"How boundless the wild grasses grew, how mournfully the poplars sighed.
In the bitter frost of the ninth month, they bore me to the distant outskirts.
No one dwelt on any side; lofty graves rose steep and high.
My horse neighed up toward the heavens; the wind blew bleak and desolate.
Once the dark chamber had been sealed, a thousand years would bring no dawn.
A thousand years would bring no dawn; even the wise and worthy could do nothing.
Those who had come to see me off each returned to their own homes.
My kin might still be grieving; others had already begun to sing.
What was there to say of death? I entrusted my body to the mountain... ah..."
The last line should have been "I entrusted my body to the mountain hollow." The final character was pronounced "ē," like the first syllable of "graceful" in Chinese, but the Great Scholar had suddenly changed it to "ah."
Many people had bowed their heads in silent mourning. Deeply puzzled by the sound, they had never expected this Great Scholar to sing a character with the wrong pronunciation. When they looked up, they saw that he had actually flung away the Literary Treasure Brush and taken half a step back.
Then many of them jumped in fright. Only now did they notice that Wei Huangan had lifted the cloth covering with one hand and was staring at them, his eyes still moving slightly.
"Ah..." The two female nurses were so frightened that they let go of the stretcher and took to their heels. Fortunately, the Great Scholar reacted swiftly, reaching out to support the stretcher with literary qi and keep Wei Huangan from falling to the ground.
The Great Scholar gave a helpless, wry smile. "My worthy younger brother Huangan,