However, those who have never experienced such events will never truly understand.
On the streets of the great Han capital, a hundred-year-old elder from Xianyang shook his head and sighed: “That was a phoenix from the ninth heaven, destined to bring blessings to all living beings and grace to the four seas. Even the fierce fires of the nine underworlds could not singe a single feather. Brilliant and dazzling, beautiful as a phoenix.”
It was a noon with brilliant sunshine yet cold and desolate winds. Yellow sand swirled up from the flat ground, and the shops, taverns, pawnshops, banks, and tea houses on both sides of the main road had all unanimously closed their doors. The banners on the door posts hung limply like pieces of dead white skin, stirring twice when an occasional long wind passed through, then hanging lifeless once more. The usually noisy and clamorous brothels were now silent. Those courtesans and dancing girls who normally dressed in bright colors with heavy makeup had unusually adopted light makeup and plain clothes today, wearing white flowers in their hair as they stood at the front of the pleasure quarters, gazing distantly toward the end of the long street, as if waiting for something. The street vendors had packed up their stalls early, but none had gone home. They stood on the street with bated breath, standing on tiptoe, craning their necks, silent as death. Under the bright white sun, two snow-white vultures circled in the vast sky, occasionally letting out sharp cries that echoed broken and desolate across the sky above Xianyang City.
Everything seemed like a silent play—soundless, yet pervaded with bone-deep cold and desolation.
Time passed slowly, seeming sluggish yet somehow swift.
After an unknown period, a long wind suddenly arose, swirling on the ground and howling as it rolled across the spacious street, forcing the people on the street to cover their eyes and mouths, their long sleeves shielding their faces to barely block the raging gale.
In the howling wind, the creaking sound of wheels slowly arose from the end of the long street. Hearing this sound, the vendors, merchants, tavern waiters, tea house servers, brothel madams, and those ordinary common people living at the very bottom of society all lowered their hands and widened their eyes to look toward the end of the street.
One long spear, two war sabers, three pairs of boots, over a hundred imperial soldiers in complete armor, over a thousand guards holding bows, arrows, and long spears, and on the periphery, tens of thousands of armored cavalry from the capital garrison all gathered together, stretching continuously for several li as they slowly advanced toward Zhengyang Square in a mighty procession.
The clanking of chains was heavy and grating. On an iron chain dragon several hundred meters long were tethered thousands of court officials—current literary scholars, assistant ministers from the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Works, generals with power in the Ministry of War, and various court officials large and small along with their families. They stretched in a winding line, all wearing gray prison clothes, looking dejected with bloodstained garments, clearly having endured severe torture. They walked unsteadily with great difficulty, their faces ashen and completely devoid of spirit or luster. Suddenly, with a thud, a child of about eleven or twelve years old collapsed to the ground. What seemed to be his mother nearby was about to reach out to help the child when a soldier beside them lashed out with a whip.
A piercing scream immediately rang throughout the long street.
The new Prefect of Xianyang, together with the Three Judicial Commissioners and three Chief Legal Officers from the Supreme Court, all frowned. Prefect Xu Changling frowned and gave a look to a guard beside him. The iron-faced soldier stepped forward, grabbed the child from the ground, and disappeared into the crowd of soldiers.
In the cold, silent sky, only the young mother’s heart-rending screams remained.
These were all the court officials implicated in Prince Xuan’s rebellion—those ministers who had been friendly with Prince Xuan. After gritting their teeth and enduring bitter suffering, they had failed to produce the answers Qin Zhiye wanted. Therefore, today they would be executed alongside Prince Xuan.
Along with their families.
Cold winds howled and yellow sand blinded eyes, yet no one covered their eyes anymore. Because after the long human chain passed, the creaking of wheels once again came from the end of the long street, and a crudely made prison cart slowly appeared in everyone’s sight.
The rough wooden cart was earth-yellow in color, filled with a faint stench of blood, its dark red base glowing dimly with a blood-red light. This prison cart, which had carried countless prisoners—some guilty of heinous crimes, others dying unjustly—finally welcomed the most glorious moment of its prison cart career today. The man in the cart had relaxed long eyebrows and a face like jade, though slightly pale. His long black hair fell loosely over his shoulders, still wearing the same black wedding robe embroidered with red phoenixes from that day. His expression was indifferent, eyes slightly closed, sitting cross-legged in the prison cart as if asleep. Though his features showed undeniable weariness, there was not a trace of defeated or fallen spirit. He remained as pure, noble, graceful, and elegant as ever.
Just as if this were one of his ordinary inspection tours.
At some unknown moment, people among the crowd began to cry softly. The sounds were small but clear—the sobs of women, gradually joined by the low gasps of elderly people, then the choking of middle-aged men, and gradually the clear crying of children.
The horse cart slowly advanced, wheels rolling over the dusty street. Despite the threat of spears and arrows, when the cart came before them, the people of Xianyang spontaneously knelt on the ground. From a distance, those sorrowful knees knelt one after another, thousands upon thousands of heads bowing down like waves of flood. The crying grew louder, Prince Xuan’s name being whispered low among the crowd, while vultures in the sky cried out sharply, their voices shrill like the despairing dead souls singing death’s lament.
A heavy atmosphere filled the air, tears soaking the streets and alleys of Xianyang. Bell tolls rang one by one from the city tower—only one hour remained until the execution. Twelve bell strikes hammered against everyone’s hearts, the suppressed crying echoing stirringly in the air, filled with heartbreaking sorrow.
“Wait, wait!” A tottering old man suddenly called out loudly. The procession stopped, everyone turning to look toward the source of the voice. They saw an old man in blue clothes and white undergarments stumbling forward, dark red wounds on his body still bleeding ferociously.
“Honored officials, this old man is a criminal and cannot enter the execution ground. Please let this old man offer a cup of wine to his former master here.”
Uncle Xiang knelt on the ground, his aged face bearing traces of weathering and infirmity. There wasn’t a person in all of Xianyang City who didn’t know this old man. He was the steward of Prince Xuan’s mansion, different from the house slaves of other ministers and princes—a kind and merciful old man who never bullied others even when shopping on the street.
Xu Changling frowned tightly, looking toward Three Judicial Commissioner Liao Kai beside him. The worldly-wise Commissioner Liao quickly turned his head away, pretending not to see. This assignment was extremely difficult to handle—on one side was offending Prince Xiang, on the other was inciting public anger. Neither side was good to deal with. Xu Changling felt slightly angry in his heart but finally said in a deep voice: “The execution time is approaching. Kowtow once and then leave.”
“Yes, yes, thank you, sir.”
Uncle Xiang’s aged, hunched body came before Qin Zhiyan’s prison cart. He knelt tremblingly on the ground, tears immediately flowing from his cloudy eyes, streaming down his wrinkled face. The old man knocked his head heavily on the ground and called out loudly: “Your Highness, this old servant kowtows to you.”
Qin Zhiyan’s expression remained unchanged, his brow slightly furrowed as he slowly raised his head, eyes tightly closed.
With a bang, Uncle Xiang knocked his head heavily on the ground again, taking out a pot of wine from his basket and pouring it on the yellow earth. His voice desolate and aged, he said: “Your Highness, this old servant offers you wine.”
The crying in the crowd grew louder. Those suppressed voices were more heartbreaking than loud wailing. The civil and military officials in the front ranks turned around one after another, looking at the old man kneeling on the ground, covered in wounds yet still constantly kowtowing, tears streaming down their faces.
“Your Highness, this old servant has come to see you off. Everything you instructed has been completed. Please go in peace. In your next life, whether you become a commoner, a poor person, a foreign barbarian, or an ordinary mortal—anything is fine, just don’t be a prince again.”
The crowd’s restlessness grew louder. Xu Changling frowned and said to the guards on both sides: “Drag him away.”
“Yes!” The guards responded and grabbed Uncle Xiang’s aged arms like wolves and tigers, dragging him down the long street. From afar, the old man still called out loudly: “Your Highness, this old servant cannot accompany you further. May you rest in peace!”
The sunlight was bright white with desperate warmth. The procession gradually moved forward, with the people following behind, tugging at clothes and stamping feet, their crying continuous and unending.
Zhengyang Square occupied an extremely large area. It had once been a garrison for the capital troops, but after a large camp was built outside the city, it was vacated and could accommodate tens of thousands of people simultaneously. On a high stone platform, thousands of prisoners had been brought up, their shackles removed. Thousands of executioners stood behind them with execution blocks—quite a spectacular sight.
When imperial relatives were executed, they were usually given poisoned wine or white silk to preserve the imperial family’s dignity. But Qin Zhiye deliberately chose this method to execute Qin Zhiyan, merely to establish his own authority.
The prison cart slowly drove onto the stone platform. Qin Zhiyan stood before the execution block, his black robe fluttering, long hair cascading down, his face like the finest white jade with sword-like eyebrows extending to his temples, possessing the otherworldly aura of a king.
Xu Changling and Three Judicial Commissioner Liao sat side by side, with three Chief Legal Officers from the Supreme Court on both sides. Xu Changling looked up at the sun, saw that the time was about right, and ordered: “Remove the shackles, mount the execution platform!”
A burly red-clothed executioner stepped forward, walked before Qin Zhiyan, suddenly knelt on the ground, knocked his head down, and said in a deep voice: “Your Highness, this humble one will send you on your way.”
Having said this, he slowly raised his long blade, lifting it high behind Qin Zhiyan’s neck.
With a sudden commotion, the people below the platform suddenly became agitated. Countless people could no longer contain themselves and wept loudly, Qin Zhiyan’s princely title being called out continuously. Even the soldiers below the platform couldn’t help but shed silent tears. Seeing this, Xu Changling angrily shouted: “Anyone who dares to make noise and disturb the execution ground will be charged along with the prisoners!”