"Illustrious Father," said he, "the time has come when you must once more mount the Dragon Throne to rule over all beneath the sky."
Ming Huang took off his own dragon robe and placed it on the shoulders of Li Ting.
"Noble son," he said, "you must remain as Emperor of China. You have done your work well. China will endure. I shall not mount the throne again, for I am an old man, very, very tired. Soon the taste of gold will be upon my tongue. Ere that day comes, I must find Yang Kuei-fei."
"But she is dead, father. Four hundred women have gone in quest of her body."
Ming Huang smiled, and in his eyes there were echoes of divine fire. "She lives," he said. "I have caught a few notes of her song in the cool night wind; the brilliance of her eyes I have glimpsed in joyous fireflies dancing down the wind; the flower petal glory of her cheeks is reflected in the pink golden sky of morning. No, no, my son, I must rule no more. My thoughts are concerned with other things. Yang Kuei-fei still lives and I will find her if I have to search along the Milky Way in the Blue Cities of the sky. The stars will guide my feet that I do not stumble. Yang Kuei-fei still lives."
He turned away, absorbed in his thoughts, with courage to match the mountains and the sea.
So the days wore on, placidly. Li Ting had a hard task, but he attacked it with energy, seeking strength
from the ever present Li Fu-kuo and from the Minis-
