HNYWEF -Chapter 203 It Has Truly Changed

Zhenguan Year 5, Seventh Month, Fifteenth Day

The Zhongyuan Festival.

Dawn had barely broken, and the mist had not yet dispersed.

Zhou Xiong stood before a newly built grave, staring at the dense sea of black-clad heads in front of him. His expression shifted—from confusion to blankness, from blankness to shock, and from shock into something indescribable.

It felt like someone had pushed him from behind, before he could even steady himself—then pushed him again, and again, until he was finally shoved straight into a pit.

He opened his mouth.

No sound came out.

The grave was new.

Built with blue stone. The tombstone was freshly erected, its inscription newly carved. In front of it were incense candles, paper offerings, and several trays of sacrificial food.

The site was spacious. When Zhou Yi had chosen it back then, he had deliberately picked flat ground, thinking it would be enough space for people to stand during memorials.

He had not expected so many people to come.

Li Shimin stood at the very front, wearing plain robes, his face completely expressionless.

Empress Zhangsun stood to his left. Li Chengqian stood to his right. Li Lizhi stood beside Empress Zhangsun, dressed in plain white, a single silver hairpin in her hair.

The four of them formed a line, completely occupying the best space in front of the grave.

Behind them stood Fang Xuanling.

He was accompanied by Changsun Wuji, Wei Zheng, Wang Gui, Duan Lun, Yan Liben—several men in dark plain robes, standing quietly behind Li Shimin, each with different expressions.

Further back was Cheng Yaojin.

The group he brought was the most spectacular: Qin Qiong, Li Ji, Yuchi Gong, Niu Jinda, and several old brothers from the Wagang stronghold—some Zhou Xiong recognized, others he did not. They filled the hillside in a dense mass.

Some had white hair. Some had beards turned gray. Some still stood tall and straight, while others were slightly stooped with age.

But they had all come, dressed in plain clothes, standing silently before the new grave.

The entire hillside was packed with people, leaving barely any space to set foot.

Someone had stepped into a hollow in the grass. Someone had been pushed back against the bushes. Others stood on the sloped side of the grave, slipping underfoot and grabbing the shoulders of those beside them just to steady themselves.

Zhou Xiong stood beside the tombstone, staring at this crowd.

His mouth opened and closed again and again, as if his throat had been seized—unable to breathe, unable to speak.

After a long while, he finally made a sound.

“Li Er.”

Two words, hoarse—forced out from deep in his throat.

Li Shimin looked at him.

Zhou Xiong raised his hand, pointing at the black sea of people. His fingers were trembling.

Not from anger—from confusion.

“You bastard… explain this to me,” his voice rose higher and higher, “what the hell is this? Is this a tomb-sweeping or an imperial court assembly? You brought the Crown Prince, the Empress, your whole damn family—I’ve got no problem with that. You brought Fang Xuanling, Changsun Wuji, Wei Zheng, Wang Gui, Duan Lun, Yan Liben—I’ve got no problem with that either. But what the hell do you mean by dragging the entire Wagang gang here?”

He pointed toward Cheng Yaojin’s side, his finger sweeping across the crowd—from Qin Qiong to Li Ji, from Li Ji to Yuchi Gong, from Yuchi Gong to Niu Jinda, then over the faces of those unnamed old comrades.

“Are you here to watch the show or to pay respects? It’s my wife’s grave—what are you all doing here? Does she even recognize any of you? I don’t even recognize half of you!”

Cheng Yaojin, standing in the crowd, opened his mouth as if to speak—but Zhou Xiong didn’t give him the chance.

“And you!”

He turned back and pointed at Li Shimin again.

“You really don’t care about propriety anymore, do you? Even when Du Ruhui was buried, it wasn’t this big a scene! Do you think my wife deserves more honor than Du Ruhui—or do you think I’m easier to bully than him?!”

He took a breath, his chest rising and falling violently.

The hillside was completely silent. So silent that the rustling of paper offerings in the wind could be heard—fluttering like laughter.

Li Shimin stood there, still expressionless.

He glanced at Zhou Xiong, then turned to look at Wei Zheng, then at Wang Gui.

Both of them had the same expression written on their faces: Don’t look at me. I know nothing. I saw nothing.

Li Shimin withdrew his gaze and looked back at Zhou Xiong.

He spoke.

His voice was not loud, but every word was clear.

“The Ministry of Rites had no objections. On what grounds do you object?”

Zhou Xiong’s words stuck in his throat.

He stared wide-eyed at Li Shimin’s calm face, then glanced at Wei Zheng and Wang Gui—both of them standing silently without a word.

His mouth opened. He wanted to curse, but didn’t even know who to curse.

Curse Li Shimin? The man had already said the Ministry of Rites had no objections.

Curse Wang Gui? Wang Gui hadn’t even lifted his head.

Curse Wei Zheng? That “none of my business” expression of his was more infuriating than anything.

Zhou Xiong stood there, holding it in for a long while. His face turned red from restraint. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth.

“Li Er… you shouldn’t be like this.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but every word felt like it was being dragged out of his throat by force. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t helplessness. It was more like grievance—like the person I knew you to be isn’t this kind of person.

Li Shimin looked at him for two breaths.

Then he spoke. Still not loud, but every word was steady and firm, like nails driven into the ground.

“I am like this because of you.”

The hillside fell silent again.

The wind blew past, making the incense smoke in front of the offerings sway. It bent sideways, then slowly straightened again.

Ash from the paper money was lifted into the air, drifting for a moment before falling—onto Li Shimin’s shoulder, onto the stele of the new grave, onto Zhou Xiong’s sleeve.

Zhou Xiong stood there, looking at Li Shimin.

There was no guilt in those eyes. No apology. No weight of “I owe you.”

Only justification—you made me this way, and now you blame me?

He suddenly didn’t know what to say.

He lowered his head and looked at the soil beneath his feet.

He stood there for a while, then turned around to face the new grave.

The words on the tombstone were freshly carved, neat and precise. He stared at them for a long time.

No one behind him moved.

No one spoke. No one urged him on.

Cheng Yaojin’s mouth twitched. Not a smile—more like a quiet “I knew this would happen.”

Qin Qiong stood beside him, his lips also curling slightly.

Li Ji stood further back, squinting at Zhou Xiong’s back, and gave a faint shake of his head.

Yuchi Gong folded his arms. His face was expressionless, but his eyes curved slightly.

The wind rustled through the leaves of the locust trees.

Far away at the horizon, the sun finally broke through the clouds, slowly dispersing the mist.

Golden light spread across the hillside, across the people standing there, and across the new grave.

Zhou Xiong stood in front of the tombstone, bent down, and placed the incense into the burner.

Three sticks of incense.

He straightened up and stared at the words on the stone for a long time.

Then he took a step back.

He turned around and looked at the people on the hillside—all of them watching him.

He opened his mouth.

He wanted to curse: “What the hell are you all staring at?”

But the words never came out. He swallowed them back down.

He stood there, looking at them, for a long time.

Then he nodded—just once, very lightly.

Li Shimin also nodded—just once, just as lightly.

Cheng Yaojin couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed.

It was a small sound, but the hillside was too quiet—everyone heard it clearly.

Qin Qiong glanced at him but said nothing; the curve of his mouth widened a little more than before.

The wind blew again, lifting the ashes of paper money into the air. They floated like snow—but not snow—drifting for a moment before scattering away.