The endless winds travel thousands of miles, finally passing through Jade Gate Pass. You arrive beneath that t…
The endless winds travel thousands of miles, finally passing through Jade Gate Pass. You arrive beneath that towering fortress. It is no longer an impassable stronghold, but a waystation for the spring breeze journeying west. In the windblown sand, with banners snapping overhead, you seem to glimpse the white-haired general once more, standing atop the wall and gazing east. What he sees in his eyes, holds in his heart, and speaks on his lips all resolve into a single refrain: "How fares Chang'an now?" You hesitate for a long while and say...
Hearing your answer, the general nods in silent thought, tears seemingly welling in his eyes. "Chang'an... is a very, very fine place." The general's deep and desolate voice carries a sense of nostalgia, as well as a profound sorrow. The youths of the city have turned white-haired, yet the weapons in their hands remain sharp, as does their resolve to return to the Tang. From within the city comes the rolling beat of drums, as if an army of thousands were falling into formation. You cannot clearly hear the name they cry, but you know it is a single name formed by thousands of homesick voices: Chang'an.