grass on the ground.
He looked up at Guo Ziyi on the top of the city wall, then turned to look at the Uighur army below the city. The corners of his eyes twitched at first, then slowly raised, as if he remembered something distant.
Zhang Xuanwei also got off the carriage. He walked over to Mr. Qi, his eyes fixed on the ochre flag. His fingers unconsciously grasped the edge of the scroll, and his voice trembled slightly, "Sir, this Uighur...?"
Mr. Qi took out a wine gourd from his bosom, uncorked it and took a sip. The wine flowed from the corners of his mouth to his clothes, leaving dark marks.
He turned to look at Zhang Xuanwei, his eyes misty with reminiscence. "Xuanwei, do you remember? You used to pester Yuan Tiangang, tugging on his sleeve and asking, 'What a spectacle it was when Your Majesty led the troops in Xianyang,' the civil and military officials in Chang'an opened the city walls to welcome you, dreading even the slightest breath."
Zhang Xuan was startled for a moment, then nodded.
When he was young, he loved listening to stories from the old people, especially the story about the military parade in Xianyang told by Yuan Tiangang. At that time, he always felt that the descriptions of "flags covering the sky and the sun, and horses' hooves making the Wei River tremble" were all legends made up by storytellers.
But today, looking at the Uighur army under the city, he suddenly felt his heart tighten, as if something was about to burst out.
"You keep asking, and I'll tell you today." Mr. Qi raised his hand, pointing to the Huihe army below the city walls, his tone somewhat complicated. "Your Majesty's display back then was just like this today. But back then, those standing below the city walls were soldiers following Your Majesty, and those waiting on the city walls were the people longing for peace. Now..."
Before he finished speaking, Mr. Qi suddenly stopped, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but rise.
A voice from decades ago seemed to drift on the wind. In the morning light outside Xianyang City, a stingy man, wearing a washed-out cloth shirt and clutching a cloth bag filled with copper coins, whispered in his ear, "Old Qi, just wait and see! When we conquer the country with His Highness, I'm going to open a hundred taverns, let everyone in the world drink my wine, and become the richest man in the Tang Dynasty!"
At that time, he still laughed at the fat man's lack of ambition and promised Li Chengqian with a pat on his chest: "Your Highness, when the world is at peace, I will help you govern the country and be the minister who is second only to the emperor and above everyone else, so that the people can have enough food to eat and warm clothes to wear!"
Li Chengqian was wearing a red dress at the time, standing in the morning light. He just smiled and nodded when he heard this.
That smile was as warm as the spring sun, even the hair at the temples was dyed with light.
Xianhuai was still a silent boy at that time, standing behind Li Chengqian holding a dagger. When he heard this, he secretly looked up at His Majesty, his eyes full of admiration.
Ru Zhao stood at the front of the army, holding a long spear in his hand, shouting loudly towards the city of Xianyang. His voice was so loud that it could shake the dewdrops off the willow trees. At that time, Ru Zhao's eyes were full of light, as if he could carry the whole world on his shoulders.
"Back then..." Mr. Qi's smile grew wider, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out. "The gates of Xianyang City waited from early morning until noon, and finally slowly opened."
"Civil and military officials surrounded the late emperor, holding food and wine in their hands. The people lined the streets and cheered, and even children held up wreaths and pressed them into the soldiers' hands. Who could have imagined then that now..."
The voice suddenly cut off.
A burst of crying and shouting was heard in the wind. Several ragged people came running from the direction of Luoyang. The old woman in the lead was holding a child in her arms. The child's face was pale and his lips were cracked. He was already dead, but the old woman kept patting the child's back, muttering, "Baby, we are home, we are in Chang'an."
Mr. Qi's smile froze on his face, as if frozen. He recalled the scene he had seen when he came from Luoyang three days ago - the once prosperous Luoyang City, now only ruins remained.
The bluestone slabs on the street were broken into pieces by horse hooves, and the tavern on the street was burned down to only blackened wooden beams, with half a burnt cloth banner hanging on the beams.
The willow trees along the Luo River were completely cut down, leaving only bare stumps. Next to the stumps lay the bodies of several civilians, their clothes torn to shreds.
As he walked down an alley, he heard a noise behind a broken door. He pushed it open and saw an old man with a wrinkled face, holding a broken pottery jar and pouring muddy water into his mouth. Seeing Mr. Qi, the old man was horrified at first, then burst into tears: "Sir, please save us!"
"The Huihe soldiers came last month, stealing food and women, and killing anyone who resisted! They killed my wife and grandson, and even their bodies were dragged away by wild dogs...Now, nine out of ten houses in Luoyang are empty!"
He looked at the Uighur army below the city. The soldiers were sitting on the ground, wiping their weapons with the looted silk. Some of them even hung children's silver locks on their horses' necks, smiling and showing off to each other.
"Just a Uighur..." Mr. Qi murmured in a low voice.
"Back when Emperor Taizong was on the throne, they were just a small tribe on the grasslands, sending envoys to Chang'an every year to pay tribute and beg for protection from the Tang Dynasty."
"When the envoys arrived, they didn't even have a decent piece of clothing. Your Majesty rewarded them with silk and food... Now, only a few decades later, they dare to plunder Tang cities and humiliate the people!"
He suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter so loud that it drowned out the sound of the wind.
Zhang Xuanwei hurried forward to help him: "Sir, please don't do this..."
"Why shouldn't I?" Mr. Qi shook off his hand, his laughter filled with sadness. "I'm laughing at myself, at how naive we were back then! We thought that conquering the country would bring eternal peace to the people."
"We thought the glory of the Tang Dynasty would last for thousands of years... but what about now? Luoyang is in ruins, Chang'an is in danger, and even a small tribe like the Uighurs dares to bully us!"
At the end of the laugh, Mr. Qi's tears flowed down his cheeks and slid into his collar.
He raised his hand to wipe his face, then suddenly stood up straight, the sadness in his eyes gradually replaced by anger.
The wind made his long gown rustle.
"You're looking for death." Mr. Qi's voice suddenly turned cold, as if it had been quenched with ice. "You're really looking for death!"