Damn it, I'm in the garbage book I wrote

Chapter 859 A Landscape in the Sky
The city of Shanshan welcomed an unprecedented grand event in the autumn.

Guests from all sides arrived one after another, and the post station was overcrowded. Rooms in inns of all sizes in the city were hard to come by. Rooms that could originally be stayed overnight in the mountains for a few dozen coins were now being sold for one or two taels of silver, and they were still in short supply.

The streets were filled with foreign merchants, scholars, and envoys dressed in various styles and speaking different accents, making this border town in the Western Regions seem like a bustling metropolis in the Central Plains.

Xia Lin specially set up the main venue at the newly completed "Yuezhi Tower," a grand building that blends the style of Central Plains pavilions and Western Regions arched domes, which shone brightly in the autumn sun.

"General, Prime Minister Zhang's convoy has arrived at Shili Pavilion outside the city," Sun Jiuzhen reported as he strode into the general's residence.

Xia Lin was playing chess with Xu Shiji when he heard this. He threw down his chess piece and laughed, "Old Zhang has finally arrived. How much wealth did he bring?"

"There were more than twenty scholars and more than ten painting students accompanying him. Their luggage filled eight carts, and the painting supplies alone took up two carts." Sun Jiuzhen couldn't help but laugh: "According to reports, Zhang Xiang has been sketching along the way and has already produced more than fifty paintings. He also said that he wants to paint all the scenery of the Western Regions."

Xu Shiji stroked his beard and smiled: "Zhang Xiang's painting skills are superb. With his depiction, it is better than a thousand words."

"Come on, he just wants to freeload off me." Xia Lin stood up and straightened his clothes. "Let's go, let's go pick him up. Third Brother, you don't know, he acts all respectable in front of others, but behind closed doors he's completely devoid of humanity."

At the Ten Mile Pavilion outside the city, Zhang Shuo was discussing the landscape with several literary friends who had come with him. He was dressed in a blue robe with a wine gourd hanging from his waist. Although he had already reached the highest position in the government, he still maintained the demeanor of a scholar.

"Shanshan City has high and thick city walls and a bustling market. It doesn't look like a small border town at all!" an old scholar with white hair and beard exclaimed.

Zhang Shuo stood with his hands behind his back, his sharp eyes scanning the distant city walls: "Twenty years ago, who could have imagined that there would be such a scene in the Gobi Desert of the Western Regions? Daosheng may not be good at anything else, but he is a master at construction."

As he spoke, his fingers unconsciously traced lines in the air, clearly already sketching a picture in his mind.

Just then, a troop of cavalry galloped in, led by a man dressed in blue and riding a white horse—it was Xia Lin.

"My son Zhongchun!" Xia Lin called out from afar.

Old Zhang didn't mince words, laughing and cursing, "You dog, Daosheng!"

The two men looked at each other and burst into laughter. Xia Lin jumped off his horse, naturally put his arm around Lao Zhang's shoulder, and whispered away from the crowd, "Six."

"What six?" Zhang Shuo lowered his voice: "Western Region sisters?"

Xia Lin chuckled: "I'm just worried about your health."

Their unabashed conversation would be a complete disaster if overheard by anyone around them. After all, who would have thought that the powerful Minister of the Imperial Secretariat and the mighty Marshal of the Western Regions would be like this in private?

As everyone exchanged pleasantries, another procession of carriages arrived from another direction; it was the arrival of talented scholars from various places who had come at the invitation.

These scholars and writers, weathered by long journeys, all wore expressions of hardship, yet their eyes shone with anticipation. Many of them were visiting the Western Regions for the first time, naturally filled with curiosity about everything before them.

Xia Lin personally led everyone into the city.

What they saw along the way naturally amazed these guests who had traveled from afar.

The wide streets are lined with shops, with Han and Hu merchants living side by side. What's even more surprising is how clean the streets are, with public toilets and garbage collection points every so often, and people specifically responsible for cleaning them.

"The sanitation here is comparable to that of major cities in the Central Plains," a talented scholar from Jiangnan remarked.

Xia Lin smiled and said, "This is all thanks to General Wang. He implemented the street chief system, with each street having a designated person responsible for cleaning and maintaining order."

Old Zhang silently observed the street scene, occasionally taking out a charcoal pencil from his sleeve and quickly sketching a few lines on the drawing board he carried with him.

"Don't just focus on drawing." Xia Lin nudged him. "Tell me, how does it feel?"

Old Zhang didn't even look up: "It's better than I expected. But isn't the layout of your streets a bit too orderly? It lacks a bit of wildness."

"If you want some wilderness fun, go find it in the Gobi Desert. I'll arrange six female camels for you." Xia Lin laughed and cursed, "This is for people to live in."

The group arrived at the Yuezhi Tower, which was five stories high with upturned eaves and corners, and looked particularly magnificent in the setting sun.

Old Zhang looked up and marveled, "This building is quite interesting, a blend of Chinese and Western styles, yet it doesn't seem out of place. Who designed it?"

"Who else could it be?" Xia Lin raised an eyebrow smugly. "Do you think all I've done all these years is fight wars?"

Old Zhang nodded seriously for once: "Hmm, are there any projects on the third floor and above?"

"You're forty years old, and you're still thinking about projects?"

Old Zhang stared wide-eyed in disbelief and said, "But you still arranged six for me?"

"I've arranged six Kunlun slaves for you; I guarantee you'll be satisfied."

"You die!" Old Zhang said with a look of disgust. "I'd rather have six camels."

"Stop talking nonsense, we'll talk about it later."

Xia Lin settled the scholars in a private room on the third floor, while he, Xu Shiji, Wang Zhuoheng, and others went to the observation deck on the fifth floor.

Overlooking the entire city from here, the streets are crisscrossed, and in the distance, the Tongji Canal winds around the city like a jade belt. Further away, the cotton bolls are already faintly visible in the cotton fields.

"Is everyone here?" Xia Lin asked.

Sun Jiuzhen handed over a list: "Zhang Xiang's party consisted of more than 30 people, more than 50 talented people from Jinling, Suzhou and other places, 27 scholars from the Hanlin Academy in Chang'an, 19 people from the Northern Han observation group, more than 100 royal envoys from various Western Regions countries, and more than 60 caravan leaders from various places. The rest of the followers are numerous, numbering nearly 10,000."

Xu Shiji said, "It seems that everyone who was supposed to come has arrived."

Xia Lin nodded, gazing at the distant cotton fields, and couldn't help but sigh: "Let the world see what we've done in the Western Regions. Announce to all restaurants and eateries that foreign guests will be charged 40 coins per person per meal. Starting today, I will hold a grand banquet for the entire city."

As night fell, the Yuezhi Tower was brightly lit.

Xia Lin specially arranged a private banquet, inviting only Lao Zhang and a few of his closest friends. After a few rounds of drinks, Zhang Shuo was already somewhat drunk.

"Daosheng," he patted Xia Lin on the shoulder, "to be honest, before I came here I was worried that you would have a hard time here, but I didn't expect that you would be living a more comfortable life than in Fuliang."

Xia Lin poured him a full glass of wine: "What, are you envious? Why don't you give up being the Minister of the Imperial Secretariat and come to the Western Regions to be my painter?"

"Get out of here! Do you even know what a substitute emperor is?" Zhang Shuo raised his head and took a sip of his chilled wine, then said seriously, "But to be honest, you have done a really good job governing the Western Regions. Along the way, the people have lived in peace and the merchants have been coming and going in an endless stream, which is no less than that of the Central Plains."

“This is just the beginning.” Xia Lin looked out the window. “Once all three irrigation canals are completed, the Western Regions will truly become the Jiangnan region beyond the Great Wall.”

Following his gaze, Old Zhang saw the city of Shanshan twinkling in the night, its lights reflecting against the starry sky. He suddenly took out paper and pen and began sketching quickly by the lamplight.

"Don't move," he said to Xia Lin. "This position is good."

Xia Lin laughed and said, "Your occupational hazard has kicked in again?"

"Such a magnificent scene, it would be a pity not to paint it." Zhang Shuo kept writing: "Tomorrow I will go to admire the cotton fields and record it carefully, so that those frogs in the well in the Central Plains can also open their eyes."

"Then you'll have to make me look handsome."

"Come on, even if you made yourself look handsome, who would recognize you?"

The next morning, the autumn air was crisp and clear.

The large contingent set off from Shanshan City, heading towards the cotton fields west of the city. Xia Lin rode alongside Lao Zhang, with Xu Shiji, Wang Zhuoheng, and others following closely behind. Behind them were scholars, envoys, and caravan leaders, forming a grand and imposing procession with banners waving.

Just five miles west of the city, the scenery changes dramatically.

A wide irrigation canal meandered forward, its clear water shimmering in the morning sun. On both sides of the canal stretched endless cotton fields, the cotton plants waist-high, their branches and leaves lush and verdant. The cotton bolls burst open, revealing the soft, white cotton fibers inside, swaying gently in the autumn breeze. From afar, it truly resembled a blanket of snow covering the earth, a truly magnificent sight.

"My God!" a young painter from Jiangnan exclaimed, nearly dropping his brush. "This...this is really cotton? Even the best cotton fields in Jiangnan don't compare to a tenth of what's here!"

Another elderly scholar said in a trembling voice, "I have traveled the world for decades and have never seen such a magnificent cotton field. This is not the frontier, but a paradise on earth!"

Old Zhang had already dismounted and was standing on the edge of the field, gazing intently. His eyes shone, his fingers trembled involuntarily, and he murmured, "Wonderful... the light and shadow, the colors..."

Xia Lin walked up to him, raising an eyebrow smugly: "How about that? I wasn't lying to you, was I?"

Old Zhang didn't answer. He hurriedly took the drawing board from the apprentice and began to work the charcoal pencil across the paper. He would sometimes look up into the distance, and sometimes bend down to examine it closely, completely immersed in his own world.

Scholars from all over dispersed, some reciting poems, others wielding their brushes, all brimming with excitement. These talented men, who had endured long journeys, were completely captivated by the sight before them. "Look, everyone," Xia Lin proclaimed, "the Tongji Canal brings not only water, but also life. Three years ago, this place was a barren desert; now it has become a granary for the border region."

A scholar from the north remarked, "When I passed through Hexi, I saw many barren lands. If all of them could be cultivated like this, what need would the world have for hunger and cold?"

Xu Shiji chimed in at the opportune moment: "This is precisely Marshal Xia's long-cherished wish. If the Western Regions can be properly developed, they will surely become the granary of the world."

The group went down to the field to take a closer look. The cotton farmers were busy in the fields, and they were all a little reserved when they saw so many distinguished guests. An old farmer introduced in broken Mandarin: "This cotton will be ready for harvest in another half month. Judging from its growth, it can yield two hundred catties of seed cotton per mu."

Old Zhang squatted on the edge of the field, carefully examining a cotton plant. He gently touched the cotton fibers and twirled the cotton bolls, then suddenly said to Xia Lin, "Find me a room; I want to paint."

Xia Lin understood and immediately ordered people to set up a temporary studio next to the cotton field.

For the next two hours, Old Zhang remained indoors. Occasionally, some literary friends tried to visit, but Xia Lin stopped them at the door.

“Let him paint,” Xia Lin explained to everyone. “He hates being disturbed when he’s painting. Once he’s finished, I guarantee you’ll be amazed.”

Around noon, Zhang Shuo finally pushed open the door and came out. He was beaming and holding a six-foot-long scroll in his hands.

"Please take a look, everyone, at the 'Hanhai Mianyun Map'."

As the scroll slowly unfurled, everyone held their breath.

The painting depicts cotton fields stretching like a sea to the horizon. The cotton plants in the foreground are rendered with exquisite detail, while in the distance they appear like white clouds blanketing the ground. The painting also includes hardworking cotton farmers, patrolling soldiers, and faintly visible irrigation ditches. Most remarkably, Zhang Shuo uses light ink washes with extremely precise color mixing, not only vividly capturing the unique, clear light of the Western Regions but also evoking a surreal and imaginative sense of extension.

"A masterpiece!" an old painter exclaimed in a trembling voice. "Minister Zhang's painting is truly unprecedented!"

Xia Lin examined the painting, then suddenly pointed to an inconspicuous corner and laughed, "You, Zhang Zhongchun, painted me so ugly?"

Everyone looked in the direction he pointed and saw a man in blue robes bending over to examine the cotton plants in the painting. Although it was only a back view, his nonchalant posture was none other than Xia Lin.
Zhang Shuo stroked his beard smugly: "It's not about resemblance in form, but resemblance in spirit. I've got your lazy look down on me perfectly."

Everyone burst out laughing.

In the afternoon, Xia Lin ordered a banquet to be set up next to the cotton fields. Fresh fruits, golden-brown naan bread, and fragrant mutton, paired with wines from the Western Regions, whetted the appetites of the guests who had traveled from afar.

During the gathering, the scholars vied to compose poems and paint, creating a lively atmosphere. Zhang Shuo was surrounded by people asking him to paint, so he had to have his painting apprentice spread out paper and ink again.

"Old Zhang," Xia Lin whispered in his ear, "I've got something good to show you."

He gave a wink, and Sun Jiuzhen immediately brought out a long wooden box. Upon opening it, they found a set of twelve colors of Western Region mineral pigments, their vibrant hues causing Old Zhang's eyes to widen in astonishment.

“This is lapis lazuli from Khotan, cinnabar from Kucha, and malachite from Shule…” Xia Lin pointed them out one by one: “These were specially saved for you.”

Old Zhang stroked the paint with obvious affection, then suddenly said seriously, "Xia Daosheng, I want to stay in this Western Region for a long time."

Xia Lin laughed heartily: "I couldn't be happier! I'm just afraid your wife won't agree."

As the sun set, the group reluctantly set off back to the city.

Inside the carriage, Old Zhang was still very excited. He said to his colleagues in the same carriage, "I originally thought the Western Regions were all yellow sand and Gobi deserts. I never expected to see such a sight. Daosheng has indeed done something great."

The colleague glanced at Lao Zhang in surprise. He knew that only Lao Zhang could address Xia Daosheng in that way, but he couldn't follow Lao Zhang's lead and keep calling him "kid, kid." He could only change the subject and sigh, "What's even more remarkable is the harmony between the Han and Hu peoples and the peace and happiness of the people. What I've seen along the way is that people of all ethnic groups get along well, which is truly moving."

Old Zhang looked out the window; the cotton fields appeared even more magnificent in the twilight. He said softly, "I want to paint a set of 'Records of the Western Regions,' so that people all over the world can see the changes here."

As the lanterns of Yuezhi Tower are lit, a grand night banquet is about to begin.

Xia Lin had deliberately changed into a dark-colored casual outfit, losing some of his usual ruthlessness and gaining a more refined air. Zhang Shuo was even more meticulously dressed, wearing a moon-white long robe, exuding a reclusive air, but the two of them standing there together gave the impression of being like the Black and White Impermanence...

"What's with your outfit...? Got your eye on some girl?" Xia Lin teased.

Old Zhang straightened his sleeves and retorted sarcastically, "I wonder which bastard it was, he still hasn't shown up with the promised sister."

Amidst laughter and conversation, guests entered one after another. The Kucha musicians were already in place, and the melodious sound of the erhu echoed throughout the building.

Today, Third Sister was dressed in a light gold palace gown, looking elegant and noble.
She stood side by side with Xia Lin, greeting the guests from all sides. This gesture caused many people to exchange glances.

"Your Majesty looks very well today," Old Zhang said, stepping forward to bow, his words carrying a double meaning.

Xia Lin shoved him in the back and said viciously, "You're so annoying!"

Third Sister smiled slightly: "Minister Zhang has come from afar; you must be tired."

At this moment, Liu Chengyou, the crown prince of Northern Han, entered with his delegation and respectfully bowed to Xia Lin: "Teacher, your student greets you on behalf of my father, the Khan."

Xia Lin patted his shoulder and laughed, "Chengyou has grown up. Relax tonight, don't be so formal."

The literati from all over the country also changed into their finest clothes and gathered in twos and threes to chat. Many of them were attending a banquet of this caliber for the first time, and they were both excited and nervous.

As the banquet began, the Kucha dancers gracefully entered. Dressed in colorful costumes and barefoot with bells jingling, they twirled and leaped to the beat of drums. Their enchanting dance, accompanied by exotic music, captivated the literati from the Central Plains.

As Old Zhang drank, he quickly sketched the dancer's pose on a piece of paper. Xia Lin leaned over to take a look and laughed, "You old dog, all you do is draw other people's girls."

"What do you know?" Old Zhang sniffed. "I usually see jasmine in pots, but seeing this datura covering the hillsides makes me quite happy."

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively. The scholars began to spontaneously compose poems praising the scenery of the Western Regions. A talented scholar from Jiangnan recited a poem on the spot. Xia Lin, already surrounded by people offering toasts, couldn't hear the commotion outside; she only felt herself drinking cup after cup…

Old Zhang was also in high spirits. He ordered his painting apprentice to spread out a large sheet of Xuan paper, and then began to paint with ink, color, and gold. In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a painting titled "The Night Banquet of the Yuezhi" appeared on the paper. The figures in the painting were lifelike, and the singing, dancing, and playing of the sheng and xiao seemed to leap off the paper.

"Wonderful!" an old scholar exclaimed, clapping his hands in admiration. "Minister Zhang's painting is truly the best of our time!"

Xia Lin broke free from the crowd, picked up the painting, and suddenly pointed to a corner of the painting and laughed, "Zhongchun, you've painted this wrong again."

Everyone looked in the direction he pointed and saw Xia Lin talking quietly with San Niang in the painting, their expressions intimate.

Old Zhang stroked his beard and laughed, "It's both in form and spirit, what's wrong with that?"

Third Sister rolled her eyes and unconsciously pinched Xia Lin lightly under the table. This little action was naturally noticed by many people, but at this moment, they could only keep it to themselves.

The banquet went on into the night, and many of the literati were already tipsy. Old Zhang pulled Xia Lin to the corridor, where they gazed at the starry sky.

“To be honest,” Zhang Shuo’s tone suddenly became serious, “you have governed the Western Regions much better than I imagined. Before I came here, some people in the court said that you were waging war in the Western Regions, but now it seems that they were all talking nonsense.”

Xia Lin smiled and said, "War-struggling? If I really wanted to fight, I would have conquered Northern Han long ago."

"Then what are your plans next?"

"First, we'll complete all three irrigation canals, truly transforming the Western Regions into a land of plenty. Then..." Xia Lin's gaze was far-reaching: "We'll open up trade routes to the west, allowing Chinese civilization to spread far and wide."

Zhang Shuo was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "When I get back, I will find a way to implement the new policy. How about we call it 'Governance in the Western Regions'? The things you did in the Western Regions should be known to the whole world."

"Sigh, please help me push this message out."

“I know.” Old Zhang’s eyes narrowed. “The Grand Marshal of the Great Wei Army and His Majesty the Emperor of Li Tang are secretly pregnant. The Crown Prince of Li Tang is the son of Xia Lin and Xia Daosheng. If anyone wants to harm the Crown Prince, they should think twice.”

Given their tacit understanding, there was no need for further words; they simply exchanged a smile and raised their glasses in a toast.

Inside the building, the Kucha song and dance performances continued. Scholars from all directions were immersed in the joy, temporarily forgetting the fatigue of their journey.

Xu Shiji and Wang Zhuoheng stood not far away, watching this scene.

"General's move was truly brilliant," Xu Shiji said softly. "After this meeting, the fame of the Western Regions will surely spread throughout the world."

Wang Zhuoheng nodded: "But the bigger the tree, the more the wind will blow against it, and it will probably attract more covetous eyes."

"It's alright." Xu Shiji smiled slightly: "The commander-in-chief has his own arrangements."

As night deepened, the joyful laughter from the Yuezhi Tower echoed through the night sky of Shanshan City.

This autumn night in the Western Regions is destined to be recorded in history.

(End of this chapter)