Chapter 110: Another Masterpiece Appears

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When it comes to the envoys sent to the Tang dynasty, hardly any native of the Central Plains is unfamiliar with them. From the beginning of the seventh century to the end of the ninth—a span of nearly three hundred years—the Wa kingdom dispatched more than a dozen missions to the Tang court in order to study the culture of the Central Plains. Their frequency, scale, duration, and breadth of purpose made them an unprecedented undertaking in the history of cultural exchange between China and Japan.

Knowing that the missions existed was one thing; actually knowing anything about them was another. There was no information about them in the court gazettes. Who knew what this lot wanted with him?

Wa now appeared to be in the Nara period, with its capital at Heijo-kyo. During this era, successive emperors placed great importance on agriculture, built irrigation works, and encouraged the reclamation of wasteland, bringing tremendous growth to the social economy. Influenced by the prosperous culture of the Tang dynasty, and receiving Indian and Persian culture through the Tang as well, Nara Wa experienced the first all-encompassing flourishing of its civilization.

Nara-era Wa was essentially a pirated version of the prosperous Tang, imitating it to an almost obsessive degree. Nearly every member of the aristocracy could speak Tang speech, and they treated people of Tang with extraordinary reverence.

Navigation technology in the Tang dynasty was still underdeveloped. Even the most basic compass would not appear until the Song dynasty, while such technologies as watertight compartments and keels remained far beyond reach. The difficulty of crossing the sea was easy to imagine.

The envoys boarded their ships at Naniwa, passed through the Inland Sea, and departed from Hakata. Depending on the period, their voyages followed one of three routes: the northern, central, or southern route.

The northern route ran northward along the western coast of the Korean Peninsula, then westward along the southern coast of the Liaodong Peninsula. After crossing the Bohai Sea, the ships landed on the Shandong Peninsula, from which the envoys continued westward overland, passing through Luoyang before finally reaching Chang'an. Most of this route followed the coastline and was comparatively safe, so shipwrecks were relatively uncommon.

The central route led from the Goto Islands west of Kyushu directly southwest across the East China Sea. The ships made landfall near Suzhou or Mingzhou at the mouth of the Yangtze, then transferred to the Grand Canal and traveled northward. This route took less time—usually around ten days, and sometimes as little as three—but the dangers of wind and waves were scarcely less than those of the southern route.

The southern route led south from Kyushu, past Tanegashima, Yakushima, and the Amami Islands, before crossing the East China Sea northwestward and making landfall at the mouth of the Yangtze. From there, the envoys continued north by canal. This route traversed the vast and seemingly boundless East China Sea, where it was difficult to find shelter along the coast, making it particularly dangerous. The northern and central routes each required roughly thirty days of sailing, and sometimes even longer.

Regardless of the route, such voyages were extraordinarily perilous by the scientific and technological standards of the Tang era. Crossing a sea lashed by towering waves was no simple matter. Storms often overturned the ships or blew them far afield, sometimes as far as Taiwan or even Vietnam. After returning home, one traveler described the voyage in terrifying terms:

“He claimed that the route passed through the gates of hell. He had seen with his own eyes the thick, gloomy vapors above them, and had even heard the cries and the pounding of hammers. It was truly terrifying.”

It was precisely because of these hardships that the envoys appeared so devout, leaving an excellent impression at the Tang court. Many Tang literati maintained relationships with them, and some even regarded them as kindred spirits and presented them with poems.

Li Bai’s famous lines are one such example:

“Akiko of Japan leaves the imperial city;
A single returning sail circles Penglai.
The bright moon sinks into the emerald sea, never to return;
Sorrowful clouds fill the skies above Cangwu.”

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Zhen Qian did not like the people of Wa, but he could not help admiring their tenacity. They crossed the vast ocean and cast life and death aside solely to carry the advanced culture of the Tang back to their homeland, almost as though they were testing the patience of the god of death.

“People of Wa, what do you want with me? I don’t think I have ever had any dealings with them. Tell them to leave.”

Zhen Qian issued his dismissal outright. As soon as the madam heard that he did not wish to meet them, she turned around and said, “Clerk Zhen does not wish to see you. You may leave.”

The short man at the head of the group wore a blue Tang-style robe. Judging by his appearance, he had even been granted a minor official position at the Tang court. Upon hearing the madam’s words, he immediately handed her a purse, which presumably contained a considerable amount of gold and silver.

“Please announce us once more. Tell him that we have come out of admiration for his reputation and wish to meet the author of On the Love of the Lotus. We hope he will grant us the honor of beholding Master Zhen’s presence.”

The madam weighed the purse in her hand. These Wa men were certainly generous—ten strings of cash at the very first gesture. For the sake of money, she agreed at once.

Having eaten another’s food and taken another’s money, one was naturally obliged to serve. The madam possessed considerable professional integrity; at the very least, she knew that accepting payment meant doing the job.

“Clerk Zhen, those Wa men are waiting at the entrance. They came all this way out of admiration after hearing On the Love of the Lotus...” As she spoke, the madam placed a wooden box, a foot square, in front of Zhen Qian. “This is their gift to you.”

Zhen Qian had heard that the envoys from Wa had arrived in the Tang and were fond of presenting gifts wherever they went, displaying astonishing generosity. They carried large quantities of gold dust and silver ingots, giving them away along the road and winning the goodwill of many people. The madam had probably received quite a bit herself.

A pristine white polar-bear pelt lay quietly inside the wooden box. Several women nearby immediately shrieked, their eyes filled with greed.

A single polar-bear pelt was worth at least a hundred strings of cash. It was not merely expensive but exceedingly rare as well. When someone offered a gift, there was certain to be a request behind it. Zhen Qian was even more bewildered. Could these Wa men truly have come to meet him simply because of a single poem, On the Love of the Lotus? He did not seem particularly famous.

Zhen Qian was just about to refuse when his eyes suddenly shifted.

“The Tang is a land of propriety and courtesy. Let them in.”

Several short Wa men entered the room. The man at their head glanced over Hao Ren before finally resting his gaze on Zhen Qian. He then offered a bow performed with a thousand times more refinement than any Tang man could manage.

“I am Fujiwara no Sakuo, a recorder among the envoys from the Land of the Rising Sun. I have heard that Master Zhen’s On the Love of the Lotus is a work of heavenly genius, and I have come especially to pay my respects.”

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After listening to Fujiwara no Sakuo’s account, Zhen Qian could only feel that the Wa were truly bored beyond measure.

As it turned out, Fujiwara no Sakuo had come to the Tang with the tenth embassy during the tenth year of the Tianbao era. The envoys Fujiwara no Kiyokawa and Kibi no Makibi had remained in the Tang for more than a year, studying its economy, culture, military affairs, politics, and much more. Once their studies were complete, they prepared to return to Wa.

This embassy consisted of more than two hundred people. Several had died of illness, while others had chosen to remain in the Tang to continue their studies. The rest were preparing to return to Wa together.

When the embassy reached Luoyang, they happened to hear On the Love of the Lotus. At first, they assumed it was the masterpiece of some renowned scholar. Only after making inquiries did they learn that it was the work of the obscure Zhen Qian of Hengzhou. They immediately conceived the desire to meet him.

Travel in ancient times was inconvenient. Transportation depended mainly on one’s feet, communication on one’s voice, warmth on one’s trembling limbs, and public security on dogs. Zhen Qian’s plagiarized version of On the Love of the Lotus had begun circulating half a year earlier and had only reached Luoyang a month ago. Even a tortoise would have arrived by then.

What intrigued Zhen Qian even more was that these Wa men had taken such a liking to his On the Love of the Lotus that they had traveled all the way from Luoyang to Hengzhou, asking for directions at every turn until they found him, all for the sake of meeting him once. Their persistence moved Zhen Qian to the point of “tears streaming warmly from his eyes.”

“It was only a humble composition. I hope you will forgive its inadequacies.”

Fujiwara no Sakuo’s face was filled with utmost reverence. He bowed to Zhen Qian once more and said, “While searching for Master Zhen just now, we heard another of your excellent compositions. Might you permit this humble one to take a look?”

Zhen Qian detested this servile habit of the Wa—the moment they saw something they liked, they wanted to claim it for themselves. Still, one could hardly strike a smiling face. He gave Little Lotus a meaningful glance.

Little Lotus reluctantly handed the scroll to Fujiwara no Sakuo. It was as though he had just stolen her maidenhood; she committed his name to memory and vowed inwardly to hate him for it.

Fujiwara no Sakuo held the scroll in both hands as though it were a newborn infant. He seemed only a bath, a change of clothes, three days of fasting, and a ceremonial offering of incense and kowtows away from treating it as a sacred relic. His hands trembled like those of an octogenarian, his lips murmured ceaselessly, and his face shone with a sweetness greater than honey.

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