"Hurry, place it in the middle!"
Standing by the entrance of the Yue household, the royal guard barked at the men to keep moving. Few men moved with heavy, synchronized steps, their shoulders strained under a box of thick, dark timber.
The guard's lips twitched, his boots tapping the floor anxiously. He couldn't wait to scram away from this place any sooner.
"My ancestors will be reborn by the time you reach the door. Hurry!" he urged them.
The four people nodded their heads. Though their old feet quivered under the weight, they didn't dare complain and adjusted the burden on their shoulders before carrying on with their steps.
Upon reaching the main hall of the household, the guard instructed to place it down. The men adjusted their grip and carefully lowered the weight. Every time they moved, the box let out a deep, hollow thud, finally coming to rest on the floor.
The rectangular box was long—far longer than a dowry chest, its surface polished to the depth of a moonless night sky. The heavy wood was entirely covered in intricate carvings: auspicious clouds, serpents, eternal pearls, fiery dragons, bowing heads of ripened grain, and historical scenes of honor covering the lid.
Gleaming golden rims traced its edges, while from it hung a tassel of deep jade red, akin to dried blood on dark timber.
The men retreated, moving a little away from the box, their heads hanging low, not daring to look at any member of the household. Despite being one of the biggest households in the Yan State, the Yue household lacked the boisterous warmth found in smaller homes, often leaving the dinner table as quiet as a shrine.
Much contrast to everyday, today the household of Yue was packed to the brim. Each talked in hushed whispers, their face covered by the pristine white cloth leaving only their eyes out to witness the happenings around them.
Several robed figures stepped forward. Ignoring the finest silks donning their bodies, the officials knelt to inspect the unholy wooden cargo. Cold sweat broke beneath their royal vestments as they leaned toward the coffin, inspecting the integrity of the seal.
Their gloved hands ran over the thick iron bands and the triple locks, desperate to ensure the abomination they were consigning to the soil would forever remain an eternal prisoner of the depths.
The head of the imperial envoy nodded his head at his fellow colleagues. Only then, they released a collective sigh of relief and stepped away from the coffin. The maids of the Yue household immediately came forward with basins of hot water, helping the officials rid themselves of their gloves and clean their hands.
"It's time. Escort the Lord out," the chief official ordered the steward of the house.
The steward bowed and retreated inside the house to Lord Yue's chamber.
Yue Wenxiu, the youngest son of the Yue household's first concubine, looked at the coffin with glossy eyes, his fingers curled into a weak, trembling knot by his side.
"Is there no other way?" he whispered, the words merely a ghost of a plea.
The despair in his voice didn't go unnoticed by the chief. Though a wave of pity welled up in his chest, he was in no position to do anything in this matter. After all, no one had foreseen such a wretched fate would befall a man whose brilliance had once been the kingdom's brightest sun.
The chief shook his head and bowed in apology. "Forgive me, Lord Wenxiu. The royal decree is inviolable," he stated resolutely.
Wenxiu clenched his teeth as a drop of tears traced a slow line down his cheek. The people standing inside the hall couldn't help but be moved by the love and respect the young lord held for his elder brother.
Standing on the other side, Yue Chengyi, the second lady's son, secretly scoffed at Wenxiu. "The wolf howls for the sheep that now warms his belly!"
He shut his witty mouth only when he received a sharp look from his elder sister.
The hushed murmurs instantly ceased when the rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed in the silent hall. Heads turned in unison; several gasps rippled through the hall as eyes took in the beautiful tragedy approaching them.
Lord Yue Jingyuan, the head of the Yue household, legitimate eldest son of the late Lord Yue and former prime minister and advisor to the king, whose wisdom had once been law—now walked through the hall's icy silence with the grace of a falling star, distant and beautiful in his descent.
His calm eyes roamed around the hall, taking in all the familiar faces.
He noticed the difference.
The eyes that once looked up at him for the precision of his mind were now anchored to the floor, unable to bear the weight of his ruin.
The pretty eyes that once watched him behind silk fans in admiration and longing now turned their heads in a collective shiver of disgust.
The eyes that marveled at his administrative valor now looked upon him with shallow, stinging pity.
The very courtiers who once sought the shade of his wisdom now recoiled into the shadows, treating the man who built their world like a ghost haunting this hall.
"My Lord, it's time," the chief informed with a lowered head, his hands disappearing into the vast silk of opposite sleeves as he offered a deep bow of nervousness.
Lord Jingyuan nodded without words, his eyes falling on the coffin placed at the center. The interior of the coffin was cushioned with tufted blue satin and hand-spun silk, creating a bed of frozen clouds—a mock softness destined to hold a rigid body.
He felt a faint, unspoken amusement, his lips behind the veil curled into a slow, subtle smile.
"Time it is," he whispered to himself.