This memorial text, which should have been meticulously crafted and eternally remembered to commemorate the deceased's outstanding achievements and noble character, was now being slowly uttered from the mouth of the Minister of Rites.
Her voice, which was originally rich and magnetic, was now shrouded in endless grief.
Every syllable seemed to be soaked in tears, and every word struck the hearts of the people like a heavy hammer.
The sound echoed slowly in the solemn atmosphere, like an undercurrent, spreading sorrow once again like a surging tide throughout the crowd.
The emperor looked sorrowful, his eyes filled with deep grief and reluctance.
With heavy steps, she led a group of sorrowful officials, like a solemn ink painting, standing quietly in this space filled with grief.
The morning sunlight, like a thin veil, gently fell upon them.
But that warm light could not penetrate the leaden gloom in everyone's hearts.
The coffin containing Qin Qianluo's clothes was placed quietly and solemnly before everyone.
Like a silent historical monument, it bears the endless longing and affection of the people for the Regent.
On the coffin, the delicate texture, gently touched by the sunlight, seemed to be the mottled marks left by time.
It silently tells the story of Qin Qianluo's past years of devoting herself to the Zhaoning Kingdom, as well as her dedication and sacrifice.
Everyone was immersed in this abyss of grief, as if time had frozen, and their feet seemed to be firmly nailed to the ground, unwilling to move an inch for a long time.
They wondered if staying even a second longer would preserve a memory of the Regent, as if the beautiful moments spent with him would never fade away as long as they stayed.
Su Jinyun's eyes were already wet with tears, her gaze filled with endless despair and pain, her whole being like a withered flower swaying precariously in a storm.
Her body trembled slightly, like a lonely figure shivering in the cold night.
She slowly raised her hand, which was covered in veins and trembling violently with grief, and gently placed it on the coffin as if touching a rare treasure.
Tears streamed down her face like a burst dam, blurring her vision, and low sobs escaped her throat.
The sound was like a mournful cry bursting from the deepest part of the soul, breaking one's heart.
Her hand slowly caressed the coffin, attempting to cross the boundary between life and death through this final touch and re-establish that deep emotional bond with Qin Qianluo.
When the Emperor saw Su Jinyun in such agony, his heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible giant hand, the pain almost suffocating him.
Her eyes flashed with terror and worry, like a lightning bolt streaking across the night sky.
She subconsciously cast a worried glance at the bodyguard beside her, her eyes filled with deep concern and unease for Su Jinyun.
She knew all too well the unwavering, life-and-death bond between Su Jinyun and Qin Qianluo, and the pain Su Jinyun was enduring at this moment was beyond what most people could bear.
She was terrified that Su Jinyun would lose her mind due to excessive grief and do something irreversible and foolish.
The guards, like ghosts, lurked in the shadows, constantly watching their surroundings. Upon hearing the Emperor's signal, they immediately understood.
They moved with lightning speed, silently and swiftly approaching Su Jinyun, like guardian angels, ready to intervene at the first sign of any rash action from her.
Just as everyone was filled with grief, and the entire tomb was enveloped in a sorrowful atmosphere, as if it had fallen into endless darkness.
In the deep, quiet corner of the mausoleum, two faint, imperceptible shadows floated silently in mid-air.
One of them had an extremely complicated expression, his eyes filled with surprise, doubt, helplessness, and a hint of barely perceptible mockery.
She frowned slightly, looked directly at the other person, and spoke with a hint of inexplicable confusion and amusement.
She said softly, "What kind of unusual hobby do you have that you would come all the way to watch your own funeral?"
The other person slowly and reluctantly withdrew their gaze, which had been fixed on Su Jinyun for so long and was filled with endless heartache and longing.
Every withdrawal of gaze felt like a heavy blow, as if forcibly severing the softest emotions deep within the heart.
She blinked slightly, her long eyelashes trembling, trying to drive away the heartbreaking image of Su Jinyun from her eyes.
But that image lingered in her mind like a shadow, deeply imprinted in her heart.
Then, she turned her gaze to the woman beside her who always had a nonchalant air about her, yet was also playful and lively.
Her lips were pressed tightly together, like a sturdy dam, trying to stop the thousand words that were about to burst forth, but in the end, they only turned into a silent sigh.
If at this moment, there were someone with extraordinary supernatural powers and the ability to see through the boundaries of Yin and Yang, they would see these two faint, mysterious figures.
They would be instantly stunned and speechless, recognizing at a glance that these two were no ordinary people.
One of them is Qin Qianluo, whose solemn burial ceremony was held today, carrying the grief and remembrance of countless people.
Even though she had turned into a phantom, her innate heroic spirit and extraordinary nature still lingered, as if the glorious years of the past had never gone away.
Her posture remained upright, and the determination and gentleness in her eyes seemed to tell the story of everything she had done for this land and for all living beings.
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