Chapter 59: Heavenly Questions (XI)

Some things will eventually pass, and some people will change over time. Time flies, and years pass by—none of this is within human control. Instead of struggling against it, it’s better to embrace it with ease.

Gao Shi kept his promise to Li Kuo, sending Li Kuo’s family to the military camp that very day. The horses, provisions, and weapons Li Kuo needed were all gathered by the next day. Although Wei Lin, the governor of Huainan, had objections to Gao Shi’s actions, he couldn’t change Gao Shi’s decision. After all, it was Gao Shi, not Wei Lin, who truly held military and political power in that region. Though Wei Lin had the authority to impeach and supervise, he couldn’t directly interfere in local military affairs. So, no matter how much he hated Li Kuo, he couldn’t stop the military commanders from accepting all the grain, weapons, and horses.

Li Kuo also fulfilled his agreement with Gao Shi by writing a letter for him. With this letter, Gao Shi could order the troops stationed in Tangzhou, Nanyang, and other places to open the cities and welcome imperial control—essentially, Li Kuo was handing over the cities to the court.

Afterward, Li Kuo openly discussed his future plans with the soldiers of the Jianghuai Army, saying he wouldn’t force them to stay or leave and letting them make their own decisions. Most of the soldiers in the Jianghuai Army were from Yangzhou and deeply attached to their hometown. Li Kuo believed it would be cruel and unfair to force them to leave their land, so he decided to let them decide for themselves.

However, the outcome was somewhat unexpected. The army, originally numbering 10,000 men, had lost over 2,000 after battles with the barbarians. Of those remaining, more than 300 chose to stay in Yangzhou, while the rest declared they would follow Li Kuo through thick and thin.

Hearing this, Li Kuo was deeply moved. He immediately distributed some of the grain sent by Gao Shi as a reward to the soldiers. As for those who stayed in Yangzhou, he didn’t scold them but gave each of them five taels of silver, hoping they would take care of themselves.

Youth is like unshaped clay—everyone has the right to mold it and create their own path. If everyone’s youth were just copies of the same pattern, it would lose its meaning. Who hasn’t made mistakes in their youth? Who hasn’t felt lost? Who hasn’t experienced chaos?

Youth is meant to be spent freely. Once that chapter is turned and we look back on what we’ve done, isn’t that also a kind of enjoyment?

Li Kuo was not afraid to make choices, nor was he afraid of making mistakes. In his view, whether for public or personal reasons, he could no longer stay in that so-called infinitely bright Tang court. The back side of brightness is darkness itself; the brighter something is, the more it ignores its own darkness, assuming everything is inevitable, thus allowing darkness to grow naturally.

Darkness itself is not terrifying; what’s terrifying is when darkness commits vile acts under the guise of brightness.

There is a bright Chang’an, a bright Tang Dynasty, and a bright Emperor of Tang. Or there is a dark Chang’an, a dark Tang Dynasty, and a dark Emperor of Tang. There’s no need to discuss this—different people see different aspects and naturally come to different conclusions.

In Li Kuo’s eyes, this was both the best of times and the worst of times, an era of wisdom and an era of foolishness. Some men of Tang would spare no effort to defend their homeland, even at the cost of their own lives. Of course, there were also those who without hesitation joined the rebels and turned their swords against their own people.

It was a time of faith and a time of doubt; a season of brightness and a season of darkness; a spring of hope and a winter of disappointment. People had many things before them, yet they also had nothing at all.

Just like Xiao Zhang’s act of holding out in Suiyang, different people would have different opinions about it. Some condemned him harshly, while others praised him highly—simply because of their different perspectives.

Take the battle to retake Chang’an, for example. Didn’t the Emperor still borrow 100,000 troops from the Uyghurs? If not for the strenuous efforts of Prince Guangping and Guo Ziyi to stop them, the Uyghurs might have looted Chang’an completely. Money, goods, and women would all have gone to the Uyghurs—what a crazy promise and decision. How could such things be clearly explained? If we dug deep, wouldn’t the wise and heroic Emperor end up like An Lushan, a traitor who seized the country?

By now, he no longer resented Gao Shi’s actions. As he himself said, everyone has the right to make their own choices. And he believed that Gao Shi must have had his own difficult reasons for doing what he did.

Since he had now fulfilled his own demands and returned his relatives, both sides were even.

Li Kuo was glad that he could see the back side of brightness. But brightness isn’t a mirror; its back side isn’t as perfect as everyone imagines. But that didn’t matter, because he had seen the weaknesses of Tang civilization.

Knowing one’s weaknesses clarifies the direction for change, and hope for change arises. How wonderful hope is. Perhaps one day, the Great Tang will become even stronger…
Dusk.
Outside Yangzhou City, Gao Shi and other military and civil officials bid farewell to Li Kuo.
Flags fluttered, and drums and horns resounded.
Yet this was not a reunion but a farewell, and even the parting was not entirely joyful.
Gao Shi looked at the general standing there with his sword in hand, knowing that no amount of effort from him could mend the rift between them. But he had no regrets, for his choice was one he could live with.
After all, in life, there are too many attachments. If Qi Lang had his family, didn’t Gao Daifu also have his own?
Perhaps this separation was the best outcome.
“Qi Lang, may you have a smooth journey. Remember to write back when you arrive.”
Gao Shi raised a bowl of strong liquor and toasted Li Kuo from afar.
He didn’t expect forgiveness; he only wished for his safety on the journey.
Li Kuo wrapped his arms around A Tian beside him, tightened the reins, and said, “Uncle, rest assured. I will surely send word to you once I arrive. As for you, if things don’t go well here, come find me on horseback with your sword. Though I can’t promise delicacies, I can at least offer you a pot of rough wine and a basin of mutton.”
Gao Shi’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something.
“Will you come back?”
After a long silence, Gao Shi asked solemnly.
“Who can predict the future? Perhaps leaving is itself a beginning!”
Li Kuo tapped his horse’s side, and a breeze arose, carrying a rustling sound.
Nearly ten thousand cavalry riders rose up in dust, following from afar that general in black armor, with a bow and straight hair.
The sun set, and the wind blew.
Amidst the swirling yellow dust, a voice faintly echoed: “Where the sun rises, there lies the Great Tang!”