Leng Yan stood with his hands behind his back, watching the woman who called herself Lu Danqing walk away. He felt somewhat uneasy. Serving as this kind of envoy was usually a fairly simple affair: arrive, receive gifts, enjoy the hospitality, read the imperial edict, leave. Especially given that it concerned Zhù Ying — Lord Zhù’s — no, the Commissioner’s household. Leng Yan had not anticipated running into any trouble here.
Now what kind of situation was this?
The conferral ceremony was supposed to include a brief admonitory passage in the wording. Although a senior member of the family had already warned him beforehand to be courteous and not put on airs — that was more or less good enough — still, certain words did have to be said. But the household was now in mourning. To heap more distress on top of their grief would be entirely unreasonable. Leng Yan sighed, and in his heart deleted those few sentences as well. At this point he only hoped to get through this assignment properly.
However, no one had briefed him on what to do if Zhang Xiangu should die before the ceremony. The conferral for Zhù Ying would naturally include both her living mother and deceased father at the same time. Now that her mother was also gone, the wording in the conferral document was no longer quite right — it would need to be posthumous, the same as for Zhù Da. Wouldn’t that mean he needed to write a memorial immediately and dispatch it back to the capital by express courier so they could revise it as quickly as possible?
Leng Yan could no longer sit still. He gathered both hands before him and headed inside: “Never mind anything else for now — get me paper and a writing brush!” He had barely stepped over the threshold when he suddenly cried out: “Wait — Lu Danqing? I seem to have heard that name before!”
His attendant turned at the sound: “Young Master? What did you say?”
Leng Yan waved his hand: “Never mind.” Lu Danqing had once served as an official in the capital, but that was many years ago. Leng Yan had been young at the time and would not have paid any attention to a minor attendant in Zhù Ying’s household. He had some recollection of Zhao Su, Zhù Qingjun, and Su Zhe, but nothing more.
What a wasted opportunity — a connection he might have used to gather some intelligence — and Leng Yan could only rue the lost chance.
Then he was urging again: “What’s happening? Where are the paper and brush? Why aren’t they ready yet?”
Every attendant bowed their head and hurried to prepare. Leng Yan reached the desk, picked up the brush, and paused — he felt something was missing. After a moment’s thought: right, he hadn’t even met the Commissioner yet, and knew nothing of her present condition. This memorial would come out dry and flat, and would in no way showcase his abilities. Better to finish writing it after meeting her tomorrow.
He ran through the scene of tomorrow’s meeting in his mind and made all manner of speculations, exhausting himself thoroughly in his imagination. That night, still lying in bed, he kept thinking: I wonder what she is like now — will she be easy to deal with? I just hope she doesn’t take out her grief on those around her!
——
Zhù Ying held Zhang Xiangu in her arms and gently settled her into the coffin. The coffin had been prepared years before and kept in good condition — the boards were thick, and the lacquer coats were thick. Inside, a quilted lining was laid out, and Zhù Ying bent down to carefully position Zhang Xiangu against the pillow.
Huajie followed close behind, her eyes red. During the day, the two of them, without asking anyone else to help, had carefully wiped Zhang Xiangu down, dressed her, and combed her hair — it had taken a very long time.
A deep stillness surrounded them. No one dared speak. Even the sound of footsteps was almost inaudible.
Zhù Ying straightened up and looked toward the doorway. Lu Danqing stepped forward: “Grandma, the envoy has been settled in the guest quarters. I asked him to return tomorrow.”
Zhù Ying’s voice was slightly hoarse: “Understood.”
There was worry in Lu Danqing’s eyes. Huajie quietly waved a hand at her. Lu Danqing said: “Then I’ll go find the others and make preparations.” She withdrew carefully.
As evening came on, Sister Du came to ask them to eat. Zhù Ying said: “You all go — you don’t need to keep watch with me.”
“But you…”
Huajie said: “Bring it here then. I’ll keep the vigil with her.”
There were many people in the military headquarters, but those who could truly be called “family” were only these two. The mourning hall had been set up. They should indeed keep the vigil. Huajie burned some spirit money and paper ingots in the offering basin, and dragged over two prayer cushions: “Here — sit on these, don’t sit on the straw.”
The “filial son” was supposed to prostrate on a heap of straw to display grief. But Huajie was truly worried about Zhù Ying’s health. She had been watching those two faint threads of white at Zhù Ying’s temples for a long time now. At this moment, Zhù Ying absolutely could not break down — she could not let her body be depleted.
Zhù Ying pulled the cushion underneath herself, sat cross-legged, and slowly fed paper money into the burning basin. The flames made her face very hot. Sister Du brought several young attendants carrying a low table over, and set out the food and dishes from a food box one by one. Huajie gestured at them to leave, but they did not go far, all looking on with concern at the two women.
Not until Zhù Ying picked up her chopsticks and bowl, put a chopstickful of green vegetables over her rice, and began to eat did everyone let out a long breath of relief — as long as she was eating, that was good.
Zhù Ying ate a half bowl of rice mixed with vegetables, cheeks puffed with food, when she suddenly stopped chewing. She put her bowl and chopsticks down on the table and spat out the mouthful of rice. Sister Du and the others rushed forward to clean up. Zhù Ying raised her sleeve and wiped her mouth: “Give me some tea.”
Huajie patted her gently on the back: “The weather is still warm — appetite is hard to come by.”
Quickly the floor was cleaned, and Sister Du, reading Huajie’s cues, took the food and dishes away too, leaving only the tea on the low table. Zhù Ying said: “You all go — let me have some quiet.” Huajie said: “All right.” She beckoned to Sister Du and the others, taking them away.
Zhù Ying drank a cup of tea slowly, then stretched out her legs, pushing against the floor. The cushion slid back with her, and with a dull thud her back came to rest against the coffin. She called out softly: “Mother.”
She sat in silence leaning against the coffin, a straight, expressionless face.
Huajie came back, pillow under her arm. Sister Du and the others followed behind carrying felt mats and quilts. They quietly spread out a floor pallet on one side of the room, then quietly withdrew. Huajie dragged a prayer cushion to the edge of the coffin, settled down beside Zhù Ying, and reached out to pull her close.
Zhù Ying leaned against her for a moment, then struggled back upright against the coffin, saying with a stifled sob: “You’re too short.” It was uncomfortable to lean on.
Huajie ground her teeth. Zhù Ying pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her face, saying indistinctly: “Stop holding yourself together, you.”
Huajie gave a soft cry and leaned back against the coffin, pressing against Zhù Ying, letting herself weep.
After a long while, Zhù Ying wiped her face somewhat carelessly and said: “There are things to attend to tomorrow — the capital’s envoy has come for the conferral, and everyone needs to be present. Go and lie down for a bit.”
“And you?”
“I’ve always slept little.” Zhù Ying gave a hiccup.
Huajie wiped her nose and poured a cup of tea for her: “Drink — drink a little — settle it down.”
Zhù Ying slowly drank another cup of tea. The two of them leaned together against the coffin. Huajie said: “I sent them all away — no one will disturb you. You sleep for a while too. So many people are depending on you.”
“It isn’t that dire.”
Huajie said disapprovingly: “How is it not dire? Annan rests on your shoulders alone, and these others are still green.”
“What if I were to die right now?”
“Bah! Don’t say such things!”
Zhù Ying said: “You worry too much. Without me, others will still have to go on living. You don’t need to fear for them either. As long as I have placed them in their positions, they will find their own ways, fight to survive by their own efforts. I have already placed them where they need to be.”
“What if they can’t find their way out…”
“Then they die.” Zhù Ying said without expression. “You can manage a moment but not a lifetime. When I was small, no one told me to study and become an official. What I have today was not made for me by anyone else. And did I not get through it?”
“Who could compare to you? The situation right now is at its best, and precisely because of that, it cannot afford to go slack. There are great things you must do that cannot be allowed to fail. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Zhù Ying said: “I will have no regrets.” She gave Huajie a strange look, which left Huajie bewildered.
Zhù Ying said: “Everything I wanted to do, I have done. As for what comes after — who can hold sway over all the ages to come? I have never thought it was my place, through my own power alone, to arrange everything perfectly, with everyone else as puppets and marionettes — following the pattern I set even after my death, going through the motions of life like walking corpses. To think like that would simply be wrong. They are all living people — they have minds, private desires, ambitions. Human nature is like that — isn’t that a fine thing?
I am not worried about them either. As long as a blade still cuts into flesh, a person will feel pain, will cry out, will want to fight back. I need only do what I am able to do and want to do. Even if Annan were to eventually become like the world outside, I would not feel sad or fearful — as long as there are minds, they will find their own paths. And even if none of them can manage it, if they can’t hold their own against others — that doesn’t matter either. How could it be possible to go through life without being beaten, without being wounded, without people dying? In the end, someone will be able to do it.”
She tapped her own head: “Choosing a path with one’s own mind — that’s the only way through. If you simply trust and follow the path someone else pointed out, walking it without knowing anything, and then fall into a pit — you can’t climb back out.”
“But right now…”
“Right now there’s nothing to be troubled about either.”
“Qingjun?”
Zhù Ying said: “Perhaps. Everyone is human — they have good qualities and faults. Keep training. We’ll see.”
“And what about Little Zhe and the others — how will you arrange things? Never mind the rest, but Little Zhe was raised from childhood in our home.”
“Her? She first needs to put her own household in order — then we’ll talk.”
Huajie, upon hearing the mention of Su Zhe’s family, felt another wave of worry: “That child of hers — is he Chonghua’s grandson?”
Zhù Ying said: “Could Zhù Chonghua give that child a county? Could she let him inherit three hundred households? She cannot. Then the child will carry the surname Su, and he will listen to his own mother. If Chonghua’s family wants this child, Su Zhe will certainly have another child — one with no connection to Chonghua — and everything of the Asu family will go to that true member of the Su family. If she doesn’t do this — I will be disappointed.”
“Chonghua will want an explanation, won’t she?”
Zhù Ying said: “What explanation can Chonghua demand? Su Zhe doesn’t owe her family anything. I had thought about formalizing this as law. In terms of rites and music, Annan cannot compete — the world outside has spent a thousand years patching and refining it, accumulating depth that cannot be matched. So let us establish law instead — simple and clear. Something that lets everyone reason things through, a clear measure for everyone to follow, so that all can know how to conduct themselves.”
As she spoke, she let out a sigh. She felt a little tired now and would need a few days of rest before she could properly think through all of this.
“Legalism?”
“In part — but not so harsh. Nothing that severe.”
The two murmured back and forth for a while. Huajie urged Zhù Ying: “Rest now — there’s the envoy to receive tomorrow.”
The two of them had just managed to close their eyes for a moment when dawn came.
——
Leng Yan was up early, dressed and composed himself, then carefully checked all the items he had brought. He ordered his attendants: “No smiling from any of you!”
Lu Danqing came as promised to fetch him. His own expression grew serious too, and he said very little — only a brief: “Please.”
All along the way, he kept seeing people with white cloth at their waists, or white flowers in their hair, many of them looking grief-stricken. He grew curious again: was it possible that in Annan, the Zhù family was like — well — something akin to a ruling house?
Local commoners would have no obligation to wear mourning for an official’s mother. But ordinary people were expected to wear mourning for a sovereign’s mother — there was a clear difference.
Inside the military headquarters, it was full mourning.
Leng Yan composed his features. He was led to the mourning hall, and he hesitated for a moment — rather than making an offering first, he turned to Zhù Ying and said: “By imperial command.”
As a son of the Leng family, he had seen Zhù Ying before. She was far more drawn than she had been in the capital, her eyes sunken with exhaustion, her complexion pale. Yet her manner remained calm and steady, and her voice, though lower, was composed.
Leng Yan finished reading the edict quickly and bowed to Zhù Ying: “Marquis, please accept our condolences.”
He then requested incense and candles to make an offering, and passed on regards from others. He had come to Annan intending to enjoy some of the hospitality he knew it was known for, but now Leng Yan had no choice but to open his own luggage and put together a proper funeral offering from his own things.
A Leng family son — the surface proprieties were well managed. Zhù Ying gave a slight nod and said: “We have not been able to receive you properly. I hope you will forgive us.”
“I would not dare presume otherwise — given what you are going through, Young Master, how could I be anything but respectful?”
Zhù Ying said: “Please come to the rear for some tea.”
Leng Yan followed her toward the back, all the while letting his eyes move quietly over the military headquarters — spacious and imposing, but also unpretentious and frugal, much like the impression Zhù Ying had made in the capital. Throughout the headquarters, besides the grief, there was a faint undercurrent of bustle. He heard children’s voices. His thoughts turned: hadn’t he heard she had no children? Where did the young ones come from? Ah, right — she had adopted sons, and students as well. She was not without successors.
Lost in all this musing, he arrived at a small side hall. Tea was served. Leng Yan spoke first: “The Grand Madam’s conferral should be converted to a posthumous bestowal. I will write up the memorial right away. I expect the capital will not make things difficult.” A posthumous bestowal differed slightly from a conferral — sometimes the honorary title was different; sometimes a posthumous bestowal came with a rank elevation. The court would need to deliberate.
Zhù Ying said: “Thank you for the trouble.”
“It is my duty.”
Zhù Ying ordered someone to bring a gift list. Leng Yan was faintly surprised: “This…?”
“Annan has nothing fine to speak of — just some local specialties. You have come a long way; how can we let a guest leave empty-handed? That would not be proper.”
Leng Yan accepted them with care, then said: “I will write the memorial right away and wait here in Xizhou for the capital’s reply.” That way there was no need for another person to make the trip. And if they sent some thick-headed fellow who wanted to put on airs, it would only cause trouble.
So Leng Yan settled in Xizhou. He would look in on the funeral rites from time to time, even wanting to lend a hand. He always felt the ceremonial protocol in Xizhou was somewhat “sparse,” and wished he could add a few touches. But he shared no language with many of the people here, which left him quite exasperated.
Within a couple of days, prefects, county magistrates, and old acquaintances of all kinds came streaming to the military headquarters. And not just themselves — they brought their entire households, right down to nursing infants.
Leng Yan was astonished: what a gathering — surely just about everyone had come?
What he did not know was that the entire military headquarters was operating under considerable tension. The Western Pass and the Northern Pass had both increased their alert levels. Travelers and merchants were subject to extra scrutiny, guarding against anyone trying to take advantage of the chaos to cause trouble. Within Xizhou City, patrols had also been reinforced. Even Hou Wu was no longer allowing himself to idle in retirement, spending every day making the rounds inside the military headquarters.
All Leng Yan knew was that there were adults weeping and children crying at the funeral, and the children were truly numerous — his head was ringing. As the memorial correspondence went back and forth, the response would take time. By now the funeral rites were already winding down, and the reply had still not arrived. Leng Yan had no choice but to hold his position quietly at the funeral, saying nothing, listening as they discussed the burial arrangements for the Grand Madam.
Zhù Da was buried in Wuzhou. Should Zhù Ying now escort the coffin there for a joint burial? Or would husband and wife simply rest in separate places? If so, Leng Yan really couldn’t just stay behind in Xizhou — wouldn’t he have to go along? And if he went along, and the reply arrived in the meantime, what then?
None of this would have been so complicated, but there was also a matter no one quite liked to say aloud: if husband and wife were to be buried in different places, then where would Zhù Ying herself eventually… rest?
Leng Yan finally found something he could appropriately weigh in on, and said: “Death takes precedence over all else. There is nothing wrong with my accompanying you.”
Zhù Ying said: “No need. Let those in Wuzhou come here.”
“But — the principle of lesser not disturbing the greater…” Leng Yan opened his eyes wide. That really wasn’t how it worked!
“Oh, that? Call it a dream I had last night — my late father wanted to come and see the new city.” Zhù Ying said.
That was more than sufficient reason. Zhao Su said: “Then I’ll go back and oversee the reburial!”
Zhù Ying said: “Very well.”
At the same time, construction began on a new tomb. Every rank had its own specifications — Zhù Ying did not exceed hers. A “propitious site” was chosen twenty li outside the city, and workers began piling the earth mound. Craftsmen came from the mountains bearing large stones and began carving the stele. Before the work was finished, another imperial edict arrived from the court — and this time they raised no further difficulties.
Leng Yan had stayed in Xizhou for nearly a month in total. He was finally able to go home. Zhù Ying led everyone to see him off at the city gates. Leng Yan had arrived with one group; he was leaving with an additional carriage procession. He was increasingly respectful toward Zhù Ying and urged her repeatedly to take care of herself and not let grief overwhelm her.
Zhù Ying said: “It’s getting late. If you delay any longer, you won’t be able to make any headway today.”
Only then did Leng Yan turn and take his leave.
Su Zhe stepped forward: “Grandma…”
Zhù Ying waved her hand. Her gaze swept across everyone present and she said: “My heart is in a state of disorder. You must all shoulder more of the responsibilities at headquarters.”
From that point on, she threw herself entirely into the burial and reburial arrangements. Day to day, she was either sitting by the coffin in the rear quarters, or going to check on the construction site. She delegated most of the headquarters’ affairs to Zhù Qingjun, Su Zhe, and the others.