Her son was called Er Niu. He was an ordinary soldier in the Thunder Tiger Legion, thirty-two years old this year and still unmarried.
She waited for a long time. Even when the end of the procession arrived, she still did not see Er Niu.
She grabbed a passing soldier and asked if he had seen Er Niu.
The soldier looked at the old woman. His lips moved, his eyes reddened, and he turned his head away without saying a word.
The old woman's hand fell limp. Her cane dropped to the ground. She stood there like an old tree struck by lightning.
She did not cry. She simply stood there for a very, very long time.
A little girl of seven or eight, dressed in patterned cloth and with two braids, held a bouquet of wildflowers in her hands.
She ran through the crowd, asking everyone she met, "Uncle, have you seen my father?
"My father is Zhao Tiezhu, from the Soul Army."
No one answered her.
No one had the heart to answer her.
She ran to the end of the procession, but still could not find her father.
She squatted by the roadside, placed the wildflowers on the ground, and whispered, "Dad, are you not coming back?"
Gu Ci's tears finally fell.
He had killed so many people on the battlefield and carried so many corpses, yet he had not cried.
Outside Cangyun Pass, looking at those newly erected gravestones, he had not cried.
But now, he cried.
Zi Dian jumped down from his shoulder and licked his fingers.
Gu Ci crouched down and buried his face in his knees, his shoulders trembling slightly.
Zi Dian lay by his feet. Night Shadow poked its head out from the Soul Spirit Space, the silver Thunder Pattern faintly flickering.