Chapter 22: The Funeral

After returning to the room, Di Jiang immediately helped Zhong Xu sit on the bed. Then, rummaging through her pocket, she pulled out a golden pill and, without waiting for Zhong Xu to refuse, popped it into his mouth. With a quick slap to his chin, the pill slid down his throat and melted into his body within moments.

“What did you just give me?” Zhong Xu exclaimed in shock.

“A ten-ingredient tonic pill made by Old Bai!” Di Jiang smiled sweetly. She then checked Zhong Xu’s pulse again, finding it stronger and more vibrant than before. Flipping open his eyelids, she noticed the dark marks beneath had vanished.

Di Jiang exhaled deeply, finally feeling reassured.

“Old Bai’s pills are still somewhat useful.”

“Who is Old Bai?”

“A friend who enjoys alchemy.” Di Jiang stood up, poured a cup of tea, and handed it to Zhong Xu. “Rinse your mouth with this.”

“Thank you.” Zhong Xu took the cup and drank it all in one gulp. By now, though he still had many questions, he was certain that Di Jiang wasn’t a bad person. Like him, she was deeply immersed in Daoist practices. Their differences likely stemmed from belonging to different sects, leading to varying methods of handling situations.

Gradually, he began to feel a flicker of admiration for her.

“Is Li Xingzhi alright?” Zhong Xu asked.

Di Jiang gave a faint “Mm” in response: “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? The murderer has been brought to justice. After enduring this calamity, she should find peace.”

“Mm.” Di Jiang remained impassive, seemingly indifferent. Seeing her like this, Zhong Xu couldn’t help but feel even more perplexed.

“Aren’t you concerned about her?” Zhong Xu pressed.

“I am. Otherwise, why would I have saved her?”

“Then why do you seem so indifferent when I mention her?”

Di Jiang paused, then chuckled: “What else should I do? Should I be overjoyed? Old Pan is already dead, and Sister Li didn’t want to live alone in the first place. Saving her might not align with her true wishes. I did this only to help Pan Yuelang.”

“Mm…” Zhong Xu nodded, falling silent.

He looked up at Di Jiang, seeing her stand beside him with a warm smile. Her eyes sparkled with an intensity that didn’t resemble someone looking at a mere neighbor. It was as if she were an old friend he hadn’t seen in years—her gaze brimming with unspoken words, yet unable to utter a single syllable when face-to-face.

To break the awkward atmosphere, Zhong Xu softly said: “I’ve seen Pan Xingui.”

“Old Pan?” Di Jiang was astonished, stammering: “Where did you see him?”

“On the Bridge of Helplessness.”

“You went to the underworld?!” Di Jiang’s face was filled with shock. After recovering from her surprise, she murmured: “No wonder… No wonder you’re so badly injured! For a mortal to recklessly enter the underworld, sustaining injuries is the least of your worries—it could even shorten your lifespan…”

“How do you know so much?” Zhong Xu interrupted her. Her anxious demeanor made him feel uneasy as well.

“Who doesn’t know these things? As the leader of Baiyun Temple, acting so carelessly is reckless and shows little regard for yourself!” Di Jiang fretted, rummaging through her pocket once more and pulling out another golden pill. “Quick, take another one.”

“Another one?” Zhong Xu exclaimed in surprise.

“Eat it!” Di Jiang insisted firmly, whispering almost inaudibly: “I don’t want you disappearing from my sight again…”

After obediently swallowing the pill, Zhong Xu continued: “After visiting Pan Xingui in the underworld, I feel there’s still something strange about the situation.”

“What did Old Pan say?”

“Pan Xingui’s soul is incomplete. Only one fragment of his spirit remains.”

“How could this be?” Di Jiang feigned astonishment.

Zhong Xu shook his head: “Old Pan must have already reincarnated, and the remaining fragment seems to be waiting for someone.”

“How do you know he’s reincarnated?”

“I couldn’t sense his presence in the underworld.”

Hearing this, Di Jiang was genuinely surprised. She hadn’t lingered long in the underworld and hadn’t paid much attention to Old Pan’s condition. Now, hearing Zhong Xu’s explanation, she found the situation quite peculiar.

“Are you sure Old Pan left behind only one fragment while the rest of his soul reincarnated?”

“That’s how it appears to me.”

“What ordinary person would dare do such a thing?” Di Jiang exclaimed. “Regardless of whether King Yan permits it, losing a fragment of one’s soul means being reborn as a fool. Who would willingly choose to be a fool?”

“This is precisely what puzzles me.”

“…”

At this moment, Di Jiang suddenly recalled a line Sister Li had sung in the bamboo grove: “If we are to be together, let us pledge till our hundredth year. If one dies at ninety-seven, wait for me on the Bridge of Helplessness for three years.”

Now that Old Pan had gone first, he waited for her on the bridge according to their promise. Yet, after fulfilling his vow, he left behind only a faint, smiling fragment of his spirit. Did this mean Old Pan loved her, or did he not?

Love is responsibility; it’s keeping promises.

Not loving means he’d rather be reborn a fool than wait a little longer on the Bridge of Helplessness, refusing to meet her one last time.

Yes, Old Pan waited for her—but he didn’t want to see her again in the next life.

Di Jiang shook her head and laughed softly, feeling that the ways of mortals were truly unfathomable.

After instructing Zhong Xu to rest, Di Jiang exited his room. By now, apart from her and her two attendants, along with Zhong Xu, there was no one else staying at the inn. Even the usual stream of gossiping villagers avoided the place, turning it into what felt like a haunted house.

Who would dare come to such an ominous site?

The deeds of Widow Meng chilled people to the bone.

The next day, Pan Xingui’s funeral was held.

The villagers had dug a large grave for him in an open field near the mountain, intending to give him a grand burial. However, due to the absence of anyone from the Pan family to oversee the arrangements in the past few days, the matter had been postponed. Now that Sister Li had awakened and Pan Yuelang had regained some strength, the entire village pooled funds to organize a grand funeral procession for Old Pan.

Old Pan’s coffin had been resting in the ancestral hall for some time. Given that his body had been submerged in water for a prolonged period, the coffin remained sealed, and no viewing was held. Pan Yuelang didn’t even get to see his beloved father one last time—a sorrow beyond words. His small arms struggled to hold a spirit banner twice his height, making Wen Yao’s heart ache as she watched it sway. She silently prayed he wouldn’t collapse halfway through.

“Has Sister Li arrived yet?” The village elder glanced at the sky and asked Pan Yuelang.

Pan Yuelang shook his head. “Let’s wait a little longer. Mother said she wanted to dress up properly to come.”

The village elder nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Logically speaking, with her husband dead, a wife should be overwhelmed with grief, let alone have the composure to dress up.

Pan Yuelang understood the elder’s implication, but he knew his mother’s temperament. Once she set her mind on something, no one could stop her. If she said she wanted to dress up beautifully, she would ensure she looked perfect before stepping out.

Everyone waited from morning until noon.

Fearing something might have happened to Sister Li at home, Di Jiang went to check on her. When she pushed open the door to Sister Li’s room, she found her sitting in front of a dressing table, wearing a bright red apricot gown and trembling as she attempted to draw her eyebrows.

“The time has come, Sister Li. If we delay any further, it’ll grow dark,” Di Jiang urged.

Sister Li shook her head, refusing. “Pan Lang loved cleanliness. I must look my most beautiful to meet him.”

Hearing this, Di Jiang felt her reasoning was understandable. She stepped forward, took the eyebrow pencil, and carefully drew her brows. After finishing her eyebrows, she painted her lips and completed her facial makeup. Finally, Sister Li handed her a floral hair ornament.

It was a decorative piece made from red apricot blossoms, perfectly accentuating her forehead.

“This makeup looks stunning,” Di Jiang remarked, admiring Sister Li’s reflection in the bronze mirror. Her current appearance was different from before.

At this moment, she exuded a newfound sense of composure.

“This is how I looked when I first met him. He said that after catching just one glimpse of me from afar in the crowd, he couldn’t take his eyes off me,” Sister Li said, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

Di Jiang gave a small shrug and smiled, silently agreeing.

At this moment, Sister Li took out twelve jeweled hairpins from her jewelry box and laid them out neatly on the table. “Miss Di, do you know how to style hair?”

Di Jiang nodded.

“Help me arrange a floral crown bun, using all twelve of these hairpins—none can be omitted.”

“Alright.”

Without asking further, Di Jiang carefully styled her hair according to what she had seen before. After finishing the bun, she began inserting the jeweled hairpins one by one. Only then did she realize that all twelve were exquisitely crafted gold filigree pieces—far beyond what an ordinary household could afford. She remembered seeing Long Ming and Liu Zhi preparing their dowry not long ago, and even in Taiping Prefecture’s finest goldsmith shops, they couldn’t find hairpins with such intricate designs.

Curious, Di Jiang couldn’t help but ask: “Is this part of your dowry, Sister Li?”

Sister Li smiled sweetly and nodded.

“It seems you came from a wealthy family—a true daughter of nobility.”

“Who says otherwise…” Sister Li said proudly. “You’re probably wondering why I married Pan Lang, aren’t you?”

Di Jiang didn’t shy away and nodded openly. This question wasn’t just hers—it was likely on everyone’s minds in the village.

“You might not have seen Old Pan when he was young, but I did. And in my eyes, no matter how time passes or circumstances change, he remains the same as he was back then.”

“What was he like back then?” Di Jiang couldn’t imagine.

“He? Oh, he was quite vain,” Sister Li’s thoughts drifted far away, back to the day she first met Old Pan many years ago.

“That day, apricot flowers were in full bloom, casting reflections across the pond. Old Pan stood under the apricot tree, clad in a bright red robe, speaking eloquently and outshining all the noble sons around him.”

Sister Li chuckled softly and continued: “He always insisted on bathing twice daily—morning and evening—and changing his clothes three times a day. Once in the morning, again after his midday rest, and once more before dinner. Each set had to be meticulously cleaned, pressed, and spotless.”

“Hmm… So he had a bit of a cleanliness obsession.”

“That’s not an obsession—that’s having high standards for oneself,” Sister Li shot Di Jiang a sidelong glance.

Di Jiang quickly waved her hands in apology: “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have spoken ill of your beloved.”

Sister Li shook her head: “It’s not that. Perhaps others wouldn’t understand, but from that moment on, I made up my mind: I would marry no one else but him in this lifetime.”

“What happened afterward?”

“Afterward, he proved himself extraordinary, gaining the favor of influential figures and being entrusted with important responsibilities.” Sister Li finished speaking and lowered her gaze. The earlier spark in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a trace of melancholy.

“But good times didn’t last long. Pan Lang offended someone and was framed, ending up in prison. They bribed the jailers, who broke his leg while he was incarcerated. I exhausted every ounce of strength to save his life. Later, I severed ties with my family for him. Together, we changed our names and fled to the ends of the earth.”

As Sister Li finished speaking, Di Jiang secured the last hairpin in place.

“Let’s go—we shouldn’t keep Pan Lang waiting,” Sister Li said as she stood up to adjust her robes. It was only then that Di Jiang noticed her attire was a complete set of ceremonial zhai robes.

The zhai robes, comprising the three-tiered zhaiyi, undershirt, knee-cover, leather belt, sash, large ribbon, jade pendants, small ribbons, socks, and shoes, were historically reserved for royalty and nobility. Wearing them signified status—at the very least, one would need to be a titled lady; otherwise, it would constitute a grave offense.

Only now did Di Jiang examine closely and realize that Sister Li’s attire included every component of the traditional zhaiyi . The complexity of wearing it was immense, with no room for error in any step. No wonder it had taken her so long…