Chapter 37: The Era Known as Zhenguan

More than thirteen hundred years ago, Chang'an, the capital of the Tang Dynasty, was one of the largest cities in the world. The city was divided into one hundred and eight wards, featuring two major marketplaces: the West Market and the East Market.

The West Market gathered merchants from all corners of the world, primarily selling common goods for the daily needs of the populace. The East Market, located closer to the imperial palace, catered mainly to the nobility and royalty; it bore the reputation of being a place where "rare treasures from the four directions are gathered," though its prices were naturally far from friendly.

In the modern era, a millennium later, the West Market still stands on one side of the city as a commercial district, while the East Market has been reduced to a mere remnant of its former self, serving only as a name—a poignant reminder of how fortunes shift with time.

Standing at a street corner, Zhou Qing gazed at the sign overhead that read "Beilin Antique Market," lost in thought. There was a time when he frequently disguised himself as a mortal to stroll through Chang'an, and through those many visits, he had become intimately familiar with the layout of every ward and market.

His memories told him that this was once the site of the East Market, but those ornate, carved railings and palaces that once housed rare treasures had long been buried, leaving not a trace. University campuses, shopping malls, and residential complexes had sprouted around its grave; the roads once reserved for palace officials were now choked with private cars, and street-side stalls selling roasted cold noodles and steamed cakes billowed with steam.

The only thing that still bore a resemblance to the past was this small market specializing in antiques.

The market was built in an open-air style. He walked down the central path, passing signs promising "ten times the value for any fake," stepping over bargaining buyers, and wandering aimlessly between the stalls.

Antique markets like this were often a mix of the genuine and the fraudulent. Novices who did not understand the trade were bound to be "blinded" and purchase fakes. But for him, this had no impact; he could discern the authenticity of an item at a glance.

As he walked, he saw inkstones from the Ming Dynasty, bronze tripods from the Song Dynasty, and four-eared jars from the Tang Dynasty. Compared to the artifacts preserved in museums, most antiques sold legally lacked significant historical value, consisting mostly of ordinary items used by the common people.

Passing a particular stall, his footsteps faltered slightly, his gaze fixed on several bronze coins encased in protective shells.

"Interested, young man?"

The stall owner noticed his attention and immediately stood up, gesturing to the coins. "Kaiyuan Tongbao, minted during the reign of Li Shimin. The quality has been verified. Want to take a look? Absolutely no duds here!"

Zhou Qing politely declined the enthusiastic sales pitch. Money, if it could not circulate, had no practical value, and he lacked the collector's hobby of trading new currency for old.

However, the name "Li Shimin" did stir some thoughts within him.

His first impression of that name dated back to the end of the Sui Dynasty. It was a time of constant civil strife within the Immortal Alliance. One day, while he and Ye Qiansheng were on their way to suppress a faction of the Alliance, they happened upon a young mortal general nearly surrounded by enemy troops. He had saved him on a whim, without paying much further attention.

He encountered the name again several years later in a memorial the Immortal Alliance received from the mortal realm. The document stated that Li Shimin, the second son of the Tang Emperor Li Yuan, had launched a coup at the Xuanwu Gate in Chang'an, killed his brothers, and declared himself Crown Prince. Two months later, the twenty-nine-year-old Li Shimin ascended the throne, changing the era name to Zhenguan.

It was only then that he recalled the young general on that dirt slope years ago, so he took the opportunity to look into the achievements of this new human emperor. The brilliance of his record left even him somewhat astonished.

From the age of eighteen, he had raised an army against the Sui. In just six years, he had successively swept away warlords like Liu Wuzhou and Song Jingang, achieving the monumental feat of unifying the Central Plains—a record that remained peerless even when viewed on a centennial scale.

Several hundred years later, he saw the human emperor's name in historical records once more. The man's title had become Emperor Taizong of Tang, and the era he founded was bestowed with a title that stood unmatched throughout history: The Reign of Zhenguan.

In the mouths of later generations, the words "Zhenguan" became nearly synonymous with wisdom. When people spoke of the Reign of Zhenguan, they immediately thought of the formidable power that swept across the Turks, Gaochang, and Tuyuhun; the integrity of a ruler who knew how to employ talent and encouraged open criticism; and the prestige of a powerful nation to which all four corners of the world came to pay homage.

In the history he had witnessed, this was indeed true. Yet, many tended to overlook that the "Reign of Zhenguan" was not a plant that grew in fertile soil, but rather a flower that bloomed upon ruins.

At the beginning of the Zhenguan era, both the immortal and mortal realms were just emerging from the shadows of years of war. The wounds left by the chaos of the late Sui and the internal strife of the Wude period had not yet healed. Externally, the Turks and the Western Regions remained covetous, while internally, the heavens were unkind. Spiritual veins across the land were in disarray, followed by consecutive years of natural disasters. Great droughts and heavy frosts struck one after another, leaving the common people in deep misery.

The Immortal Alliance dispatched cultivators to reconcile the spiritual veins in various regions, while the Tang imperial court repeatedly issued decrees to grant general amnesties and reduce taxes. The Emperor himself made several incognito visits to inquire about the people's livelihood. The immortal and mortal realms worked in tandem, struggling against the natural calamities.

And he, too, had done some small things in the midst of it all.

...

The second year of Zhenguan (628 AD), Liang Prefecture, two hundred miles outside of Chang'an.

On a dirt path beside the fields, two figures walked side by side, their steps light and ethereal, skimming over the ground like dragonflies touching the water.

Farmers carrying hoes passed them by, yet they remained blind to these extraordinary beings, as if they were entirely invisible.

"The soil in these fields is parched, and the crops are withered... The reports we received were correct; the Guannei region has indeed suffered a great disaster."

Ye Qiansheng reached the rice paddies and crouched down, her hand brushing over the dried, yellowed leaves of the rice stalks. Beside her, Zhou Qing also slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the fields. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of catastrophe.

The Immortal Alliance had previously received news that the barbarian gods of the northern Turks seemed to be stirring. The two of them had been on their way to support the border when they passed through Guannei and happened upon this scene of disaster.

A commotion arose, and the two looked up, their eyes traveling across the fields. Dozens of paces away, a group of officials in court robes approached, surrounding a figure in yellow robes like stars orbiting the moon.

The man appeared to be in his prime, wearing a dragon robe and an Yishan crown. He possessed the bearing of a dragon and a phoenix, a countenance of divine grace. With his appearance, the people hurriedly set aside their work, all eyes converging on a single point.

The Human Emperor of the Great Tang, Li Shimin.

The surrounding commoners prostrated themselves, welcoming the Emperor's arrival. He waved his hand, signaling them to rise. He stepped forward until he reached a farmer by the roadside who was holding a child. Looking down, he saw a blade of rice straw stuck in the child's hair, swaying slightly in the wind.

This was a mark of sale. Inserting straw into one's hair meant the child was up for purchase.

"Why do you sell your child?" Li Shimin asked the farmer in a gentle voice.

The farmer, likely seeing the Emperor for the first time, stood with trembling legs, stammering and unable to utter a word. Seeing this, Li Shimin did not press further; he simply turned silently and looked toward the magistrate standing to the side.

The magistrate, already drenched in sweat, saw the Emperor's gaze shift toward him and hurriedly kowtowed. "Your Majesty, in recent months, a great drought has plagued the Guannei region, and locusts have run rampant. We have already opened the granaries for relief, but there are too many victims, and our efforts are simply insufficient. That it has come to this is due to my incompetence; I deserve death a thousand times over..."

Li Shimin listened without showing immediate anger. He lifted his eyes once more, his gaze sweeping over the fields that appeared bleached white by the drought, across the patches of exposed earth, and over the rotting rice stalks scattered in the fields, the leaves marred by the marks of locust teeth.

In a year of great catastrophe, the lives of the poor were as cheap as dust, much like these withered stalks of rice.

Li Shimin reached out and gently plucked the straw from the child's hair, then turned back to the farmer.

"How many people in this area are selling their children?"

"Y-Your Majesty..." the farmer trembled. "I don't know the exact number... but in my village, about a dozen households have done the same..."

Li Shimin nodded slightly and turned to walk back toward his entourage. The gentleness from before vanished, replaced by the majesty of an emperor.

"Upon returning to the capital, draft a decree immediately. Inspect the imperial granaries and distribute grain to all areas of Guannei for disaster relief as needed. Furthermore..."

"Investigate where the people here are selling their children. Upon our return, use the gold and silk from the imperial treasury to redeem them all and return them to their parents."

The voice drifted from afar, reaching the ears of Zhou Qing by the field. His expression shifted slightly, and as he looked upon the scene, he remained lost in thought.