Chapter 16
Shen Yi lifted his robe and knelt on the ground. The person announcing the decree was still chattering about the rewards bestowed by His Majesty. He lowered his head and knelt behind Shen Qian, listening to this magnificent imperial grace.
He was still in a daze, unable to hear a word, only knowing that his grandfather would never be able to return from Longxi to receive these rewards. Therefore, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful, but he quickly suppressed those rebellious thoughts.
Chen Yi pinched his palms, letting the pain rage to stay awake. His grandfather had been willing from the beginning to the end, willing to return to Longxi, willing to fight once more for the place he guarded.
His grandfather finally won.
So in fact, he can't blame anyone. Life and death, fortune and misfortune are not things he can decide.
As soon as the words fell, Shen Yi bowed his head and continued to listen to Shen Qian's thanks. He himself endured the excruciating pain. He didn't know how to dispel it, nor did he know how long the pain from inside and outside would entangle him.
The general's bones were covered in dust and Chang'an was covered in snow, but he still wanted to listen to the stories circulating in the streets and alleys of Chang'an City, and thank the Heavenly Family for the grace of his grandfather in Chang'an City.
Shen Yi closed his eyes, no longer listening to Shen Qian's conversation and compliments with the others. He could only close his eyes, and then it was as if he was still drinking in the pavilion, letting the old man laugh and scold him for being useless. He usually drank too much and had never tasted the flavor of Longxi after so many times in the general's mansion.
But he didn't dare close his eyes for too long, didn't dare tell himself it was all just a dream. He was terrified of waking up again and again, terrified of that tiny glimmer of hope growing wildly into a dream of reunion.
Whether awake or not, the old general is no longer in Chang'an City, and the plaque of the Huo Mansion will be removed one day.
The full moon in the sky became what most people expected, and it turned into a jade plate, filled with the joy of the end of the year, waiting for people to return home.
Chen Qian took the imperial edict and gave it to the steward of the Marquis' Mansion to count the rewards to be used for burial. The entire Marquis' Mansion was dressed in the same white as snow.
Shen Yi, dressed in mourning, stood silently in the courtyard. He watched the doctor go in and out of Huo's bedroom, watched the servants brew bowl after bowl of medicine, and watched them gather together.
It was funny to think that he didn't even dare to go see his mother. He was still afraid, afraid to see his mother's swollen eyes, afraid to see bowl after bowl of cold medicine, afraid that his mother would ask about his grandfather.
He also didn't want to see Chen Qian, and didn't want to care about his grandfather's affairs after his death. No matter whether it was the royal family or the marquis's mansion, no matter how much reward or lavish funeral he received, General Huo had already died in Yumen.
One day, or two days, Shen Yi could no longer remember clearly. He immediately forgot the map he had memorized for several months, and was about to forget what the piece of silk cloth looked like.
He suddenly lowered his head to see the burned flesh oozing pus again. The cold wind blew away the remaining pain, and he had to stretch out his fingertips to avoid staining his white shirt.
Shen Yi straightened his clothes and continued to look at the empty and plain white courtyard. In this dead silence, he could hear faint cries, faint discussions, and the sound of horses walking along the long street and the hustle and bustle of people.
The only thing he could do now was to wait for the coffin containing his grandfather to be transported back from Longxi, wait for Xue Congzhi to come back, and wait for those promises that could never be fulfilled to come back, all of which would become empty and turn into endless dreams at night.
He wanted to wake himself up with thousands of pains, and support himself with the constantly dripping blood, to take good care of his grandfather, his mother, Chen Qian, and himself.
Until the moment when he could no longer hold on, the servants rushed forward to support him, frantically calling for the doctor, some calling for the lady, and some calling for the marquis.
Now Shen Yi could no longer hear any other sounds, and he was immersed in countless dreams, waking up and falling asleep again, falling asleep and waking up again.
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He wanted to curl his knuckles into a fist, but he finally opened his eyes from the pain. He looked down at the blisters on his fingertips, took a silk cloth and wiped them clean carefully, not daring to let any blood stain his plain clothes.
Shen Yi didn't have time to put on his cloak before he straightened his robe and pushed open the door. Even though servants kept coming to call the young marquis and urge him to lie down and rest for a while, he just stood in the courtyard.
He was still in a daze, unable to calculate when his grandfather would return home. But he waited in the courtyard, and he would always be the first to receive the coffin—and the person buried in it.
Others didn't have to dress entirely in white like the Marquis's mansion, but the men carrying the coffin had all, having received favors from the old general, hurriedly purchased mourning clothes. Now, as they were carried from outside the city into the mansion, and having traveled all night, their white clothes were stained with indelible dust.
It was as if - returning to Chang'an step by step from Longxi.
The people carrying the coffin on both sides did not dare to put it down until Chen Qian led the servants to take over the rough wood, and then the coffin was carried into the marquis' mansion.
Shen Yi heard the noise outside the door and watched the coffin being carried into the mansion by the servants. Perhaps the burial in Longxi was even more hasty, as the coffin had no Chang'an patterns and was far from being of standard specifications.
They all knelt, bowing their heads as the souls returned home. A deathly silence fell throughout the mansion. Plain white against the rough, sunken wood, the mansion lacked any other color today.
Mrs. Huo also got out of bed forcefully, dragged her sick body to her knees in front of the coffin, and kowtowed.
It was unclear who started crying first, nor could it be determined whether it was from inside or outside the palace. Shen Yi stood up, but his eyes refused to leave the coffin. The wailing sound gradually came closer from afar, someone was calling for the old general, someone was crying for the old general.
He reached out his hand in a daze. Of course, no one dared to stop him now. He raised his other, unburned hand and used his fingertips to measure the length and width of the coffin inch by inch.
His maternal grandfather seemed to be just this tall. The bed in the general's mansion seemed to be just this wide. Mrs. Huo also came forward, leaning over the coffin, tears streaming from her eyes.
Chen Yi turned his head to look at his mother, feeling that he couldn't say anything to comfort her. He remembered that his grandfather hated to see his mother cry the most. If his mother suffered any grievances, she could live in the general's mansion at any time.
But his grandfather was already lying in the coffin, and no one could see him for the last time. None of them had the chance to see the old man for the last time.
Mrs. Huo seemed to be recalling the past, and she reluctantly wiped the tears that kept flowing down her face with her sleeve. Shen Yi reached out and handed her a silk handkerchief, watching his mother wipe her tears over and over again, but it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she could not wipe them away.
So I had no choice but to go against my grandfather's wishes and let my tears drip onto the coffin. The water marks spread out in circles on the driftwood, and finally merged into one piece.
Shen Yi continued to kneel beside the coffin. Only Shen Qian remained standing in the mansion, instructing the stewards to prepare for the funeral according to the imperial decree issued the day before.
He loosened his grip, thinking he had finished measuring the coffin. He restrained himself from sighing. Grandfather couldn't care less about how much A-niang was crying, but he couldn't let the old man worry about it again.
The coffin was finally carried into the hall by the servants and placed there to be buried in the mausoleum three days later.
Mrs. Huo, exhausted from crying all over again, fainted again. He watched the maid help his mother into the room and then hurriedly call a doctor. He closed his eyes and thought, his mother...
The funeral rules of the Later Shang Dynasty were no longer the same as those of the previous dynasty. Chen Qian was busy with the affairs of the palace and dealing with the situation in the court.
Chen Yi knelt in the hall, first thinking that he was the only one who could accompany his grandfather now, and then thinking about the quietness around him, he was not as worried as before.
Suddenly remembering something, he bowed to the coffin again, then hurriedly stood up to ask the mourners. The only thing the old man had left was the silver spear that always accompanied him.
One man hesitated and only told the truth after much questioning. It turned out that his silver spear had inexplicably broken on the way, and knowing that the old general was a skilled spearman, he had taken it upon himself to nail the spear into the coffin.
As he spoke, the man held out a wooden box with both hands. "Young Marquis... Now, all that remains is the red tassel from the silver spear. It's stained with blood, and we dare not place it in the coffin."
Chen Yi listened quietly, sighing silently in his heart. With trembling fingers, he opened the wooden box again. The red cloth originally sent from the Marquis' Mansion was no longer recognizable. The darker red had congealed into clumps, mixed with Longxi's gravel, making it look filthy beyond recognition.
Even the piece of cloth was missing a corner. Shen Yi closed the wooden box and thought of many things his grandfather had said and many things the old man had promised them.
So he handed the wooden box to the maid and asked her to take it to Mrs. Huo's room. At least my grandfather still brought the red cloth back with him, from Chang'an to Longxi, from Longxi to Yumen Pass, and from Yumen Pass to Longxi City, and finally returned to the Marquis' Mansion with him.
That blood-stained red tassel did not contain any of his grandfather's own blood - that was also his grandfather, the only General of Cavalry in the Later Shang Dynasty, proof of his invincibility.
His grandfather calmed the wrath of the royal family and quelled the war in Longxi. This should have been a great event and a great joyous occasion that year.
That piece of red cloth should have belonged to A Niang, and as for what happened to it later, it was up to A Niang to decide.
Chen Yi knelt back beside the coffin, kneeling so straight, always exhaling heavily, suppressing the tears that wanted to fall again, retracting his fingertips that wanted to hold the coffin, and not wanting to open his mouth so that his grandfather could hear any sobs.
They were all celebrating Longxi's great victory, and General Huo should have heard it. The common people walking along the long street, the merchants sitting in the restaurant, and the scholars debating in the teahouse, all of them were looking forward to the new year because of Longxi's great victory.
His grandfather certainly wouldn't want to see them like this, Shen Yi thought again and again. But he couldn't help but think about what the victory at Yumen Pass must have been like, what his grandfather would have looked like on the battlefield, and how he looked like lying in the coffin now.
His thoughts were flying around like tangled threads. Shen Yi finally shook his head lightly, bit his lower lip until it bled, and stopped thinking about these things.
He just wanted to wish his grandfather a happy ending. Ultimately, they couldn't find anyone to repair the silver spear, and they acknowledged their own uselessness.
His grandfather, when he left, stood alone in the world with a gun, and when he returned, he should also travel alone among the mountains and rivers with a gun.
He knew that the old man loved the wind and sand of Longxi, the people of Longxi, and the eagles of Longxi. Now, as he set out on his journey, he would go visit his old friend while cursing, while repairing the gun that had been with him all his life, and buying some wine along the way.
I just don’t know whether the pot of wine has the flavor of Longxi, and whether the old man enjoyed this trip as much as he did in his lifetime?
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