Zhao Hanzhang was dressed in mourning attire. She adjusted Zhao Erlang’s collar, handed the morial tablet to him, and asked softly, "Today, you will be the one smashing the basin and breaking the banner. Do you rember everything Uncle Cheng taught you?"
As long as it’s not about reading or recognizing characters, things that are straightforward, Zhao Erlang rembers them after hearing several tis. Moreover, he’s practiced many tis before, so he nodded confidently.
Zhao Hanzhang smiled at him with comfort, said softly, "I’ll be right by your side, don’t be afraid!"
Zhao Erlang nodded firmly, feeling even more confident.
As the ti ca, there was a loud bang from a firecracker at the front, and the relative presiding over the funeral shouted to the sky, "Rise—spirit—"
Zhao Hanzhang pushed Zhao Erlang, who stepped forward, picked up the fire basin, and smashed it. Imdiately, cries erged both inside and outside the hall.
After completing the ceremony, he stood up and took back the morial tablet. The coffin was then lifted.
Those carrying the coffin were all mbers of the Zhao Family clan, chosen by Zhao Song from the young and strong within the clan, prioritizing close blood relations.
Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan walked alongside the coffin. The sound of suona gradually began, and the funeral procession slowly set out.
Outside, the invited high monk was already prepared. He began chanting sutras around the coffin, and when they reached outside the estate, the coffin was securely placed onto a cart.
The place was quite far from the ancestral tomb, so the coffin needed to be transported by cart. Mrs. Wang and others sat on the cart, while direct descendants like Zhao Hanzhang and Zhao Erlang walked ahead.
Fu Tinghan, also in mourning attire, walked beside Zhao Hanzhang as the uncle leading the ceremony suddenly shouted, "Soul returns—"
He was startled, raising his gaze towards the shouting figure.
The man threw a handful of spirit money into the air, crying out with tears streaming, "Soul returns—co—"
"Soul—returns—co—"
Listening to this, Fu Tinghan felt a surge of lancholy, his eyes slightly wet.
The funeral procession was filled with cries, joining in the lantation after these calls.
This was called guiding the soul, ant to guide the deceased’s spirit back, preventing it from getting lost.
By the ti Ji Yuan and his followers arrived, the funeral procession had reached the cetery, with Zhao Hanzhang and Zhao Erlang kneeling on the ground, waiting for the coffin to be lowered into the pit.
A fast horse approached, imdiately alarming Zhao Song, who was reciting the funeral rites. Upon seeing Ji Yuan, he was greatly surprised, "Why is Mr. Ji here?"
Ji Yuan glanced at the coffin with tear-filled eyes and saluted Zhao Song, "I served the lord for many years, truly reluctant to part, so I wanted to co and see him off one last ti. Thankfully, I made it."
Feeling anxious, Zhao Song said, "Sir is here, then who is with my Eighth Brother?"
Ji Yuan replied, "Second Grandfather is clever and majestic; the lord’s previous aides are still around."
"Still, no one can compare to Sir," Zhao Song fretted internally. How could Zhao Zhongyu fail to retain Ji Yuan?
He knew well; this Mr. Ji served his elder brother for over a decade, competent and knowledgeable. He knew most of Zhao Family’s affairs as a trusted confidant of his brother.
How could Zhao Zhongyu let soone like him go?
Yet, since the funeral was at a critical juncture, it wasn’t appropriate to disrupt; he could only continue first.
Zhao Hanzhang saw Ji Yuan, secretly heaved a sigh of relief, and nodded slightly at him.
Ji Yuan t her gaze, also nodding back to her.
After reciting the oblation text, the coffin was lowered into the tomb, and the accompanying burial items were properly placed beside the coffin.
Zhao Changyu’s burial site had been prepped two years ago by Zhao Song, who chose a good location and had craftsn dig a tomb chamber, adhering to the standards for dukes.
There were three chambers inside, prepared by Zhao Song with many burial items, including previous belongings Zhao Changyu liked and the writings and morials of Zhao Changyu, which he transcribed again after receiving news from Luoyang of Zhao Changyu’s failing health before the year.
Items were placed within; Seventh Uncle Zhao Hu sighed, thinking them still crude, "Pity you lost your belongings en-route; otherwise, more could be added. Just these few burial items really let Big Brother down."
He glanced around and spotted the silently weeping Uncle Cheng kneeling, thought to himself, "Can’t let Big Brother be too wronged; how about burying a few close servants to serve Big Brother too?"
Zhao Hanzhang paused her teary hands, raising her not-so-teary eyes towards him.
Zhao Song was sowhat angry, cast a sideways glance, "Don’t jest around Brother’s tomb, quickly step outside."
Zhao Hu glared, "I’m serious! Fifth Brother, don’t these burial items look too shabby? I think Uncle Cheng is quite apt; he grew beside Big Brother since childhood and always served him..."
Interrupting internally, Zhao Hanzhang cursed, lowered her eyes, and fiercely wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, emitting a loud cry. Zhao Hu’s speech halted, unable to continue.
Zhao Hanzhang wailed loudly, "Seventh Ancestor, please don’t take Uncle Cheng from . Uncle Cheng was specially left to my brother and by Grandpa; it’s him we rely on for care."
Uncle Cheng, face pale, reacted too, collapsing on the ground, crying bitterly, banging his head, "Third Lady, let this servant follow the lord. This servant wishes to serve the lord."
"I don’t want that!" Zhao Hanzhang cried to the sky, tears streaming down, "I’ve already lost Grandpa; can’t lose Uncle Cheng as well."
Fu Tinghan watched her tears fall like rain, couldn’t help but catch a drop, amazed at how she cried instantly.
Even if the handkerchief had ginger juice, could it be this effective?
Noticing his distraction, Zhao Hanzhang was amused and, unable to hold, even snot bubbles erged. With laughter in his eyes, Fu Tinghan tried hard to suppress a chuckle, hurriedly wiped her face with a handkerchief, pulled her into an embrace for comfort, told Zhao Family clan, "Burying live people was abolished long ago; Grandpa Zhao was kind and wouldn’t want Uncle Cheng buried alive. It might go against Grandpa Zhao’s wishes."
Zhao Song’s face improved slightly, nodding gently, "The son-in-law is right."
Zhao Family’s clan mbers also agreed deeply.
"Then no need for Uncle Cheng; pick another servant," Zhao Hu said, "If you can’t bear giving your people to Big Brother, I’ll offer a few instead."
Other clan mbers heard this, hesitated since if Zhao Hu provided his own, there wasn’t an apparent objection.
Grinding her teeth in Fu Tinghan’s embrace, Zhao Hanzhang lifted her head with restored expression, softly spoke, "Seventh Ancestor, doesn’t the Zhao Family have a custom of not burying living people?"
"Previously, no," Zhao Hu’s eyes lit up, "But now we can. People aren’t worth much nowadays; with so money, you can buy them good and pretty, serve underground, isn’t it nice?"
Zhao Hanzhang replied, "Aren’t you afraid they died unjustly with resentnt, would seek revenge underground?"
Saying this in a lowered voice, it sounded somber, which truly startled Zhao Hu. After recovering, he got angry, "Would they dare! I’m the master, they’re servants; even underground, they must obey !"
Putting her hands together, lifting her face slightly, Zhao Hanzhang spoke kindly, "Amitabha, Buddha is compassionate, Buddha said all beings are equal. In life, inequality reigns, but once in Hell, all are spirits, judged by past good deeds and sins. Who’s nobler?"
Her gaze fell on Zhao Hu, speaking earnestly, "Seventh Ancestor, accumulate virtue."
Zhao Hu was bewildered, "Are you calling nas?"
Zhao Hanzhang denied seriously, "No!"
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