Guo Xin hailed from the Huayin Guo clan, a family full of loyal martyrs. His uncle, Guo Ziyi, had achieved ill…
Guo Xin hailed from the Huayin Guo clan, a family full of loyal martyrs. His uncle, Guo Ziyi, had achieved illustrious military feats, rising to the position of Secretariat Director.
Back in Chang'an, Guo Xin was also the young general who "galloped his horse joyfully in the spring breeze, viewing all Chang'an's flowers in a single day."
Filled with fervor, his sole desire was to follow his uncle to the battlefield, slay the enemy, and restore the realm.
In the first year of the Yongtai era, Guo Xin was ordered to patrol and pacify Hexi and Anxi.
When bidding farewell to his uncle in Chang'an, his uncle used a broken arrow as a hairpin, entrusting Guo Xin to break rather than bend.
Guo Xin looked back at Chang'an, this city once piled with splendor, then trampled by iron hooves. He clasped his fists, turned, and rode west.
He never imagined that this glance would be his last at Chang'an for a lifetime.
The northwest was a perilous place.
Enemies loomed outside, and no reinforcements came from within. Grain and pay ran out, and his troops were defeated in Ganzhou. Cut off from east and west, they were stranded in a distant land.
In the second year of the Jianzhong era, the Tang court's imperial edict finally arrived:
"The Four Garrisons of the Northern Protectorate, governing the fifty-seven Western Xia tribes and ten surname clans, have since the dynasty's founding served with dedication. After Guanlong fell, east and west severed, the loyal and righteous have defended with blood and tears, cautiously securing the borders, upholding rites and teachings, all achieved through the mutual efforts of marquises, earls, and garrison commanders governing together. The officers and soldiers may be promoted seven ranks."
Seven ranks, can they replace grain and provisions?
Seven ranks, can they replace troops and horses?
Seven ranks… seven ranks… In Anxi, these seven ranks were nothing but a fleeting hope, gone before long. But having hope was better than having none.
Decades in the northwest, tens of thousands of lives, countless tears and blood of soldiers and civilians.
He could barely remember. Now with white hair, Guo Xin stood at the city gate, gazing at his dozens of gray-haired soldiers.
Behind him were soaring flames and tens of thousands of enemy troops.
Arrows rained down like a storm, but he felt no pain. Guo Xin only thought of one person.
That old friend from years past, with whom he had severed ties, once asked him, "Do you regret this life?"
At that time, Guo Xin had replied firmly, word by word: "I would die a hundred deaths and never regret it."
But now, he regretted it deeply. He regretted failing here, failing these dozens of gray-haired soldiers behind him.
He could no longer defend the Great Tang, the love of his life.
"Great Tang… Chang'an…"
No one knew these were his last words before dying in battle.
Guo Xin, born in Chang'an, died in Kucha, held Anxi, never retreated.