Polo had long existed in the Central Plains, but it was mostly a pastime where noble youths galloped on horseback while hitting a ball with sticks for amusement, without any strict rules to determine victory or defeat.
In the early years of the Zhenguan era, after the imperial court defeated Jieli Khan, a large number of surrendered Turks entered the court as guards. As trade routes gradually opened, more and more merchants and Western tribes arrived in Chang'an. Initially, some young Turkic guards found places to play polo for fun, bringing with them the customary rules from beyond the frontier. They set up goalposts at both ends of the dirt field and agreed that hitting the ball between the posts would count as "scoring a point." The winner could be determined either by the first to score or by the highest number of points, with adjustments made based on practical circumstances.
With relatively clear rules and the ability to compete for victory, the game became much more enjoyable. Within a few years, polo had taken Chang'an by storm. Young nobles—including the Crown Prince, various princes, imperial sons-in-law, and the Three Guards—all loved galloping on horseback, chasing the ball like stars in the night. Li Yuangui and his brothers were no exception.
But... Yang Xinzhi was the exception.
The reason was simple: he was too big and heavy, making it impossible to find a horse strong enough to carry him while still being agile enough for quick turns.
It was common for Garrison Guards to accompany imperial relatives and nobles in playing polo, and Yang Xinzhi himself loved games and entertainment. At first, he had practiced with his colleagues and companions on the polo field. However, his weight was roughly two to three times that of Li Yuangui. Even for everyday riding, he had to choose the largest and sturdiest mounts, and he needed to change horses far more frequently than his peers. On the polo field, where horses needed to be alert, agile, able to charge and stop instantly, and fully under control, the suitable mounts were typically slender and long-legged steeds—none of which could withstand Yang Rou-ta's riding and charging.
After practicing once or twice, when he went to the stables to pick a horse, a joke spread among the imperial guards: as soon as the horses saw Yang Rou-ta's towering figure, they would drop to the ground in groups, pretending to be dead, limbs twitching and mouths foaming. The stable hands laughed until they doubled over, and Yang Xinzhi himself found it unamusing. After that, he stopped practicing.
When accompanying Li Yuangui and his brothers in polo matches, he only cheered from the sidelines. If his hands truly itched to play, he would join a few fellow guards who were also poor riders in "foot ball"—a version played on foot, running on the ground and hitting the ball with sticks, which was still a form of fun. His height, long legs, and sturdy build made him hard to push around, giving him an advantage in foot ball, and he became quite skilled at it.
But when Zun Wang, the former Crown Prince of Tuyuhun, insisted on challenging Yang Xinzhi to a decisive polo match, he certainly wouldn't agree to foot ball.
Polo had been introduced to Tuyuhun and flourished there earlier than in the Central Plains, so Zun Wang was likely an experienced and skilled player. At a glance, he understood the crux of the matter with Yang Xinzhi's physique and seized upon the ambiguity in the Son of Heaven's words—"fight however you like"—to directly propose a polo match as the deciding contest. This was his last desperate struggle before death. Once the words were spoken, even the Emperor was momentarily stunned.
Zun Wang was merely a condemned prisoner, and the Son of Heaven could easily refuse his unreasonable demand without consequence. At most... it might slightly damage his dignity and pride.
The Emperor turned to glance at Yang Xinzhi—the newly revealed Crown Prince of Tuyuhun—and asked with a smile:
"Nuozhebo, your uncle is challenging you—a one-on-one polo match to decide the outcome. What do you think? Do you dare accept?"
Yang Xinzhi had been dazed all day, his plump face still blank with confusion. He stood there for a long moment before reacting, then knelt with his mother to respond to the Emperor's inquiry:
"Your... Your servant... obeys His Majesty's decree."The surrounding crowd of foreign envoys buzzed with discussion, seemingly disappointed by the new Crown Prince's performance. Onlookers never minded trouble... The Heavenly Khan glanced around and sighed:
"Fine. Then you two can fight it out. Don't say our Great Tang is bullying others with our power. Here's what we'll do—Wu-ji—"
He beckoned to Zhangsun Wu-ji, the Minister of Works and Duke of Qi, who stood nearby. The obese uncle hurried over to receive orders. Before the crowd, the Emperor issued his command with solemnity:
"Go to the Red Chestnut Horse Stud and bring back two fine horses. Choose two of similar size and temperament but with clearly distinguishable coats, for this uncle and nephew to use in their polo match. Bring them here and let this Zun Wang fellow pick first."
His tone was flat and unremarkable, but from Li Yuangui's vantage point as he stood in attendance, he noticed subtle movements in his elder brother's eyebrows—a silent signal to his brother-in-law.
What was that signal meant to convey? Li Yuangui couldn't immediately guess, but Zhangsun Wu-ji seemed to understand perfectly. Bowing in acknowledgment, he turned and headed south.
The Red Chestnut Horse Stud was located in the southwest of the imperial city. Uncle Changsun and his attendants would take some time to reach it via Shuntianmen Street, and selecting the horses would require additional time. Taking advantage of this interval, the ceremonial officer requested and received permission to first complete the Funeral Ceremony.
Thus, attendants rearranged the scene, everyone returned to their positions, and the ritual music resumed. Zun Wang, meanwhile, was trussed up like a rice dumpling and temporarily moved aside under heavy guard, so as not to disrupt the ceremony. Still defiant, he shouted another string of foreign words at the Son of Heaven. The court interpreter from the Honglu Temple was summoned and, after listening, translated:
"This rebel asks what benefit he'll receive if he defeats Young Master Yang in polo. Can he keep his life and return home?"
"What nonsense is he dreaming?" The Emperor flicked his sleeve dismissively as he returned to the ranks, tossing back only one sentence: "If he wins, he'll die with more dignity and honor."
Very well... Li Yuangui also returned to his place among his brothers, following the ceremonial wailing and prostrations. The earlier disruption had left everyone, including the Son of Heaven, distracted during the Funeral Ceremony, which concluded perfunctorily. All minds were now focused on the upcoming polo duel between the two Murong relatives.
By the time the Supreme Emperor's hearse and the accompanying procession had advanced so far that the tail end of the grand column hadn't yet disappeared from the main avenue, Zhangsun Wu-ji reappeared with two palace attendants, leisurely leading a white and a red steed around the corner of the Sifang Hall compound into the view of the waiting crowd outside Shuntian Gate.
The two horses were indeed of similar stature—both sturdier than those typically used for polo—showing Uncle Changsun had considered Yang Xinzhi's physique. But this wouldn't help much, Li Yuangui thought with an inward sigh. In one-on-one polo, victory hinged on controlling the horse's rhythm and wielding the mallet accurately from horseback—both areas where Yang Xinzhi was hopelessly inexperienced. He would lose badly.
The crowd gathered to watch Zun Wang choose his horse first. The Tuyuhun youth remained bound, his face still streaked with half-dried blood. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he studied the two magnificent steeds for a long moment before nodding toward the yellow-dappled white horse with his chin: "That one."
Thus, the chestnut-red horse went to Yang Xinzhi. This was fitting, Li Yuangui reflected. Among the Tuyuhun and other northwestern nomads, white was generally considered noble, while our Tang military favored red and black. Though Yang Xinzhi might be of direct Tuyuhun royal lineage by blood, he was half Han, and his upbringing, mannerisms, and thoughts were thoroughly those of a young nobleman from the old Guanlong families... Alas.Could it be that the Son of Heaven and Uncle Changsun had also anticipated this, knowing that King Zun would habitually choose white, and thus tampered with the white horse in advance?
But that’s not necessarily the case. King Zun himself was aware of the differences in customs between the two nations. Couldn’t he have guessed their plan and deliberately chosen the red horse instead? It’s truly hard to say for certain.
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