An Lu-shan
"I want strong sons," she said, meekly.
"Strong indeed is An Lu-shan."
Li Lin-fu stood near by. The Emperor motioned to him. "At the next official Court, An Lu-shan shall be raised to the rank of Duke."
"The scroll shall be prepared," said Li Lin-fu, highly gratified.
Yang Kuei-fei turned away to hide a smile. In the distance the music of a reed instrument broke out joyously. All had forgotten that the feast, seemingly endless, was still in progress, a feast that bade fair to turn into an orgy now that the Emperor had departed.
An Lu-shan was overcome with surprise.
"I am grateful," he said, and there was no doubting his sincerity.
"An Empire," declared Ming Huang, "lives in the hearts of its people. China is great because its people have great hearts. It is built on the rocks of culture and tolerance. Though all the buildings beneath the skies were leveled, the foundations would still be there and as indisputably as day follows night China would rise again to greater glory. In the past our Empire has been tom by dissent, kings have been spewed out by the dozens, flaunting their powers to the four winds. But now they are gone. Not a trace of their power remains. China absorbs her invaders as clear water absorbs the pollution that is poured into it."
Hours later, when the Emperor was sleeping, Yang Kuei-fei rose from the elaborate scarlet bed, taking care
not to disturb him, and went out into the garden. She
