Chapter 39
Can a strategist not ascend the throne? Volume 1: The Yellow Turban Rebellion, The Clear Voice of a Young Phoenix, Chapter 39: Mourning at Lingtai
The final flicker of life before death perhaps granted this old man a sufficiently clear mind.
He would not naively believe that the Qiao Yan before him was still the little granddaughter he once knew.
He had sacrificed one of his sons in the maintenance of public order in Luoyang.
Another son had not received any assistance in the officialdom, as if he did not have a father who held one of the three highest positions, and only followed the routine of accumulating political achievements for promotion.
But this did not mean that Qiao Xuan was unaware of the situations of his son and granddaughter.
The name “Yan” for his granddaughter Qiao Yan was given by him.
In the limited time Qiao Yan had lived in Luoyang, she was still just a mute infant.
At that time, Qiao Xuan had imagined what this child would become in the future and had worried about her frail health.
Later, when Qiao Yu was transferred to Rencheng, Qiao Yan never came here again, but Qiao Xuan and his son had always maintained correspondence.
His son was not as decisive as he was, nor did he have those extreme methods, and reaching the position of silver seal and blue ribbon was already the limit. As for his granddaughter, although she was well-versed in poetry and literature, she was not an outstanding talent.
Of course, he did not find this regrettable, as everyone has their own destiny, and living a stable life in Yanzhou was also a way of life.
It was precisely because of this understanding that when Qiao Xuan learned of Qiao Yan’s deeds and the rewards she received, his first reaction upon regaining consciousness was not that this was a great honor for the Qiao family, but an indescribable feeling, perhaps called “as expected.”
After all, this was a change that could not be explained by so-called emergency appointments or heroes born from adversity.
A person’s methods are mostly influenced by the education they have received and the environment they are in.
With this understanding, he naturally did not believe that this Qiao Yan was the same as the previous one.
To know that his little granddaughter had not shown any political sensitivity before, how could she now display such a seasoned level of skill in mediating between various parties.
Qiao Xuan was not afraid to think worse of the situation.
It was hard to say whether he had already prepared for the worst news during the worsening of his illness over the past few months.
The rumors of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, along with the once panicked atmosphere in Luoyang, had reached his ears, and indeed, Qiao Yu might have been delayed on the road.
But with a slight estimate of the time Qiao Yu had set off from Rencheng, it was hard not to think that he was not returning to stabilize the situation in Rencheng, as he had written in his earlier letter, and thus could not arrive quickly.
But because he had encountered some accident on the way.
What situation would require the current Qiao Yan to fight her way out among the Yellow Turban rebels?
Perhaps there was only one explanation, that Qiao Yu was no longer in this world.
But in this special state of suddenly feeling strong in his limbs, Qiao Xuan knew his time was up, so why bother with those time-wasting things.
At this time, he did not need to mourn and weep for his son’s death.
Nor did he need to think about whether his previous attempt to secure a future for his descendants through his performance in front of Liu Hong had become an unnecessary act.
He did not even need to delve into who had now replaced his granddaughter.
As he pushed open the door and stood in the sunlight as if after a long absence, he saw the child now named Qiao Yan squatting beside his vegetable patch.
And what he saw was the fresh green sprouts in the field, a scene full of vitality.
Pacifying the Yellow Turbans, fighting Zhang Jiao, commanding troops in Quzhou, strategizing in Luoyang, if one ignored the factors that might constrain her, she was almost like a pillar of loyalty in the Han Dynasty.
The hint of vigilance on her face after his subconscious remark made him even more certain that her previous successes were not at all accidental—
Because she truly had a sharp mind.
So why should Qiao Xuan burden her with the reputation of “grandfather suspecting her of being an evil spirit” at this time.
Thus, Qiao Yan’s guard lasted only a moment before she heard Qiao Xuan say, “You haven’t answered my question, can being a County Marquis be like growing vegetables?”
She met Qiao Xuan’s clear and inclusive eyes, and in this tacit understanding, she already knew his attitude.
This old man, with few descendants, now just wanted to entrust another hope.
Although she had no filial affection for him, for some reason, she felt a pang of sadness in her heart at this moment.
“Governing a country is like cooking a small fish, governing a county is the same, practice makes perfect, just right, there is always a process of trial and error,” Qiao Yan replied thoughtfully. “A beginner does not use fierce fire or heavy oil, so as not to burn their hands with boiling oil, isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
She pointed to the vegetable patch in front of her, “Mustard greens grow easily, they don’t require much agricultural knowledge to cultivate, and even if they are grown poorly, they won’t cause much damage. Before planting, I have done my best to plow, turn the soil, and fertilize the field, and I have inquired extensively about what mustard greens need to grow, so the probability of success is very high. Next time, I can try to expand the scale and increase production and quality.”
“Farming is like this, being a County Marquis is also like this.”
Hearing her words, Qiao Xuan couldn’t help but show a hint of a smile on his face, which had become somewhat numb from long illness.
She was right, just as growing vegetables was something unfamiliar to her, being a County Marquis and governing a county as a state was also something unfamiliar to her.
But mustard seedlings grow easily, and with sufficient preparation, the loss will not be great, so in a county, why can’t she start small and then become proficient through practice?
For someone who could clearly understand the positions of various parties upon arriving in Luoyang, this kind of learning should not be difficult.
Qiao Xuan’s gaze at her carried more of a senior’s warmth.
His time was running out, and since her temperament and methods were excellent, why couldn’t he give her a little more help.
From where Cheng Li and the old servant of the Qiao family stood, they could not hear the specific content of the conversation between the grandfather and granddaughter, only that in this dialogue, it was mostly Qiao Xuan speaking and Qiao Yan listening.
The old man, who could initially speak continuously, gradually became intermittent in his speech, and in the fragments carried by the wind, it seemed that the name Suiyang was mentioned, followed by Hanyang, then turning to Wuyuan’s border defense, and then Luoyang…
The old servant, who had been particularly reticent since Qiao Yan and the others moved in, suddenly spoke up. “This… this is Lord Qiao’s path of promotion.”
Cheng Li turned to look at him upon hearing this, just in time to see the old servant, who was not young either, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.
The old servant had clearly realized that Qiao Xuan’s current state was the entrustment of a dying man.
And for a renowned minister who had held one of the three highest positions, capable in both civil and military affairs, what could be more valuable than everything he had experienced?
Even when he was still serving as the Gongcao of Suiyang County, pursuing the crimes of the State Chancellor Yang Chang, he was still somewhat inexperienced due to his youthful vigor.
But now, standing from a more mature perspective, analyzing his psychology at that time, it was undoubtedly an extremely valuable experience.
This was also not something he would speak of to just anyone.
And now, sitting in the courtyard with his granddaughter who had just begun to make a name for herself, facing a vegetable patch with fresh green sprouts, he condensed all the words he wanted to entrust into this straightforward narrative.
As the sun was about to set, Qiao Xuan’s voice also slowly became as faint as a mosquito’s hum.
Qiao Yan leaned closer to him, only then hearing him ask, “Can you promise me one thing?”
Because of Qiao Yan’s closeness, he was able to take the opportunity to grasp her hand.
And also brought his face closer to Qiao Yan.
On this emaciated face, a sharp as a knife aura flowed in his gaze, but then turned into an almost earnest expression.
“Can you promise me… if the Han Dynasty does not fail Qiao Yan, Qiao Yan will not fail the Han Dynasty.”
Qiao Yan was momentarily speechless, then immediately grasped his hand, which was gradually losing warmth, and replied, “I promise you.”
Only after receiving this reply did Qiao Xuan’s fingers relax.
Now he truly could not hold on any longer.
During his serious illness, this simple small courtyard, because he had not formed any cliques, except for Liu Hong’s deliberate visit to determine the rewards for Qiao Yan, almost no one came to visit, and on the day of his passing, it was especially low-key.
Only Qiao Yan stayed by his sickbed for another night.
After the state of final flicker of life faded from him, she and the servants moved him back to the sickbed in the room.
Perhaps because of Qiao Yan’s promise, or perhaps because, as his spirit began to scatter again, he heard Qiao Yan slowly reciting what she had learned from his previous experiences in his ear, this satisfaction of the continuation of the legacy made his expression particularly serene at the time of his departure.
He vaguely remembered an evaluation he had given to a promising junior many years ago, that was “The world is about to fall into chaos, only a talent destined for the times can save it.”
But perhaps, this child who had replaced his granddaughter’s identity was also such a talent destined for the times.
It’s just a pity that he could not see the scene of the world at peace.
At dawn, he lay on the sickbed and stopped breathing.
This was the sixth day of the sixth month of the seventh year of Guanghe.
According to what Liu Hong had previously promised Qiao Yan, Qiao Xuan would be buried with the rites of a Grand Commandant, and Liang Hu, Cai Yong, and others would be invited to write his epitaph.
He was stingy to a certain extent, but that did not mean he would break his promise on something he had already agreed to.
Especially since Qiao Yan had indeed shown a performance that required him to treat her with caution and possibly entrust her with important tasks in the future, which made him even less likely to cut corners in such matters.
Upon learning that the wealth Qiao Xuan had accumulated over many years as an official was not enough to hold the most dignified mourning ceremony, and that Qiao Yan had to use the gifts of thanks from the wealthy families of Yanzhou to hold it, he even sent a generous gift.
To be precise, this was not just a generous gift.
Liu Hong specially allowed a Palace Attendant Censor to preside over the funeral rites with a ceremonial staff, and after the mourning ceremony was completed, the Northern Army Five Divisions, light chariots, and armored soldiers would escort the funeral.
Of course, this escort could not take Qiao Xuan all the way to Leping County where he was to be buried.
But according to the Eastern Han’s belief that Mount Mang was a feng shui treasure for eternal rest, it was no problem to escort Qiao Xuan’s coffin north from Luoyang, passing through the area of Mount Mang.
Of course, these escorting guards did not yet have the opportunity to appear, as the mourning ceremony would last at least ten days.
This mourning ceremony would certainly not be small in scale.
Unlike the tranquility in the courtyard at the time of Qiao Xuan’s death, after his passing, the number of people coming to pay their respects would certainly be in the thousands.
He was a man of strong character, straightforward, but not entirely inflexible. When he was still alive, his former colleagues knew his temperament and simply sent letters of inquiry to avoid bringing gifts that might displease him.
But now that the man had passed away, it was time to visit.
Moreover, in the customs of the Eastern Han, former subordinates were required to attend the funeral of their recommender.
Even though Qiao Xuan had lived to seventy-four, twenty-five years more than the average age of forty-nine in the Han Dynasty, and many of his former subordinates had died before him, such as Chen Qiu, whom Qiao Xuan had recommended as the Minister of Justice when he was in one of the three highest positions, who died in the second year of Guanghe, it could not change the fact that—
Qiao Xuan had held too many positions during his tenure, and he had never avoided recommending talents even if they had political differences with him, resulting in a considerable number of people who had received his recommendations.
At least the small courtyard in Yanxi Lane could not accommodate so many people.
Thus, the Grand Historian Ma Lun immediately proposed to use Lingtai as the venue for this mourning ceremony.
In her memorial to Liu Hong, she wrote: [Lord Qiao’s virtuous conduct and broad tolerance should be honored with grand rites to show the emperor’s virtue, this is the way of harmony between monarch and minister. The Hall of Enlightenment bears the sacrifices of the royal family, and Lingtai is beside it, reaching up to the heavenly movements and down to the Luo River, fitting its status. There are many places in the capital that can be used for mourning ceremonies, but they need to be borrowed, and among them are various human sentiments, I hope Your Majesty will be cautious.]
Ma Lun’s meaning in this memorial was clear, Qiao Xuan’s residence in Luoyang was too simple, and because of his [virtuous conduct and broad tolerance], it was not suitable to hold a mourning ceremony in such a cramped place.
Are there places in Luoyang that can accommodate this number of people? Naturally, there are.
For example, the Yuan family could rent out such a venue.
But once such a lending behavior occurs, there is also a transaction of human favors.
Rather than that, it would be better to have Lingtai lent out by Liu Hong’s imperial decree.
Lingtai is opposite the Hall of Enlightenment, which bears the sacrificial rites of the Han Dynasty, equivalent to being beside the emperor, and with Qiao Xuan’s reputation for virtue during his high position, if recorded in later generations, it would have the beauty of harmony between monarch and minister.
What a suggestion!
If before, Liu Hong had not paid much attention to this Grand Historian who could be considered promoted by accident, now, after she stood on the side of the Han Dynasty and made this suggestion, Liu Hong could not help but have some clear recognition of her.
She was indeed a woman of considerable ability and foresight.
After approving this decision, Qiao Xuan’s body was transported overnight from Yanxi Lane to Lingtai.
This was also the first time Qiao Yan met this female official who appeared almost simultaneously with her enfeoffment.
Ma Lun was already quite old, even past sixty this year.
But she came from the Fufeng Ma family, and the environment she grew up in could be called pampered, giving her a superior foundation, and after marrying Yuan Wei, while managing the Yuan family’s affairs, she did not neglect the maintenance of her body.
When Qiao Yan saw her, she saw this dignified and scholarly elder, with her silver hair meticulously groomed, her face exuding a reassuring calmness, without any sign of old age.
Being suddenly promoted from the mistress of a mansion to the position of Grand Historian clearly did not cause her any panic or confusion.
She had studied astronomy and calendar systems with her father Ma Rong from an early age, and with her father’s disciples, she deduced astronomical data. After joining the Yuan family, although she had to be troubled by miscellaneous affairs, she also took the opportunity to read a broader range of books.
When this unexpected but suitable authority was entrusted to her, she ignored the anger that Yuan Wei had vented after being scolded in court, immediately packed her things, and took up her post.
Although before obtaining this position, she did not know what had prompted Liu Hong to make such a decision—in any case, it was an “imperial decree” that made Yuan Wei full of anger but unable to refute, but after standing firm in the position of Grand Historian for a month, with Ma Lun’s intelligence, she could not fail to see the power struggles in the turbulent waters.
Fortunately, for her, suddenly not being confined to the inner chambers when she had already felt somewhat lacking in energy seemed not to be a bad thing.
This also invisibly injected a touch of vitality into her.
And when she met Qiao Yan, in the brief exchange of a few sentences, she also understood why Liu Hong was so insistent on enfeoffing her with the position of a Marquis.
She arrived at night.
Ma Lun, with the subordinate officials of the Grand Historian, held lanterns to welcome her, and at a glance, she saw the mourning-clad girl pacing before the coffin.
The other party bowed to her and called her “Grand Historian,” and in the light of the lanterns and the moonlight, the hint of sorrow in her eyes clearly also carried a spirit of ambition.
This extraordinary demeanor made Ma Lun, after comparing the young talents she had seen in Luoyang over the decades, feel that no one at this age could surpass her.
“Come up with me,” Ma Lun pointed towards the top of Lingtai.
The Lingtai, recorded in the Luoyang Qielanji of the Northern and Southern Dynasties as still over five zhang high, was now about six zhang high, roughly fourteen meters.
This Lingtai that appeared in Qiao Yan’s sight, although an astronomical observation institution, because its astronomical laws were closely related to the rule of the Han Dynasty…
The building’s style seems more suited for ceremonial functions, closely related to its purpose.
The lower ring corridor accentuates the upper platform, adding a mysterious and solemn atmosphere at night.
Qiao Yan, accompanied by Ma Lun, ascended the high platform and saw two distinct rows of offices on the Lingtai.
As the place was temporarily used for Qiao Xuan’s mourning, the left five rooms served as the resting place for the coffin and guests, while the other five remained the office of the Grand Historian.
“Thank you for allowing me to disturb these past few days and for arranging a mourning place for my grandfather,” Qiao Yan expressed her gratitude again after Qiao Xuan’s coffin was settled.
Ma Lun helped her up and replied, “Lord Qiao was a pillar of the Han Dynasty; his resting place must not be neglected. Observing the sun, moon, and stars from the Lingtai also records the prosperity of the Han, fitting for Lord Qiao’s great talent and virtue.”
After the pleasantries, Ma Lun straightened her face and said, “However, as the Grand Historian, I must inform Marquis Qiao beforehand. These five rooms are backup offices for the Grand Historian, and using them is fine. But the other five rooms contain recent astronomical records and important observation instruments. Please ensure permission before entering.”
This was a principle she wouldn’t compromise, no matter how much she admired Qiao Yan’s demeanor.
Qiao Yan, of course, didn’t find this caution offensive.
She nodded and replied, “That’s only right. I heard that when Zhang Pingzi was the Grand Historian, the seismograph he made was also kept here. Such precise instruments have their storage rules.”
Hearing this, Ma Lun’s impression of Qiao Yan improved.
The Zhang Pingzi Qiao Yan mentioned was Zhang Heng.
During Empress Dowager Deng Sui’s reign, Zhang Heng was summoned to the capital, first as a Langzhong, then as the Grand Historian. The armillary sphere was a product of this period, followed by the seismograph.
Although the seismograph wouldn’t react to the longitudinal waves from carriage vibrations, only earthquakes would make the golden toad spit out a ball. After taking over the Lingtai, Ma Lun found from Zhang Heng’s records that the seismograph’s operation relied on the loose foundation of the Lingtai to transmit tremors, and its final position was determined after years of observation by Zhang Heng, making it unwise to move it casually.
Since Qiao Yan had some understanding of this, it saved Ma Lun a lot of explanation.
Seeing her prudent actions, Ma Lun softened her tone, “If Marquis Qiao is interested, observing from a distance is fine.”
Qiao Yan shook her head, “Let’s handle the guests’ reception properly first.”
Ma Lun wanted to comfort the child who had lost both parents and now her grandfather, but suddenly heard her say, “There’s one more thing I’d like to mention to the Grand Historian.”
She looked up and said, “Back then, Empress Dowager He Xi selected talents, leading to Zhang Pingzi’s theories and the placement of the seismograph and armillary sphere here. I wasn’t in the capital before and always wanted to see the Lingtai. Today, I finally have the chance. Seeing Madam Ma as the Grand Historian brings me joy. But with my grandfather’s recent passing, I shouldn’t show happiness. Please forgive me.”
Ma Lun was taken aback.
Empress Dowager He Xi?
Why did she suddenly mention this?
But upon reflection, Ma Lun found nothing inappropriate in Qiao Yan’s words.
Indeed, without Empress Dowager He Xi, the Lingtai would just be an astronomical platform from the Guangwu period, without the armillary sphere and seismograph.
Zhang Pingzi once criticized the government in “Er Jing Fu” but was moved by Empress Dowager He Xi’s light taxes and frugal lifestyle, accepting the invitation.
Empress Dowager He Xi, skilled in mathematics and astronomy, also provided education for women. Was she hoping that one day, a woman would observe the stars from the Lingtai?
Now it has truly happened.
But today, Ma Lun couldn’t guess what that extraordinary woman from the past was thinking, nor could she guess what Qiao Yan was thinking now.
After saying this, the peculiar child turned and walked into the temporary resting room, only glancing back cautiously at the door.
Seeing no change in her expression, she disappeared behind the door.
As if she felt she had said something inappropriate for a first meeting, fearing offense.
But how could Ma Lun feel offended?
Touching her face cooled by the night wind, Ma Lun realized she had smiled because of Qiao Yan’s words.
This made Qiao Yan see her the next day, her official robe fiery red, highlighting her spirited demeanor.
This spirit allowed her to assist Qiao Yan in receiving mourners after settling the Lingtai officials.
The Yuan family’s mansion saw many visitors daily. Ma Lun, adept at arranging affairs, naturally knew the capital’s officials well.
Qiao Yan felt she should deeply thank Madam Ma for her help.
After all, Qiao Xuan, when mentioning his past, wouldn’t describe the appearances of those he interacted with, only their names.
But Ma Lun was different.
Even the noble Yuan family from Runan couldn’t avoid interpersonal interactions in Luoyang without appearing superior.
Doing so would be a major taboo in officialdom.
When Yuan Wei couldn’t remember these details, Ma Lun did.
Thus, the first batch arriving at the Lingtai could be described in detail by her.
Even if the officials mourning Qiao Xuan wouldn’t fault a child for any lapse, her proper demeanor and correct titles would leave a better impression.
Ma Lun saw no issue in subtly guiding Qiao Yan, even feeling a strange sense of accomplishment.
At least more than focusing her thoughts on Yuan Wei.
Fortunately, Qiao Yan’s remarkable memory matched the guests’ appearances and names, reducing the need for further reminders.
This minimized the chance of discovery.
Moreover, Qiao Yan’s previous actions showed she hadn’t taken any side except showing goodwill to Liu Hong.
Thus, she didn’t need to show any bias towards the guests, just avoid major mistakes in speech with Ma Lun’s reminders.
Perhaps the only time Qiao Yan nearly faltered was when Yuan Wei arrived.
He stared at Ma Lun for a long time, as if seeing his wife clearly for the first time, his worldview seemingly reshaped.
So much so that when Qiao Yan greeted him, he almost didn’t respond.
Qiao Yan tried not to show any amusement, seeing Yuan Wei’s equally微妙 expression when he turned to her.
Right.
He had only heard of Qiao Yan’s actions after being enfeoffed as Marquis of Leping but hadn’t formally met her. Today, Yuan Wei had to come.
But seeing her, he couldn’t help but recall Liu Hong’s harsh rebuke in court.
And he couldn’t openly show any dissatisfaction towards the child.
After all, this was the mourning place for Qiao Xuan approved by the Emperor.
Having served together, even he respected Qiao Xuan. Now, with only this ten-year-old child supporting the Qiao family, he couldn’t “bully the weak.”
In fact, he should show goodwill.
Moreover…
The Emperor personally sent a Censor to escort, and the Censor had already arrived.
Yuan Wei spotted the eight-foot bamboo handle with yak tail from the crowd, a sign of the Emperor’s upgrade for the Censor overseeing the funeral, indirectly elevating Qiao Xuan’s status.
It was hard to say if Liu Hong, with his unpredictable behavior, had the Censor also monitor the attendees, just as he knew of a decades-old conversation, now observing everyone’s behavior.
If any misstep was caught, future troubles could arise.
Thinking this, Yuan Wei couldn’t care less that this was his wife’s domain or the embarrassment from Qiao Yan’s enfeoffment, immediately returning Qiao Yan’s greeting.
Though his expression seemed somewhat forced.
In contrast, Grand Commandant Yang Ci, who had opposed Liu Hong’s direct granting of the highest title of County Marquis, showed genuine grief during the mourning.
Watching these interactions, Qiao Yan gained more insight into the late Eastern Han’s officialdom.
Qiao Xuan, knowing she wasn’t his original granddaughter, still imparted all his knowledge at life’s end, now seemed entirely understandable.
As Wang Fuzhi said, high officials like Yuan Wei, though in high positions, had lost their sense of shame.
This was the portrayal of most officials present.
However, those arriving days later from afar showed more genuine grief for Qiao Xuan’s death.
For example—
Cai Yong.
Famous for his Feibai script and the Xiping Stone Classics, Cai Yong came from the Wu region.
He received the news later than others but rushed to the capital despite bandits on the road, arriving earlier than some.
Fortunately, after offending eunuchs and fleeing, the Tai Mountain’s Yang family sheltered him. Hearing he was going to the capital to mourn Qiao Xuan, repaying past kindness, the Yang family prepared fast horses and escorts.
Otherwise, Cai Yong wouldn’t have dared to bring his daughter to the capital.
Having been exiled to Shuofang and fled to Wu, this seven or eight-year-old girl already displayed a calmness rivaling adults.
As Cai Yong entered the mourning hall, her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, meeting Qiao Yan’s gaze.
Before she could speak, Cai Yong’s mournful wailing drowned out other sounds.
“Master Bojie is truly a man of feeling,” Qiao Yan remarked with emotion. “Sister Cai, please follow me.”
Others might not be sure, but Qiao Yan knew Cai Yong’s display wasn’t an act; he genuinely repaid kindness and appreciation.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lost his life for sighing at Dong Zhuo’s death.
She added, “I’ve heard your name, Sister Cai. We share the same name, Yan.”
This was a special coincidence and a potential conversation starter.
But Cai Yan, mature and cautious, replied, “To respect the honorable, Marquis Qiao may call me by my courtesy name, Zhaoji.”
Cai Yong, exceptional in literature and calligraphy, had only two daughters, imparting all his knowledge to them. Cai Yan, talented, pleased Cai Yong, who gave her a courtesy name early.
The brilliance of jade, Yan, led to the name Zhao.
Now, sharing the same name with Qiao Yan, it was appropriate to use the courtesy name for distinction.
Though the topic of shared names was cut short by Cai Yan’s “may call me Zhaoji,” Qiao Yan found the name Zhaoji particularly fitting.
Young, with a delicate, orchid-like appearance, her eyes already displayed a clear, strong demeanor, embodying the character “Zhao.”
Qiao Yan naturally switched to calling her Zhaoji.
Cai Yan, rarely interacting with peers, didn’t realize the Marquis of Leping’s special attention, thinking it due to her father and her being the youngest guest.
Moreover, entering the mourning hall, they saw Cai Yong weeping bitterly before Qiao Xuan’s coffin, the most intense among the mourners.
From his incoherent words, they discerned he was recalling events from the fourth year of Jianning.
The fourth year of Jianning, thirteen years ago.
At that time, Cai Yong idled at home, playing with antiques to avoid being taken by the powerful eunuchs for music performances. Only Qiao Xuan valued his talent, making him a subordinate, then a county magistrate, eventually promoting him to a court advisor.
It’s hard to say if Cai Yong’s frequent remonstrations to Liu Hong were influenced by Qiao Xuan.
But it’s certain Qiao Xuan helped Cai Yong’s promotions multiple times.
Even in his mourning, Cai Yong lamented, “I don’t form cliques, only Lord Qiao’s great kindness promoted me to see the Emperor. Sadly, my disaster-relief words distanced me from the capital, missing Lord Qiao’s final moments…”
“…” Qiao Yan choked.
Thankfully Cai Yong arrived late, and few mourners were present, or he might have been exiled again.
What did he mean by being forced from the capital for disaster-relief words?
In the first year of Guanghe, strange phenomena in Luoyang led Liu Hong to summon Cai Yong, who bluntly blamed eunuchs’ political interference, leading to his exile to Shuofang.
Returning to the capital, he mentioned this again, seemingly dancing on the edge of self-destruction.
But even Qiao Yan couldn’t deny his cultural and calligraphic prowess, despite his lack of political acumen.
The next day at the Lingtai, before Qiao Xuan’s coffin, a weary Cai Yong presented a long scroll.
He had written an epitaph overnight.
As he unrolled the scroll, the tear-stained eulogy appeared before everyone.
“Glorious ancestors, the Han’s Yuan Gong. Wise and intelligent, deep as an abyss, towering as a mountain. Pacifying borders, barbarians followed. Spreading teachings in China, the five teachings understood.”
This praised Qiao Xuan’s comprehensive evaluation, his lofty stature.
“Modest by nature, not greedy for profit. Though with many descendants in official positions, never sought favor with a single word.”
This praised Qiao Xuan’s high position without seeking benefits for his descendants.
Historically, this was followed by noting Qiao Xuan’s death without high-ranking descendants or good fiefs.
But Qiao Yan’s enfeoffment as Marquis of Leping was an exception, naturally omitted from Cai Yong’s eulogy.
Qiao Yan thought this, her gaze lingering on the subsequent passage.
“Lord’s straightforward nature, unafraid of the powerful. In the court, loyal in advice; governing provinces, fierce as a tiger. Selecting talents like a whirlpool, punishing evil like thunder. Wherever he went, a fresh breeze preceded, shaking near and far…”
This was truly a passage of exquisite words.
Especially the line “In the court, loyal in advice; governing provinces, fierce as a tiger…”
Qiao Yan, looking at the coffin, was lost in thought.
Cai Yong’s words were heartfelt; otherwise, he couldn’t have written a two-thousand-word eulogy overnight.
With this eulogy, if Qiao Xuan knew in the afterlife, he would be satisfied.
And with these two lines—
It was the highest praise for a loyal, practical official.
On the 24th day of the sixth month of the seventh year of Guanghe, Qiao Xuan was buried north of Luoyang, his body carried in a hearse, passing Mount Mang.
The Northern Army escorted the funeral to Leping.