Chapter 142

The Zhang Family Manor echoed with the sound of wailing. It was my cry.

If someone dies, they check if the breath has truly stopped by placing silk or cotton near the nose. Once confirmed, someone climbs onto the roof to call the soul of the departed.

I volunteered for that role.

Dressed in white mourning clothes, I climbed onto the roof with Zhang Po’s outer garment.

“Zhang Po, return!”

Return, return.

To the one who left without knowing the sorrow of those left behind.

Shaking the clothes, I called out three times.

I knew that compared to the original history, he had lived a few more years. With Zhang Jun born, I also knew his death wasn’t far off. But when it actually happened, the emptiness was overwhelming.

After shouting with all my might, I felt slightly relieved as I climbed down from the roof. Just yelling had left me as tired as if I’d fought a battle.

With the soul-summoning done, the funeral procedures began.

Normally, the eldest son, Zhang Jun, should have been the chief mourner. But how could a baby who couldn’t even walk take on that role?

Since I was married and had children, it should have been my duty to handle the funeral, but with my son being too young, it was appropriate for our father to take charge.

But…

“With the nation’s important affairs to attend to, as a father, I cannot neglect the great undertaking of the state.”

Father did not come. With him absent, overseeing the defense of Guanzhong, the role of chief mourner fell to the second son, Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Zhao, like Dong Yun, was serving by Emperor Liu Bei’s side as a palace attendant.

Staying in Chengdu, he immediately came to the Zhang Family Manor upon Liu Bei’s permission and took on the responsibility of chief mourner.

Washing the body, dressing it in burial clothes, and preparing for the coffin—these were the initial steps.

Then, placing gold, silver, or jade in the deceased’s mouth—this was the “fanhan” ritual.

Guests began arriving around the time these procedures were mostly completed.

My sister-in-law held baby Zhang Jun and kept vigil in the mourning hall, while Zhang Zhao, as the chief mourner, greeted the guests.

My mother and I took on the tasks typically handled by the women of the bereaved family. Serving food, cleaning, and seeing off guests were among our duties.

Naturally, my marriage talks vanished like a mirage. With the eldest son of the family dead and the funeral not yet over, discussing marriage would have been incredibly inappropriate.

Though not all the people who had gathered at Commander Wei’s office or the Zhang Family Manor to seek me out had dispersed, they too kept their distance, merely observing.

The guests were a distinguished crowd. The late Zhang Po didn’t have many connections, but the rest of the Zhang family held high positions, which explained the turnout.

Moreover, his younger sister, Yeon-yi, was the crown princess, making the Zhang family’s status second only to the imperial family.

When Heo Jeong lost his child and held a funeral, a great number of guests had come. But now, even more mourners seemed to have arrived at the Zhang Family Manor.

Luxurious carriages arrived one after another, and familiar faces began to appear.

The first to approach me were my colleagues from Commander Wei’s office.

“Your grief must be immense. We offer our condolences.”

“Baek Cheom, thank you for coming.”

Ma Dai led the greetings, followed by Bu Chuan, Kang Yu, and Guo Yi.

They had already paid their respects to Zhang Zhao, the chief mourner, and soon left. Both they and I wanted to talk more, but others were waiting.

“Munwi.”

It was Bi Yi. He hadn’t come alone; he brought along Zhang Wan, the Chief Minister like himself.

Though I had met Zhang Wan before, we weren’t close, so only formal words were exchanged.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Not at all. I should have come to see you sooner. My apologies for the delay.”

Without being asked, Bi Yi added, “When I said I was coming to offer condolences, Lord Zhang insisted on speaking first.”

“Ahem. Munwi, don’t be like that.”

“What? Isn’t it true?”

“Sir, Commander Wei must be tired. Let’s not trouble him further. Commander Wei, we shall take our leave now. Please take care.”

“Don’t worry. Though my scholarship is shallow, I have read the Book of Rites.”

The current funeral procedures followed the Book of Rites.

From the soul-summoning to the encoffining, receiving guests, and the upcoming procession.

But not everything was strictly according to the Book of Rites. A prime example was the three-year mourning period.

In the Han Dynasty, the three-year mourning was deemed too long, so a shortened mourning period of 36 days was implemented. Officials, prioritizing their duties, also unofficially shortened the mourning period.

This practice of shortening mourning was surprisingly formalized by Cao Biao. Following good examples, Zhuge Liang also adopted this practice when reorganizing the legal system after declaring the Han Dynasty an imperial state.

Aside from these institutional changes, the Book of Rites also emphasized proper etiquette during mourning.

“One should not become emaciated or thin. If ill, one may eat meat and drink wine, but must stop upon recovery. Falling ill during mourning is unfilial.”

Basically, mourning naturally takes a toll on the body, but one should still take care of their health.

Satisfied with my answer, Zhang Wan left, followed by high-ranking officials like Yu Pa and Deng Zhi. Those in lower positions would naturally take longer to arrive.

Though my father and Yu Pa had a strained relationship, Yu Pa and I maintained a friendly rapport, so he offered his sincere condolences.

“May you live long, my lord.”

Though Zhang Po had lived longer than in the original history, it was only by a few years.

Yu Pa, too, had surpassed his original lifespan, so seeing his healthy complexion still worried me.

“Haha, don’t worry. I’m not yet fifty. Would Heaven call me so soon? I practice the martial arts you taught me daily, so no need to worry.”

After Yu Pa, others I knew also offered their condolences, but only formal exchanges took place.

“Mingjing.”

“Ah, Prime Minister.”

“You must be exhausted. You didn’t even notice me coming.”

“No, I was just lost in thought…”

Instead of offering the usual condolences, Zhuge Liang handed me a piece of silk with a poem.

“I’ve written an elegy. When you have time, please read it.”

Elegies were originally songs sung while pulling the funeral carriage. They were songs of mourning, expressing grief for the deceased.

They were also commonly sung at funerals to honor the departed. Not to invigorate, but to alleviate sorrow.

Over time, in eras of widespread death, elegies became a form of poetry expressing fear and sorrow. I had memorized a few from the battlefield.

Zhuge Liang’s delay was likely due to both his duties and the time taken to write this elegy.

Though it was impressive to compose a poem on the spot, I lacked the energy to marvel.

“Thank you. I will cherish it.”

I didn’t ask why he gave it to me instead of the chief mourner, Zhang Zhao.

No, there was no time to ask.

“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.”

Liu Bei had come.

As Liu Bei entered the Zhang Family Manor, the guests hurriedly bowed their heads.

This was the first time Liu Bei had personally attended a funeral since Fa Zheng’s. Back then, he was the King of Hanzhong, but now he was the Emperor. The weight of his presence was incomparable.

But the real shock was Liu Bei’s attire.

He wasn’t wearing the imperial robes of a emperor. Instead, he was dressed in mourning clothes. Liu Bei had come to the funeral in mourning attire.

“Your… Your Majesty…”

One of the officials gasped in shock.

It wasn’t entirely unprecedented for the Son of Heaven to wear mourning clothes to mourn a subject. The Rites of Zhou even prescribed the attire for such occasions.

But that was for mourning clothes, not full mourning attire.

“Your Majesty, why are you wearing mourning clothes? It is said that the Son of Heaven does not wear mourning for ghosts. How can you wear them for someone who isn’t even a subject…”

“Palace Attendant Dong, restrain yourself. This is a family mourning. Moreover, Emperor Guangwu also wore mourning clothes and wept for the death of Marquis Yingyang, Ji Zun. What does propriety matter here?”

Family mourning.

Liu Bei framed Zhang Po’s death not as that of a commoner who never held office, but as the death of a nephew. He then turned to Zhang Zhao, the chief mourner.

“Because of this unworthy uncle, my younger brother cannot even attend his eldest son’s funeral.”

“What are you saying, Your Majesty? Your presence here is an immense honor.”

“For now, you may call me uncle. In place of the third brother, I will console Po’s spirit.”

Liu Bei wept.

The father, who prioritized state affairs over his son’s death.

And Liu Bei, who, despite being the Emperor, wept in place of that father.

It seemed as if the Emperor himself was showing proper respect to those loyal to the state. The eyes of the officials who had come to offer condolences reddened.

With Liu Bei’s positive image already established, this event was interpreted favorably.

After concluding the funeral with unparalleled grandeur, Liu Bei, having noticed something, called me and Zhuge Liang aside for a brief conversation.

In the room with just the three of us, Liu Bei asked softly,

“Zhuge Jin has sent word that he wishes to come and offer condolences in person. Should we allow it?”

Zhuge Liang answered immediately.

“Even the shameless Cao Biao imposed conditions, but he did not block condolences. We should accept it.”

“I agree.”

When I sided with Zhuge Liang’s opinion, Liu Bei sighed softly and nodded.

§

Zhuge Jin sighed deeply, filled with worry. Seeing this, his companion asked,

“Why do you sigh so deeply?”

“Is that even a question?”

Zhuge Jin, known for his gentle temperament, unusually showed irritation. Though mild by others’ standards, for him, it was anger.

The companion, sensing the mood but still confused, shrugged.

“Your unworthy son, lacking in learning, humbly asks for an answer.”

“It’s because of you. Sigh… Understand? When we go, you must keep the promise you made with me.”

“Don’t worry, Father.”

“Unworthy.” A term a son uses to humble himself before his parents.

Zhuge Jin had three sons, but the second, Zhuge Jiao, had been sent to serve under his younger brother Zhuge Liang. Now, only two sons remained under him.

And of those, only one was of significant age.

“Who am I? Am I not Zhuge Ge, the prodigy of Eastern Wu?”

The eldest son, Zhuge Ge.