ZHAO JUREN'S LAST LOVE
Chapters. 28 Spirit of Spirit
The same scene as the last time Zhao Juren left the city of Yubei. The horse he had been racing for two days and one night was exhausted and had been pinned to an inn. The horse lent by uncle Wang was really strong, even he did not look tired even though he was forced to almost without enough rest from the outskirts of the province of Liangsu to the city of Yubei.
The news of General Zhao Juren's death had indeed grieved many, Yanzhi's shield dying in his place of pride, the battlefield. At least that was what people always told me when Zhao Juren stopped for a while to rest the horse.
At the corners of the Kotaraja Yubei road is still the same as before, the cool breeze from the lake surface that carries the fragrance of lotus flowers blows gently carried by the fresh spring breeze, which is the best, the liu trees on both sides of the road after the gate, swaying with the wind, the branches twirling gently and the leaves of the young shoots just popping it, like the waist of a dancing girl, weaving in such a way.
Zhao Juren walked in her dark-colored robe, she was wearing a headscarf, yelling at the crowded streets in the reddish afternoon. Under the sun setting in the western horizon of the spring sky, exhausted birds were fluttering back to their nests, while the reddened river was filled with shadows, vast as if stained with blood. The shadow was a reflection of the gloomy twilight sky.
Yanzhi had held a national mourning for three whole months on the orders of His Highness Yan Yue, just like the dead core palace relatives, everyone was wearing dark-coloured, rough clothes, only the hanging lanterns were covered in white cloths, when walking on the street, everywhere was sad
full of despair. Really bleak.
Different indeed if a king were to die, everyone would be wearing a white rough cloth but because Zhao Juren was a prince with the official title of His Highness Yan Yue, everyone would be wearing white, but because Zhao Juren was a prince with the official title of His Highness Yan Yue, namely Grand Prince Yan Juren, the ritual is dominated by dark colors like mourning ceremonies of relatives of the royal family.
Little by little it became dark, the moon very round, rising from the tops of the trees, glittering hanging on the horizon far away. The day seemed to be in mourning in the city of Yubei.
Late at midnight last night, Zhao Juren only had to close his eyes for a few minutes under a Wutong tree while waiting for the horse to drink in a puddle. And all the time he had dreamed of seeing himself lying stiffly on an altar in the temple of Zuihou. There was Xiao Yi who was wearing a clean white gown covered from above his head until he closed his eyes, he was struggling to burn incense. Xiao Yi with his flat countenance was completely devoid of sadness burning the incense without closing his eyes. Zhao Juren desperately tried to get up but his body seemed to lose energy completely, his nerves numb even felt dead.
The sound of the horse waking up to his short dream, his forehead soaking wet with cold sweat, he woke up and realized that there was too little time to be able to pursue his own funeral.
Now that it was dark, he mingled with the people crammed in front of the Zuihou temple gate, the temple in front of the funerals of the kings and palace relatives. His right hand held tightly to the handle of the lantern in his hand.
The escort was so tight that he had trouble breaking through, it was fortunate that he was well acquainted with all the corners of all the places in Weiyan's palace surroundings, so he wasn't too difficult to find a way.
The general public is allowed to follow the ceremony but is limited only to the grounds in
the Zuihou temple gate.
The other princes, standing behind with white headbands. And in the back row of the palace officials. Not seen at all the mother of Zhao Li Sui, the birth mother of Zhao Juren.
It is not strange, was he not kept in the temple of Sunyen as a prisoner after his rebellion? But despite standing among the squads jostling with the mourning people, Zhao Juren still wished her mother was there, among all the relatives of the court of honor.
“Do not block the way.” A guard scolded him half-stomping.
“Oh...” Zhao Juren was almost angry, but then he realized, he was now not standing as a general but a commoner who was trying to attend a ghostly ritual at Zuiho temple. Loving his own spirit, who is still alive.
“Your Highness Yan Yue is actually not very healthy right now, perhaps because she is too saddened by General Zhao's death. He only forced himself to lead this ritual because so unfortunately he was on general Zhao.” A woman next to him whispered to her friend.
“How can you know about it?” Ask your friend in a small voice.
“My sister is a servant in the harem palace, every day she helps Her Majesty the empress to make herbal medicine drinks for Her Majesty. Poor Your Majesty, he was so hit.”
Zhao Juren held her breath, hearing the two women who were gossiping inside the palace. Verily it was a little presumptuous to remember the atmosphere of mourning but, his heart still felt sad to hear the state of His Majesty Yan Yue, he had not expected everything to be chaotic in the blink of an eye as he lay unconscious under the mysterious care of Xue Xue Xue.
Zhao Juren planned to arrive before the ghostly ceremony and preach to His Majesty Yan Yue himself that he was still alive but despite all his might chasing time, it was still too late. It would be a strange and shocking thing if he suddenly appeared in the middle of the ceremony in a fresh fit. Then what will he say to everyone, if everyone asks, where has he been all this time.
The sound that was echoed from the hall inside the Zuihou Temple sounded like the roar of wasps, the ceremony had already begun. In the center of the hall was a carved stone chest covered in plain white silk cloth, what lay inside, which was certain it was not Zhao Juren's Body.
Zhao Juren simply swallowed his bitter-tasting saliva.
“Does the sky really want my death?”