Year 647 of Tian Yuan, an urgent dispatch from the border arrived: The Crown Prince has passed away.
After seven days of rapid travel, Crown Prince Xiao Heng’s coffin reached the Eastern Palace.
The Eastern Palace was now shrouded in sorrow. The main hall was entirely draped in white silk, with a heavy coffin placed at the center. On its surface, a large character for “Condolence” was written on a silk handkerchief.
The entire coffin was crafted from precious Golden Phoebe Wood, with a flat head and even tail, oriented with the head as the upper part. The coffin lid arched upward, featuring a wooden gourd at the front, and bright yellow silk tied into a flower adorned the lid.
The hall was filled with the smoke of incense and candles. Over fifty people, both men and women, knelt densely on the floor, prostrating themselves and weeping uncontrollably, their grief-stricken expressions as if they had lost their own parents.
As for whether their sorrow was genuine or feigned, only they themselves truly knew.
With the Crown Prince’s passing, the entire nation mourned. Over ninety percent of the palace staff were required to pay their respects before the Crown Prince’s memorial tablet, recite scriptures, and offer a stick of incense.
Nine pairs of elegiac couplets hung on both sides of the main hall. The sound of funeral music and scripture recitations echoed throughout the room.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the hall.
“Crown Prince Brother, how could you leave like this? This isn’t real, it can’t be real! I don’t believe it, wuuu!”
A piercing and shrill voice abruptly sounded at the entrance, followed by a petite figure in plain white clothes who practically stumbled and crawled into the hall.
The newcomer was a woman, her small face deathly pale and streaked with tears. On her head was a Mourning Band folded to about half a hand’s width. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips cracked and bleeding. The hair beneath the mourning band was disheveled, and her plain white dress was stained with mud at the knees and elbows.
The woman staggered with each step, as if the slightest breeze could topple her frail and weary body.
Hearing this sound, the others in the hall instinctively looked up, staring blankly at the slender figure, likely stunned by the intensity of her weeping.
As the people in the hall focused on the woman and recognized her, their expressions softened with pity. Unconsciously, they shifted on their knees to clear a path for her.
This was Lin Qingran, Crown Prince Xiao Heng’s betrothed who had not yet married into the family, and she was quite beautiful in appearance.
From this perspective alone, Lin Qingran and the Crown Prince could indeed be considered a golden couple.
Lin Qingran was the beloved granddaughter of Grand Tutor Lin, who had doted on her since childhood. She had previously been betrothed to the Crown Prince by imperial decree, with their wedding scheduled for the sixth day of the third month next year.
What should have been a joyous occasion turned tragic when Xiao Heng died at the border, said to have been assassinated after leaving the battlefield, with the murderer still at large.
Though Lin Qingran had not yet married into the family, she was already seen as having brought misfortune upon her husband—an ominous sign throughout Tian Yuan Kingdom, though none dared voice it openly due to her status.
While Lin Qingran wouldn’t be required to follow the Crown Prince in death, her future path would likely be difficult.
Being betrothed to the Crown Prince meant she either had to shave her head and become a nun, spending her life chanting scriptures and worshipping Buddha in remembrance of the Crown Prince, or she had to declare herself a lifelong widow, never marrying again.
Tears welling in her eyes, Lin Qingran no longer noticed the people around her. Her gaze was fixed solely on the coffin in the main hall. Two streams of clear tears flowed from her eyes, drop after drop sliding down her face without cease.
The surrounding crowd had ceased their weeping, all eyes now fixed on Lin Qingran.
Biting her lip fiercely, Lin Qingran’s already split lip began bleeding anew. Stumbling forward, she knelt before the altar table in the center of the mourning hall, trembling as she extended her right hand to gently touch the scroll resting upon it.
The man depicted in the painting possessed sculpted, strikingly handsome features. Seated upright in a chair with hands resting on his knees, his profound gaze stared directly ahead, emanating an awe-inspiring imperial majesty.
As Lin Qingran’s fingers brushed the painted figure, tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Suddenly, she let out a heart-wrenching scream.
“Ah!”
Then she bowed her head, sobs resuming as she covered her face with both hands, tears trickling through her fingers.
The echoing wails within the hall grew increasingly intense, roaring like collapsing mountains and cracking earth.
“Cough, cough, cough!”
Perhaps from breathlessness, Lin Qingran’s coughing grew increasingly rapid, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of her mouth. It took quite some time for her to recover, though her tears never ceased.
Witnessing this scene, everyone understood – Lin Qingran’s feelings for Xiao Heng had penetrated to the marrow of her bones, hence this life-devastating grief that had drawn blood upon his death.
The hall began to fill with hushed whispers that reached Lin Qingran’s ears.
“Miss Lin’s devotion to His Highness the Crown Prince runs so deep. Who would have imagined she’d cough up blood?”
“Indeed. Between us, His Highness was somewhat excessive. Regardless, Miss Lin is a woman who loved him so profoundly – he should have treated her better while alive.”
“Poor Miss Lin. To never see His Highness again – how excruciating this must be for her!”
At this moment, Lin Qingran moved again.
As the burial date hadn’t arrived and the body hadn’t been viewed for the final time, the coffin lid remained half-open rather than completely sealed.
The man inside wore a bright yellow Four-Clawed Golden Dragon Python Robe, his pale hands folded over his abdomen. His pale complexion and neat appearance gave the impression of peaceful slumber rather than death.
Lin Qingran crawled toward the heavy coffin, placing her wounded hands on its edge. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the coffin facing its occupant, allowing her tears to fall freely.
Fortunately, her coughing had subsided and her wailing ceased, replaced by choked whispers.
“Elder Brother Crown Prince, we were to marry next year. Ranran constantly dreamed of becoming your bride, of sharing a lifetime of mutual respect with you. I know you found me immature, disliked how I always clung to you – but I would have changed for you.”
The hall fell silent, Lin Qingran’s mournful, melodic tones weaving through the air.
Her voice, filled with boundless tenderness and lingering attachment, remained soft yet perfectly audible to all present.
While observers thought she was gazing upon Xiao Heng’s remains, in reality her eyes remained tightly shut, her white-knuckled grip on the coffin’s edge betraying her tension.
A careful observer might have detected a trace of fear in her demeanor, though none was audible in her voice.
“Elder Brother Crown Prince looks unchanged – you must be sleeping. But you were never one to oversleep. You should wake now. If you rise, even if you don’t wish to marry me, it’s alright. I beg you, Elder Brother Crown Prince, won’t you open your eyes and look at me?”
As her words faded, renewed sobs escaped her lips.
To everyone’s surprise, the index finger of the right hand of the person in the coffin moved imperceptibly.
[Oh my dear heavens! Please don’t open your eyes, honored one. This bright, clear world isn’t meant for corpse resurrection – I’m terrified!]
[How bitterly unfortunate! My crown prince fiancé actually died just like that? But he shouldn’t have passed away this early!]