Spring breezes swept past, and the outskirts of Chang'an gradually began to turn green. Then a gloomy rain fell, its drops somewhat dense, carrying a bitter chill that did not belong to spring.
Luo Yi stood before the window, watching the pattering spring rain. He felt threads of cold seep into his marrow, then spread through his limbs and every channel of his body.
"Household Head, the hall is almost full of Dukes and Ministers and Princes and Lords."
Luo Yi's face showed little expression. His mind involuntarily returned to yesterday, when the Son of Heaven, Liu Yang, had passed away.
His heart broken by the affair of witchcraft and gu poison, the Son of Heaven had not wanted to see any of his so-called relatives or close ministers.
The assembled ministers had waited outside the palace hall for his commands. Liu Yang had only said that he had already entrusted his final edict to Duke Zhao, that it concerned the succession to the Imperial Throne, and then dismissed them all.
When the ministers wanted to ask further questions, the emperor had already fallen unconscious. Luo Yi's face was grim, his expression warning everyone to keep their distance, leaving them hesitant, unable either to leave or to stay.
A short while later, the Son of Heaven had passed away without waking again.
In somber silence, Luo Yi had directed the palace attendants to prepare Liu Yang's body, to lie in state for a few days before burial in the Imperial Mausoleum.
Fortunately, at Liu Yang's insistence, Long Qing's body had already been buried in the Imperial Mausoleum.
Otherwise, even Luo Yi could not have found grounds to bury Long Qing and Liu Yang together.
At this thought, Luo Yi, who had been gazing out the window with his hands behind