A funeral that lasted for several days was finally coming to an end.
It was dark at night, Gongsun Yan was dressed in plain white linen clothes, kneeling in the road paved with loess, his forehead touching the ground.
In front of her was Gongsun Cheng, who was also kneeling.
She and Gongsun Cheng were the only ones left in Gongsun Zan's lineage, so the number of people was really small.
Even if Zhao Yun came to replace the vigil at night, she could rest.
But for three consecutive days, she had to kneel in front of the hall during the day to thank the guests who came to express their condolences.
From dawn to night.
Weep day and night, pay homage day and night.
Over the past few days, Gongsun Yan had lost a lot of weight and looked even more miserable than when he was on the way to escape.
She lay prone in the muddy road, her nose filled with the smoke of burning paper money and the smell of earth on the ground.
"Young Master, be good and don't move." Tian Kai squatted beside the road and coaxed Gongsun Cheng softly, telling him to lie down and don't move.
"A Cheng, don't move." Gongsun's face was pressed against the ground, not daring to raise his head, and he coaxed him softly, "It will be fine soon."
"Yeah." Gongsun Yan heard Gongsun Cheng respond with a cry.
"Lift the coffin!"
Sangzai sang the harmony loudly, and the ending was a little hoarse.
The boy servants standing on the left and right holding white flags immediately threw the white paper money into the air.
They are flying like snow.
Dozens of men selected from the army, wearing linen belts on their heads and tied with linen on their arms, strode forward.
Separated from left to right, thick wooden poles were placed on the shoulders, lifting up the coffins with black backgrounds and paintings.
Step by step, stepping on the white paper money scattered on the ground, the coffins were carried out of the funeral shed one after another.
Gongsun Yan rested his forehead against the ground, feeling the roughness of the gravel on his skin. He opened his eyes and looked at a grain of sand on the ground in a daze.
She just felt like she was covered in paper money flying all over the sky.
When I took a suffocating breath, I felt like I could smell the scorching air again that day during the Yijing fire, which seemed to burn out people's lungs.
With rustling footsteps, the coffin bearers passed on both sides of her kneeling body, and the large and heavy coffin in the middle would pass over her.
The sky suddenly darkened, and Gongsun Zan suddenly came to her mind.
This was not the first time she thought of Gongsun Zan. When she was in the deserted village, she had nightmares almost every night, and she could see his disbelieving look in his eyes.
But it was different now. When Gongsun Zan's coffin passed by her, some memory fragments that she had deliberately ignored emerged uncontrollably.
Behind Gongsun Zan's coffin is his legitimate wife Hou Shi.
Then came the eldest son Gongsun Xu
Gongsun Jin, the eldest daughter
…
Gongsun Yan felt her head flicker with light and darkness, and coffins with the smell of new paint passed over her head one by one.
Some pictures kept flashing through her mind, and for a moment she couldn't tell where she was.
When all the coffins passed by, Gongsun Cheng, who was shaking all over, was picked up by Tian Kai with one hand.
Ah Qing and Alan helped her up from the ground, one on the left and the other on the right, and walked to the side.
Gongsun Yan felt that his whole body was weak, and if A Qing Alan hadn't held him up, he would have almost fallen to the ground.
She stared blankly at the coffin that passed in front of her and then went away, feeling a little lost in thought for a moment.
"Madam, don't do this."
She heard Ah Qing's cry and looked back, and saw that Alan's eyes were red, and Ah Qing looked at her with a pleading face, and big tears overflowed from her eyes.
"Don't be like this, I'm scared." Ah Qing held Gongsun Yan's arm tightly and said.
Gongsun Yan was a little stunned. Only then did she realize that her cheeks were slightly cold, and she didn't know when they were filled with tears, but there was no expression on her face.
"Sister." Not knowing what he noticed, Gongsun Cheng ran over, hugged Gongsun Yan's legs tightly, and started to cry loudly.
Gongsun Cheng cried the same way as during the fire in Yi Jing, which seemed to wake Gongsun Yan up.
She suddenly came back to her senses and reached out to hold Gongsun Cheng in her arms.
But her hands were shaking disobediently. Maybe she had been kneeling for too long, she thought to herself.
At this time, Gongsun Cheng was suddenly picked up by a pair of big hands, handed to her, and placed in her arms.
Maybe he knew that her hands were too weak to hold her, but the hand held her arm, and the strength and heat seemed to be transmitted through her clothes.
These hands are very big, with thick calluses on the knuckles and palms, which cannot be called pretty.
Gongsun Yan hugged Gongsun Cheng and took a small step forward. She really wanted to throw herself into this man's arms at this moment, not thinking about anything and just take a breath.
But she finally stopped and did nothing.
With so many people watching, I would be so embarrassed that I would cry if I were pushed away...
She laughed at herself, took a deep breath, and resealed the memories that disturbed her thoughts.
Feeling that his rationality and strength were gradually returning, Gongsun Yan gently pressed his face against the sobbing Gongsun Cheng in his arms, and wiped the tears on his face on the child's clothes.
Guzhu Beishan
The peaceful mountain forest in the past was now in a state of turmoil.
Craftsmen and sergeants cut down thorns, flattened weeds, and forcibly carved a road in the mountains.
Originally, the treasury construction site was closed for a few days. When they heard that the owner's family was about to hold a funeral ceremony, the craftsmen and farmers spontaneously collected their tools and gathered in Beishan to help.
A trail leads directly to the mountainside of Beishan. In order to facilitate the coffin bearers to settle down, small mud nests were dug out of the dirt on the mountain trail.
The wind blows, making a rustling sound in the dense primitive jungle, and the black tree shadows are like waves in the endless night.
The team holding torches meandered like fiery snakes.
Along the way, people kept throwing white paper money.
Everyone lit torches and followed the paper money left by their predecessors.
Huge coffins were lined up one by one, heading up the mountain.
The light from the torch shines on the black and red paint patterns of the coffin, refracting circles of light.
A large open space was created on the mountainside of Beishan. According to the fortune teller's calculations, holes were dug one after another. After the clothes and coffins were dropped, the tomb was built with bricks and stones.
Such a process is obviously illegal, but ordinary funerals do not include so many clothes and coffins, so no one questions this.
It was late at night, and a large number of illuminated braziers were lit in the open space. Such bright firelight drove away the wild beasts in the mountains.
Tian Kai stood at a high place with a saber on his waist. He waved back.
A man with purple scars all over his right face stood up.
Just open.
The firelight jumped on his face, illuminating the already terrifying scars even more hideously.
But his expression did not change much due to the scar. He looked down at the Wuhuan prisoners who were being escorted like animals.
The Wuhuan people captured in Yangqiuli were all very thin.
After the war, no one will treat them. They have been kept in custody and have only one meal a day to survive.
A ring of downy hair had already grown around the braid of the hair, and the colorful rope that was originally tied to the ends of the hair was so dirty that no color could be seen.
Under the tattered clothes, a dark and bony back was exposed.
These people inevitably struggle, beg, and cry...
There were also people who sang Wuhuan songs in hoarse voices as if they were resigned to their fate.
They were grabbed by their hair and forced to kneel in front of the tomb one by one. The long period of hunger made them unable to break free from the hands holding their hair.
He looked at these people with an expressionless face and slowly raised his right hand.
A Tang-head sword was unsheathed, and the blade reflected a cold light under the firelight.
His open right hand paused in the air for a moment.
