Chapter 35: Camel Bells (II)

When the corn in your granary runs out, when you face enemies outnumbering you bare-handed on the battlefield, you surely wonder—where is Allah?
If Allah cannot bestow blessings upon His believers, then what’s the point of believing in Him?
Perhaps these believers don’t fully trust Allah, but sometimes religious fervor can mask their fears and helplessness. In other words, they use faith to escape reality. This might be why the Persians were able to quickly assimilate the indigenous people of the River Region through their religion. The teachings of Zoroastrianism sounded so wonderful, though not as practical as the rule of the Tang Dynasty.
Aren’t people greedy? Basic sustenance clearly couldn’t satisfy the people of the River Region’s kingdoms. At such times, beauties and delicacies from heaven became the best temptations.
Whether the residents of Ashibulai City had received Allah’s blessings or not, it was clear that Allah was not with the “caravan” at that moment.
Although Ashina Luoji claimed to have great powers and could surely find a place for the “caravan” to stay before sunset, Li Kuo and his group actually encountered serious trouble. With over six hundred people and hundreds of large chests, no inn dared to guarantee enough rooms for them to rest.
In the end, the “caravan” chose to rest in a sheltered area in the southern part of the city. Since it was just a series of shelters, the living conditions were naturally poor. Although many soldiers had to sleep on shared beds, fortunately, the copper-armored soldiers were tough men who had endured hardships in the Gobi Desert, so they could tolerate such conditions.
Ashibulai City was a true mountain city, built along the mountainside in a stepped manner, making efficient use of every inch of land. Its clever layout made the houses and streets appear compact, giving a pleasant and comfortable feel. It was the transition period between spring and summer, and the nighttime temperatures were quite pleasant. Since the “caravan” needed to rest in the small city for one night, Li Kuo decided to go for a walk in the mountains with his friends Zhang Yanji, Zhou Wuzui, and others.
Ashina Luoji naturally had no objections, only repeatedly warning them not to draw attention and to return early to rest. After all, in Ashibulai City, there were many patrolling soldiers, and if they noticed anything suspicious, it could cause big trouble.
Due to attacks by the Persians, Ashibulai City had a distinct Zoroastrian style. Li Kuo and his group climbed up the mountain paths, enjoying the surrounding scenery and buildings. The air on the mountain was fresher and much more pleasing to the eye.

On the right side of the stone path was a cliff, so for safety reasons, houses were only built on the left side. Yet trees of various kinds, whose names Li Kuo couldn’t recall, grew on both sides. On the right side of the stone path, looking into the distance past the rooftops of the towns below, one could see a tributary of the Suiye River.

Strangely enough, the central area of Ashibulai City, the noble district, was located at the top of the mountain. Every inch of land on the mountain—from the foot of the hill to the governor’s palace and the domed temples of the Tianfang religion atop the mountain—was covered with buildings in Tianfang style. Layer upon layer, platform upon platform, street upon street, with winding stone paths or giant steps flanked by various trees and flowers. Everywhere one looked, there were rooftop gardens and terraces. One family’s rooftop might serve as another family’s small square—this layout reminded Li Kuo of the cave dwellings in Longyou. (Note 1) Of course, this thought was quickly dispelled by the unfamiliar architectural style ahead.

Traces of the indigenous people’s architectural culture were almost nowhere to be found; occasionally, one or two spired towers would appear, but they were already worn and faded. The deep arches, colonnades, crenellated walls, and domed temples constantly reminded Li Kuo and his companions that this place had been completely invaded by the forces of the Arabs!

Cultural invasion often occurs silently, changing everything before one even realizes it.

The setting sun cast its glow on the huge silver-plated domes of the Tianfang temples, blinding everyone. A breeze blew, and they all closed their eyes, enjoying this rare moment of comfort.

What lay to the west of Ashibulai City? And what was there to the west of the ancient Persian kingdom?

Everything in the western regions was so mysterious to these young people…

Seeing architectural styles so different from those of the Tang Dynasty for the first time, the young men were naturally excited. Without resting, they climbed up to the top of the mountain. At a corner, many huge statues of gods and Tianfang heroes stood on gleaming pedestals, watching passersby. Although most of the statues were unknown to the young men, they still found them fascinating. Most interestingly, Zhang Yanji insisted that one goddess statue resembled the flying apsaras he had seen in Hexi.

Though it wasn’t yet the hottest time of year, the stone slabs had warmed considerably after a day in the sun. The shadows of palm trees and columned arcades cast a refreshing coolness on the stone paths.

Even though there were no more ragged porters or slaves, nor dirty children or beggars to be seen here, the young men still felt uneasy.

Believers from the East, wearing headscarves and dirty robes along with wooden shoes with upturned toes, were climbing toward the mountain top. With scruffy beards on their faces, they spoke slowly in languages that no one else could understand. Perhaps they were reciting the Quran? In Li Kuo’s view, it must be extremely monotonous and boring! But these believers didn’t think so; they climbed devoutly toward the mountain top, where the Temple of the East stood—place where they were closest to Allah! Passing through various archways led to the noble district. It seemed that everywhere in the world, there were differences between the rich and the poor, and oppression existed everywhere, even beside mosques blessed by Allah. Although there were many people in this area, most of them were from the middle and upper classes. Even if they weren’t nobles, they at least had enough to eat and wear. Everywhere one looked, there were lush branches, cool springs, and soft lawns. Such a pleasant environment made it hard to associate it with the filthy slums at the foot of the mountain—it seemed that injustice and oppression existed everywhere! “Brother Kuo, in my opinion, at least when our Tang Dynasty ruled this region, these barbarians had enough to eat and warm shelter. But now, even though they’re starving, they act like it doesn’t matter. What do they believe in? Some Allah, right? That they’ll enter paradise after death. Ha! If everything has to wait until after death, then what’s the point of living?” The huge disparity between the two areas greatly shocked Zhang Yanji. In his eyes, the Arabs not only succeeded in ruling over the Khazars but also brainwashed them at a deep level. The pervasive Islamic culture had completely transformed these indigenous people—cultural influence was far more effective than military coercion, with lasting effects. “Just because you think that doesn’t mean others think the same. Maybe those poor people, while starving and freezing, are still thinking about beautiful women and food in paradise. If they’re happy with that, why are you in such a hurry? Mortals, nothing but mortals!” Zhou Xiaolangjun clearly didn’t appreciate Zhang Yanji’s overly anxious attitude. Since something existed, there must be a reason for it. If the Khazars could accept the Arabs’ brainwashing and oppression, it meant there must be logic behind it. When cultures in different regions differ greatly, their perspectives on issues naturally vary as well. “Alright, we came out to relax—stop arguing!”

Li Kuo really couldn’t imagine that casual chatting could lead to a fight between two people; he felt utterly helpless. If he had known this would happen, he wouldn’t have brought them here.
“Move aside, move aside! Make way for the governor!”
“You wretched scoundrel! I’m talking to you—move quickly! Do you think you can stop the governor’s palanquin?”
A sharp crack of a whip shattered the tranquility of dusk, as the crowd on the roadside cast varied glances. Some were terrified, some looked down on them with disdain, and some were jealous and envious. Without exception, everyone was forced against the wall by the governor’s palanquin, as they silently wished harm upon his female relatives.
In Ashibulai City, there were its own rules—simple to understand, yet extremely cruel. Anyone of lower status had to give way to those of higher status; otherwise, they would be beaten by the latter’s servants.
If lucky, you might only end up with a few humiliating whip marks on your face. But if the servant was in a bad mood or had received orders from his master, you might very well be pierced by a spear. Even if you were injured or died as a result, according to Ashibulai City’s laws, neither the master nor the servant would bear any responsibility.
Li Kuo frowned and looked through the crowded crowd, witnessing a rather comical scene. The governor or governor’s wife of Ashibulai City sat lazily in the palanquin, carried slowly by six dark-skinned, burly slaves on their bare, red shoulders.
The young man didn’t move aside like the other believers in their dirty robes—not entirely because he didn’t understand what the governor’s cruel servants were saying, but more because of the person standing beside the governor.
Next to the governor was a silver-armored knight riding a deep red Persian horse. He wore a common Persian curved sword at his waist, a wooden shield inlaid with copper plates on his back, and a spear tightly gripped in his right hand. His appearance drew almost all attention, forcing the governor to hide in the palanquin and enjoy the afterglow of the sunset.
He was so eye-catching not because his stirrups and bit were silver-plated, nor because of his helmet covered with a silk turban, but because of his captivating gaze.
He wasn’t a Persian! He wasn’t a Persian!
To be precise, he was a Tang person! He was actually a Tang person!……
Note 1: Yao-dong are an ancient form of housing for residents in the Loess Plateau in northwestern China, providing warmth in winter and coolness in summer.