The Revival of the Tang Dynasty

Synopsis

Volume One: Loyal Bones Beneath the Yellow Sands, Heroes Through the Ages

The vast desert sands are best at burying the truth. History's written record has always been stingy. A few brief lines can lightly gloss over an entire life, burying deeds and misdeeds, love and obsession, in the boundless Gobi, where no one probes and no one asks.

After the mid-Tang period, the golden age collapsed, the realm was riven with cracks, and turmoil at court never ceased. Li He was born into this age of chaos, when the great empire was on the verge of collapse. A scion of the imperial house, she had none of the comforts of a princess raised deep within the palace from the day she was born. Instead, she bore a destiny for her country that no one else dared accept. Everyone said that a princess sent to marry beyond the frontier was a sacrifice. But only those who had witnessed the game of power in the northern deserts knew the truth: she had entered the game of her own accord, staking her life and half a lifetime in exile on the crumbling lands of the Tang and the faint hope of peace throughout the realm.

She saw through the coldness of imperial power and could discern the treachery in people's hearts, yet she refused to sink with the tide. At the time, Kutuluk Qayyar Adie, known to the world as Xia Ying, lay in wait in the northern deserts, advancing step by step and laying his plans across a game of power. Ambition and devotion intertwined, as did empire-building and love. They faced off, kept each other in check, and pulled at one another amid war-torn skies and the intrigues of court. No one could tell whether they were each other's pawns, rivals, or the only companions they had in this chaotic age.

He once swept away the flames of war and whispered to her, carrying the dust of victory: “The realm you want, I have conquered for you. Surely it won't be long before we fall in love with each other?”

Chaotic times never grant anyone a perfect ending. One winter, a great snowstorm swept across the northern deserts, freezing a thousand miles of land. A prince died in battle, a lonely city fell, and every hope turned to nothing. Years of hardship wore away at her body and mind. Her old illness flared up again, and she was at death's door. In her final moments, she refused the supreme honor of being buried in Chang'an, leaving only this last wish: “There is no need to bury me back home. Bury me on the high ground of Shaji Ridge in the southern desert. I hope that one day, the sands where I sleep will be my homeland.”

A hundred years of empire, an age of peace: later generations praised the heroes year after year, yet no one knew that this Tang princess, buried in the northern deserts, had lived a life of solitary courage and never once lived for herself.

Volume Two: A Lonely City Beyond Ten Thousand Miles, Guarding the Frontier Until One's Hair Turns White

What wears a person down most in this world is not the swords and spears of the battlefield, but the maneuvering at court and the treachery of human hearts. The power struggles at court, the endless schemes between friend and foe: they are filthy and drawn out. Half a lifetime of ups and downs is enough to grind away every last bit of sincerity.

Guo Xin spent half his life guarding the frontier, caught up in the grand game of the realm. He had seen betrayal and slaughter until he had grown numb to the warmth and coldness of human nature, to good and evil at court. He thought his life would be spent bound by his duty to his country and endless wars, with nothing but blood and iron in the years ahead, and no tenderness at all. Then, amid the bustling crowds and the resounding gongs and drums of Chang'an in its last days of splendor, he happened to glimpse a touch of cool peacock blue.

One glance, and a lifetime passed. From then on, the small corner of his heart would never know peace.

He was young then, brimming with spirit, his eyes clear. Facing the splendor of Chang'an, he made a quiet promise: “If I ever get the chance, I will guard the frontier for you.”

His vow rang true, but could never overcome the unpredictability of a chaotic age. Years passed. The snows and winds of the northern deserts raged, the lonely city of Kucha crumbled, and the realm was on the verge of falling. The frontier he had guarded for half his life, the lands he had protected for half his life: at last, there came a day when he could no longer turn the tide. Snowflakes swirled through the sky and settled on his armor and brows. Looking at the shattered realm, he sighed softly: “I did all I could.”

Before him lay the regret of a country brought to ruin. Behind him lay the bond he could never fulfill in this life. He buried his loyal bones on the battlefield and entrusted all his tenderness to the next life: “If there is a next life, may the land be unified, the realm at peace, and the world serene. May you and I share wine and laughter, talking of ordinary life, with no court intrigues and no bloodshed.”

The lonely city beyond ten thousand miles would eventually fall to ruin. His lofty ambitions were carried away by the snow and wind. Three armies grew old, and half a lifetime of lonely watch became a tragic song of a chaotic age.

Volume Three: The Realm Declines, Great Ambitions Unfulfilled

At the court of the late Tang, no one was purely loyal or treacherous. There was only the struggle of people caught in circumstances beyond their control. In the chaos of the age, everyone was a pawn. Some sought fame, some profit, and some clung to life for the sake of their country.

Guo Zhao's entire life was spent at court, standing on the knife's edge. In a world of inscrutable hearts and gathering storms, he plunged in and out of the vortex of power seven times, bearing the condemnation of the entire court and shouldering the misunderstandings of the world. To the Tang, he was the loyal minister who stemmed the tide, a pillar of state who safeguarded the people's peace, and the man who won the failing Li Tang dynasty one last chance to breathe.

But when it came to Shen Yingxue, he was no gentleman and no worthy partner. He was disloyal, unjust, and unfeeling, and he had wronged her in countless ways without any hope of making amends.

Love and hatred entangled them, making it impossible to come together or part. In the end, they lost to the times and to circumstances beyond their control. She had once spoken with clear eyes and a heart set on severing all ties: “You guard Xichuan. I will enter a convent. From now on, we owe each other nothing.”

Clad in golden armor, he shattered the prospect of parting and insisted on keeping her by his side: “Bring my wife golden armor. She will accompany me to Xichuan.”

The Emperor's star fell, and the court was thrown into turmoil. Everyone at court wanted him dead. She lowered her eyes over her sword, her voice cold, each word cutting to the bone: “My husband is such a treacherous villain that everyone at court wants him dead.” The world slandered him and cursed him. Even those closest to him could hardly understand the restraint he had endured for half his life.

The new Emperor ascended the throne, and the dust finally settled. He sat quietly in the courtyard, slowly turning his teacup. He raised his eyes to the person beside him, half a lifetime of turmoil hidden in their depths, and asked softly: “Do you still think your husband is heartless and unjust?”

The world had turned upside down, and love and hate had come to nothing. She only replied coolly: “It is too late in this life.”

Half a lifetime of schemes, half a lifetime of wrongs: in the end, nothing could be undone. Gazing at the moon over Chang'an outside the window, he made a wish for the rest of his life: “Then may we meet again in the next life, still in this realm. I will take you to see every moon over Chang'an and enjoy all the peace the world has to offer.”

The country declined, the realm fell into ruin, and all his lofty ambitions went unfulfilled in the chaos of the age.

Theme: The rise and fall of the Tang dynasty