After the initial panic had subsided, I noticed an uncanny calm on Li Hao's face, a composure that seemed out of place. It left me puzzled until he gave a sharp whistle – a signal. Like the unveiling of a plot in a dramatic play, a troupe of Western Region warriors materialized out of the shadows like apparitions. Li Hao had been prepared all along; this was all arranged for my safety. With Li Hao's forces intervening, the group of black-clothed figures surrounding us grew increasingly tense, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder as both sides faced off in the darkness.
Seeing the tide turning against them, the leader of the men in black issued an order to attack. Blades clashed, and the once peaceful ambiance of the workshop was replaced with the clashing of swords and the roar of combat. All I could do was to keep out of the fray, silently thanking Li Hao's foresight in my heart countless times.
The battle within the workshop didn't last long. The men in black didn't seem to anticipate Li Hao's strategy and soon found themselves at a disadvantage. As they tried desperately to retreat into the vast night, they realized escape was impossible; they were surrounded. Eventually, their leader, seeing no way out, signaled for his men to commit collective suicide to end the skirmish. After they all fell to their deaths in a pool of blood, we removed the cloths covering their faces, confirming they were indeed all Turkic.
Throughout this unexpected conflict, Li Hao was the epitome of courage - yet I knew that this was just part of his life's reality.
After the altercation, Li Hao turned, safely ushering me away from the scene as tranquility returned to the workshop as if it all had been just a dream. Although I was back to safety, the combat remained vivid in my mind, prompting me to ponder the profound distance between the meaning of life and the struggle for survival.
Looking back on the battle, although it was tense and thrilling, it brought Li Hao and me even closer and deepened my understanding of the Tang Dynasty. From the moment of my arrival, I had become a part of this history; my presence was perhaps meant to bear witness to the unknown courage and wisdom. The story of Li Hao and me has become a testament to my connection with the entire era.
After the secret of the Fire Phoenix was unveiled, my father reported everything to the imperial court, in accordance with the Tang Dynasty's laws. However, there had been no response for a long time, perhaps because the emperor had deeper considerations. Later, news came that the emperor was to hold a grand banquet in the palace, and the imperial decree specially commended my father. Many modern Americans might be puzzled by the rules of the ancient feudal patriarchal society. Due to the lack of developed productive forces, the smallest unit the emperor could govern was a family. Within each family, there were household heads and household laws; when an issue arose, the whole family was often punished collectively. Women generally had a lower status, and upon the death of a husband, the wife and other concubines were expected to be buried alongside him. Even though Li Hao and I resolved the true events, since Li Hao was part of a foreign delegation, he couldn't take credit, so the emperor could only reward my father, representing our entire family. However, after the decree was read, the messenger carrying the imperial edict made it clear that I should also attend. This was unprecedented in a male-dominated society, where I, a woman, was specially invited to join a banquet dominated by a hierarchy of men.
On the evening of the banquet, my father and I went to the imperial feast together. Under the high, bright moon and the spread of the Milky Way beneath my feet, I found myself amid a court banquet steeped in ancient styles. I could hardly have imagined that I, a modern American woman writer, would be attending the most luxurious night banquet of the Tang Dynasty – Emperor Li Yuan's imperial feast.
Everything around me was resplendent, the court's golden and jade decorations stunning to behold. The beams above were adorned with delicate paintings of dragons and phoenixes dancing in flight, and the columns were carved with various auspicious animals, illustrating opulence and splendor. Cushioned seats were draped with silk brocade, tables laden with delicacies, including pastries embossed with exquisite designs, and renowned delicacies such as bird's nests and shark fins.
The palace maids moved as gracefully as startled swans, ready to receive guests from all directions. They held various utensils, and from their censers rose delicate wisps of incense, circling the entire palace. The faint tapping of musical instruments hinted at the elegant orchestra to come. This banquet was not just an enjoyment of food but a reverence for art and a display of Tang dynasty culture.
Seated at this celebratory feast, I felt a surge of trepidation and anticipation. Journeying from the busy cities of Western society to this luxurious banquet of the prosperous Tang era was like entering a magnificent dream.
My heart was filled with curiosity; to my eyes, this was an opportunity to broaden my horizons and collide with new thoughts. I was thrilled by everything before me, eager for the adventure on an unknown path, knowing this banquet would bring an unforgettable experience.
Before the banquet formally began, my heart danced to the strings of the guzheng and the wind of the bamboo flute. The culture's depth flowed in their melodies, and the profundity of history echoed in their tunes. Every moment stirred my soul and shook my essence. This was a journey of understanding ancient Chinese culture and a rebirth and self-discovery for me as a modern woman.
By now, the banquet hall was brightly lit, banners fluttered, and the orchestra tuned their instruments, with the music ready to commence. Guests were arriving one after another, creating a lively atmosphere. I took a deep breath, taking in all the sensory delights the banquet had to offer, preparing to welcome the grandeur of the night ahead.
As the prelude to the feast grandly unfolded, Emperor Li Yuan presented himself with extraordinary dignity. Cloaked in his dragon robe and with a piercing gaze, he nodded in greetings to the attendees, exuding both astuteness and stateliness. His manner not only conveyed the dignity of a sovereign but also the contemplation of a sage. Under his lead, the literati and scholars converged, discussing literature and arts, with the reverence of high art bestowed upon calligraphy, painting, chess, and music, making the banquet seem like a feast for the spirit.
With Li Yuan's words, I sensed the blend of power and art, his exchanges about state affairs, discussing borders, with the awe of the princes and the loyalty of his subjects unfolding before my eyes. Yet it was not just the Emperor who held focus — the ease and grace of the literati added cultural texture to the feast. Their poetic dialogue and witty banter deeply engaged me, a traveler from another time and space.
Attracted by a poet nearby, his brushstrokes as vigorous as a dragon's or a phoenix's flight, he passionately recited his works. Engaging him in a conversation, I grasped the essence of Tang dynasty poetry, a beauty that transcended time, an art where the soul intertwines with words. The literati around me also displayed their talents, works of incomparable beauty that left me in awe, a communication transcending the barriers of language, a true display of human ingenuity.
During the feast, my father called me to kneel before the Emperor with him. Though it was unfamiliar to me, in those strictly hierarchical times, not to kneel before the Emperor was a grave disrespect, punishable by death according to the law. So, I followed my father and knelt down, and the Emperor acknowledged my deeds. As all the scholars around us pretended to listen, it was a very strange feeling, not like our modern society at all. Now, we have the freedom to express our ideas, whereas in ancient times, in certain situations, you could only hear one person's voice, even if you had thoughts of your own, they could not be spoken aloud.
Upon returning to my seat, I couldn't help but ponder: What does all this signify for the flow of history? Could my arrival serve as an opportunity for a historical inflection point?
Emperor Li Yuan's ostentatious welcome imbued me with a sense of singular honor; I was more than a mere onlooker at this festivity—I was an active participant in a dialogue bridging centuries. As I savored the essence of history, I was, in fact, writing history myself.
On that resplendent Tang Dynasty night, I meandered through the glittering court feast, a banquet so magnificent it seemed to make one forget the very construct of time and space, dazzling me, a contemporary American woman writer. As the music from the guzheng and flutes and the fervor of dance simmered down, a familiar figure emerged from the throng of people—my heart skipped a beat—it was Li Hao.
Gazing at him, I could see a slight astonishment on his face. He was clad in a robe symbolizing the prestige of the Eastern Roman delegation, his youthful features just slightly touched by the passage of time, as earnest and resolute as they had ever been in my mind. Standing before me, he embodied the high dignitary, donned in a white robe with a jade pendant, exuding an air of cultured authority.
He too was visibly taken aback, seemingly incredulous at my eye-catching attire and presence at Emperor Li Yuan's banquet. Our exchange of glances communicated more than words ever could, the silent conversations from the past flooding back like a tide at that moment.
Using the hustle and bustle of the feast, we found a secluded corner, a moment of quiet and solitude. Li Hao's eyes revealed a concern and affection for me that went unsaid but did not lack depth or preciousness. As the night wore on and other sounds faded into the distance, what stayed were our breaths and heartbeats—only we remained in clarity and truth amidst the fading grandeur of the Tang feast and the intrigues of power.
As the banquet progressed to its zenith, to my memory, Emperor Li Yuan's second son, Li Shimin—also known as Prince Li—unexpectedly stood before me, adding an indelible shade to my journey through the Tang Dynasty.
At Emperor Li Yuan's banquet, Prince Li Shimin entered the grand hall with royal poise. His unfathomable gaze and steady composure shone like the brightest star against the night, contrasting the ambition and astuteness that he could not conceal. His presence quieted the intermingling conversations of the literati, indicating a revered silence. He stood as solid as a mountain, his steps steady and kingly, standing out among the courtiers.
I was reveling in the joy of seeing Li Hao at the banquet when I had not expected Prince Li Shimin to take such a keen interest in me. As a prince of the nation, he engaged in discussion with me, radiating confidence and vigour.
Throughout our dialogue, I took a keen observation of Li Shimin. He seemed capable of discerning the depths of one's heart in an instant. I cautiously recounted the adventure of chasing after the Fire Phoenix with Li Hao, careful not to divulge too much and stir ripples through time. The prince, after listening, pondered for a moment before he can't help but laugh, saying, "You are indeed a heroine among women, truly remarkable." His words revealed a profound admiration for me, a delicate woman in his eyes, and an unmistakable interest in my knowledge and insight.
I could perceive the unique perspective of this future emperor—his words were profound, filled with wisdom, demonstrating his broad vision and grand ambitions.
As the night banquet gradually drew to an end, the conversation I had with Li Shimin resonated within me like a spiritual feast that echoed on and on. Beneath the shadow of graceful music and ornate celebrations, a bridge of time was constructed between a future emperor and a modern American woman writer. Our unexpected meeting at the banquet became an exchange of mutual admiration for each other's talents.