Condolences

Gu Chang'an remained silent for a moment, not hiding anything as he slowly recounted the events of that day.

At the moment of his death, Wang Hao was on his last breath.

Grasping Gu Chang'an's hand back then, his blood-stained lips trembling slightly, he only spoke of two things—

One was entrusting him to take care of his family, and the other was whispering the secret location where wealth had been buried for many years.

His wife and children did not know about that place, nor had they ever heard him mention it.

After listening, Li Hongye remained silently speechless, only gently lowering her head a long time later.

Wang Hao actually hailed from a fallen prominent family, a remnant clan that had fled into Nanning County during a famine.

Smart and possessing decent talent from a young age, he later managed to enter a minor sect for cultivation through sheer luck, barely breaking through to the Eighth Rank.

Subsequently, he returned to Nanning County, starting out as a constable in the County Office. Receiving the patronage of a noble person, he rose step by step to become the Director of the Martial Guard Division.

Wang Hao had a family: an elderly and frail mother, a gentle and unpretentious wife, and a pair of children—an elder daughter of ten and a younger son of only seven.

He was the pillar of this household, the only one who could prop up the entire roof.

Now that he was dead, it was a colossal catastrophe for this family.

Upright in character and never currying favor with power, Wang Hao had instead offended quite a few people, especially when handling certain "special" affairs for the Martial Guard Division where he never lent a hand to personal favors, inciting long-standing resentment from numerous petty villains in the shadows.

Now that Wang Hao was dead, those venomous snakes lurking in the dark were probably already starting to stir.

Li Hongye gently sighed, "What do you plan to do?"

Gu Chang'an spoke in a low voice:

"I am not short of silver on hand right now, and originally planned to move anyway. I might as well move near Sky Wind Martial Hall."

"I will go persuade Sister-in-law and the others to move over together."

"It's close to the martial hall here, and with us looking out for them, it can at least make them a bit safer."

"Sister-in-law and the others might not easily agree. I'll slowly persuade them, she should understand. I'd like you to help persuade them too."

Li Hongye nodded, "That's not bad."

"Although my father is old, as an Eighth Rank martial artist in Nanning County city, he still commands some prestige.

As long as they move over, no matter how unwilling Wang Sihou's enemies are, they won't dare to act wildly in broad daylight."

"Besides, we who received Wang Sihou's patronage cannot possibly watch his family suffer bullying with folded arms."

Hearing this, Gu Chang'an nodded.

Living in the slums all along was not a long-term solution; the environment there was noisy and public order chaotic.

If it were just him, it wouldn't matter of course.

But things were different now—he had Wang Xiaojuan, and he also had this much wealth.

Leaving it in the slums was far too dangerous.

In fact, he had long since set his sights on a residence directly diagonal to Sky Wind Martial Hall. Its location wasn't lavish, but it was quiet, secluded, and convenient for coming and going.

Penniless in the past, he could only watch in silence.

Now that he held silver notes in his grasp, this wish could finally be fulfilled.

As for whether outsiders would suspect the source of his sudden wealth, Gu Chang'an didn't care.

When necessary, he could claim to the outside world that he had borrowed it from Li Tianfeng.

As long as he left no trace, no one would be able to hound him relentlessly.

Though people might call this living off a woman.

But he didn't care.

After a brief tidy-up, Gu Chang'an and Li Hongye changed into plain mourning clothes and headed toward the center of Nanning County city.

Today was the funeral day of Lord Wang Hao.

They were going to pay respects to this director who had once propped up half the sky of the Martial Guard Division.

Wang Hao's home was situated on South Market Street, the most bustling street in Nanning County. It was a wide avenue paved with bluestone slabs, lined with wine restaurants, teahouses, and commercial shops amid a clamor of voices.

Yet today's avenue lacked a portion of its usual bustle; white mourning flags were stuck at the street entrance, white funeral banners were tied before the doors, and the courtyard gates stood wide open.

A plain couplet hung on the lintel: "Loyal bones immortal, pure winds endure."

Wang Family's small courtyard was draped in hemp and white mourning cloth today, white fabric fluttering in the wind. Incense tables and ancestral tablets were set up in the courtyard, and the coffin had already been sealed, enshrined right in the central hall.

Three long sticks of incense burned before the ancestral tablet, green smoke lingering endlessly while incense ash dropped continually, resembling a heart sinking heavy with grief.

Mourners came in an endless stream, forming long queues on both sides of the street. Many were Nanning County officials and gentry, while others were ordinary folk who had once received Wang Hao's care.

Everyone wore plain clothes and spoke in low whispers, their eyes tinged with a trace of sorrow.

Wearing plain grey coarse cloth, Gu Chang'an and Li Hongye stepped into the Wang family's small courtyard just as a wave of officials was departing.

After someone in the courtyard reported their arrival, they were permitted to enter the inner hall.

The four walls of the inner hall were covered entirely with white cloth, and paper-money ash urns stood in the corners.

Wang Hao's portrait hung high above the coffin, his sword-like eyebrows slanting into his temples and his eyes sharp as a falcon's. Even as mere imagery, it commanded a solemn reverence in people's hearts.

Kneeling before the coffin was a woman dressed in white hemp mourning garments. Her expression was haggard yet retained a dignified air, and she was none other than Wang Hao's grieving widow, Madam Wu.

Beside her was an aged old woman with a head of white hair, seemingly Wang Hao's elderly mother. She stared quietly at the ancestral tablet, completely motionless as though even her tears had run dry.

Two children knelt beside their mother, the elder daughter Wang Wan'er maintaining a calm expression while her small hands tightly grasped incense sticks.

The young younger brother Wang Jing, however, was already sobbing uncontrollably, leaning tearfully against his mother's embrace.

Gu Chang'an and Li Hongye walked slowly to the front of the coffin, bent down to make three deep bows, and holding incense sticks in both hands, solemnly inserted them into the censer.

Gu Chang'an silently kowtowed, muttering inwardly:

Director Wang, rest assured. Your family, I will protect.

Li Hongye also remained silently wordless, though when kowtowing, the corners of her eyes flushed with a hint of red.

Amidst the low whispers of the crowd inside the hall, a heavy set of footsteps arrived.

Someone outside called out in a loud voice:

"The County Magistrate has arrived—"

The crowd instantly quieted down, rising one after another to bow in salute.

Wearing plain clothes with a cold, stern, and heavy expression, Yang Jing walked into the mourning hall, followed by County Assistant Wu Heng and several subordinates.

Yang Jing stood before the coffin, gazing at Wang Hao's portrait in prolonged silence.

In the end, he only gave a low sigh, took three sticks of incense, and personally offered the incense and kowtowed.

"Director Wang was utterly loyal and righteous, dying at his post. This official is grief-stricken... Such a loyal subject deserves the reverence of the entire county."

His voice was not loud, yet every word rang with metallic clarity.

Wu Heng followed closely behind, his expression slightly colder, yet he still performed the full courtesy. Once the rites were completed,

"Thank you, County Magistrate."

Yang Jing nodded, offering a few warm words of condolence to Madam Wu before leaving behind a parting remark:

"If there are any difficulties, you may come to the yamen to report them."

Madam Wu offered a low expression of thanks, but her demeanor was cold and polite, devoid of much emotional fluctuation.

She knew how much human sentiment could remain after her husband's death...

It all depended on whether these people were truly willing to reach out and help when they encountered hardship.

Empty words spoken by mouth were entirely devoid of meaning.

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