Huo Qilang took the Fur Coat from Madam Li and hurried over to drape it over Li Yuanying. Seeing the brother and sister collapsed on the ground, holding each other and sobbing, she left them alone for the moment and headed straight toward the rear.
The carriage bearing the coffin followed just behind the Ceremonial Guard, with Thirteenth Son standing beside it as pallbearer.
Messengers rode back and forth at a gallop to relay news, and those in Youzhou had already learned of Wei Xun's death. Huo Qilang had long known his time was near, yet seeing such a peerless genius die in the prime of his life still drew a regretful sigh from her.
She reached out and knocked on the coffin, teasing, "Eldest Senior Brother, the timber for your final resting place is a bit shabby."
Thirteenth Son mumbled a few words, then lowered his head. "The Princess wrote his Mourning Couplet herself. The funeral procession was ever so long."
"That's true," Huo Qilang said lightly. "None of us could match this spectacle. A grand funeral, all honor and glory-he didn't get a bad bargain out of dying."
The fellow disciples chatted casually for a while. Lady Yu, Madam Li, Li Chengyin, Yuan Shaobo, and the other trusted intimates came forward one after another to help up and comfort the siblings.
Huo Qilang turned back, hauled Li Yuanying to his feet, and urged, "If you want to cry, do it in the carriage. If you catch another chill and fall ill, I really won't be able to keep you alive." Then she half dragged, half pulled him back into the carriage.
The siblings were too overcome to hear anything anyone else said. Once inside, they studied each other closely: Baozhu saw her brother's weary, haggard face, while Li