bayedsolid 004 Even those clad in iron armor would drape moonlight over their shoulders.
004 Even those clad in iron armor would drape moonlight over their shoulders.
In the chill of a winter night, the oven at the Barbarenespie stall wafts a warm, fragrant aroma. Slightly browned dough wraps around juicy chunks of meat, and the subtle scent of spices permeates the air.
Zhen Xiaosi took a bite; the outer skin was crispy and salty with pepper, while the meat inside was tender and soft, and a warm feeling rose from the bottom of her heart.
It was in this bustling market, filled with the smoke of cooking fires and the shadows of people, that Zhen Xiaosi met Zhang Shougui, the knight who had come from the Tang Dynasty.
The two struck up a conversation, their hands holding equally warm skewers of grilled meat. On this cold winter night, the small stalls with torches around Barbarenspie? emitted warm, fragrant aromas from their grills.
Zhen Xiaosi travels through time, experiencing the chivalry of bygone knights and savoring the warm hospitality of the Christmas market. The aroma of fireworks mingles with the spiciness of food, nourishing the winter night and satisfying hungry souls. May this string of warmth accompany every traveler returning home on a cold night.
Barbarenspie? is a common sight at the medieval Christmas market Mittelalterlicher Weihnachtsmarkt in Munich. It is known as "barbarian skewers" and consists of a dough wrap or pretzel crepe (Brezelteig) filled with cured meat chunks such as chicken or beef.
The meat chunks are first marinated with spices such as black pepper, garlic powder, cinnamon, and sweet chili powder. After being diced, they are skewered alternately with strips of untied salt and pepper dough and grilled slowly on a grill for about 20 minutes until golden brown and crispy. The dough absorbs oil and becomes fragrant and crispy, providing a chewy contrast.
Crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a rich aroma of spices, it's perfect for a winter street snack, usually served with vegetables like cauliflower or mushrooms. Made fresh at medieval market stalls, it's hot and satisfying. Visually resembling a variation of "ritterspie" (a type of sausage), it's a hidden treat for holidays, more interesting than regular sausages… Gazing at similar fireworks displays on a cold night, Zhang Shougui carefully recalled:
Years later, when I stand beneath the gates of the Youzhou military governor's camp and gaze northward, I always recall that dusk of the fifteenth year of the Kaiyuan era. The wind from Hexi, carrying sand and gravel, lashed against the curtains of Xiao Song's central army tent, rustling loudly—at that moment, the moonlight of Chang'an was probably falling on Zhen Xiaosi's shoulder.
But now, I hold a piping hot kebab in my hand. I stumbled upon it at a winter night market in Youzhou, where the Hu merchants called it "Barbarenspie?", meaning "barbarian kebab." The outer layer of pepper-salt dough is grilled to a golden brown and crispy, while the juicy and flavorful lamb inside is filled with the aroma of black pepper and cinnamon that rises in the cold night.
I suddenly remembered that Zhen Xiaosi once said that there was a similar dish in her hometown, but the spice recipe was different. At that time, I thought it was just a strange tale of a Hu woman. But now, on this cold northern night, I inexplicably feel that this rough food contains a kind of human warmth that transcends mountains and seas.
Just like the moonlight of Chang'an hidden in the sandstorm of Hexi that year.
In the autumn of the fifteenth year of the Kaiyuan era, the Tibetan general Xinuoluogonglu captured Guazhou and took its governor, Tian Yuanxian, prisoner. The gateway to Hexi was wide open, and Liangzhou was shaken.
I first met Xiao Song on the third day after he arrived in Liangzhou. My position as the military commissioner of Jiankang allowed me to enter the central command tent, but I was only standing at the bottom of the list of generals. The candlelight in the tent was dim, and the Guazhou on the sheepskin map had been circled three times in red ink, the red so glaring it looked like undried blood.
Xiao Song sat in the main seat, not wearing armor, but a deep purple round-necked robe, with a gold and jade belt around his waist—a color reserved for officials of the second rank and above. He was reading a battle report, his brows slightly furrowed, his magnificent beard gleaming silver-gray in the candlelight. I had only heard of this Minister of War in rumors before: a seventh-generation descendant of Emperor Wu of Southern Liang, the most outstanding member of the Lanling Xiao clan of this generation, who rose through the ranks through literature yet held the position of head of the Ministry of War, and last year had just been promoted to the rank of Tong Zhongshu Menxia Sanpin, making him a de facto prime minister.
"They've all arrived." He put down the battle report, his voice not loud, but it silenced the murmurs in the tent.
When that gaze swept over me, my back involuntarily straightened. It wasn't the fierce look of a warrior, but a calm scrutiny, like a ruler measuring the value and purpose of each person. Later I realized that it was the look of a chess player looking at the pieces on the chessboard.
"Seven days after Guazhou fell, the Tibetan army massacred and looted the city, and Governor Tian was taken to Luoxie." Xiao Song paused, "But Xinuoluo Gonglu did not advance eastward; he was waiting."
"Waiting for what?" a general asked.
“Wait until we're in disarray.” Xiao Song tapped the location of Guazhou on the map with his finger. “Wang Junchan, the military governor of Hexi, has just suffered a defeat, and the morale of his army is low. If the Tubo were to advance eastward with all their might now, Liangzhou might not be able to be defended. But they have stopped—do you all know why?”
Silence fell in the tent. Most of the generals in Hexi were warriors who had risen through the ranks from the bottom, and they were not adept at this kind of courtly deduction.
I blurted out, almost as if possessed, "Because what they want is not just a city or a piece of land, but control of the entire Hexi Corridor."
All eyes instantly turned to me. Xiao Song looked up, and for the first time looked at me directly: "Go on."
“Although the Tubo have become stronger in recent years, their deep operations in Hexi have resulted in excessively long supply lines. If they rashly advance eastward, even if they capture Liangzhou, they will be attacked from both sides by our reinforcements from Longyou and Shuofang.” My throat felt dry, but the words had already been spoken. “So they are waiting for us to lose our composure, for the various armies in Hexi to become suspicious of each other, and for the court to… replace their generals.”
The last two words were spoken very softly, but Xiao Song's eyebrows rose slightly.
You could hear a pin drop in the tent. Everyone knew what a change of general meant—Wang Junchan had just suffered a defeat, and the court would surely hold him accountable. And this Minister Xiao before them was very likely the one who had come to take over as the military governor of Hexi.
"What's your name?" Xiao Song asked.
"Zhang Shougui, the military envoy of Jiankang."
He nodded, said nothing more, and began to deploy defenses. But I could feel his gaze lingering on me for a few more moments.
The meeting ended at midnight. I stepped out of the main tent; the autumn wind in Hexi was biting cold, but the starry sky was terrifyingly bright. As my personal guard handed me the riding whip, someone behind me called out, "Commander Zhang, please wait."
It was Xiao Song's close attendant, a handsome young man: "Minister, please speak with me alone."
When I re-entered the main tent, Xiao Song had already dismissed his attendants and was brewing tea. The silver kettle on the charcoal fire gurgled, and he gestured for me to sit down, skillfully serving me tea—his demeanor was not like that of a military general, but rather like that of a scholar in Pingkang Ward of Chang'an who prided himself on his elegance.
"Are you from Hebei County, Shanzhou?" Xiao Song handed over a teacup.
"Yes."
“In the early years of the Kaiyuan era, he served as a military officer in Pingluo Prefecture. He fought seven battles against the Tubo in Longyou and was wounded three times. Due to his merits, he was promoted to the position of Military Commissioner of Jiankang.” He said this as if he were reading an ordinary document. “Last year, while patrolling the border around Shibao City, he led three hundred cavalry to defeat a thousand-man Tubo force and beheaded eighty of them. I saw the battle report at the Ministry of War.”
I gripped the teacup tightly. He remembered these experiences so clearly.
"Guazhou is yours," Xiao Song suddenly said.
My hand trembled, and some of the hot tea spilled out.
Without asking or discussing, a single pronouncement placed the weight of a lonely city and the fate of this land on my shoulders. At that moment, my mind went blank, and I recalled the words Zhen Xiaosi had spoken to me by the Ba Bridge three months earlier when I left Chang'an. Willow catkins filled the air then, and she stood on tiptoe to adjust the ties of my armor, saying, "General, guard the land; I, your servant, guard my heart."
Her voice was soft, yet her eyes were clear and resolute. She was the daughter of a merchant from the far west, her ancestors hailing from the far west. Her rare grey-green eyes seemed to hold glimmers of light and wisdom; she was not only stunningly beautiful but also knowledgeable in psychology, history, and worldly affairs. We met by chance—her carriage was startled in the West Market, and I happened to be passing by and reined in the horse. Later, I learned that her father was a renowned spice merchant in Chang'an, frequently traveling the Silk Road, and she had studied under him since childhood, her vision and knowledge rivaling that of any man.
“I can read the stars,” she said, slightly tipsy, as they drank together under the moon, her eyes gleaming with shrewdness. “And I can read people’s hearts. Your star is in the northwest, very bright, but surrounded by dark clouds… There are people in the court who are jealous of your military achievements, and there is also suspicion among the border generals. But don’t worry, there’s a saying in my hometown: the most dangerous place is also the safest place. Sometimes the treacherousness of people’s hearts can become a protective armor.”
At the time, I took it as drunken ramblings. But now, sitting in this military tent where life and death are decided, those words echo like a prophecy.
"How many soldiers are still left in the city?" I forced myself back to reality.
“No more than eight hundred, and most of them are wounded,” Xiao Song said calmly. “More than ten sections of the city wall have collapsed, the grain and fodder have been looted, and the armory is empty. The Tibetans left three thousand men in Guazhou, under the command of Xinuoluogonglu’s deputy.”
What can the imperial court give me?
“In name only.” Xiao Song put down his teacup. “You will be taking up your post as the Prefect of Guazhou and Military Commissioner of Moli—of course, it’s an empty title. You’ll have to figure out the soldiers, provisions, and artisans yourself.”
I almost sneered: "Is the Minister sending me to my death?"
“It’s about getting you to win.” Xiao Song looked at me, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. “Zhang Shougui, I know what you’re thinking. You think this is because civil officials don’t understand military affairs and are recklessly squandering the lives of military generals. But let me tell you: I’ve read all your battle reports and studied your tactics in every battle. You’re good at defense, but even better at using surprise attacks. In the Shibao City incident, you deliberately feigned weakness to lure the enemy deep into your territory, and then used an ambush to cut off their retreat—this isn’t conventional warfare; it’s a gambler’s game.”
He stood up and walked to the map: "And now, the entire Hexi region is a gamble. Wang Junchan has lost, and the court needs a victory to stabilize the situation. I gave you Guazhou because only those who dare to gamble and know how to gamble can create miracles there."
What if I lose?
“Then you and Guazhou will become a footnote in the history books for ‘the Tibetan invasion of the border in the fifteenth year of Kaiyuan’.” Xiao Song turned around, his gaze icy. “But if you win, I will recommend you for merit, so that you will truly deserve the position of governor—not just an empty title.”
I remained silent for a long time. The wind howled outside the tent, like the wailing of countless spirits. Finally, I asked, "Why me?"
Xiao Song smiled—it was the first time I had ever seen him smile, and it was tinged with melancholy: "Because among all the generals in the tent, only you, when you heard 'Tibet is waiting for us to fall into chaos,' thought of 'the court replacing generals.' You are not just a simple warrior; you understand politics. And in Hexi, a general who doesn't understand politics doesn't live long."
Before leaving the main tent, he said one last thing: "I'll give you ten days to prepare. In ten days, I want to see you enter Guazhou—by whatever means necessary."
It was past midnight when I returned to the inn. I spread out paper and pen, wanting to write a letter to Zhen Xiaosi, but I didn't know where to begin. In the end, I only wrote a few words:
"My dear Siqing: The winds are howling in Hexi, and war is imminent. I have been promoted by Minister Xiao and will soon be going to Guazhou. The city is in grave danger, and the outcome of this journey is uncertain. If anything happens to you, please take good care of yourself and do not worry about guarding the jade tablet. I only wish to see the moon over Chang'an in my dreams."
After writing and sealing the letter, I ultimately didn't deliver it to the messenger. Some words, once spoken, become farewells. Yet, deep in my heart, a sliver of absurd hope still lingered: perhaps I could truly return alive, perhaps I could truly see her one more time.
I tucked a peace charm she had embroidered into my pocket; she had given it to me when we parted. The brocade pouch was sewn with silk bearing exotic patterns, and I didn't know what was inside, but it made a soft rustling sound when I squeezed it. She said it was a talisman from her hometown, a fusion of "Eastern wisdom and Western luck."
"My ancestors came from the far west, crossing deserts and snow-capped mountains, and finally settled in Chang'an." She said this while mending an old robe for me, her profile breathtakingly beautiful in the lamplight. "They believed that people are like spices, needing to be ground, roasted, and blended to release their full fragrance. General, your journey to Hexi will also be a test—but please remember, the test is for blossoming, not for shattering. All things in the world are like this, border wars and court disputes are nothing more than the way of mixing and balancing people's hearts."
Back then, I laughed at her for always saying such esoteric things. Now, as I caress this brocade pouch in the cold night of Hexi, I suddenly feel that perhaps there really is some kind of wisdom that penetrates the ways of the world hidden in her "drunken ramblings".
Ten days later, I led seventy-six personal guards, disguised as a merchant caravan, and infiltrated Guazhou.
The scene before them was far more horrific than they had imagined. Sections of the city wall had collapsed, charred beams protruding from the ruins like the jagged bones of the earth. Although the corpses on the streets had been cleared, dark brown bloodstains seeped into the soil, gleaming eerily in the autumn sun. Fewer than a thousand civilians survived, their faces ashen, trembling at the sight of soldiers.
The Tibetan garrison was stationed at the former governor's mansion, and their vigilance was lax—they never expected the Tang people to dare to return. I secretly contacted the remaining Tang soldiers, mostly soldiers who had fled and hidden among the civilians after their defeat. They numbered no more than five hundred, their armor incomplete and their weapons broken.
On the first night, I gathered everyone in a half-collapsed temple. The oil lamps flickered dimly, illuminating their desperate faces.
"The imperial court has no reinforcements." I cut to the chase. "In the direction of Liangzhou, Minister Xiao is reorganizing his troops, but he is unable to look westward in the short term. All we have are these people and this dilapidated city."
Someone started to sob.
“But the Tibetans don’t know that this is all we have.” I raised my voice. “They don’t know how dilapidated the city walls are, how much food we have, or whether we dare to fight.”
An old soldier looked up: "What does Your Excellency mean?"
"When repairing the city wall, we must do it with great enthusiasm. Light more torches at night so that the Tibetan scouts can see that we are working through the night. Organize the people into formations for drills, even if they are just holding wooden sticks, they must shout battle cries that shake the heavens." I paused, "Most importantly, spread the news: the imperial court's 100,000 reinforcements have arrived in Liangzhou, and the vanguard will soon reach Guazhou."
"Is this... a scam?" someone asked.
“It’s an empty city stratagem.” As I uttered this phrase, Zhen Xiaosi’s face suddenly flashed through my mind. She once told me a legend from her hometown, about a wise man who guarded a city. When the enemy army pressed in, he instead opened the city gates wide and played his zither on the city wall. The enemy, suspecting an ambush, retreated without a fight.
"The most dangerous place may be the safest place," she said with a smile, her eyes gleaming with a knowing light. "The human heart is more suspicious than swords. What does the general think of this story?"
I find it absurd. But at this moment, this absurdity has become my only support.
On the seventh day of the city wall construction, Xiao Song's secret envoy arrived. He was a middle-aged man dressed as a civil official, who sneaked into my temporary residence under cover of night.
"The Minister has ordered: hold firm and wait for the enemy to retreat on their own." The clerk handed over a sealed letter sealed with sealing wax. "Another private message has been relayed: there is internal strife in Tibet. Xinuoluo Gonglu's achievements have become too great and have made the emperor suspicious. The Minister has sent a spy into Tibet, and news should arrive soon."
I unfolded the secret letter; it was written in Xiao Song's own hand, the characters bold and vigorous.
"Your Excellency Shougui: The situation in Guazhou is urgent, but the barbarian general is arrogant and overbearing, which will lead to his defeat in three ways. First, he is arrogant because of his victory; second, there is distrust between the ruler and his ministers; and third, the army is exhausted from a long expedition. Your Excellency should hold the position and wait for the situation to change, and not engage in reckless fighting. The necessary provisions and weapons have been secretly sent by three groups of disguised merchant caravans westward. They should arrive at the Populus euphratica forest, thirty miles outside Guazhou City, within ten days. You can send a trusted confidant to retrieve them at night. Also, a letter has been sent from Chang'an and is enclosed in this official letter. Please burn it after reading."
I turned to the last page and my breath hitched.
It was a note, unsigned, but I recognized the handwriting—it was Zhen Xiaosi's cursive script, slightly exotic yet free and lively:
"Hearing that you have been ordered to defend this perilous city, I have been burning incense and praying for your protection day and night. Autumn has deepened in Chang'an, and the leaves have all fallen from the trees. Only the foreign merchants in the West Market have brought in cinnamon and pepper, the aroma of which is strikingly similar to the gift you gave me last year. I suddenly recall your words then: 'The fragrance of foreign lands can soothe homesickness.' Now, as a foreigner living in Chang'an, I realize that homesickness is not a matter of geographical distance, but rather the longing in my heart for those I cannot see. Recently, while reading history, I came across the anecdote of Li Guang of the Han Dynasty guarding the border, and I was deeply moved by the loyalty and steadfastness of border generals. I wish you were like the poplar tree, standing tall despite the fierce winds and sandstorms. When the snow falls, we will drink new wine together."
I stared at those few lines of text for a long time before bringing the paper close to the lamplight. As the flames licked the edge, I seemed to see her sitting on the second floor of a shop in the West Market of Chang'an, with falling leaves fluttering outside the window. She was engrossed in a book, and her gray-green eyes reflected the autumn sun and the wisdom of the books.
The clerk coughed lightly: "The Minister also said: 'Personal feelings can warm people's hearts, but they can also disturb them. General, you should handle this with caution.'"
I looked up abruptly.
"The Minister said that he had such moments when he was young." The clerk lowered his eyes. "But on the chessboard, the player who moves the pieces must avoid being moved by emotions. Because emotions can make the pieces unpredictable—whether against oneself or against the enemy."
At that moment, I suddenly understood why Xiao Song had forwarded Zhen Xiaosi's letter to me. It wasn't out of compassion; it was a test, and a warning. He was seeing if I would be swayed by personal feelings, whether I could still be a calm pawn on his chessboard.
“Please report back to the Minister,” I heard my own voice, which sounded unrealistically calm, “Shougui has received great favors from the country and only knows how to repay them with loyalty. He would not dare to misuse public resources for personal matters.”
After the clerk left, I sat alone in the dilapidated temple until dawn. The brocade pouch in my bosom was deformed from being squeezed so tightly, and some of the spice fragments inside leaked out, gleaming a dark red under the oil lamp—later I learned that it was saffron, more valuable than gold. Zhen Xiaosi had once said that it could calm the mind and spirit, and also promote blood circulation and remove blood stasis, just like the multifaceted nature of the world…