Taking her into his tent, he incurred the wrath of a powerful and mad minister, from which he could

Looking at her son's dejected appearance, Madam Zong was filled with anxiety: "The fire was an accident, how can you blame it all on you? Life and death are predestined, it is not your fault."

Zong Xian closed his eyes and said, "No, it's all my fault."

His mistake was leaving her that night.

His biggest mistake was keeping her by his side.

He regretted it, he regretted it terribly.

The woman in his arms had a peaceful expression and lay quietly in his embrace, looking more docile than ever before, but this was not what he wanted.

He didn't want her to be so obedient.

He wanted her to live.

...

Meanwhile, Zhiweizhai.

Xie Huaiyu paced anxiously, "Two days have passed, why hasn't the burial taken place yet?"

He had quietly returned to Beijing four days ago, and he had already discussed a plan with Ji Mingyi.

The original plan was flawless.

After Zong Xian buried her according to custom, he secretly dug up the grave at night, woke her from her apparent death, and then took her away from the capital, never to return.

Xie Huaiyu waited for two whole days, but after the fire at the Zong Mansion, there was no further news.

What exactly is Zong Xian doing right now?

Xie Huaiyu could wait no longer. He couldn't just sit and wait to die. If he waited any longer, Mingyi would really be dead!

Xie Huaiyu disregarded everything and was about to go to the Zong family mansion to snatch the person away.

Just then, the servant who had gone to the Zong residence to inquire about the news rushed back.

"Young Master! We've just received news that the Zong family will be holding a funeral today!"

It was only after Madam Zong received the news that Ji Mingzhe and his maid had encountered pirates on their way back from Jiangzhou. In their panic, the two jumped into the river and disappeared without a trace, likely already dead.

Madam Zong told Zong Xian the bad news and tried her best to persuade him to bury the deceased for peace.

Zong Xian, unwilling to let Ji Mingyi not rest in peace, finally agreed to hold a funeral for the Ji siblings.

The coffin has been prepared.

Chang Yu came to ask for instructions, and said cautiously, "Second Master, as you instructed, the mourning hall has been set up at Songhe Garden, and the monks who will perform the rites have arrived. Let's put Auntie in the coffin first."

Zong Xian remained sitting by the bed, no longer holding the corpse. His eyes, which once held a keen understanding of human nature and a knack for making perfect plans, were now lifeless and devoid of any spirit.

Chang Yu, having received no reply for a long time, began to feel uneasy.

He had followed Zong Xian for a long time and had seen many storms, but he had never encountered a situation like this before and had no idea what to do.

The long silence was almost overwhelming, so Chang Yu mustered his courage and quietly looked up.

Then, the second master bent down and pressed his lips close to the girl's forehead, looking at her with a look of piety and reverence.

Chang Yu felt a chill run down his spine and hurriedly lowered his eyes.

These past two days, Zong Xian has stayed with her from day to night; it's time to see her off.

But he was surprisingly reluctant to part with it.

"Ji Mingyi, have you ever blamed me?"

"I failed to protect you, and I failed to protect your brother. What good is power if I can't keep the people I want to keep? If I had known this would happen, I should have been kinder to you."

The room was quiet, save for his low murmurs.

After a short while, Zong Xian stopped talking, picked up Ji Mingyi, and walked out of Tingshui Pavilion.

They walked step by step toward the mourning hall.

The entire corridor was silent, and all the servants on both sides knelt with their heads bowed, none daring to look up.

...

The mourning hall was set up in Songhe Garden.

Zong Xian personally carried her into the coffin, which was made of the finest ebony and placed in the very center.

The mourning hall was filled with layers of plain white funeral banners, which fluttered and rustled in the wind.

Mixed in with the low chanting of Buddhist scriptures by monks.

The courtyard was filled with sorrow and silence, the atmosphere oppressive and somber.

Zong Xian was dressed in plain white mourning clothes, his black hair was tied up with a white rope, without any other embellishment.

The exhaustion from two sleepless nights was fully revealed; his eyes were dark and swollen, his chin was covered with stubble, and he looked lifeless, as if he were the one who should have died.

According to the rules of aristocratic families, the funerals of concubines should be simple, without extravagance or mournful music, but Ke Zongxian made an exception for all of them.

Such an excessive favor was witnessed by everyone in the household.

But what use is any more honor and glory when the person is dead?

Mingyi didn't know many people; only the people from Baixianglou came to mourn him.

Fan Jing thought Mingyi was already living a good life, but when she suddenly heard the news of his death, she was so shocked that her steps were unsteady.

She couldn't believe Mingyi was dead until she saw the coffin with her own eyes, at which point she finally accepted reality and burst into tears.

I never imagined that my first time stepping into such a prestigious place would be to attend a friend's funeral.

Fan Siyuan and Lin Han also arrived and patted him on the shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

Zong Xian remained silent, standing quietly beside the coffin, staring intently at the person inside.

Ning Shuang, Ning Xue, and several other maids knelt to the side, burning paper money and sobbing softly.

The monks' chanting gradually subsided, and finally the coffin was closed.

In the instant between life and death, Zong Xian's figure swayed, and he staggered and fell heavily to his knees, suddenly spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"grown ups!"

"Second Master!"

Everyone was horrified.

A-Qing quickly went to help him up, but Zong Xian raised one hand, and A-Qing hesitated to move him again, looking at him with concern.

Zong Xian raised the back of his hand and forcefully wiped the blood from the corner of his lips. He then supported himself with one hand on the ground and stood up as if nothing had happened.

His face was deathly pale, except for the horribly red corners of his eyes.

"Let's begin the ritual."

The monk regained his senses, struck the wooden fish again, and the chanting of the sutras for the deceased began to rise again, but with a hint of trepidation in the chanting.

Four strong men stepped forward, lifted the heavy coffin, and slowly carried it out of Songhe Garden, exiting through the side gate of the Zongfu Mansion.

Ah Qing was genuinely worried about Zong Xian's health and kindly advised, "Second Master, the journey to Tianchi Mountain is long and arduous. You haven't eaten or drunk anything for days. This is enough. Go back and rest."

Zong Xian coldly brushed her aside, "No, I want to see her off on her final journey."

He took a step and followed the direction the coffin had gone, each step very steady. The blood he had coughed up earlier still lingered on his clothes, a mixture of red and white.

The burial site was chosen at Tianchi Mountain, a place with excellent feng shui. Most importantly, Mingyi liked the place.

By the time the coffin was delivered, it was already dusk.

The sky was clear and the air was fresh, with no chilly winds or cold rain. The red plum blossoms all over the mountains were blooming freely in the evening breeze, bright and vibrant.

"Thank you for bringing me here, sir. I'm very happy."

The girl's voice, appearance, and smile are still vivid in my mind.

White paper money swirled and danced in the wind, landing softly on the branches of red plum trees and on the newly turned yellow earth, the red and white colliding.

Zong Xian stood in front of the tomb, watching the coffin being lowered into the pit, watching her being buried little by little by the yellow earth, his heart felt as if it were being crushed and he could hardly breathe.

When he could no longer see anything, Zong Xian closed his eyes in despair, but a tear still rolled down uncontrollably and hit the ground.

He always held a light blue purse tightly in his palm, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Inside the purse were a lock of hair that each of them had cut off when they tied their hair together.

The bluestone tablet was clean and tidy, with a line of words clearly engraved on it: Tomb of my wife Ji Mingyi.

As night fell, Xie Huaiyu, carrying a lantern, saw the inscription on the tombstone, and his eyes suddenly turned bloodshot.

"Shameless! When did she become your wife, Zong Xian?!"

"Dig it up!!"

Several servants had prepared short shovels early in the morning, and immediately bent down, silently and quickly digging into the still soft new soil.

The soil slid down, gradually revealing the top of the somber wooden coffin below...

When Mingyi gradually regained consciousness, she was already sitting on a ship leaving the capital, with Xie Huaiyu sitting beside her, holding her hand tightly.

Seeing her open her eyes, Xie Huaiyu's worry, which had been building up for days, finally dissipated. His tone was filled with undisguised joy and lingering fear as he said, "You're finally awake."