Chapter 187: May your majesty rest in piece
Hua Jing remained seated quietly beside Zhao Yan, her hands folded tightly on her lap. Her eyes flicked briefly to the Empress’s display of grief, but her own face remained solemn. The room was too heavy with sorrow for anything else. Beside her, Zhao Yan still hadn’t moved from his place, his hands resting limply on his knees, eyes fixed ahead at the man who had raised him.
And then, slowly, the grand doors creaked open again.
One by one, members of the imperial family began to trickle in, their footsteps muffled by the thick mourning carpets now laid across the floor. They came clad in ceremonial white, the color of death and respect.
The princes entered first. The First Prince, the Second, and all the way to the Ninth. Each of them bore the same crestfallen expression, brows creased, lips pressed into thin lines. Though their relationships with the Emperor had varied, the weight of imperial loss hung heavily over each of them. They lined up in rank, bowing deeply before taking their places along the sides of the hall.
Following them came the seven princesses, each accompanied by their ladies-in-waiting. Their jeweled hairpieces had been replaced by simple silver pins, their vibrant silks exchanged for soft white robes of mourning. The air grew thick with sobs and muffled sniffles. Several of the younger princesses wept openly, holding onto each other for comfort.
Then came the Emperor’s consorts. Though they had not all borne his children, each of them had once shared the privilege of his company. Their faces were pale, many of them red-eyed from tears shed long before they reached the hall. They moved in slow procession, their eyes drawn to the lifeless body of the man who had once held such commanding power over all of them. Some knelt down in reverence, heads bowed so low their foreheads touched the floor.
Hua Jing watched them all without much expression, noting every flicker of emotion as it crossed their faces. Her gaze paused momentarily on the Seventh Princess, whose resemblance to the Emperor was startling now in grief.
It wasn’t until the doors opened one final time that a ripple of tension stirred in the room.
Zhao Ling Xu.