Chapter 23: Shock and Novelty on the Way to the Funeral

Xianyang City’s majestic walls were constructed entirely of brand-new, kiln-fired bricks. Each brick appeared meticulously crafted, aligned with seamless precision, and the gaps between them were filled with cement so flawlessly that the entire structure seemed as solid and impenetrable as a single, unified block. Under the sun’s rays, the walls shimmered with an archaic and dignified luster, exuding a unique sense of authority.

To ensure the walls were not only sturdy but also aesthetically pleasing, Li Chengqian had ingeniously added a touch of ancient charm by planting thick layers of creeping ivy along the base. These vines, like emerald spirits, climbed and spread along the texture of the masonry; their tender green leaves swayed gently in the breeze, as if whispering ancient tales and imbuing the imposing fortress with a sense of vitality and grace.

Li Shimin and Li Ji leaned out from the carriage curtains, their faces etched with shock. Their eyes were fixed, transfixed by this grand city that lay entirely beyond the scope of their memory. In their minds, the Xianyang City of the past was nothing like this. From a distance, the city appeared vast and magnificent; its towering walls and imposing gatehouses were even more grand and spectacular than those of Chang’an.

Li Shimin pondered silently: what kind of transformation had taken place here? A complex, indescribable feeling stirred within him—a bitter sense of unease. Such earth-shaking changes had occurred in Xianyang, yet he, in Chang’an, had remained completely ignorant. The members of his secret service, the "Bu Liang Ren," who boasted of knowing everything under heaven, had failed to report such a monumental development. A wave of guilt, like a surging tide, suddenly engulfed him. He could not help but recall how he had previously misunderstood Chengqian, and the resulting regret stung like thorns against his back.

"Your Majesty, do you not find it strange that the carriage is not jolting at all?" Li Ji suddenly broke the silence, his face filled with bewilderment.

Li Shimin collected his thoughts and frowned, beginning to pay closer attention. It was true—the roads of the Great Tang were mostly uneven dirt paths. Traveling anywhere other than the smooth stone-paved streets of Chang’an was usually a torture, where the vibrations were enough to rattle one’s very bones. When they had first departed Chang’an, the carriage had jolted as usual, but now, as they approached Xianyang, the ride had become unnervingly smooth. It was truly bizarre. Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, Li Shimin slowly reached out to pull back the curtain.

"Li Ji, look! What kind of road is this? I have never seen the like!" Li Shimin’s voice was filled with unconcealable astonishment.

Hearing the call, Li Ji hurried to peer out of the carriage. The road was exceptionally flat, devoid of any potholes or loose gravel, stretching toward the horizon like a ribbon of silk. Though Li Ji was a man of vast experience, this road left him stunned. He stared wide-eyed, like a curious child, looking left and right, attempting to fathom its mystery. As he looked toward the back, he caught sight of Cheng Yaojin’s large head also poking out of a carriage with a look of intense curiosity, his eyes round as bells and his mouth slightly agape in shock.

Seeing Cheng Yaojin, Li Ji recalled the events of the previous day, and his temper flared. With a cold snort, he sat back inside the carriage, looking visibly displeased. Li Shimin, seeing Li Ji return, asked with a confused look, "What is the matter?"

"Nothing, Your Majesty. I just saw that troublemaker," Li Ji replied testily.

"Oh," Li Shimin responded. He assumed it was about yesterday’s incident—a matter that did not concern the Emperor. He pulled the curtain back just enough to keep watching the novel sights outside.

The funeral procession had departed at the hour of the Ox (1:00 AM to 3:00 AM) and had traveled for about four hours along the smooth and bumpy roads before finally arriving at Xianyang. The city was under tight security; soldiers stood atop the walls like iron towers, their gazes vigilant as they scanned the surroundings.

When the procession reached the city gates, the soldiers of the three major battalions on duty, having received word in advance, quickly and orderly opened the gates to let them through. It should be noted that Xianyang was currently in a special state, with a strict policy of allowing only entry and no exit.

Unlike in Chang’an, the procession’s entry into Xianyang did not cause a great stir. Most of the citizens merely cast a casual glance at the funeral party before hurrying on their way, as if the death of the man who had once ruled the world under heaven mattered little to them.

According to the established customs of the Great Tang, an Emperor’s coffin was typically kept in the palace for a month before the funeral rites. However, Li Chengqian, relying on his keen intuition, sensed that the Great Tang was about to enter a busy and critical phase, so he resolutely simplified all the procedures. In his view, having his father rest alongside his mother at the Zhao Mausoleum as soon as possible was what mattered most. Had any other Emperor done this, he would surely have been skewered by the pens of the civil officials and cursed relentlessly behind his back.

But Li Chengqian was different. In the current Tang court, more than half of the officials were students he had cultivated in Xianyang; these students were fiercely loyal to him, following his lead in all matters. The other half consisted of veteran officials dedicated to practical work; though upright, they understood Li Chengqian’s grand vision and were not inclined to oppose him easily.

The main street of Xianyang was the designated route for the procession. Wen Ruchu, dressed in simple white mourning robes, stood solemnly in the center of the street with the officials of Xianyang, lined up in neat rows. They had been waiting there quietly for two hours; despite the fatigue on their faces, they maintained a dignified posture.

"Sir, sir! They are here!" an official with sharp eyes spotted the approaching procession in the distance and quickly gave notice.

Hearing this, Wen Ruchu looked toward the distant procession, took a deep breath, adjusted his demeanor, and began to wail loudly. The cry was filled with such sorrow that it seemed he was pouring out all the grief in his heart. Seeing this, the officials behind him followed suit, wailing heart-wrenchingly. The sound echoed through the street, enough to move anyone to tears. The professional mourners in the procession and the officials of Xianyang responded to one another, and in an instant, the entire street was enveloped in an atmosphere of mourning.

When the procession reached the designated spot, Wen Ruchu threw himself to the ground, pressing his forehead hard against the earth, crying out at the top of his lungs, "Late Emperor! Oh, Late Emperor!" His cries were laden with longing and reluctance to let go. Even the officials working alongside him couldn't help but inwardly give a thumbs-up to their chief in Xianyang! This was the composure of a veteran actor!

The Xianyang Chief Registrar gestured to those who had come to meet the procession, then methodically arranged for them to be settled in the Songhua Pavilion. The Songhua Pavilion could be considered the center of Xianyang, a bustling and vibrant place, much like a modern large-scale shopping center. It featured two levels, filled with endless rows of shops of all kinds. It was a paradise for food, drink, and entertainment—if one could imagine it, the Songhua Pavilion had it. The people of Xianyang called it "Heaven on Earth," which spoke volumes for their affection for the place.

The Songhua Pavilion was no ordinary structure; it had been built by the Qianyu Chamber of Commerce at great expense. Its roof tiles were exquisite glazed pottery that shimmered with iridescent colors under the sun, dreamlike and ethereal. The timber used was precious agarwood, its unique fragrance permeating the air and lending an air of luxury and mystery. In any other place, such materials would be rare treasures reserved for the high and mighty. Yet in Xianyang, this pavilion opened its doors to every commoner, allowing them to walk in and out at will. When the current Emperor, Li Chengqian, had been in Xianyang, he had declared firmly: The Songhua Pavilion belongs to all the people of Xianyang. He was merely acting as their steward!

Wen Ruchu had since wiped away his tears and was busy coordinating the various tasks. His main duty now was to ensure that the members of the funeral procession could get sufficient rest during their brief stay, so that they could depart on time at the hour of the Ox the following day. Wen Ruchu’s greatest trait was his ability to handle all situations with ease; no matter how complex, he managed everything with meticulous, flawless care. This was the main reason Li Chengqian had kept him in Xianyang.

...

"Hmm? That figure looks familiar!"

Wen Ruchu was carefully organizing the accommodation for the funeral party according to his ledger when a figure suddenly appeared before him. He instinctively looked up, and the sight nearly made him dance a waltz on the spot.

"Ah! Your Majes—"

Wen Ruchu was about to cry out, but realizing the man’s current status and his own habit of speaking too freely, he hurriedly lowered his voice.

"No... My Lord! Why are you here?" His voice trembled slightly, and his eyes darted nervously around like a thief, fearful that someone might discover the situation.

"I have come to see my father off," Li Chengqian said calmly. His words were simple, yet they contained profound emotion.

Once Li Chengqian spoke, Wen Ruchu understood his meaning—that he had not come in the capacity of an Emperor—and refrained from asking further questions.

"Then, my Lord, what are your orders?" Wen Ruchu asked, bowing with respectful caution.

"Have my private quarters prepared, and send some food—something nutritious," Li Chengqian said, a faint frown of fatigue appearing on his face. "I want to rest early tonight; I am exhausted. Send someone to knock and wake me at the hour of the Ox!"

"Yes, my Lord!" Wen Ruchu replied hurriedly.

After Li Chengqian went to rest, in an obscure corner of the Songhua Pavilion, Cheng Yaojin, Li Shimin, Yuchi Jingde, and Li Ji huddled together. Cheng Yaojin, looking shocked, touched the wood nearby, his rough hands stroking the surface as his eyes widened. He muttered, "Your Majesty, is this wood agarwood?"

Li Shimin glanced at Cheng Yaojin with utter disdain. "You are truly hopeless! Look at these windows—they are made of glass! They are more expensive than gold!" Li Shimin’s eyes were fixed on the exquisite glass windows, shimmering with a greedy light as if he were looking at a priceless treasure. "The glass here alone would be enough to fund several major military campaigns!"

Yuchi Jingde pointed toward the bustling shops on the floor below, swallowing hard with longing. "Your Majesty, are you hungry? They seem to be selling food downstairs. When I passed by earlier, the smell was so intoxicating it nearly made me lose my mind!"

Yuchi Jingde’s words were like a spark, instantly igniting the desires of those present, and were met with unanimous agreement.