The villagers flocked into the establishment, their incessant talk of ancestors and Zhuge making everyone feel agitated.
Mu Chaobi's spirits sank. He said perfunctorily,
"Lord Liu, let's proceed as planned!"
As he finished, he remembered something and asked curiously, "Where is Lord You? Why is he not here today?"
Liu Zhangkuan quickly replied, "Lord You, Lord You has gone to the Temple of Marquis of Wu… He said the will of the people was hard to defy, and he had no choice but to comply first and preside over the commemoration of Kongming..."
This?
Alas!
Everyone sighed, cursing inwardly, but what could they do? They couldn't very well confront the provincial governor.
Mu Chaobi said impatiently,
"Alright, alright, alright. Lord Liu, you go and prepare. The ancestral tablets will be officially brought out at the hour of Shen!"
At the same time,
In front of the Temple of Marquis of Wu, a large platform had been erected. You Jijing and Li Zhi presided over the ceremony, which was spirited and orderly. Many villagers had also seen Li Zhi and knew that this young scholar was Zhu Mo's attendant. They all pointed and beamed with joy.
You Jijing, as the provincial governor, his official robes gleaming, walked onto the platform and waved his hand. The thousands of villagers immediately fell silent.
"All officials and commoners, I am entrusted by Grand Scholar Zhu Mo to preside over this grand commemoration of Ge. I thank all the enthusiastic officials and commoners present!"
He cupped his hands in greeting to the crowd and then bowed.
"Wow!"
"Wow!"
The villagers cheered.
You Jijing saw the joyous crowd, yet it remained orderly, with no stampedes. Everyone stood in their places without further movement, cheering but not shouting wildly. He was greatly surprised and felt that the people of the border regions were indeed extraordinary, clearly demonstrating a disciplined character forged through centuries of complex circumstances.
As he lamented, he loudly proclaimed,
"Officials and commoners, this southern expedition's success owes everything to the spiritual protection of our ancient sages! The merit in pacifying Burma is inseparable from our Yongchang righteous soldiers! Therefore, Grand Scholar Zhu initiated this commemoration of Chancellor Zhuge, hoping that today's ceremony will be passed down to future generations, so that everyone knows that the nation's affairs lie in rituals and warfare!"
As he spoke,
The atmosphere in the entire venue became solemn.
You Jijing immediately shouted, "All officials and commoners, commence the ritual!"
As his voice fell,
Li Zhi led two teams of men who entered the arena in file from both sides. The left team consisted of seventy-two scholars, old, middle-aged, and young, found in the villages. The right team consisted of seventy-two musketeers. As the two teams reached the foot of the platform, You Jijing had already presented the ancestral tablets.
Li Zhi, as the second officiant, began to read the eulogy.
This ceremony was different from the usual. It was Li Zhi's own invention, especially the inclusion of musketeers, symbolizing both military and civil virtue. It was Li Zhi's insistence that You Jijing reluctantly agreed. But the effect was surprisingly good. Tens of thousands of villagers held their breath, and the atmosphere above was not only solemn and respectful but also carried a sense of grim determination. You Jijing deeply felt that when Kongming pacified the south, he indeed possessed both literary and military prowess, which enabled him to succeed.
After Li Zhi finished reading the eulogy, You Jijing loudly declared,
"Fire the muskets!"
"Bang bang bang!"
"Bang bang bang!"
The two teams of musketeers fired their weapons in succession, a total of three volleys. As the entire venue fell silent, everyone felt a sense of awe. The same thought arose in everyone's mind: Zhuge Wuhou is indeed Wuhou, originally someone who wielded military might...
Li Zhi immediately sighed with emotion: "The morale of the officials and commoners has been boosted. Zi Xuan should be safe now..."
...
At this moment,
It was exactly the hour of Shen.
In the city's Confucian Temple, two ancestral tablets, one before the other, were brought out. The one placed slightly forward was that of Confucius, the Most Sagely Former Teacher. The one placed slightly behind was that of "The Divine Ancestor of Emperor Huizong of the Great Ming."
Mu Chaobi, clad in resplendent golden armor, was flanked by Hu Rulin, Wang Daren, Wang Cai, Liu Zhangkuan, and others, arranged by rank. Then came Yu Chaosheng, Liao Yue, Fu Yingfang, and others. Over three hundred students from the academy, dressed in red and black xuandu robes, followed by over a hundred military officers of the rank of Youji or above, all in armor, looked magnificent and solemn.
However, as they emerged from the Confucian Temple, there were almost no people on the streets, only some beggars and old, weak women and children basking in the sun. Liu Zhangkuan had also hired a group of professional mourners. They would throw paper money every ten meters, wail for a while, and then move forward.
Mu Chaobi, leading the procession alone, was filled with indignation along the way. He felt the entire event was a joke. The solemn procession was completely ignored, and in their haste, they truly resembled a funeral procession...
He thought about it more and more, his anger growing. He couldn't help but turn back and glare at Liu Zhangkuan. Liu Zhangkuan trembled with fear, and the others also felt uneasy, their eyes filled with resentment, but they refrained from outbursts due to the solemnity of the occasion. Liu Zhangkuan felt bitter in his heart, but he was the one with the lowest status here.
After tormenting them for more than half an hour, the procession finally exited the Gongbei Gate.
At this time, the border region, due to decades of corrupt governance, was a scene of desolation, but it was also quite peaceful. Even in the midday sun, it evoked a sense of emptiness. In the distance, thatched cottages were sparsely scattered, the landscape was a sea of autumnal yellow, creating a profoundly desolate atmosphere...
Mu Chaobi could no longer contain himself and cursed,
"Incompetent fools! All of you are incompetent fools!"
With a sudden movement!
He took off his armor. The attendants behind him quickly brought his horse. He leaped onto the horse and, with a crack of the whip, galloped off alone into the distance.
...
Zhu Mo, disguised as a servant in the temple, waited until noon before seeing the ancestral tablets gracefully enter the mountain gate.
Mu Chaobi, dressed in a simple cloth shirt, entered in a hurry, his face looking extremely displeased. Several imposing figures followed him, their expressions equally grim. Liu Zhangkuan, head bowed, rushed about, looking utterly disheveled.
This,
was self-evident—
Their commemoration ceremony had been suppressed...
...
Mu Chaobi was in no mood to do anything. He sat in the meditation room, only drinking tea. It wasn't until nightfall that Wang Cai, worried about how to explain the situation to his patron, reminded him,
"Your Excellency, this matter still needs to be completed..."
Mu Chaobi was impatient, but Wang Cai was Yan Shifan's confidant, and he couldn't offend him. He immediately replied, "Alright! Let's do it! Since it's done every year, this year will follow the usual procedure!"
Liu Zhangkuan, who had been organizing this for seven or eight years, said cautiously,
"Your Excellency, shall I have the irrelevant personnel leave?"
Mu Chaobi didn't even bother to look at him, merely waving his hand. Liu Zhangkuan, as if granted a great pardon, led the yamen runners from the backyard to the mountain gate, driving away all unrelated pilgrims.
It was now the hour of Xu.
Everyone changed into their clothes and arrived at the foot of the Grand Hall.
Zhu Mo, still disguised as a servant, watched from a distance. He saw that in the solemn mourning hall, there was also a portrait of Emperor Jianwen. It was a monk with a clean-shaven face, but a persistent melancholy in his brows, clearly indicating a life of ill fortune. However, his features were also decent, and by instinct, this person looked more like an ordinary scholar.
It was also his first time seeing Emperor Jianwen's true appearance. He couldn't help but sigh for a long time, thinking that this person, misguided by a few scholars with little knowledge, had done astonishing things. Two hundred years later, he was still used as a pawn by many, which was truly tragic. He wondered what his state of mind was during his later years wandering in the Yunnan-Guizhou region. Was he coerced by those powerful figures? All of this remained a mystery...
However, judging from his appearance, Zhu Mo felt that Emperor Jianwen was likely coerced and his later years were not smooth... Those loyal vassals and Confucian scholars who supported him all met tragic ends. Naturally, they would harbor resentment, and even if they outwardly praised him, they would not truly respect him...
As he thought,
He heard the sound of melancholic music.
He saw that in the mourning hall, some musicians were already playing tunes from the former imperial court. Judging by the melodies, they seemed to depict scenes of former court life, evoking a sense of nostalgic sorrow. This music was quite fitting for commemorating Emperor Jianwen. After all, Mu Chaobi, Liao Yue, Yu Chaosheng, Fu Yingfang, and others were his subjects. On that fateful battle, everyone had lost their founding merits, and naturally, they couldn't forget the fleeting glory they had once possessed...
After three pieces of music were played,
Mu Chaobi and the others already had tears in their eyes—
No matter what, this Imperial Grandson was forever an inextricable part of them. Although this person had died nearly two hundred years ago, he represented both the past and the future. Every year, the commemoration felt empty, but every time they truly reminisced, it felt incredibly real.
Mu Chaobi's emotions surged. He deeply felt that only four or five generations had passed, and the night the Nanjing city fell felt as if it had happened yesterday.
At some point, Yu Chaosheng began to cry uncontrollably, his voice choked with sobs, "Your Excellency, if Prince Yu were also here, how wonderful it would be! Emperor Huizong is truly too pitiful. He did nothing wrong! How did it turn out like this? Why did this happen?"