In the latter half of an autumn night, the moon had already set, and the sun had not yet risen. Only a dark bluish sky remained. Aside from creatures that roamed at night, everything else slept.
Cao Jie sat up, struck a flame, and lit the greasy oil lamp. The small room was soon filled with a pale bluish-white light.
“Where are you going?” There was only one bed in the house—Yu Chun slept on the east side, Cao Jie on the west. It was impossible not to hear him.
“Our parents are about to arrive. I’m going to pick them up. I heard the rebel army has already reached Hebei. Who knows when they’ll come here—if they can’t enter the city, something terrible will happen.”
Yu Chun suddenly felt something strange. His figure seemed to grow taller in an instant, and as he walked, it felt as if he grew even larger.
“Wait for me. I’ll bring the children and go with you.” She also wanted to meet Yu Chun’s parents, and that brother who had always been kind to her. They should be her only support in this world.
“The streets are pitch dark and empty, and it’s cold. It’s over ten li back and forth—how would you manage with children? I’ll ride a horse and wait at the ward gate until curfew ends. By the time I reach the city gate, it’ll be just right. Father and Mother will bring a lot of things. It’s better if you stay home and prepare breakfast. Make extra—if they don’t arrive in time, it can be saved for later.”
“Mm.” Yu Chun felt he had thought everything through.
As Cao Jie spoke, he fastened his clothes, rummaged at the bottom of the cabinet, pulled out a stack of money and a handful of copper coins, shook them into a waist pouch, tightened the cord twice, lit a lantern, and stepped outside.
The street was dark and empty, with only a pale gray road clearly visible.
Occasionally, a few dogs approached, but upon hearing the horse’s neigh, they tucked their tails and ran off, only lingering at a distance.
At the ward gate, a crowd had gathered. Some vendors pushed carts selling meatball soup. The steaming broth smelled fragrant, and from time to time, small groups clamored to eat. The vendor would drop green bean meatballs into the broth, sprinkle scallions, and serve them with flatbread—people ate until sweat covered their faces.
But few could afford it—one bowl cost ten copper coins.
More people bought cheap steamed buns from shoulder poles and ate them with water from gourds. They were laborers waiting for work—two buns for one copper coin were enough.
Others, bare-armed in ragged jackets, were idle drifters lingering in the ward, hoping to be hired for odd jobs. Most were unwilling to spend money on food.
This was an ordinary day in Chang’an.
“Brother Jie!”
“Hey, brother—quite dressed up today! Where are you going?”
Several of Cao Jie’s usual companions gathered around, some holding his horse, others tugging at his clothes.
“To pick up my father-in-law and mother-in-law! I mentioned it yesterday but forgot—must’ve drunk too much. Yesterday you even said you’d come with me—”
Cao Jie glanced at the meatball soup but still took out a copper coin and bought two steamed buns, tucking them into his sleeve.
“I’m off—I don’t know when I’ll get back. These times…” He mounted his horse, and everyone sighed.
“Yesterday I heard from a courier station worker that three northern provinces have fallen. Luoyang is bound to be lost. Chang’an probably won’t hold either.”
“No matter what, it’s best for the family to be together. My in-laws… this is the least I can do.”
“That’s right. I’ve saved that house for you—just move in!”
“Much appreciated. Once they arrive, I’ll bring you the rest of the money.”
In such chaotic times, who could guarantee arrival on time? Sellers didn’t insist on full payment—having a deposit was enough. Besides, with war looming, who was buying houses? Everyone was trying to sell and flee.
After a few more words, the morning bell tolled loudly. The ward gate opened, and people poured out.
The Western Market was prosperous, but these people were poor.
Most were laborers working there, renting homes. Even a short delay could mean missing work—and hunger at home.
Cao Jie spurred his horse toward the side gate of Chunming Gate, where he had arranged to meet his in-laws.
Outside the city, willows swayed deeply green in the wind, their branches like trembling hands—tightening Yu Chun’s father’s heart.
Dust filled the air. The line waiting to enter the city stretched like a dying snake. As the sun set, even though fewer people were entering, more were leaving. Guards had been reassigned, making the process painfully slow.
Yu Chun’s father shot an angry glance at his tall son, forgetting it had been his own decision to leave home for Chang’an.
“Watch the luggage carefully. I said we shouldn’t come, but you insisted on listening to your sister. We even picked a house—do you think we can really survive in Chang’an?”
He wiped his face, changed demeanor, and began speaking politely to passersby in soft Luoyang dialect.
“Sir, judging by your bearing, you must be from Chang’an. My daughter lives in the Western Market…”
The air grew hot and stifling. At the gate, mixed smells of livestock, sweat, and anxiety filled the tunnel.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out.
Several mud-covered cavalrymen galloped past, kicking up clouds of dust, their hoarse shouts tearing through the dusk:
“Tong Pass has fallen! Luoyang… has fallen! Dou Xiantong massacred the city!”
The words “Luoyang” stabbed into Yu Chun’s father like a knife.
A man nearby grabbed his collar, eyes blazing. “That’s a Luoyang accent! A rebel spy?!”
Terrified, Yu Chun’s father nearly collapsed, waving his hands desperately. “No, no! I’m a commoner—I’m here to find my daughter and son-in-law…”
He tried to offer copper coins, but was shoved away.
Luckily, his tall son steadied him.
In the midst of fear and humiliation, a familiar figure burst through the crowd—it was his son-in-law in martial attire.
Like grasping a lifeline, he clutched Cao Jie’s leg. “Son-in-law! You’re here! They said I—”
Cao Jie caught him firmly. “Father-in-law, A Chun and the children are safe at home.”
His sharp gaze swept the crowd. The accuser spat and let go.
As the evening drum sounded, the city gates closed, sealing off the cries and chaos outside.
Yu Chun’s father trembled violently. The still air inside the city felt cold but real. He breathed deeply, turning back—the massive gate now divided the world in two.
They had just crawled back from the edge of hell.
Cao Jie saluted the guards and said to his in-laws, “Luckily you arrived on the agreed day. The gates won’t open again. Any delay and this scare would’ve been worse.”
Seeing his brother-in-law Yu Xiao’s helpless expression, he raised an eyebrow and said no more.
“A Chun has been waiting all day. Let’s go. She already prepared the house—we can stay tonight and finalize the contract tomorrow.”
“With war breaking out,” Yu Chun’s father hesitated, “isn’t renting better than buying?”
Cao Jie didn’t argue. “I wonder how my cousins in Luoyang are. Curfew is strict, especially in wartime. We should hurry.”
Yu Chun’s father fell silent.
The street outside Chunming Gate was in chaos.
“Hurry—!”
Drivers lashed their whips, vendors ran with carts, officials rode hard—everyone rushed toward their wards.
The ox cart turned north onto Jingguang Gate Street. To the left, the imperial city’s vermilion walls loomed grimly in the dusk.
Then—the curfew drums thundered.
“Dong—dong—dong—”
“No time—A Xiao, switch horses!”
Cao Jie and Yu Xiao switched mounts. Yu Xiao carried Yu Chun’s mother, while her father stayed in the ox cart. Cao Jie drove hard, whip falling like rain.
At last, the Western Market watchtower came into view—but the streets were empty, only the echo of drums remaining.
The ox cart collapsed at the closed southwestern gate just as the final drumbeat faded.
A moment later, they would have been locked outside—during wartime, that could mean life or death.
“Ah Jie, you’re back! Is this your father-in-law?”
“Brother Cao, you almost got locked out—if I hadn’t left the gate open—”
“I’ll treat you to drinks another day!” Cao Jie replied with a smile, tossing over a bundle of tobacco.
The lively noise of the Western Market faded into silence in the southwest corner.
A smell of old wood, herbs, oil, and faint mold filled the air—this was the scent of funeral shops.
The largest shop displayed all kinds of funerary items—clay stoves, granaries, wooden carriages—everything needed to recreate worldly wealth in the afterlife.
Inside, workers in hemp clothes moved incense and paper money.
Customers came and went quickly, faces sorrowful, murmuring fragments like “silk,” “chants,” and “auspicious time.”
Even sunlight seemed to avoid this corner.
Beyond the main street was a side road lined with low courtyard houses—rammed earth walls, black tiles, each with a small yard.
The first courtyard had an elm tree; though past season, some seeds remained. Others had jujube and persimmon trees.
Through low walls, one could see patches of scallions or chives, trellises of gourds or beans, chickens perched on walls, and piles of wood or paper effigies.
The air carried the scent of wood and paint, mixed with the mournful songs of musicians rehearsing funeral music.
Yu Xiao looked around curiously. Yu Chun’s father’s expression grew strained—this Chang’an was nothing like he imagined. But thinking of fallen Luoyang, he forced a faint smile.
Cao Jie turned his eyes and called into the courtyard:
“A Chun, Father and Mother have arrived!”