vstars Chapter 2312 Welcoming in Procession
Chapter 2312 Welcoming in Procession
After reciting the last sentence, Deng Hongwen slowly closed the eulogy and raised his head.
His eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice had regained an unprecedented clarity and solemnity.
He looked around, at the black coffin, at the solemnly standing emperor, at the white banners and thousands of mourners, and then, gathering his strength, he proclaimed loudly:
"The auspicious time has arrived—"
He paused briefly, a pause that seemed to hold everyone's breath in suspense.
"—Funeral procession!"
The words "funeral procession" struck like a thunderclap, tearing apart the frozen silence.
Almost simultaneously, hundreds of musicians played funeral music outside the mourning hall and along both sides of the imperial road.
The music was not the triumphant grandeur of victory, nor the solemnity of a festival, but rather pure, undisguised sorrow.
The chime bells sounded deep and mournful, the drums beat slowly like a heartbeat, and the sheng and xiao played softly and plaintively, all blending into a heart-wrenching sound wave that lingered for a long time within the palace walls.
"Lift the bar—"
The head pallbearer shouted hoarsely. All sixteen pallbearers strained simultaneously, lifting the coffin off the ground and propelling it forward steadily. The funeral banner led the way.
Following them was a grand procession of ceremonial guards—golden gourds, axes, and stirrups, all wrapped in plain silk; white banners, white pennants, and white canopies stretched out like a flowing snowfield.
The 1,200 Imperial Guards protecting the spirit were all dressed in white armor and white cloaks, their steps heavy yet orderly, each step touching the softest spot in people's hearts.
Chu Ning strode forward, personally supporting the coffin, and walked beside it.
He was an emperor and didn't need to do this, but he insisted on seeing Han Xing off on his final journey.
Shen Wanying, Wu Zetian, Feng Mulan, and the three princes and princesses followed closely behind.
Then came generals such as Xue Huaide, Zhao Yu, and Ma Chao, civil officials such as Su Tingmei and Liu Shouren, and the entire court of civil and military officials, as well as members of the imperial family and nobles.
The funeral procession of thousands of people, like a slowly flowing, pure white river, meandered out from Fengxian Hall, through Chengtian Gate, and into Zhuque Avenue.
Zhuque Avenue was the widest and most bustling main road in Yingdu, where merchants gathered and carriages and horses thronged.
However, at this moment, the imperial road was deserted, and the doors and windows of shops and residences were all tightly closed.
The soldiers of the Five Cities Garrison were stationed every ten steps, facing the street and with their backs to the coffin, their armor solemn and motionless.
The entire street was silent except for the sounds of mournful music, footsteps, and fluttering flags, as if it were an empty passageway leading to the underworld.
Chu Ning walked on in silence.
His gaze was fixed on the banner in front of him, on the bright yellow satin curtain covering the coffin, as if he could see through it Han Xing's ashen yet relieved face.
He didn't say a word, he just walked, one step after another.
Zhuque Avenue is very long, and he is willing to keep escorting people like this forever.
However, when the funeral procession reached the middle of Zhuque Avenue and was about to turn towards the western suburban city gate—
Chu Ning's steps suddenly stopped.
He heard a sound.
It wasn't funeral music, nor footsteps, but something else, something grander and more real—crying.
The crying came from the direction of the city gate.
At first, it was only faint and sporadic, like the mournful chirping of cicadas in winter.
But as the procession gradually approached the city gate, the cries grew clearer and louder, like a tidal wave bursting its banks, surging forth overwhelmingly.
Chu Ning suddenly raised his head and looked towards the city gate.
The city gates were wide open.
Outside the city gate, the official road, which should have been empty and deserted, was now densely packed with kneeling people.
They were not officials, nor soldiers, but ordinary people.
They were the people of Yingdu, people who rushed over overnight from all around the surrounding villages and towns upon hearing the news.
They wore the simplest linen clothes and brown jackets, and some even wore only a white cloth tied over their thin winter clothes.
Men, women, the elderly, and children, densely packed together, knelt along the winding official road for miles, stretching as far as the eye could see.
In their hands, they usually held a handful of yellow paper; in front of them, there was usually a low table with an incense burner, a bowl of water, or just a cold, hard steamed bun.
They were seeing off Han Xing—an old general they may have never met, but who had heard of his name and were grateful for his achievements.
White paper, like snowflakes, fluttered in the air.
It's unclear who started it, but a handful of yellow paper was thrown into the gloomy sky, and soon, hundreds of handfuls of yellow paper were raised at the same time.
The paper money swirled, drifted, and fell in the cold wind, covering the official road, the withered grass, and landing on the shoulders and hair of the people.
It landed on the soldiers' armor and weapons, and on the hem of Chu Ning's plain white mourning clothes.
The sky was filled with white snow, like a silent, blanketing snowfall that covered the entire capital city.
The sound of weeping echoed across the fields.
It wasn't the kind of restrained, ceremonial weeping, but a truly heart-wrenching, uncontrollable wailing.
An old man prostrated himself on the ground, his forehead covered with dirt and paper ash.
A woman holding a child, tears streaming down her face, murmured, "General Han is a good man."
Young men knelt by the roadside, pounding their stiff knees and crying like children.
"General Han—may you rest in peace—"
A hoarse, mournful cry suddenly rang out from the crowd, only to be drowned out by even louder weeping.
Chu Ning stood at the city gate, with officials standing solemnly behind him and people prostrate before him.
He gazed at the sky filled with paper money, at the endless crowds, at the simplest yet heaviest sorrow that could not be described by any ritual or words, and remained silent for a long time.
He suddenly remembered Han Xing's hands that gripped his tightly before his death, his cloudy yet stubborn eyes, and his heart-wrenching last words, "Promise this old minister."
Han Qing, did you see that?
What you are protecting is not just a city in Jianghuai, or a place in Chu Ning.
You are protecting them.
It is these millions upon millions of people of the Great Chu who wear mourning clothes for you and shed tears for you in the long streets.
You didn't die in vain.
Chu Ning slowly and deeply nodded to the strangers kneeling in the cold wind, to the paper money filling the sky and the earth-shaking cries.
Then, he turned around, continued to carry the coffin, and walked towards the open city gate, towards the western suburban official road leading to the Martyrs' Mausoleum and the final resting place of Han Xing.
Behind them, white paper continued to flutter, and the cries continued to echo.
The funeral procession, slowly and resolutely, merged into the sea of white mourners, forming an even more vast and profound river of sorrow that flowed into the distance.
The people did not block the funeral procession; instead, they spontaneously lined both sides of the road to mourn.
As the funeral procession moved forward, many ordinary people spontaneously followed along the sides and behind it.
Upon seeing this, Wu Zetian frowned and stepped forward, asking, "Your Majesty, with so many people here, won't something unexpected happen?"
Chu Ning glanced at the sea of people and shook his head, saying, "They're all here to see General Han off; nothing will happen."
"Let the team keep moving forward."
Wu Zetian wanted to say something more, but seeing Chu Ning's determined look, she wisely kept quiet.