Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan supported the coffin as they returned, astonishing the entire civil and military court. They had known Fu Zhi's condition was poor, but had not expected him to collapse on the road back to the capital.
Yet the one who grieved most bitterly over Fu Zhi's death was Xun Zu, who had been relegated to the Imperial College. He could not help bursting into tears before everyone, then cried all the way to the Fu Mansion to offer sacrifice.
He was truly heartsick. With Fu Zhi's death, the only person who might have restrained Zhao Hanzhang was gone.
Xun Zu sat before the spirit altar, weeping bitterly and railing that Heaven had no eyes. The state had only just been pacified, and Fu Zizhuang had great merit for both country and people. "Thieving Heaven, of all the people you could take, why him?"
"While you lived, we had no worries; now that you are gone, we cannot sleep night or day!" Xun Zu, a man over fifty, wept as though his entrails were being torn apart, his beard and hair flying. If his colleagues had not held him back, he would almost have crawled up to the coffin to pound on it, as if he could beat the man inside back to life.
Seeing him so grief‐stricken, Zhao Hanzhang could not help the sting in her nose. She stepped forward herself to comfort him and bow in thanks.
Xun Zu forced himself to stop, and was being helped away when an old man in coarse hemp clothes, his hair slightly disheveled, appeared at the main gate. He had clearly rushed over as soon as he heard the news, for even his shoes were mismatched—one wooden clog, one cloth shoe.
He did not mind in the least, but strode in laughing heartily.
Fu Zhi's reputation was excellent, and a good number of gentry and commoners alike came when they heard to offer sacrifice. Princess Hongnong had therefore set no gate restrictions: any who came could pay their respects. Thus the Soldier guarding the gate, though he stared wide‐eyed at the shabby old man, did not bar him.
Hearing the loud laughter, Zhao Hanzhang turned her head to look, and her lips parted slightly in surprise. Zhang Xie?
He had come down from the mountain?
How had he become like this?
Zhang Xie, who by rights in history should have died early in the Yongjia era, had lived on until now. When Zhao Changyu died, he had even come to wail before his bier, and in front of the Zhao Family's gate had cursed the Da Jin Royal Family and this court so fiercely it was as though he flayed them alive.
After Zhao Hanzhang took Luoyang, she had gone up the mountain several times to invite him down. Though he had helped in the interim, he was unwilling to truly enter officialdom, and spent most of his time in the mountains. Especially in this past year, she had repeatedly gone up to invite him to come down and instruct the Little Emperor, but he had refused every time. When she went again, he feigned illness and would not see her. It showed how firm his resolve was, so she had not expected him to come down for the funeral.
Zhang Xie had come to attend the funeral, yet he looked very pleased. Though his eyes were misted with tears, his face was full of smiles.
Standing before the spirit altar, he said to Fu Zhi, "Zizhuang, you are far more fortunate than Zhao Changyu. You have had the good luck to see the realm steadied and the people's hearts gradually settle. What regrets can you have left?"
Here he burst out laughing, turned his head, and asked Fu Tinghan, "Did your grandfather pass away peacefully?"
Fu Tinghan nodded. "Peacefully. He left with a smile on his face."
"Good, good, good! Hahahaha!" Zhang Xie threw back his head and laughed. "I said he would have no more regrets; sure enough, he had none."
He straightforwardly offered three sticks of incense, then looked at the coffin and said with mirth, "Do not be in such a hurry to go. Wait for me to come and play chess with you. I only hope Zhao Changyu has not gone too far ahead, so we can still catch up to him."
Zhao Hanzhang's heart gave a jolt. She carefully studied Zhang Xie's complexion and saw his face was ruddy, not at all like a sick man's. Only then did she quietly let out a breath.
After burning the incense and receiving Fu Xuan and Fu Tinghan's return bows, Zhang Xie ignored everyone else, turned, and was about to leave. Seeing Zhao Hanzhang standing to the side, he paused slightly, his expression strange, and said, "I only hope, Great General, that you will not let us old men down."
Before Zhao Hanzhang could speak, he strode off. In the courtyard he saw Xun Zu, who was being supported by two people, and snorted coldly, "Rotten wood, rotten wood. Even your heart is decayed, yet you still fancy carving it. Take care that when rotten wood bursts apart, it doesn't cut your hand."
Xun Zu's face changed drastically, but he did not dare refute him in front of Zhao Hanzhang.
Flicking his sleeves, Zhang Xie left, still laughing loudly.
Watching his back, Zhao Hanzhang turned and called Zeng Yue over. "Send someone to escort Mr. Zhang home, and be sure to see him safely to his house."
Zeng Yue assented and hurried after him.
After seven days of lying in state, Fu Zhi's coffin was borne out for burial. Zhao Hanzhang drafted his posthumous title for him—Wen Zhong, "Cultured and Loyal."
It was a fine posthumous title, and Fu Zhi's life fully deserved that character "loyal." None of the ministers objected, nor did the Little Emperor.
Just as the posthumous title was settled, news came down from the mountain: Zhang Xie had died of illness.
Zhao Hanzhang stared, her mouth falling open. "When he came to the funeral he still seemed all right..."
Zeng Yue reported, "His family says that ever since he refused the Prince East Sea's summons, he had been ill all along. Only in the last two years did he improve somewhat, but that was only outwardly; the foundation of his health had long since been ruined."
"Last June he fell gravely ill and nearly did not survive. Later, when he heard that My Lady had subdued Shi Le and wiped out the Xiongnu Kingdom, he began to recover. After half a year of nursing his health, he could only walk again this third month." Zeng Yue lowered his voice. "The Zhang Family says that after the Great General came to invite him several times following the spring, he had already been moved. It was not that he wished to instruct the Little Emperor; rather, he wanted to enter the Imperial College to teach, and was simply waiting for the Great General to bring it up."
"Who would have thought that after he came down the mountain to attend Mr. Fu's funeral, he would fall ill again, and in scarcely seven days..." Zeng Yue paused, then said, "But the Zhang Family say he went very peacefully, with a smile still on his face."
Zhao Hanzhang tugged at the corner of her mouth in a forced smile. "That is good, then. Make ready the mourning rites. I will go to the Zhang Family tomorrow to pay my respects."
Zeng Yue acknowledged the order.
Zhao Hanzhang personally went to the Zhang Family to offer sacrifice to Zhang Xie. Thinking of how he had come to the Zhao Family to wail before the coffin back then, how he had helped her break the impasse, and then recalling the words he had spoken before Fu Zhi's bier, she understood where the knots in their hearts lay.
Their generation, under such a peculiar political climate, either did as Zhao Changyu and Fu Zhi had done: squinting one eye shut and leaving one eye open, advancing only toward their chosen goal, pushing aside what they had no power to change, pretending not to see it;
Or they were like Zhang Xie and Xiahou Yan: taking in both good and evil with open eyes, then struggling and seething with hatred because they could not change anything, and in the end, withdrawing to the mountains, feigning that both eyes were closed.
But whether the former or the latter, their eyes might be shut, yet their hearts were open. It was not something one could simply choose not to see and thus not see.
This tormented them. They watched the country fall and their families be ruined, yet had no strength to reverse it. In that bleakness ahead, they could only keep questioning their own hearts, tormenting themselves day after day.
Zhao Hanzhang had always wanted them to enter officialdom because she wished to tell them that she could place a lever in their hands: if only they would exert themselves, they could change this world and alter this constricted plight.
Yet just as this had barely begun, they were all gone.
They had only managed to see the first spark of flame, and had not yet seen it blaze up.
Holding back her tears, Zhao Hanzhang bowed low and planted the incense sticks, then said to Zhang Xie's two sons, "Since the old gentleman harbored the intent to help set the realm in order, I hope you two can carry on your father's aspirations. When your mourning period is over, I ask that you come to the Imperial College to teach."
Zhang Xie's eldest son, Zhang Kun, quickly looked to his younger brother Zhang Qun. Zhang Qun gave a slight nod, and Zhang Kun accepted the offer.
Zhao Hanzhang also glanced at Zhang Qun and said, "If you encounter any difficulties, simply come to the General's Mansion to find me."
Both Zhang Kun and Zhang Qun answered with deeply moved expressions.
Few people came to offer sacrifice after Zhang Xie's death; Zhao Hanzhang's coming exceeded their expectations. Only after she had come did the number of those mourning Zhang Xie increase, which made the brothers all the more grateful to Zhao Hanzhang.

Comments

Loading...