Da Ming: I told you to die for your cause, why are you actually going to die?

Chapter 12 Let Old Zhu's knife come even more fiercely! [New book, please add to your collection]

September, the 25th year of Hongwu (1386), on the day of Bingyin.

Zhu Biao, the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty, was buried on the east side of the Xiaoling Mausoleum, which is called the Ming Eastern Mausoleum.

Before dawn, the entire Yingtian Prefecture was shrouded in a heavy solemnity.

Plain white banners were hung all over the main streets inside and outside the imperial city.

The once bustling city seemed to have been silenced, with even the sounds of chickens and dogs barely audible.

The air was filled with the distinctive smell of incense and paper money, mixed with the chill of the early autumn morning dew, which brought a bone-chilling coldness when inhaled.

In the square in front of the Fengtian Hall, civil and military officials had already lined up according to their ranks.

Everyone was dressed in the simplest court attire, with black gauze hats on their heads, their expressions solemn, their eyes lowered, and they dared not overstep the bounds in the slightest.

The atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it was filled with lead, and every breath was taken with extreme care.

Occasionally, officials would stand for too long and their legs would go numb, but they had no choice but to endure it and dare not move at all.

Lady Lü, dressed in the deepest mourning attire, stood at the very front of the female relatives' procession, supported by two older palace maids.

Her face was ashen, her eyes were red and swollen, and her body swayed precariously, relying entirely on the support of those around her.

Each soft sob caused her shoulders to tremble violently, as if she were about to faint at any moment.

She portrayed the grief of a widow to the extreme, so much so that even the most demanding officials could not find fault with her performance.

Zhu Yunwen followed closely behind, also in deep mourning.

He was thin and his complexion was not much better than that of Lady Lü, but his back was straight, and his eyes, besides grief, revealed a determination and sorrow that were beyond his years.

He pressed his lips tightly together, trying hard not to let the tears fall, but his red eyes and slightly trembling jaw betrayed the huge turmoil in his heart.

He carefully supported Madam Lü's arm, his movements gentle yet firm, perfectly embodying the image of a filial son and virtuous grandson.

The imperial grandsons behind him, including Zhu Yunwen, appeared somewhat timid and hesitant, especially overshadowed by Zhu Yunwen's powerful aura of filial piety and brotherly love.

Among the princes, Prince Qin (Zhu Shuang), Prince Jin (Zhu Gang), Prince Yan (Zhu Di), and others were all dressed in plain clothes and looked sorrowful.

Zhu Shuang kept his head down, but his eyes kept glancing toward the throne, revealing a hint of barely perceptible anxiety.

Zhu Gang frowned slightly, as if he was thinking about something. His gaze occasionally swept over Zhu Yunwen and his mother before quickly looking away.

Zhu Di was the calmest. His eyelids were lowered, and his face was filled with pure sorrow, as if he were immersed in the great grief of losing his brother. He was indifferent to everything around him, except that his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and his knuckles were slightly white.

"The Emperor has arrived——!"

With a hoarse, tearful shout from the eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, heavy footsteps echoed from inside the hall.

Old Zhu appeared.

He did not ride in the imperial carriage, but walked out.

This once mighty and fearsome founding emperor seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

He was still wearing a bright yellow dragon robe, but he wore a loose, plain white linen garment over it.

His face was etched with deep sorrow and exhaustion; his eyes were sunken and bloodshot; and his gray hair, which was no longer meticulously combed, looked somewhat disheveled.

His once straight back seemed to have hunched over a bit, and every step he took was unusually heavy, as if he were carrying the weight of the entire country and the pain of losing his son.

He didn't look at anyone; his sharp, hawk-like eyes were now dull and lifeless, fixed on the enormous coffin covered with a bright yellow dragon-patterned shroud carried by the palace servants in front of him.

Lying inside was his heir to the empire, on whom he had placed great hopes, his son Zhu Biao, to whom he had poured all his heart and soul and fatherly love.

Old Zhu walked to the coffin, stretched out his withered, age-spotted hand, and gently stroked the cold coffin with trembling hands. His lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only let out a suppressed sob, like that of a wounded beast.

"Biao'er! Our Biao'er!"

That low call, like a heavy hammer, struck the hearts of everyone present.

Many officials could no longer hold back and began to sob quietly.

Lady Lü let out a loud "Aww," her body went limp, and she almost collapsed to the ground, but Zhu Yunwen and the palace maids held her up tightly.

Zhu Yunwen's tears finally broke free and flowed silently.

The entire Fengtian Square was filled with mournful cries.

Somber funeral music played, and the procession slowly began.

The enormous coffin, guarded by hundreds of imperial guards in plain armor, was steadily lifted by sixty-four carefully selected strongmen and slowly moved out of Chengtian Gate along the imperial road paved with white paper money, heading towards the Xiaoling Mausoleum on Zhongshan Mountain.

Civil and military officials, members of the imperial family and nobles, and concubines from the harem followed in silence for miles.

White banners fluttered in the autumn wind, and paper money flew everywhere, like a mournful snowfall.

Zhu Yunwen supported the nearly exhausted Lady Lü tightly, walking at the front of the procession, closely following the coffin and Old Zhu.

He walked with exceptionally steady steps, trying his best to straighten his thin body, exposing himself completely to everyone's sight.

He could clearly feel the complex gazes coming from all directions—there was sympathy, scrutiny, expectation, and perhaps even hidden hostility.

He knew that from this day forward, he was no longer the second grandson of the emperor who only needed to study and practice writing; he had to take that position.

When the procession was halfway through its journey, it passed near the Ten Princes' Palace.

Prince Yan, Zhu Di, seemed to inadvertently glance at the second-floor window of a restaurant by the roadside.

There, a monk dressed in black robes stood solemnly by the window, gazing at the funeral procession.

Zhu Di's gaze didn't linger; it was as if he had only glanced at it casually before returning to the enormous coffin in front of him, his face still filled with deep sorrow.

But the brief exchange of glances between the two conveyed enough information.

Meanwhile, deep within the imperial prison.

Zhang Biao lay listlessly on the straw, dipping his finger in water and drawing circles on the cold floor tiles.

The deafening funeral music and faint sobs outside could still be vaguely heard through the thick prison walls.

"Tsk, Old Zhu must be heartbroken right now."

Zhang Biao curled his lip, then changed the subject: "But as sad as he was, when it came to killing people, he never hesitated!"

"Once the funeral is over and Old Zhu has recovered, he'll remember me, this troublemaker who always stirs up trouble, still living a life of luxury in the imperial prison."

Zhang Biao's eyes gleamed with anticipation: "Shouldn't my joint trial by three judicial departments be on the agenda soon? Lü Ping and Qi Tai probably won't last much longer! When that happens, as long as I can find a way to see Old Zhu again, hehe."

He could almost see himself being led out of the imperial prison by the Embroidered Uniform Guard, facing the furious Emperor Zhu, achieving his goal of immediate execution, and then happily returning to the modern world.

"The best prison food in the Ming Dynasty... I'm afraid we won't be able to eat it anymore."

He clicked his tongue in slight regret, but quickly cheered up again: "But it's okay! I'll just order takeout when I get back! There are all sorts of amazing discount coupons that are super affordable!!"

He closed his eyes and began to silently rehearse the 'die-hard remonstrance' meme in his mind, hoping to hit the bullseye this time and deliver a fatal blow!

Let Old Zhu's knife come faster and more fiercely!

(End of this chapter)