Chapter 129: First Meeting with An Lushan

Charcoal-grilled lamb legs take three to four hours to prepare. Three men sitting in a tent could hardly spend the entire time staring blankly at each other, especially since Fujiwara no Surio kept pestering Zhen Qian for interpretations of the scriptures. This put Zhen Qian in a difficult spot; how could he, a man of only superficial knowledge, compare himself to an ancient scholar well-versed in the Four Books and Five Classics? It was like teaching a master how to wield an axe.

Fortunately, Zhen Qian had his own solutions. They say idle hands make for a wandering mind, and while he had initially intended to distract them with Xiangqi, the two had already played for a full day and lost all interest.

Luckily, to cope with the endless demands of the two young ladies at home, Zhen Qian had prepared a variety of entertainment. Right now, Li Cui and Fujiwara no Surio were caught up in a heated game of Chinese checkers.

Li Cui held a one-foot-long iron skewer, threaded with lamb leg meat—seven parts lean to three parts fat. He placed a piece of fat between every four cubes of meat, each cube about an inch square and pre-marinated. In just over ten minutes, a pile of skewers was ready.

"Not bad!"

Whether Li Cui was referring to the lamb skewers or Fujiwara no Surio’s skill at Chinese checkers, it didn’t matter; as long as the two weren't bothering him, all was well.

Zhen Qian had developed a certain knack for enjoying the spoils of the public purse and the generosity of the wealthy. Every day, Luquan County sent over carts of ingredients, from bleating goats to rare winter vegetables. The delicacies were so abundant that Zhen Qian couldn't help but curse Feng Wannian for being a spendthrift, though most of these ingredients ended up benefiting him.

With free ingredients in hand, Ju Niang and Zhen Qian cooked delicious meals themselves, using the food as an opportunity to win over Li Cui’s subordinates. The beautiful maids even began calling Ju Niang "sister," all in the hopes of stealing her culinary secrets.

Li Cui frowned at the board, struggling to adapt to the rules of Chinese checkers. Fujiwara no Surio had exploited all the positions Li Cui had just set up, and it looked like he was about to lose the game.

Fujiwara no Surio finally had a chance to hold his head high. If he couldn't beat Li Cui at Xiangqi, could he not beat him at Chinese checkers? He looked at Li Cui with smug satisfaction, eager to see how he would maintain his composure now.

"Your Highness... right there!"

No sooner had Zhen Qian spoken than Fujiwara no Surio jumped up. "A gentleman who watches a game does not offer advice!"

"I never claimed to be a gentleman," Zhen Qian muttered, curling his lip. A gentleman? What good ever came to those who spoke frankly to power? Good people die young, while scoundrels live in comfort. The great cuisine of the Tang Dynasty, wealth, and beautiful women were his three lifelong desires. To achieve these, he would forge ahead, overcoming every obstacle in his path.

The tent flap lifted, and a gaunt, eunuch-like face poked in. He revealed only his head, not daring to bring his body inside. "Your Highness, An Lushan is here... he is outside the gate to pay his respects."

At the mention of the name An Lushan, Zhen Qian’s hand shook, and he nearly tumbled headlong into the charcoal fire.

Among the famous figures of the High Tang, one could count those recognized by name on one's fingers and toes; even then, that would be a generous count. The most famous period in history was, of course, the Three Kingdoms era, which would easily boast seventy or eighty household names, all thanks to the novel *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*.

After more than a year in the Tang Dynasty, he had finally encountered a true historical celebrity!

Zhen Qian wasn't afraid; he was curious. An Lushan was a highly controversial figure in history. The greatest point of contention was why he chose to rebel. Rebellion requires a motive—some rebel because they cannot survive, others out of bloated ambition, some because their lives are threatened, and some due to incitement. Which category An Lushan fell into was a subject of endless historical debate.

Rebellion is not only a technically demanding endeavor, but the risks usually outweigh the rewards—especially in the High Tang, where the hearts of the people were not with the rebels. Timing was one issue, and charisma was another. Though the An Lushan Rebellion swept through with such momentum that it reached Luoyang in a short time, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang had not been afraid at all.

Had it not been for the series of blunders made by Emperor Xuanzong later on, An Lushan would not have had even a one-in-ten-thousand chance. History never allows for "what ifs," yet it is often bizarre and mind-boggling, leaving behind countless mysteries that baffle later generations.

That such a formidable warlord had arrived at his own doorstep—how could Zhen Qian be anything but excited and curious?

Li Cui, however, remained very calm. He stood up and said, "You stay here; I will go meet him."

Zhen Qian desperately wanted to go with Li Cui to see An Lushan, but he couldn't find a reason to follow. Fujiwara no Surio walked up to Zhen Qian and whispered, "Just a vulgar, fat man. Better not to see him."

"Have you met An Lushan before?"

Fujiwara no Surio nodded, his gaze fixed outside the tent. "I saw him once at the Emperor's banquet during the Lantern Festival this year. I had expected a legendary general, but seeing is believing—he was nothing more than a vulgar, bloated, and fat man. It was truly surprising... that such a man could attain such a high position. Heh! The Tang Dynasty is truly devoid of talent!"

Zhen Qian felt a secret tremor of alarm. It wasn't because of Fujiwara no Surio’s disdain; it was because the Imperial Court's reliance on Hu generals had long since stirred resentment among officials and scholars. Geshu Han was of the Western Turkic Geshu tribe, Gao Xianzhi was Goguryeo, Li Guangbi was Khitan, and An Lushan himself was a Hu, as were most of his top generals. The military power in the border towns was almost entirely controlled by Hu people. How could the court ministers not complain?

Human thinking is inherently subjective. If there were no grumblings in the court about Hu commanders, Fujiwara no Surio wouldn't have been so quick to disparage An Lushan.

Then again, the three prefectures under An Lushan’s jurisdiction were considered peaceful and stable, not suffering from the rampant exploitation and misery many assumed. The concentration of land ownership couldn't be blamed on him; at most, he conscripted labor to transport his grain and fodder. The corvée system wasn't invented by him, either. In truth, An Lushan wasn't yet a true regional hegemon.

Zhen Qian was deeply curious. While listening to Fujiwara no Surio recount anecdotes about An Lushan’s reputation in the court, he kept a close watch on the activity outside the tent.

Suddenly, he heard hurried footsteps. The tent flap lifted, and Li Cui walked in, smiling as he escorted a burly, fat man. "Master Zhen, Lord Fujiwara, allow me to introduce Marshal An..."

Zhen Qian’s gaze rested on the fat man. It was said that in his later years, An Lushan became so obese that his belly hung below his knees; he could only move if people held him up by his shoulders. Some even claimed his stomach was so large that it took three or four people to help him put on a belt—two to lift his belly, and Li Zhu'er to fasten the skirt, trousers, and waistband.

An Lushan was indeed very fat, yet his frame was imposing, standing over 1.8 meters tall. In his youth, he must have been a fierce warrior with the strength to draw a powerful bow. It was said that An Lushan did not know who his biological father was—a claim that was likely true. Some said he was of the Xi people, others that he was a descendant of the Nine Sogdian Surnames, or perhaps a Sogdian. Zhen Qian suspected the latter was more accurate. His green eyes and high nose bridge, combined with a hawk-like gaze that swept across the two men in the tent, finally settled on Zhen Qian’s face, as if he could see right through him.

Zhen Qian was secretly shocked, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. He was truly a warlord of his generation; a single look from him was enough to make one’s blood run cold.

An Lushan was equally surprised by Zhen Qian’s calm and detachment. He had just heard from Li Cui that there were two others in the tent: one was the Japanese envoy Fujiwara no Surio, and the other was the master of this residence. Although Fujiwara no Surio was dressed in Tang clothing, his temperament was little different from that of a Tang scholar, and An Lushan had recognized him at once. But the moment his eyes met Zhen Qian's, he found that the man was observing him in return—with less fear, and with a quiet wisdom not often seen in Tang men. Those two dark pupils scrutinized him like a passerby of equal status, which made An Lushan genuinely curious about Zhen Qian.

To sleep on the lap of a beauty and wake up with the power of life and death—An Lushan’s anger might not have been enough to carpet the land with corpses like an emperor, but a single glare from him was enough to make his subordinates tremble, and some would even lose control of their bowels, collapsing to their knees to beg for mercy.

Rumors are rumors, and hearing a hundred times is not as good as seeing once. The two men sized each other up, and though it lasted only a split second, they had already formed their judgments.

"Master Zhen! Come and pay your respects to Marshal An!"

"Commoner Zhen Qian greets Marshal An!"

"Kneel... since you call yourself a commoner, do you not know the proper etiquette?" one of An Lushan’s aides barked.

Kneel to An Lushan? Zhen Qian’s mind raced. Just as he was about to speak, Li Cui interjected, "Marshal, pray do not take offense... Although Master Zhen calls himself a commoner, he holds an official rank and is not required to perform the full kowtow!"

In the etiquette of the Tang Dynasty, the "three bows and nine kowtows" of the Ming and Qing dynasties did not exist. Officials usually greeted each other with a bow of the head. Unless Zhen Qian wanted to acknowledge An Lushan as his foster father, he was not required to kneel. Zhen Qian had not been disrespectful.