YCY - 10

Chapter 10: A Thousand Thoughts Mourn Frost Bamboo

“Namo the Great Compassionate Earth Store Bodhisattva, thus have I heard. At one time, the Buddha was in the Trayastrimsa Heaven, teaching the Dharma to his mother. At that time, an immeasurable number of Buddhas and great Bodhisattvas from the ten directions gathered to praise Sakyamuni Buddha for his inconceivable wisdom and supernatural powers, displayed amidst the five defilements of this evil world, taming stubborn beings and teaching them the knowledge of suffering and happiness...”

Under the guidance of Abbot Liaowu, the masters of Tanji Temple performed the ritual of opening the way, breaking through hells, transmitting light to the departed, consulting Yama, confronting evil spirits, guiding heroic souls, and inviting Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva. My brother and I, dressed in hemp clothes and mourning bands, held our parents’ memorial tablets in the mourning hall. The once vermillion Righteous Hall was now shrouded in white silk, a scene of sorrow. Most of the Han family’s men had died on the battlefield, leaving only us as the sole surviving branch. On this day of the funeral, we stood alone, bereft of kin.

A gong sounded, and the deep voice of steward Han Quan announced, “It is exactly the Chen hour; respectfully sending off General and Madam from home!” The Chen hour corresponds to nine o’clock in the morning. By this time, the sun had risen halfway, the air was clear, and wisps of clouds floated in the crisp autumn sky. Expressionless, I followed behind my brother, carefully holding Mother’s tablet. We stepped out of the mourning hall, treading on scattered chrysanthemum petals and facing fluttering white paper, each step filled with pain as we moved towards the main gate.

At the dark entrance of the imperial-bestowed Zhen Guo General’s residence, lanterns of uniform color hung on either side, swaying crookedly in the desolate cold wind, a sight most mournful. Servants and maids dressed in white stood on both sides, their cries of grief heartfelt and sincere. As we approached the gate, gongs and drums resounded, and mournful music rose all around.

“Crack!” Brother smashed the mourning pot at the door, and the funeral procession began its journey.

Han Qi and Han Shuo led thirty-two soldiers, shouldering thick poles, carrying Father and Mother’s coffins with heavy military steps following behind us. Inside the sandalwood coffin were no remains of Father and Mother, just two empty coffins containing only two sets of clothing. At the head of the procession, Brother bore the commemorative banner on his head, held a white banner in his hand, and carried Father’s memorial tablet leading the way. Steward Han Quan guided several young attendants who carried crying sticks and snow willows made of white paper tassels, walking on either side of the procession. Beside me, Huamei and Nongmo, draped in black hair with simple flowers, cradled urns of offerings, sobbing and unable to speak. The monks from Tanji Temple followed behind the coffin, chanting sutras to guide the souls. The remaining servants carried paper-made offerings and wreaths, held placards of solemn silence, carried golden implements and merit plaques, and beat the path-clearing gong at the very end.

The rhythmic sound of armor and footsteps echoed. Looking back, I saw Han family soldiers dressed in mourning attire, marching in neat formation behind the short funeral procession. “General, may you rest well!” Their deep, powerful voices rang through heaven and earth as they held spears, halberds, and clubs, with white tassels fluttering in the wind. There was no long procession of nobility or luxurious splendor typical of high-ranking officials’ funerals. Our parents’ funeral procession was plain yet solemn.

Upon exiting Changqing Street, the usually bustling Xuanwu Road lay silent and respectful. To our surprise, commoners lining the road bowed deeply, making way for the main street.

“General Han, may you rest well!” “General, take care!” “What shall we do, waaah~” “Fierce like tigers and wolves, Jing Yong threatens You Country!”

Each cry, whether of grief or fear, pierced our hearts. The common people are both lovable and selfish. Father was like a pillar in their hearts—revered while alive, feared upon departure. A renowned general’s loyal bones have turned to dust, earning fame before and after life. But as children, we would rather not have this name, nor these tears, wishing only for both parents to be alive and our loved ones healthy.

Walking onto Fuyun Bridge, it was said this was where Mother and Father first met. Below the bridge, smoke-like waters flowed gently, dotted with black-covered boats. The sky reflected on the water, rendering the bustling city colorless. On both banks of the misty river, trees stood bare, and red maples burned like fiery torches, consuming the remnants of autumn scenery.

In the procession, the paper money master swung his right arm, and square-holed white papers shot into the sky like festival fireworks, reaching heights of five to six zhang before fluttering down like willow fluff and snowflakes.

“General and Madam are crossing the river!” Han Quan’s mournful voice resonated across both banks.

Coins scattered on the ground, ringing clearly. “Father, Mother, crossing the river!” Brother and I cried out in unison, our eyes brimming with tears, our hearts aching painfully.

After crossing Fuyun Bridge, at the pavilion at the end of the bridge, a white tent was set up with banquet tables arranged. A refined scholar dressed in mourning attire stood there. As we approached, we recognized him as the young official from Juyue Hall who disdained flattery.

“Halt!” The steward announced loudly, and the procession stopped under the bridge.

“Young General,” the man bowed, “I am Luo Yin, Minister of the Imperial Stud. Today, I specially come to bid farewell to General and Madam.”

“So it’s Lord Luo. Yue Xiao has heard Father mention that although the Minister of the Imperial Stud is young, he is a crucial minister worthy of respect.” Brother, holding Father’s memorial tablet, slightly bowed, “Please forgive my sister and me for being in deep mourning, making it inconvenient to bow properly.”

“Young General is too courteous.” Luo Yin gestured for Brother and me to place our parents’ memorial tablets on the high table inside the white tent. He took three incense sticks, lifted his robe, and knelt on a prayer mat.

“My Lord, this is a significant gesture from a junior, improper to kneel so casually.” Han Quan quickly reminded.

Luo Yin waved his hand, stopping those around him from interfering. He respectfully bowed down, paused for a moment, then rose and inserted the incense reverently into the bronze burner. He picked up a white porcelain cup from the altar, held his sleeve, and slowly poured yellow wine onto the ground: “General’s loyalty and integrity evoke awe even among ghosts and gods. Lady’s virtue and spirit, a wisp ascending to the celestial palace.”

A gust of wind blew, scattering white flowers from the tent and causing the eulogies to flutter wildly. On the white banners were written dozens of forceful characters: the upper couplet read, “Ten thousand miles of red maple trees congeal blood-tears,” and the lower, “One stream of misty water makes mournful sounds.”

We took down our parents’ spirit tablets, bid farewell to Lord Luo, and the funeral procession continued forward. Passing through Shili Shop, we turned into Xiuhua Lane. The once bustling Ju Fu Building, Tian Le Hall, and the inns and teahouses along the street were all draped in white banners, creating an atmosphere of solemnity. On the upper floors, guests leaned against railings, their faces grave.

“General and Madam are turning the corner!” Han Quan called out according to custom at the street corner, guiding the spirits forward.

White paper money flew high, coins clinked as they landed. Brother and I responded loudly, “Father, Mother passing through the street!”

Exiting the lane, at the intersection of Baihu Road and Xuanwu Road, another white tent stood there. The person paying respects surprised me—it was Ling Yiran, the hostage prince of Qing Country, whose grace and elegance were unparalleled. Dressed in a white python robe and silver crown, his peach blossom eyes lacked their usual charm, looking solemnly at Brother and me.

“Halt!” The procession stopped again.

Ling Yiran’s brows were lightly furrowed, his face somber: “This humble servant is Prince Ling Yiran, ninth prince of Qing Country. Today, I specially come to send General and Madam on their final journey westward.”

Hearing this, Brother’s eyes widened in astonishment. He looked at me questioningly, and I nodded gently to confirm Ling Yiran’s identity.

“Your Highness personally coming leaves Yue Xiao deeply honored,” Brother said, pulling me to perform a kneeling bow. Before our knees touched the ground, a pair of clean hands helped us up. Brother looked astonished at the much shorter Ling Yiran and stood up dazedly.

“Lesser General and Young Miss need not trouble yourselves with such formalities.” Ling Yiran’s mature demeanor and sorrowful tone spoke volumes: “I have long admired General Han’s illustrious name and wished to visit your household. Regrettably, due to my special status, King You persistently refused.” He sighed deeply, worry evident in his eyes: “During the Qiao Festival at Juyue Hall, seeing Lady and Young Miss in distress troubled me deeply. Who could have foreseen Jing Yong resorting to such treachery? General’s loyalty and righteousness leave me lamenting endlessly.”

“Mother and Sister’s predicament?” Brother’s brows tightened as he looked at me doubtfully, “Qing Qing.”

Was Ling Yiran intentional or unintentional? I pondered his thoughts; his youthful countenance and childish sighs revealed nothing. Perhaps I overthought it. Sighing, I tugged at Brother’s sleeve: “After the funeral concludes, Qing Qing will explain everything one by one.”

Brother frowned, nodded, and led me to place our parents’ memorial tablets on the altar.

“Your Highness, allow this subordinate to conduct the main sacrifice on your behalf,” a blue-clad man offered humbly.

“Zhang Fang, you are not qualified!” Ling Yiran reprimanded sharply, “This servant wishes to personally pay respects. Step aside!”

“Yes.”

“Your Highness is noble; there is no need for such formalities.” Brother advised.

Ling Yiran raised his right arm, his gaze earnest: “Alas, I never had the chance to meet General in life. Today, let me fulfill my wish through this roadside tribute.”

He burned three incense sticks and solemnly bowed three times before our parents’ memorial tablets. Then, picking up a wine cup, he swung his arm, letting the yellow wine drift with the wind: “Heroic martyrs uphold their names; Generals value their honor. Better to be shattered jade and broken orchids than to remain intact tiles and rubble.”

After offering three cups of sacrificial wine, he ordered the white banners raised. On the couplets were inscribed: “Thousand-year rivers and moons, forever marvelous. Ancient battlefields and armies, all bearing grievances.”

My eyes widened suddenly; combining the beginning and end of the couplets formed the phrase “Eternal grievance.” What was he hinting at? How much did he know? Looking up, I saw Brother’s furrowed brows and trembling scar. He retrieved our parents’ memorial tablets, exhaled deeply, and gazed intently at Ling Yiran: “Yue Xiao thanks Your Highness for the roadside tribute and the enlightenment.”

“Young General, take care. Young Miss, take care.” Ling Yiran nodded slightly, his eyes shimmering.

Proceeding down Baihu Road, white tents were erected continuously. Those paying respects included nobles, ministers, wealthy merchants, and tycoons. Eulogies abounded, but none were as impactful as Ling Yiran’s.

Heavy-hearted, we watched white papers flutter and hearts break along the way. Exiting Beiting Gate, we reached the official road leading to the ancestral graves. At the crossroads beside the twisted left-rotating willow grove, I saw the most repugnant white tent. Lavish paper effigies, layers of gold and silver paper, featuring money-spouting beasts, golden boys and jade girls, mountains of gold and silver, scholarly tools, silk fabrics, antiques, flowerpots, banquets, operas, chefs, old women, serving maids, and serving boys. Above the mourning tent hung a yellow tiger representing King You, and beneath it stood dozens of officials uniformly wearing court robes, faces contorted in forced expressions, utterly ridiculous.

“Han nephew,” the leading middle-aged man feigned a sigh, his words hollow, “By the King’s decree, I’ve brought several officials to offer condolences.”

Brother bowed slightly, saying nothing.

“When news of the General’s death arrived, His Majesty didn’t sleep for three days, lamenting incessantly during court sessions.” Hmph, was this supposed to be praising King You? When my parents passed away, instead of expressing sorrow, you talk about the King’s hardship and pain—how absurd, how hypocritical!

“Prime Minister Qian,” Brother placed our parents’ memorial tablets on the intricately carved Eight Immortals altar and gave a slight bow, “Yue Xiao understands His Majesty’s intentions, but one matter confounds me. I hope the Chancellor can provide clarification.”

The Chancellor stroked his chin, squinted his eyes, resembling a venomous snake: “Nephew, please speak.”

“I want to know why Mother and Sister, who should have been in the palace, appeared on the battlefield? And why did news of Mother and Sister’s disappearance take so long to reach the front lines?” Brother’s tone was pressing, his gaze cold.

“This,” Prime Minister Qian shook his head and sighed deeply, “Madam and Young Miss were abducted while on their way to burn incense. The Tanji Temple backs Rong Mountain. The commander of the Imperial Guard was momentarily negligent and failed to station troops, giving the bandits an opportunity. Those derelict guards have been arrested, and His Majesty has ordered the Ministry of Justice to thoroughly investigate this matter.” He then added remorsefully, “After Madam and Young Miss were abducted, my sister felt deeply guilty since they were traveling together when the misfortune occurred. My sister and elder sister observed a month of vegetarianism to pray for Madam and Young Miss.”

Sister and elder sister—was he the brother of Consort Shu and Queen You? I glared angrily at him. What prayers! This calamity was orchestrated by your family, your good sister ordering the drugging. How dare you frame the Imperial Guard Commander!

“As for why this wasn’t communicated to the General at the front lines, it was also a matter of necessity,” Prime Minister Qian sighed repeatedly, seemingly helpless, “After Madam and Young Miss disappeared, His Majesty ordered all regional governors to search rigorously. Alas, the bandits were too cunning, leaving no trace. With the major battle imminent, His Majesty feared such news reaching the front lines would unsettle the General’s mind and ruin the army’s morale. Out of necessity, it had to be concealed.”

Hmph, what a convenient excuse! In reality, King You feared Father and Brother returning in anger, unwilling to lose face. What a glory-seeking tyrant!

Brother gripped my hand tightly, his palm exerting more pressure. The scar on his right cheek hardened, his eyes blazing, his body rigid.

Prime Minister Qian and his cohort of sycophants performed their rituals ceremoniously, offering wine and burning paper. Brother strode forward, cradling our parents’ spirit tablets, unwilling to linger further, and turned to leave with us.

“Ah! Nephew Han!” Behind us, Prime Minister Qian called urgently, and the procession halted again.

“Nephew Han, His Majesty entrusted me with another matter.” Prime Minister Qian’s eyes gleamed with urgency.

“What is it?” Brother responded coldly.

He narrowed his eyes, lips curling slightly, casting a cool glance at the white-armored soldiers behind the funeral procession: “Within five days, please hand over the seal of the Han family army.”

“What!” Brother roared, his eyes wide with fury.

“His Majesty considers you still young, fearing you might find this responsibility burdensome. Thus, he orders you to relinquish the seal, temporarily entrusting it to General Liu Zhongyi of the Tiger Roar Army.” The Prime Minister, smug with satisfaction, looked at the furious Brother, “This is the King’s order. Please don’t act rashly.” Smirking, he glanced at the memorial tablets in our arms: “I have completed the task assigned by His Majesty. Farewell.” With a flick of his sleeve, he led the officials into their sedan chairs, leaving behind only the ostentatious mourning tent by the roadside.

Raising my head, I squinted at the couplet on the white banner inside the tent: “Imperial grace vast as the sea, Ministerial loyalty firm as the mountain.”

Brother hugged Father’s memorial tablet tightly, standing erect under the autumn sun. His handsome face trembled slightly, and the scar appeared somewhat grotesque.

“Steward Uncle, do we have ink and brush?” I glanced at Han Quan, speaking softly.

“Replying to Young Miss, we did not bring any; it was an oversight on my part.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I waved my hand dismissively, picked up a twig, and dipped it in the black ashes from the basin. Standing on tiptoe, I added two characters to the white banner.

Turning back to see Brother’s understanding expression, my gaze remained calm as I raised my youthful voice: “Let’s proceed, escorting my parents back to their homeland!”

The funeral music resumed, and the gongs thundered. Looking up at the soaring white paper money, my heart grew cold: “Is imperial grace truly vast as the sea? Ministerial loyalty stands firm as the mountain!”