Shen Le stood on the long street, listening to the mournful cries that sounded like song and sobbing alike, his heart in turmoil.
These lines came from Qu Yuan's "Summons of the Soul"—had this poet's work already spread through Ying Capital along with King Huai of Chu's coffin?
Or had these lines originally been common soul-summoning chants used in Chu's sacrificial rites, merely written into poetry by Qu Yuan?
Shen Le had no time to search his memories. His gaze shifted to the mourning and weeping of the people along the street.
Though King Huai of Chu's many decisions were difficult to praise, and he had ultimately gotten himself killed in Qin, he had treated his people reasonably well. At the very least, he had not left behind a reputation for brutality or greed—
So the people of Chu mourned him sincerely. The historical records preserved this scene: "All the people of Chu pitied him, grieving as though for a close relative."
Unfortunately, "the feudal lords therefore condemned Qin" still failed to stop Qin from going on to unify the realm.
It was like some great power suddenly sending troops to bomb its weaker neighbor, storming in to seize its president—"the feudal lords therefore condemned the Bald Eagle," yet that still could not stop the Bald Eagle from swaggering about in triumph—
Sighing, Shen Le silently watched King Huai's coffin recede into the distance and vanish at the end of the long street. He tightened his bundle, turned around, and set off again:
Time to travel!
Hurry up and get moving!
If I move faster now, I can still find Qu Yuan soon. If I'm too slow and the old gentleman gets exiled to the even more remote Yuan and Xiang river regions, then I'll have even farther to travel!