Thousand Miles of Bright Moonlight

192

The soil is moist and hot, cicadas neigh, and Huaiyu is thick and shaded on both sides of the Suzaku Long Street.

A round of rising sun, the sun was shining ten thousand feet, and the morning light was pouring down, and the rumbling street drums sounded from the Tianjie gate tower, echoing from afar, and the bells and drums of the gate tower played in all directions, converging into a majestic ocean wave, shaking the sky.

However, today, what is louder than the drums is the loud voice.

Zhuque Street is crowded with thousands of people.

The news of Princess Wen Zhao's return to Beijing made the whole Chang'an boil.

The common people rushed out of their homes and rushed to the square frantically. The children of the rich family, the young officials, the young people from Wuling who used to admire the princess's appearance, the common people who have been favored by the princess, men and women, old and young, no one is willing to fall behind.  The brightest clothes crowded the long street.

"Does Princess Wen Zhao ride a horse or ride a car? Can't she see us?"

"I heard that Ma is the monarch of a country called the Royal Court outside the territory. Did Ma Ma come back with the princess?"

"I heard that Lu Ma used to be a monk! He is a Buddha!"

"The face of a horse is like a crown jade, a character like a fairy, and a princess made in heaven!"

Amidst the noisy discussions, a hunting wind came from the end of the sweeping long street.

Everyone was so excited, they stood on their shoulders and looked around.

The morning light floated, and gray shadows came from the mist.

The first thing that caught their eyes was the flags that were fluttering in the wind, the killing black and the cold white, with densely written texts, the soldiers carrying the flags were lightly armored and white, and their faces were neat.

Everyone was stunned.

This is not the flag of the Royal Court, nor the flag of the Western Army.

It was a spirit-inducing flag full of the names of the deceased. The flag was adorned with a long streamer, and the streamer was also full of words.

The teams lined up next to each other, with a steady stream of flags resounding throughout the world.

Immediately afterwards, there was a rumbling of chariots and horses, and large cars followed the banner team and drove into the gate building.

When everyone saw clearly what the wooden signs on the cart were, the voices in the crowd stopped abruptly.

The solemn atmosphere enveloped the square.

Yang Qian and Yang Nianxiang walked beside the carriage in armor, holding talisman festivals and maps, walking with heavy steps, and Ying Ting's eyebrows were solemn and solemn.

Beside and behind them, one after another carts carrying ashes and tablets were slowly walking along Long Street Avenue.

Some of these tablets were written by Yang Qian. They have different identities and different experiences. Some are from his tribe, and some have been crying and knelt at his feet and asked him whether the Wanyanshu was served to ordinary people in Chang'an, and some were fighting alongside him.  Fellow friends are more of strangers who have never met him.

They have the same desire to regain lost land and return to their homeland.

For this reason, some of them have been looking forward to it for decades, some have tried every means to fund the Western Army, and some have devoted themselves to the army, resisted desperately, and died under the enemy's sword.