Chang'an at Night: The Calamity of the Buried Fire

The cries of cranes within the Sixteen Residences drowned out the rustle of secret messages being passed. Blood soaked through his feigned drunken gaze in the Ganlu Hall.

When Qiu Shiliang’s python-patterned boots stepped onto the forged imperial edict, he let his hair down and walked barefoot across a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, journeying from “the dragon imprisoned by the Chan River” to “flames that consume the sky.”

The torches that melted Buddhist statues lit the steps of Hanyuan Hall, but the blue smoke of elixirs swallowed the last of the morning light.

“I used my blood as a lamp to light Chang’an through the long night, yet how could I know… the night had never known the light.”