Chapter 42: Tianfang (5)

Seeing that Udir had gone far away, the young man poked his head out from the northern hut and cautiously looked around.
Putting aside his large white linen robe, just by looking at his facial features, this tall and handsome youth was definitely not a Persian nor a Khazar!
The calmness and determination in his eyes were typical of Easterners, while his light yet steady steps reflected the humility and solidity of an ancient civilization. From every angle, this young man resembled a Tang dynasty person more.
It seemed he had already studied the layout of the Bakhna palace well; it didn’t take long before he left the area where the kitchen was located.
He moved swiftly, leaving the palaces and buildings on either side behind him, weaving through the Bakhna palace like a nimble snake.
Occasionally, a guard patrolling the palace appeared, forcing the young man to hide behind short, sturdy trees until they left before continuing his rapid progress. Although he had a legitimate reason to deliver food to the palace, he didn’t want to run into these guards. He had an important mission at hand, and anything that could hinder him needed to be delayed or removed as much as possible.
Before him stood a magnificent new palace, its style different from the surrounding buildings—featuring domes instead of spires, with its outer walls painted a milky white.
The young man took out a tightly wrapped parchment from his pocket and slowly unrolled it for comparison. The dome, beams, and supporting pillars—all matched what the map showed: the palace where King Ashilanda of Bakhna lived was indeed this one.
“Huh!”
The young man took a deep breath and tiptoed slowly toward the main entrance.
According to the old man, it was the time when the palace guards changed shifts. If he seized the opportunity, he could easily slip inside.
As expected, one of the deputy commanders of the palace guards went to meet a squad of spearmen approaching.
The two deputy commanders whispered to each other—too far away for the young man to hear—probably discussing steps to strengthen patrols and avoid carelessness. They exchanged lacquered badges and gave each other a few final instructions before starting the shift change.
The first row of guards rotated out, the second row stepped in, and the third row retreated to the flanks.
This was the young man’s only chance! It was fleeting, and there was no room for hesitation!
A series of rolls allowed him to avoid the guards’ sight, though they were too busy changing shifts to notice the young man on the shaded lawn on the side.

Reaching the bush closest to the palace, the young man stopped in his tracks. The straight-line distance to the palace was now less than ten steps, with nothing blocking the way ahead. To enter successfully, he had to seize the moment when the guards on the flanks turned their backs! There was only one chance to succeed—no room for error! He took a deep breath and waited for the right moment. One guard after another passed by him, only for others to fill in their places, as if the gap would never open. The young man grew impatient, his grip on the wooden staff almost crushing it. “Huh!” Finally, a tall, thin guard rushed forward without waiting for his companions. Without hesitation, the young man performed a sidestep and arrived near the marble stairs. Then, with the agility of a monkey, he leaped up seven or eight steps. His movements were so graceful and swift that almost no one noticed what had happened. “Salsa, did you hear any noise behind us just now?” asked one of the palace guards, frowning and turning to his companion. He had heard a strange sound but saw nothing when he looked back. “Probably just a cat. Who knows? Let’s head home quickly. After staying up all night, my eyes are sunken in.” His companion waved his hand dismissively; wild cats often appeared in the palace, and they were used to it. For them, the most important thing now was to get home and get some good sleep. As for the palace guards, another shift could take care of that… The palace had three floors, and right inside the main gate was a long, straight corridor known as the Mirror Corridor. It was called so because mirrors, as tall as a person, were embedded in the walls every five steps along the corridor. The young man could see his own reflection clearly—a strange feeling, as if he were doing something secret while being watched at all times. Fortunately, the light inside the palace was bright, so he didn’t have to worry about dangers from below. The floor of the long corridor was covered with intricately crafted Persian carpets of various designs. However, the seams of these carpets weren’t as well-made; every few steps, they curled up, posing a risk of tripping for those unfamiliar with them. The inner walls of the palace were covered in white and light yellow marble, with Persian green marble columns separating the mirror panels. The column caps and bases were gilted copper, adorned with gold-etched depictions of the sun, wreaths, and Allah. Shells, spirals, and rocks were also carved as decorations on the walls.

The vines unfurled and intertwined, merging into one. The curves at the corners were smooth and graceful, without the slightest sense of artificiality.
The young man was stunned by such luxury; even in the distant East, palaces would not be built with such exquisite materials. Baharna, a small city-state, had managed to construct such a magnificent palace!
He shook his head. He didn’t have time to ponder these things now. What he needed to do was see King Ashilanda of Baharna as quickly as possible.
At the end of the mirror corridor was a spiral staircase, and the young man stepped forward without hesitation.
At the top of the first flight of stairs, there was a window directly facing him. As he climbed, he could hear the loud ticking of a giant hourglass in the hallway below. He didn’t know exactly when this massive hourglass had been built, but judging from its aged sound, it must be quite old. He continued upward, turned right onto the second flight of stairs, and then the ticking sound disappeared entirely.
He reached the upper floor, where a long and wide corridor lay before him, with a huge window at the end. Unlike the luxury of the mirror corridor below, this corridor was more simple and down-to-earth.
Just as he was about to step forward, he heard loud footsteps. Instinctively, he stepped back, hiding behind an arch, and held his breath as the person passed by.
From this angle, he could see the person clearly, but the person couldn’t see him at all. The person walked slowly and politely, carrying a plate of food as he moved from the south side of the corridor to the north side. Judging from his attire and demeanor, the young man guessed he was one of the king’s servants.
That was good—he wouldn’t have to search for the king’s study himself! After all, even if the old man had given him a detailed map of the palace, it couldn’t possibly show every room inside.
He clearly saw the servant reach the last door on the left side of the north corridor, say something in a low voice, then bow and enter the room.
After a while, the servant came out again, carrying a pitch-black tray. The young man held his breath as he passed by, waiting until the servant’s figure disappeared before stepping forward carefully.
The biggest difference between the north corridor and the south corridor wasn’t the carved wooden panels adorned with colorful patterns on the walls, but the Persian carpets of various colors laid on the floor. This had a clear advantage: even if the young man ran quickly through the north corridor, it wouldn’t make any noise.
Many doors on both sides were open, but it seemed no one was inside.
“The last door on the left.”

The boy repeated the process, moving forward along the path the servant had taken earlier. In fact, the king could be in any room of the palace in Bakhna. He might be asleep, awake, perhaps reviewing documents or sipping fine wine. Of course, the greatest possibility was that the king was in his study! The carpet was thick, so his footsteps made no sound. It was extremely quiet in the corridor; the boy could clearly hear his own heartbeat. Though he tried repeatedly to calm himself down, the thought of entering the palace alone made him feel utterly insane. Finally, he reached the last door. Taking a deep breath, he gently pushed open the oak door. It wasn’t locked; although it was heavy, it opened easily with his slight push. It was a large room, not as splendidly luxurious as the boy had imagined. To be honest, it resembled more a scholar’s study. In the distant East, every scholar had such a study, though they wouldn’t decorate it with Persian tapestries. There were three large windows in the room, and shelves of books stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Some books were small and delicate, while others were bulky and thick. Without exception, all of them were bound in leather. Yet this couldn’t hide the old, dusty atmosphere—dust covered the tops of the books, suggesting that His Majesty the King hadn’t picked up an ancient book to read in a long time. The boy moved through the stacks of books and entered the small hall where the king rested. Strangely, there was no one in the hall. He stepped forward slowly, stopping in front of an ebony desk. The desk was covered with messy documents, most written in Persian and some in Sogdian. The boy couldn’t understand either language, so he flipped through them briefly before pushing them aside. Could it be that King Ashilanda wasn’t in the palace? How possible? According to the old man’s estimate, Ashilanda should be taking his lunch break in his study at this time! As the boy pondered, a loud voice came from behind him. “May Allah’s blessings be upon you!” The boy turned sharply and saw a kind-faced, obese man smiling at him.