si-mexico Chapter 820 Tang Dynasty!
Chapter 820 Tang Dynasty!
In Xianyang in May, the air is filled with the sweet fragrance of locust flowers. The high-speed rail travels across the Guanzhong Plain, and the scenery outside the window slowly unfolds like a picture scroll.
Golden wheat waves undulate in the wind, the outline of the Qinling Mountains is faintly visible in the distance, and the red tiles and white walls of modern villages are dotted among them, which is completely different from the low loess houses in Li Jiangning's memory.
His fingers unconsciously stroked the car window, and the glass reflected his furrowed brows. The memories buried by time were awakening in his heart with the vibration of the rails.
Mr. Qi sat quietly beside him, a yellowed magazine spread out on his knees, with half a dried ginkgo leaf sandwiched between the pages.
He glanced at Li Jiangning from time to time, his Adam's apple rolled several times, and finally swallowed back the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
Amid the roar of the train, the two were silent like two isolated islands. Only the poplar forest passing by outside the window was like a guard of time, witnessing their reunion after thousands of years.
Finally, the train slowly pulled into Xianyang Station.
Li Jiangning took a deep breath, and the moment he stepped out of the car, a warm breeze carrying the scent of locust flowers and asphalt blew in his face.
On the platform, the electronic screen flashed modern characters, and passengers hurried past with their heads down, browsing their phones. The metal reflections of the escalator stung his eyes.
This strange yet familiar atmosphere hit his heart like a heavy hammer. The wind in this city seemed to still carry the flavor of a thousand years ago, but the towering buildings and the endless stream of vehicles in front of him reminded him all the time that times had long since changed.
"Xianyang, it's still the same Xianyang city." Li Jiangning murmured softly, his voice full of emotion.
Before he could finish his words, the huge LED screen above his head suddenly started playing a city promotional video. The roar of Qinqiang opera mixed with modern electronic music made his eardrums hurt.
Mr. Qi reached out and patted his shoulder. The warmth of his palm came through his shirt, but it couldn't warm the desolation in his eyes.
The two walked out of the station side by side. An unmanned taxi passed by them and the wind it brought lifted the corner of Li Jiangning's clothes. In a trance, he seemed to see the corner of his robe being lifted by the wind of Wei River a thousand years ago.
The streets are bustling with traffic, the hum of electric vehicles has replaced the neighing of horses, and the glass curtain walls reflect countless distorted human figures.
Li Jiangning's eyes stubbornly searched for traces in his memory, trying to find the tea stall where the three of them had first met under the traffic light at the intersection.
Next to the huge advertisement in the shopping mall, you can make out the lanterns that once hung all over the Hu Ji Tavern.
But those familiar hawking sounds had long been replaced by the modern hustle and bustle. It was obviously the place he was most familiar with, but this was his first time to come to Xianyang as a modern person.
Once upon a time, this was a prosperous place in the Tang Dynasty. The streets were bustling with people. The camel bells of Sogdian merchants, the sound of silver bracelets of Persian dancers, the shouts of hawkers, and the sounds of horse hooves and cart bells intertwined to form the most vivid fireworks of life.
At that time, in Xianyang City, even the wind was filled with the aroma of roasted lamb and the fragrance of Western spices.
Now, when he passed by a fast food chain, the greasy smell of hamburgers mixed with the cool air from the air conditioner hit him, and Li Jiangning suddenly started coughing violently, as if he wanted to cough out all the dust that had accumulated in his chest for thousands of years.
"Let's go and take a look at Zhaoling."
Li Jiangning collected his thoughts and spoke to Mr. Qi with a firm gaze.
His nails dug deep into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped red marks on the skin.
Mr. Qi silently closed the magazine and clipped the ginkgo leaf back in place.
The taxi drove out of the city and the asphalt road meandered into the mountains.
The scenery outside the car window kept changing. Cherry orchards replaced the former mulberry fields, and the blades of the wind turbines slowly turned, like giant frozen birds.
As they got closer to Zhaoling, Li Jiangning's heartbeat became faster and faster, and his temples throbbed as if war drums were beating inside his head.
When the huge statue of Li Shimin at the foot of the mountain came into view, he suddenly grabbed the front seat, his knuckles turning white.
In the statue, Li Shimin is holding his belt and standing with dignity, but with a kind of deliberately carved stiffness.
The sunset gilded the stone statue, but could not give it the warmth of flesh and blood.
Li Jiangning frowned slightly. This majestic statue was far inferior to the slightly hunched back of his father in his memory as he was reviewing memorials at his desk, nor was it as good as the soft light in his eyes as he personally adjusted his crown.
The six words "Emperor Taizong of Tang, Li Shimin" under the stone carving flickered in the sun, like a string of faded codes, locking up too many stories that future generations could not decipher.
As he climbed up the stairs, Li Jiangning's leather shoes made a crisp sound on the stone steps, startling two sparrows on the eaves.
In the square outside Zhaoling Mausoleum, several children were chasing and flying drones, and the buzzing sound of propellers broke the silence.
He stood in front of a replica of the Six Horses of Zhaoling Mausoleum, his fingertips hovering above the mottled patterns on the stone carvings, hesitant to let go.
Those lifelike reliefs of war horses overlapped with the incomplete originals in his memory - the arrowhead on Saluzi's chest and the arrow wound on Quanmaoqiao's body, which had been his deepest fear and pride in his childhood.
Today, some of the real Six Horses are silent in the glass cabinets of museums on the other side of the ocean, while others have been shattered in the long river of history.
"Father, Cheng Qian is here to see you."
Li Jiangning straightened his clothes and bowed according to Tang etiquette.
The moment he bent his waist, he seemed to have turned into the cold golden bricks of the Tai Chi Hall.
He heard the whispers of tourists behind him coming and going like the tide.
At this moment, time and space suddenly twisted, and the morning bells and evening drums of the Zhenguan period and the tributes from all nations during the Qianwu era all came rushing in the moment he closed his eyes.
Fang Xuanling stroked his white beard as he argued in the government hall; the gleam of light from Yuchi Jingde's armor as he wielded his spear; Li Ji's calm deductions in front of the sand table; the mud splashed by Li Jing's horse's hooves as he returned victorious...
Those vivid faces appeared in my mind one by one.
He seemed to see himself walking side by side with his father again, the pines and cypresses of Zhaoling rustling in the wind, startling a flock of white pigeons.
But when he opened his eyes, all he could see was the mottled brick walls of Zhaoling Mausoleum. The setting sun stretched his shadow very long, overlapping with Mr. Qi's shadow, like two lonely strings, trembling slightly in the evening breeze.
Mr. Qi stood aside, looking at Li Jiangning's trembling back, with a bitter taste in his throat.
He thought of the Tang Dynasty a thousand years ago. At this moment, tears blurred his vision. Those fragments of memory about the Tang Dynasty were pieced together again in his heart like broken glass - the sea of lanterns on Zhuque Street in Chang'an, the clothes of various nations in front of Hanyuan Hall in Daming Palace, and the flags fluttering on the tower of Xuanwu Gate.
"Tang Dynasty..."
Mr. Qi muttered to himself, and his voice dissipated in the rising dusk.
In the distance, the lights of Xianyang City lit up one after another, like the Milky Way falling into the world.
Above Zhaoling Mausoleum, the last rays of sunset are fading, dyeing the statue of Li Shimin dark red, like a solidified monument, witnessing the rise and fall of a dynasty.
Li Jiangning slowly stood up and wandered around the cemetery with unsteady steps.
He stroked the blurred words on the stone tablet, and his fingertips touched a depression. He suddenly remembered the two words "Cheng Qian" that he had carved with a dagger when he was a child.
At that time, he never thought that one day he would return to his hometown in this way.
The sun gradually sets in the west, and the afterglow shines on Zhaoling Mausoleum, covering the ancient mausoleum with a golden coat, and also giving Li Jiangning and Mr. Qi a hazy outline.
Thousands of years have separated the past and the present, and all those battles of war, poetry and wine have turned into lead type in history books.
Li Jiangning and Mr. Qi turned and left. The wind from Xianyang, wrapped in the fragrance of locust flowers, passed by his ears. In a trance, he heard the camel bells and horse hooves from thousands of years ago, knocking gently in the depths of time.