Chapter 847: The Memorial Rite

In March in Kaifeng, grass and trees grew wildly, mountain flowers bloomed in profusion, all things shone brilliantly—a scene full of vitality. In the outskirts around Kaifeng, among the slopes and wooded wilds, the figures of spring outings and green-treading were already dense.

Grass grew and orioles flew; beneath the azure sky, numerous kites flew at varying heights, as if carrying the thoughts of those holding the strings at the other end, soaring upward, roaming the heavens.

On the road, Zhao Kuangyin rode on horseback, his gaze also drawn by several high-flying paper kites. Of course, Zhao Kuangyin had left Kaifeng not for an outing, but to pay respects at the grave of his father, Zhao Hongyin.

He had returned to court three days prior—audience with the emperor, reporting on duties, attending reviews, coordinating with the Bureau of Military Affairs and the Ministry of War—and only now did he have leisure. Behind him followed only a carriage and a flatbed cart, carrying his mother, younger brother, wife, and children, loaded with candles, paper offerings, and other sacrificial items, with only three household servants accompanying.

Speaking of it, from Zhao Hongyin to Zhao Kuangyin, one could say they were blessed with many sons and much fortune, but it seemed they were running bad luck—half of the children born had died young, causing the Zhao family's incense to appear not so flourishing.

After ten years of development, the Zhao family had become high-ranking meritorious nobles of the Great Han, yet the moment Zhao Hongyin died, their prestige immediately weakened. Although there was still Zhao Kuangyin, an increasingly stout pillar of support, one could not help but feel a sense of decline.

However, compared to the curious gossip of the onlooking crowd, Zhao Kuangyin always remained calm and composed as usual; his depth of cunning grew ever deeper.

Zhao Hongyin's grave was in Yongqiu County, southeast of Kaifeng, near a village called Xiping—naturally, a choice plot of geomantic fortune. After traveling for over half a day, they finally reached their destination.

Compared to many nobles who increasingly indulged in decadence, the Zhao family was quite low-key. Though they did not deliberately seek frugality on ordinary days, they never wasted or flaunted—everything appeared "perfectly ordinary."

Including Zhao Hongyin's funeral—one could basically see no extravagance. When Zhao Kuangyin brought the family to the site, aside from his late father's new grave atop the hill, what drew his attention most was a thatched hut not far from the grave.

Apparently hearing the commotion outside, a young man in plain scholar's robes hurried out from within—it was none other than "Zhao the Second."

Originally, with the blessings Zhao Hongyin had left behind, Zhao Kuangyi could have accepted rewards and entered the palace for duty, formally stepping onto the official path as a son of a meritorious noble.

However, somewhat unexpectedly, Zhao Kuangyi chose to submit a memorial requesting resignation, saying he wished to observe the rites and mourn his father for three years. This naturally drew Liu Chengyou's attention; after a moment's thought, he agreed—since the man wanted to fulfill filial piety, he could hardly refuse. Of course, it was also because Zhao Kuangyi was currently nothing but an unknown in the Great Han; had he been a key minister in an important post, they likely would have shortened the mourning period and recalled him to duty.

Thereafter, Zhao Kuangyi built a hut beside his father's grave, dwelling there, tending the tomb and sweeping the mound, reading and practicing martial arts, in simple clothes and plain food, all supplied by Xiping Village. Within a few months, the reputation of the Zhao family's third son's filial piety had spread.

Zhao Kuangyin clearly approved of his younger brother's conduct. When the brothers met, there was naturally a vigorous embrace. But first, he paid respects to his mother, Lady Du, who had come along, before they began to converse.

"Second Brother, I heard two days ago that you had returned to the capital—finally, you've come to pay respects to Father!" Zhao Kuangyi was tending the grave, but he was not cut off from the world's affairs.

"Let us first pay respects to Father!" Patting Zhao Kuangyi on the shoulder, Zhao Kuangyin said.

Burning incense, burning paper, kowtowing, pouring out heartfelt feelings—Zhao Kuangyin was a tough and resolute man, but at such a scene, he could not help but shed tears and wail bitterly. As Liu Chengyou had been concerned about, not being able to see Zhao Hongyin one last time, to attend him at his deathbed, weighed heavily on Zhao Kuangyin's heart. Because of state affairs, he could not call it regret, but his heart was indeed filled with remorse.

After the rites concluded, he wiped away his tears, gave some instructions, then called Zhao Kuangyi over, and the two sat down inside his thatched hut. With Zhao Hongyin gone, the Zhao family basically relied on the two grown brothers to hold things together—of course, the one in charge was still Zhao Kuangyin.

The thatched hut had two rooms—one bedroom and one hall—extremely crude, furnished with only basic necessities. Zhao Kuangyi was, after all, the son of a noble family; his mother Lady Du had raised him strictly, but he had still been pampered. To willingly endure such simplicity was commendable. If he could truly hold out for three full years, consistent in his conduct, then he was indeed a man of substance.

"Kuangyi, I heard of your deeds as soon as I returned to the capital!" Observing Zhao Kuangyi and seeing that his state was not put on, Zhao Kuangyin said: "That you have this filial heart moves your elder brother deeply. Father's spirit in heaven should also be gratified!"

"Second Brother, you are away fighting campaigns; this is my way of fulfilling filial duty to Father on behalf of us brothers!" Zhao Kuangyi replied.

"This place is so poor and simple—it must be hard on you!" Zhao Kuangyin said.

Zhao Kuangyi answered seriously: "This place is secluded, the scenery is lovely, far from the splendor of the Eastern Capital. I can serve Father and also read and cultivate my character—killing two birds with one stone!"

"Good!" Zhao Kuangyin's expression relaxed, and he nodded, saying with deep feeling: "You have always been intelligent, with a filial and benevolent heart. In the future, you will surely become a pillar of talent."

Praised thus by his elder brother, Zhao Kuangyi could not help but reveal a delighted expression.

"Second Brother, the account of this campaign to pacify Shu has spread widely in the Eastern Capital, full of legends. You commanded the entire army—your experiences must be extraordinary. Could you tell me about them?" After the two had chatted for a while, Zhao Kuangyi suddenly asked with great enthusiasm.

Seeing this, Zhao Kuangyin said: "The Pacification Commission should have publicized it quite clearly by now, shouldn't they?"

Zhao Kuangyi then said: "The story drafts written by the scholars of the Pacification Commission are certainly exciting, but I always feel they lose the truth of it. I think your personal experiences, your process of commanding the troops, are more worth hearing!"

To Zhao the Second's request, Zhao Kuangyin nodded in agreement, saying: "But no need to rush. For the next period of time, I'll stay here and keep Father company!"

That night, Zhao Kuangyin arranged for his family to lodge in the nearby Xiping Village, while he himself stayed in the thatched hut with Zhao Kuangyi. The two brothers shared a bed and a blanket, talking late into the night by candlelight, sleeping foot to foot.

In the daytime it was fine, but at night—beside a lone grave, a single hut, with no human habitation for ten li around, and from within the forest shadows occasionally came the cries of beasts one could not identify.

Having experienced the environment, Zhao Kuangyin was even more satisfied with this younger brother.

In the days that followed, Zhao Kuangyin basically stayed at the thatched hut, keeping vigil at the grave together with Zhao Kuangyi. However, three days later, several people arrived, led by Dang Jin, bringing incense, candles, wine, and meat.

"Commander-in-Chief!"

"My post as commander of the eastern route has been withdrawn since the army returned to court—I dare not accept the title of Commander-in-Chief!" Zhao Kuangyin waved his hand.

"Chief Inspector!" Hearing him say this, Dang Jin and the others immediately changed their address. Zhao Kuangyin still held the military post of Chief Inspector of the Palace Command.

Those who came were all Zhao Kuangyin's former subordinates. Although Liu Chengyou had been continuously strengthening the army's institutional construction and tightening control, wherever there are people, there are factions—the military remained riddled with cliques. Inevitably, over all these years, Zhao Kuangyin had also become the head of a small faction. Combined with Zhao Hongyin's network of connections, it was enough to exert a certain influence.

Liu Chengyou was actually well aware of these situations, and as time passed, he no longer feared them as much. After so many years of rectification, division of power, and checks and balances, the major mountain strongholds had basically been leveled—there was no longer any general who could command a response from a hundred. The army had entered a state of relative equilibrium. All Liu Chengyou needed to do was maintain that balance.

Zhao Kuangyin had risen gradually within the imperial army, with Liu Chengyou's support along the way. Interestingly, in the early years, Liu Chengyou had repeatedly suspected and guarded against Guo Wei because of the yellow banner draped upon him; now, toward Zhao Kuangyin, who would carry the "yellow robe draping" to its fullest, he instead offered much support, seemingly without wariness. The change in this attitude was worth pondering.

"What are you all doing here?" Looking at his gathered subordinates—three of them had accompanied him into Shu for the campaign.

Dang Jin laughed: "We heard the Chief Inspector had come to pay respects. Duke Guangyang was not only the Chief Inspector's father but also a senior in the army—we ought to come and offer our condolences, to show our respect!"

Looking at the neatly assembled group, Zhao Kuangyin sighed inwardly—too conspicuous. However, since they had come with such sincere goodwill, it would not do to refuse their kindness. Solemnly clasping his fists and bowing, Zhao Kuangyin said: "On behalf of my father, I thank you brothers for your kindness!"

After the rites concluded, the group sat on the ground before Zhao Kuangyi's thatched hut, roasting meat and drinking wine. Dang Jin spoke directly, his tone laced with schadenfreude: "Chief Inspector, you've been keeping vigil here and may not know—these past few days, the Eastern Capital has been quite lively!"