12dz Chapter 2311 A Mighty Force!
Chapter 2311 A Mighty Force!
The hall was completely silent, save for the faint crackling of burning candles and the distant, indistinct chanting.
Finally, Chu Ning slowly and solemnly lifted the front of her mourning clothes and knelt down.
For an emperor to kneel before his subjects is the highest honor, transcending the established rituals.
All the officials and eunuchs in the hall were deeply moved by the sight and knelt down in unison, bowing their heads to the ground, without daring to make the slightest sound.
Shen Wanying, Wu Zhao, and Feng Mulan also knelt behind Chu Ning.
Under the gentle guidance of the nanny, the three princes and princesses knelt down properly and kowtowed in an orderly manner, following the example.
Chu Ning respectfully performed the three kneelings and nine kowtows ceremony.
Each bow and each kowtow was performed with utmost solemnity, as if to infuse all the sorrow, respect, guilt, and promises deep within their hearts into this ancient ritual.
After the ceremony, he straightened up but did not stand up immediately, remaining in a kneeling position.
His gaze passed over the coffin, as if traversing time and space, and saw the old general who fought a bloody battle beneath the walls of Jianghuai City.
That loyal minister who poured out his heart in the council chamber, that old man who clutched his own hand tightly in the carriage and left behind his tearful last words.
"Han Qing."
Chu Ning spoke, his voice not loud, slightly hoarse, yet it echoed clearly in the silent palace.
"You will be setting off tomorrow."
He paused, as if speaking to an old friend: "I will definitely keep my promise to you."
"Domestically, I will maintain order. As for the Tang Dynasty, I will personally destroy it. You can go in peace."
He said no more and slowly stood up.
Shen Wanying and the others also stood up.
Chu Ning turned to look at Deng Hongwen, who stood respectfully to one side with a sorrowful expression, and his voice regained some of its imperial dignity and clarity:
"Lord Deng."
"Your subject is here." Deng Hongwen bowed.
"The funeral is tomorrow. Have all the procedures been finalized and confirmed?"
Deng Hongwen immediately reported: "Your Majesty, I have repeatedly checked with the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, the Court of Imperial Banquets, and the Imperial Guard. Tomorrow at the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the coffin will depart from the Fengxian Hall, pass through the Chengtian Gate and the Zhuque Avenue, and be buried at the Zhonglie Mausoleum in the western suburbs."
"The five city garrisons have been ordered to clean the streets along the way, and the Jingzhao Prefecture has informed the people that they may set up incense tables and offer sacrifices along the way."
"The ceremonial guard, procession, and soldiers protecting the coffin, totaling 1,200, are all fully equipped and ready to go. The eulogy and inscription have been completed in accordance with His Majesty's imperial approval."
"I will serve as the chief officiant, and there will be a total of thirty-six assistant officiants. The list has been finalized, and all matters have been prepared."
Chu Ning nodded slightly: "Very good. Tomorrow, I will lead all the civil and military officials to personally escort him to the Vermilion Bird Gate. Minister Han has dedicated his life to the country, and I... should see him off on his final journey."
"Your Majesty's great favor is surely appreciated by General Han in heaven." Deng Hongwen bowed deeply.
Chu Ning fell silent, taking one last look at Han Xing's coffin. In that gaze were sorrow, respect, and an unyielding will.
Then, he turned around and said softly to Shen Wanying and the others, "Let's go back to the palace. We have to get up early tomorrow."
He stepped out of the mourning hall first, into the gloomy, gray light of the day.
The cold wind blew up again, fluttering the hem of his plain white mourning clothes.
Shen Wanying, Wu Zhao, Feng Mulan, and the children followed silently behind.
Behind him, the candlelight in the mourning hall still flickered, and the sandalwood incense still lingered. Han Xing's coffin lay quietly, awaiting the grand finale tomorrow, a ceremony that would surely shake the entire capital.
This also reflects the Chu state's accumulation of strength and determination to win a more massive conquest, fueled by the belief that a desperate army will prevail.
The seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month, Yingdu.
Before dawn, heavy, leaden clouds hung low over the city walls, as if accumulating a sky full of sorrow for this state funeral.
The biting north wind howled across the empty imperial road, swirling up scattered snowflakes that lashed against the vermilion palace walls, producing a soft, mournful sound.
At the exact hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the vermilion gate of the side hall of Fengxian Hall slowly opened.
Inside the hall, thousands of white candles were lit simultaneously, illuminating the entire mourning hall in a pure white light, as if it were daytime.
Amidst the swirling smoke of incense, Han Xing's coffin, made of the finest golden nanmu wood lacquered in black and painted with gold patterns, was steadily carried out of the palace gate by sixteen pallbearers dressed in snow-white mourning clothes and wearing hemp sashes around their waists.
The coffin was covered with a bright yellow satin embroidered with gold dragons, a royal decree, a supreme honor granted by the emperor that exceeded the regulations for dukes.
The memorial banner, held high, fluttered in the cold wind and candle smoke; its white background and red characters were a striking sight.
"The spirit of Han Xing, the late Duke of Zhongguo of the Great Chu, posthumously honored as Zhongwu."
Chu Ning, dressed in plain white mourning clothes without any decorations, with a coarse hemp belt around his waist and a silver crown in his hair, led the civil and military officials to stand in the center of the imperial road in front of the palace.
Behind him were Empress Shen Wanying, Vice Empress Wu Zetian, Consort Feng Mulan, all dressed in mourning clothes, as well as three princes and princesses, also dressed in plain mourning clothes and led by their maids.
Following them were generals such as Xue Huaide, Zhao Yu, Ma Chao, and Guan Yun, civil officials such as Su Tingmei and Liu Shouren, and a massive funeral procession where the entire court of officials changed into mourning clothes.
Everyone stood solemnly with their heads bowed, and no one uttered a sound.
In the vast palace square, thousands of people gathered, yet all that could be heard was the howling of the north wind and the fluttering of white banners.
The coffin paused briefly at the bottom of the crossbar in the center of the imperial road.
Deng Hongwen, Minister of Rites and chief officiant at the state funeral, dressed in the most solemn sacrificial robes—a black robe and a white skirt, wearing a Liang crown and holding a jade tablet, stepped forward steadily and stood three feet in front of the coffin.
His face was thin and gaunt, his expression solemn, and his eyelids were slightly lowered, as if he were gathering all the solemnity and sorrow.
Behind him, thirty-six accompanying officials lined up on both sides according to their rank, all bowing their heads and holding their breath.
Deng Hongwen unfolded the eulogy in his hand—a final draft that he had meticulously crafted over three nights of burning incense and bathing, after being polished by the Hanlin Academy and personally reviewed and approved by His Majesty.
The scroll is made of mutton fat jade, with a plain silk background, and the ink marks are still fresh.
He took a deep breath of the biting cold air, the breath seeming to carry shards of ice that pierced his lungs.
But it made his voice even more steady and solemn, clearly penetrating every inch of the stagnant air in the square:
"In the seventh year of the reign of Emperor Jianyuan of the Great Chu Dynasty, on the seventeenth day of the twelfth month, the Emperor dispatched Deng Hongwen, Minister of Rites, to solemnly announce to the spirits of Duke Zhongguo and Duke Zhongwu Han..."
His voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to have a power that transcended time and space, each word resonating deep within everyone's heart.
The eulogy recounts Han Xing's life—he joined the army in his youth, rose to fame in his prime, served the previous dynasty, and later returned to the Great Chu.
With the Jianghuai region pacified, Zhao Han quelled the rebellion, and Yan and Yun regions expanded their territory, this Northern Expedition was a testament to strategic planning and decisive victory over a powerful enemy.
He remained unyielding even after being captured and subjected to torture, and on his way home, he coughed up blood as a final remonstrance.
Every achievement was accompanied by Deng Hongwen's poignant recounting; every past event was brought back to life before everyone's eyes in his slow and clear tone.
"Just when the nation was counting on him as a pillar, who would have thought that such a virtuous and capable man would perish so suddenly..."
Upon reaching this point, Deng Hongwen's voice finally trembled slightly.
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, as if he were forcibly swallowing some surging emotion.
In the square, some officials couldn't help but sob softly.
"Alas! The moon is cold over the Jianghuai River, the wind is chilly at the long pavilion, the loyal soul will not return, and the white banner hangs in vain."
"Mountains and rivers weep, heaven and earth grieve. For a thousand autumns and ten thousand generations, may their heroic spirit be forever remembered. May they rest in peace. Alas, how sorrowful!"