Wei Nisheng kept vigil beside the bed, without closing his eyes all night.
Only when dawn broke the next day did Qu Niang, unable to bear watching Wei Nisheng wear himself out, bring in a basin of hot water.
Seeing him still kneeling there, she gently set down the basin, walked to his side, and said softly,
"Young master, let us wash Uncle Wei's face and change his clothes."
Wei Nisheng did not move.
Qu Niang waited a moment, then added softly, "Uncle Wei always loved being clean when he was alive. You know that."
Those words were like a needle piercing Wei Nisheng's heart.
At last, he slowly released Wei An's hand and stood.
After kneeling all night, his legs had gone numb. He swayed involuntarily and only steadied himself by gripping the edge of the bed.
"Go fetch the finest fabric," Wei Nisheng said hoarsely. "Let Uncle Wei wear something comfortable."
Qu Niang murmured her assent, turned, and left.
Cui Fu came in from outside, his eyes swollen like walnuts, yet he had still not forgotten the customary duties.
"Young master, the funeral attendants have arrived." (People who handled funerals in ancient times.)
With that, Cui Fu went to the bedside, looked at Wei An's face, and covered it with a cloth.
Then he dropped to his knees and kowtowed three times to Wei An, each bow landing with a heavy thud.
"Uncle Wei, may you go in peace. This servant... this servant will take good care of the young master. Rest assured."
Soon, the funeral attendants entered to wash Wei An's face, change his clothes, and prepare his body.
Wei Nisheng stood beside the bed, watching for a long time.
"Uncle Wei," he murmured to himself.
"There'll be no one left to cherish me now."
No one