Chapter 1426 - 1335: Loyalty and Righteousness

When Fu Tinghan came back, there was only one lamp lit in the corner of the great hall, most of the space was in darkness, and Zhao Hanzhang was leaning against the bed, motionless.

Fu Tinghan leaned over to look at her. Seeing her eyes red, he handed her a handkerchief and asked softly, "Do you want to have another cry? I’ve sent them all away."

Zhao Hanzhang let out a breathy laugh. "Everyone is advising me to cry less, not to cry, and you, why are you doing the opposite and urging me to cry?"

"I’m afraid you’ll feel suffocated holding it in," Fu Tinghan said. "I know how hard it is to bottle up tears and grief in your heart, so although it’s not good to cry during your confinement, I still hope you can let it out."

Zhao Hanzhang fell silent for a moment, wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes, and stopped losing her temper. "I’m fine now. It’s just that the hormones during nursing are unaffected. If it were before, I wouldn’t have cried over something like this."

She said that, yet her tears still fell one after another, disobediently, even though she had just wiped them dry.

Fu Tinghan sighed softly, sat at the bedside, and reached out to wipe away her tears. Zhao Hanzhang couldn’t help sniffing, tilted her head to lean against him, and said in a low voice, "I really want to send troops to the Western Regions. Now that Zhang Gui is dead, who knows when we’ll hear any news of Zhao Xin and Zhang Shi again. Although our cotton seed stock grows every year, compared to the whole realm, it’s still far too little..."

Fu Tinghan pulled her into his arms and patted her back. "If you’re sad, then be sad. You don’t need to find so many excuses. All these years, Governor Zhang has helped us a lot. Although we never met face-to-face, you can tell what sort of man he was just from his letters. He’s worth your sorrow this time."

Zhao Hanzhang pressed her lips together, quieted down, and silently let the tears fall.

The next day, Zhao Hanzhang suspended court in mourning for Zhang Gui. The officials returned home in silence and hung white lanterns to observe his funeral.

Zhao Hanzhang took up the brush to list Zhang Gui’s merits over the years and posthumously appointed him Governor of Liangzhou, Imperial Attendant, and Grand Commandant, with the posthumous title Wumu.

The imperial decree was quickly dispatched to Xiliang by officials of the Ministry of Rites in charge of the funeral. To steady the hearts of Xiliang’s army and people, the decree was first transmitted openly by telegraph.

This so-called open text meant that in every province, anyone with a telegraph station could receive the message. The whole country thus learned that the King of Xiliang had died of illness, and the entire nation entered mourning.

The joy at the birth of the Princess was thereby washed away. Every household took down their red lanterns and red cloth strips, hung up white lanterns and white hemp cloth instead, and strictly followed the decree to keep mourning for Zhang Gui.

When Beigong Chun received the telegram, only then did he learn that the old lord had passed away. He burst into loud sobs, tossed aside his sword, put on coarse mourning clothes, tied on the mourning sash, and ran toward the camp.

No matter how he tried, Huang An could not catch up behind him. He could only stamp his feet, crying as he returned to the General Mansion, asking Mrs. Beigong to bring out all the mourning hemp, then sent people to buy up hemp cloth across the city and hauled two cartloads of it to the camp.

When the Xiliang Army saw the Great General come over dressed all in mourning and weeping, they were all startled. Their first thought was that something had happened to Old Lady Beigong. But then they realized that was wrong—though the Great General was very filial to the old lady, he always distinguished public from private. How would he bring his personal mourning into the camp?

Then a chill ran through them. Could it be that Your Majesty...

Just as they were panicking, Beigong Chun went straight to the dozen-odd veterans who had once served alongside him as personal guards under Zhang Gui and cried out, "Old Meng, the old lord... has passed."

Old Meng, who had lost one eye, froze for a moment, then tears shot out as he clung to Beigong Chun, and the two of them wailed with their heads pressed together. "When did it happen?"

Beigong Chun said, "We just received the telegram. He went on the twenty-second day of the ninth month. It tears me apart, it tears me apart!"

The veteran soldiers from Xiliang came back to themselves and all broke down crying.

Among them were many young soldiers from Xiliang as well. Most of them had come to enlist from Xiliang after hearing of Beigong Chun’s renown and Zhao Hanzhang’s benevolent magnanimity, and Zhang Gui had not forbidden it. They did not have very deep feelings for the King of Xiliang, but at this moment they too lowered their heads and wept.

In his whole life, Beigong Chun had encountered only two good people who knew how to use him and were willing to use him: one was Zhao Hanzhang, the other was Zhang Gui.

If Zhao Hanzhang was the bright lamp he saw when he had reached a dead end, then Zhang Gui was the discerning judge who had picked him out from among ten thousand horses.

Beigong Chun revered him like a father. His passing left a hollow in Beigong Chun’s heart, leaving only the instinct to howl with grief.

Fortunately, his grief came in a violent wave and ebbed quickly. When Huang An hauled over a cart of hemp cloth and distributed it so the whole army could wear mourning, Beigong Chun’s reason slowly returned in hiccuping sobs. "For the whole army to wear mourning, we... we must seek Your Majesty’s permission."

Beigong Chun was a man who strictly observed the law and military orders.

Huang An said, "Your Majesty has ordered national mourning. The army is also part of the nation."

But Beigong Chun still stubbornly insisted on asking for instructions. Though this army in Bingzhou bore the name Xiliang Army, it belonged to the court. Their food, clothing, and supplies all came from the court’s coffers; they no longer fell under Xiliang’s authority.

His wearing mourning for Zhang Gui was his personal act. Whether the army wore mourning or not had to be decided by the emperor.

Zhao Hanzhang approved and even allowed the Xiliang Army to send two men back to Xiliang to attend the funeral.

As soon as Beigong Chun heard this, he immediately chose Huang An and another veteran. Crying, he said, "If only I weren’t this Inspector, weren’t the Great General, I too would want to go back and see the old lord one last time."

At this point, Beigong Chun paused and muttered, "If I were to resign now..."

Huang An was startled and hurriedly tried to dissuade him. "Great General, Your Majesty will certainly not permit it, and might even blame Xiliang, thinking Xiliang has grown too close to us."

Beigong Chun wiped away his tears and said, "Shut up. Your Majesty is not that kind of person. Though I said so, I also know I cannot resign."

Huang An held his breath in his chest. Since you know you can’t resign, what did you say it out loud for? To scare him for fun?

In Youzhou, not far from Bingzhou, after reading the telegram, Shi Le sighed. "He was a hero. If, by the end of my life, I can achieve what he did, that will be enough."

Zhang Bin only smiled without speaking, but in his heart he knew Shi Le would never receive a posthumous title like "Wumu." His honors would end in his lifetime; after death... alas. He had made too many mistakes in the first half of his life. There were more people in this world who wanted to kill Shi Le than there were who wanted to kill the emperor; countless people hated him to the bone.

Zhang Bin had only one goal now: to secure greater and more numerous achievements for his lord, to lessen the shadow of his earlier deeds and strive for a good outcome after his death.

In Xiliang, after sending out the telegram, Zhang Mao sat in the telegraph room to wait. He waited for more than an hour before the telegraph, which had been silent all this time, suddenly crackled to life.

Everyone in the telegraph room straightened their backs, hearts in their throats as they watched.

Before long, the telegraph officer brought over the translated text and presented it respectfully.

Wang Rong reached out to take it, his eyes bloodshot as he read aloud, "The Emperor, upon hearing this tragic news, is deeply grieved. He commands the Heir of Xiliang to lay the remains to rest, orders officials from the Ministry of Rites to go and assist with the funeral affairs, and further commands—commands that the entire realm enter mourning, to send off the King of Xiliang in sorrow."

Zhang Mao’s spine suddenly loosened. He leaned back in his chair, his mouth working soundlessly as tears rolled down. The grief he had been suppressing at last found solid ground, and he could finally let himself cry his heart out.

Nationwide mourning meant that Your Majesty did not blame them for the funeral overshadowing Her Highness’s joyous occasion.

Only then did the Xiliang Royal Mansion erupt into widespread wailing as they formally began the funeral rites.

The next day, they received another telegram from the Capital City, this time the imperial edict sent ahead.

Zhang Mao led his entire household to kneel outside the telegraph room and listen. When he heard Wang Rong announce the posthumous appointment as Grand Commandant and the posthumous title Wumu, Zhang Mao knocked his head heavily to the ground, his body prostrate as he cried out, "Your subject kowtows in gratitude for the imperial grace. Our Zhang Family has passed down the virtues of filial piety and brotherly love from the early Han Dynasty to this day, loyal and obedient in every generation. I, Zhang Mao, will never forget the ancestral teachings. I will guard our lands and open new frontiers for Hua Country, for the people, for Your Majesty, and will not rest until death!"

He lifted his tear-filled eyes and turned to look at his nephew Zhang Jun and his daughter Zhang Ruo, kneeling behind him. "You two must also remember our ancestral teachings and never fail Hua Country and Your Majesty!"

The seven-year-old Zhang Jun and eight-year-old Zhang Ruo held their small faces taut in solemn seriousness as they answered and bowed low to the ground.