HCT – Chapter 203 A Noisy Farewell After Death

When a person slits their own throat, they do not die immediately.

Huang Xie had always cherished the treasured sword bestowed upon him by the King of Chu. He would often polish it, keeping the blade sharp as ever. The cut it left on his neck was deep; crimson blood gushed forth like a narrow spring.

Even so, Huang Xie did not die at once. For two or three minutes, his consciousness lingered.

So when he fell, he still saw the twisted smile on the Chu envoy’s face. He saw the anger and sorrow on Zhu Xiang’s face. And when Zhu Xiang turned his head suddenly, Huang Xie saw the shock and deeper grief hidden within his eyes.

Huang Xie realized what his retainers had done for him.

His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Zhu Xiang knelt beside him. Though he had already steeled himself to honor Huang Xie’s loyal resolve, his hand still instinctively pressed down on the gaping wound at Huang Xie’s neck.

Blood instantly seeped between his fingers, dyeing both his palms red.

Seeing Huang Xie’s lips move as if to speak, Zhu Xiang bent close, straining to listen. But only a rasping “hh…hh…” came from Huang Xie’s throat.

He could not read lips, but he could read expressions.

Huang Xie must have been saying that since Zhu Xiang had come, he thought his retainers could leave with him.

Slowly, Huang Xie’s lips stopped moving.

The light faded from his eyes.

A moment ago, his face had held relief and joy. Now it was frozen in sorrow. His vacant eyes stared upward; his hands pressed weakly against the ground. He had tried, even with his last breath, to lift himself and see what was happening behind him — though he had already guessed.

When the light died in Huang Xie’s eyes, the light in Zhu Xiang’s also dimmed.

He kept pressing Huang Xie’s wound, silent for a long while. Only when Li Mu placed a hand on his shoulder did he raise his head.

“I’m fine,” Zhu Xiang said to Li Mu.

He tried to tear off his sleeve to wrap the wound that still bled ceaselessly, even after death.

But unlike in those period dramas, the fabric would not tear no matter how he pulled.

Li Mu sighed. “Lord Chunshen is gone. You don’t need to bind his wound anymore.”

“I know,” Zhu Xiang replied. “I just… don’t want his blood to run dry.”

Then he suddenly remembered his sword. Drawing it, he made a few awkward gestures, as if confused how to cut a strip of cloth from his robe.

The county magistrate, who had been stunned by the sight of Lord Chunshen’s retainers taking their own lives, finally came to his senses. He rushed to Huang Xie’s still-warm body, threw himself upon it, and sobbed in anguish.

The Chu soldiers, following the command of the Chu envoy — whose tone barely hid his glee — once again began to move forward.

Zhu Xiang, his mind blank, rose with his bloodstained sword and stepped forward to stand before Lord Chunshen’s body.

“Withdraw,” Zhu Xiang said coldly, blood dripping from the hilt.

The Chu envoy, hiding behind the soldiers, shrieked, “Who are you to command the envoy of the King of Chu!”

Li Mu had been holding his unsheathed blade all this time, as if waiting for something.

Then came a sharp whistling sound — everyone heard it. A faint smile appeared on Li Mu’s lips.

He gripped his sword with one hand, pressed a finger to his lips with the other, and let out a whistle in the same rhythm.

Moments later, the clatter of hooves resounded. The ground trembled.

Li Mu’s cavalry appeared from both sides of the city. But that whistle had not come only from his few hundred riders.

Farther away, beyond the horizon, dark silhouettes and fluttering banners appeared. No one could tell which kingdom’s army it was — only that it was not Chu.

“If the State of Chu does not wish to start a war with Qin, withdraw,” Zhu Xiang said again.

This time, the Chu envoy dared not speak.

Even before he gave the order, the Chu soldiers who had been advancing under his command were already retreating.

They lowered their heads, not daring to meet Zhu Xiang’s gaze.

Even the Chu general on horseback dared not look him in the eye.

The retainer of Xiang Yan, who led the troops, finally snapped out of his shock. He glanced at Lord Chunshen’s fallen retainers, at Lord Chunshen’s lifeless body and the weeping magistrate sprawled over it. Then his eyes swept over the ever-calm Li Mu and the bloodstained Zhu Xiang standing against the Chu army.

“Withdraw. This is not the time to fight,” said a Chu general beside him. “We cannot afford to bear the blame for provoking war between Chu and Qin.”

This general was one of the two hundred guards the King of Chu had sent with the envoy — a mark of royal dignity. Now, he took responsibility and ordered the retreat.

The retainer of Xiang Yan nodded silently. Raising his hand, he gave the signal to withdraw.

He had many things he wanted to say — but in the end, he said nothing. Before leaving, he bowed deeply, not sure whether it was to Zhu Xiang or Lord Chunshen, as a gesture of respect.

“Zhu Xiang!!”

From afar, several riders broke away from a larger formation and galloped toward them. The leader’s roar startled Zhu Xiang so much he jumped.

Li Mu’s tense face finally relaxed.

Sheathing his blade, he said, “Lord Lian is here.”

“Ah… right,” Zhu Xiang mumbled, wiping his sword and sliding the bloodstained blade back into its sheath. Then he sidled closer to Li Mu.

Li Mu, however, shifted a few steps away.

Zhu Xiang: “…?”

“Zhu Xiang!!”

Riding hard on a fine horse, the white-haired Lian Po thundered toward them, his bulging eyes so fierce that Zhu Xiang nearly had a heart attack.

“L-Lord Lian,” Zhu Xiang stammered, shrinking his neck and edging closer to Li Mu again.

Li Mu again stepped aside.

Zhu Xiang: “…??!”

Lian Po reined in his horse sharply, leapt to the ground, and began, “You—”

But his words caught in his throat when he saw Lord Lord Chunshen’s body on the ground.

With a long sigh, he unbuckled his sword and laid it beside Lord Chunshen. To the sobbing magistrate, he said softly, “My condolences. Let Lord Chunshen rest in peace first.”

The magistrate raised his head, wiping his tears with his sleeve, and stammered in disbelief, “General Lian?”

Lian Po nodded. “Don’t be afraid. I came to take Zhu Xiang back. We won’t attack your city.”

The magistrate looked at Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Don’t worry.”

The magistrate nodded back. “Lord Zhu Xiang, please.”

Zhu Xiang moved beside Lian Po and crouched down. He reached out to close Lord Chunshen’s eyes — but when he saw his hands still caked in blood, he hurriedly wiped them clean on his clothes before gently shutting the dead man’s eyes.

Lian Po frowned. “Where are you hurt?”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “It’s not my blood — it’s Lord Chunshen’s.”

Lian Po let out a long, heavy sigh and didn’t press further.

Zhu Xiang turned to the county magistrate, who was choking with sobs, and said, “I’ve taken Lord Chunshen and his retainers’ bodies. I’ll deliver them to their families so they can be properly buried.”

The county magistrate wiped his tears again and said, “Wait a moment.”

He stood up and shouted to the citizens on the city wall, whose cries of mourning shook the heavens: “Open the gate!”

The city gate slowly rose. Even though the Qin army stood outside, the citizens surged out in a flood.

They didn’t rush to the side of Lord Chunshen’s and his retainers’ bodies. Scholars maintained order, directing them to stand at a respectful distance to mourn.

Some merchants carried rolls of plain linen and cotton to wrap the retainers’ bodies.

Some wealthy folk brought silk and had their servants carry out the fine coffins they’d once prepared for themselves, now offering them to enshroud Lord Chunshen. Even those dressed in rags came forward with buckets of water to wash away the blood from the fallen.

After rinsing his hands clean, Zhu Xiang personally wiped Lord Chunshen’s wounds, cleansing the blood and wrapping him in silk.

But the bleeding wouldn’t stop. It was as if Lord Chunshen meant to leave every drop of his blood upon Chu soil.

Zhu Xiang could only hold the still-bleeding Lord Chunshen in his arms, wrap him tightly in silk, and lay him into the coffin.

By the time the hasty burial preparations were complete, Lian Po’s Qin army had already arrived.

The county magistrate, together with local scholars, personally helped carry the coffins to the Qin army’s wagons and horsebacks.

Lian Po looked at the bodies of the retainers and said, “I didn’t expect this to happen. I only brought one cart for the bodies. Forgive me. Once we’ve left Chu’s borders, I’ll see you all buried properly.”

He ordered the retainers’ remains to be set upright on horseback, as though they were lying there peacefully.

The Qin soldiers dismounted and led the horses forward by the reins.

“Go,” said Lian Po. “If we don’t move now, the Chu army will arrive. Though I’ve bypassed their defenses, they must have discovered us by now.”

It wasn’t possible to defend every inch of Chu’s borders — flanking maneuvers were common. In warfare, even mountain passes could be bypassed.

What mattered was holding the cities.

Lord Chunshen’s fief was in northern Huai, a frontier battleground. It hadn’t been hard for Lian Po to lead a rapid march through the Chu border defenses.

In the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, which famous general didn’t know how to carry out lightning-fast, long-distance strikes?

Though the citizens couldn’t bear to part, they had seen with their own eyes the Chu envoy’s insolence. They feared Lord Chunshen’s and his retainers’ remains would be desecrated, and so they let the Qin army take them away.

“Lord Changping, we entrust Lord Chunshen to you!” the people cried out.

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Very well. Zhu Xiang will not fail this trust.”

He and Li Mu mounted their horses, riding beside the cart that carried Lord Chunshen’s coffin.

Lian Po kicked his eldest son, Lian Fu, who had been standing around awkwardly. “You! Drive the carriage yourself!”

Lian Fu, who had galloped breathlessly to catch up with his father, hadn’t even greeted Zhu Xiang and Li Mu yet when he was immediately ordered to take the reins.

Lian Po led the army onward.

The Qin soldiers moved with solemn faces. At the commander’s order, they turned in unison — their ranks perfectly steady.

The Chu city lay open before them, its gates unbarred, yet at the general’s command they did not attack — they had come only to retrieve someone and were now departing.

The formation placed Zhu Xiang, Li Mu, and Lord Chunshen’s coffin at its center — occupying the position where the commanding general would normally be.

Lian Po rode at the very front, leading the troops northwest.

Behind them, the county magistrate and the citizens — some on horseback, some in carts, some on foot — followed the Qin formation, escorting Lord Chunshen out of Chu.

They had gone no more than ten li when a Chu border general, having spotted traces of the Qin army that had not even bothered to conceal itself, hurriedly led his men to intercept.

He had already sent word to the Chu king: The Qin army has entered our land.

Now, seeing that the Qin troops were retreating, he was baffled and sent a messenger forward to ask.

Lian Po said coldly, “I came to fetch Zhu Xiang and to escort the body of Lord Chunshen, who was executed by the King of Chu.”

He gestured, and the Qin formation split down the middle, revealing the cart draped in white cloth.

A Chu soldier stared in disbelief. “Lord Chunshen… what happened to him?!”

“Lord Chunshen was granted death by royal decree,” said Lian Po flatly.

The soldier shook his head violently. “Impossible — how could that be?”

“Go report to your general,” Lian Po said. “Do not disturb Lord Chunshen’s remains.”

The soldier took another look at the white-draped cart, then spurred his horse back to report.

Soon, the Chu general himself rode forward to face the Qin army. “Lord Chunshen was executed? That’s impossible!”

Zhu Xiang rode up beside Lian Po. “Lord Chunshen was granted death by the King of Chu. His retainers followed him in death. Please allow us to pass.”

The Chu general stared at Zhu Xiang’s distinctive white hair, still dazed. “You are Lord Changping? You came to rescue Lord Chunshen — then why…”

Zhu Xiang replied quietly, “Lord Chunshen refused to leave.”

The Chu general took several deep breaths. “May I go to bid him farewell?”

“Please,” Zhu Xiang said.

He led the Chu general to the coffin. The general lifted the lid — and froze. After a long moment, he burst out laughing — laughing until tears streamed down his face.

“It truly is Lord Chunshen,” the general said through his laughter. “And those on horseback — those are his retainers?”

“Yes,” Zhu Xiang answered.

The Chu general dismounted, gently closed the coffin, then cut a strip of white cloth from the carriage cover and tied it around his arm.

“I will lead the way for Lord Chunshen!” he declared, laughing again through tears. “I will lead the way for Lord Chunshen!”

When he remounted, he saw the Chu citizens following behind the Qin army.

The county magistrate rode up beside the coffin cart, dismounted, and bowed silently to the Chu general.

The general, still smiling with tear-streaked cheeks, turned his horse and rode back, ordering the Chu troops to withdraw and open a path for the Qin.

He had brought two thousand men to scout and harass the Qin. Originally, they had planned to fight to the death, to delay the Qin’s advance and buy time for reinforcements.

Now, these two thousand Chu soldiers who had prepared for a suicidal battle marched at the front — the ten-thousand-strong Qin army in the middle — and the people of Lord Chunshen’s fief followed behind.

More and more Chu citizens, upon hearing the news, came from all directions to join the procession, swelling its numbers until it became a vast, somber march.

They reached the border between Han and Chu.

The Han frontier guards, seeing such a massive procession, were startled — they thought Chu was preparing to invade Han.

After learning the reason, the Han general, his emotions complicated, ordered his soldiers to make way, watching the funeral procession depart.

Someone in the ranks said, “The Qin and the Chu both came to see Lord Chunshen off. Lord Xinping of Qin led the way, and Lords Changping and Wucheng guarded the coffin. Lord Chunshen’s name will probably echo throughout the world after this.”

Another said with a scoff, “Who would want to become famous like that? Besides, Lord Chunshen was already known across the world as a noble of Chu. Why are all the ones bearing titles from Qin? Where are the nobles of Chu?”

Indeed—where were the nobles of Chu?

They only learned of what had happened when Lord Chunshen was already about to leave the country.

Before that, they had first received news that Qin troops were attacking Chu.

The Chu capital was thrown into chaos. The king urgently summoned Xiang Yan, who donned his armor and began rallying troops.

But half a day later, another Chu soldier came with new information—Qin troops were not invading; they were there to retrieve Lord Changping.

The Chu king and his nobles, who were still in turmoil in the capital, were all stunned.

“Lord Changping? What is he doing in Chu?”

The reporting soldier replied, “Lord Changping ventured deep into Chu alone to rescue a friend. But Lord Chunshen refused to leave. After saying his farewells to Lord Changping, Lord Chunshen took his own life. Lord Changping now escorts his coffin back.”

He paused before continuing, “Lord Wucheng came to guard Lord Changping, and Lord Xinping led troops to receive him. So the Qin army wasn’t here to attack Chu—just to protect Lord Changping. They’ve already departed.”

When Xiang Yan heard this, his first reaction was confusion—why had the Chu army simply let the Qin go?

Lord Changping had entered Chu alone, and Lord Wucheng didn’t bring many men. They could easily have surrounded them, used them as bait, and wiped out the Qin troops stationed at the Qin–Chu–Han border who had long been a thorn in Chu’s side.

If they could have killed Zhu Xiang, Li Mu, and Lian Po in one stroke, even if Qin launched a furious retaliation, Chu would still come out ahead.

But before he could voice this thought, he swallowed it back down.

The instincts of a general retreated, and the rationality of a scholar took over.

The incident had occurred in Lord Chunshen’s own fief. The people there were already furious over his death. If Zhu Xiang were besieged while escorting the coffin, they would rebel.

And once the world learned of it, Chu would be condemned by all.

The nobles of Chu still possessed that typical old-fashioned aristocratic mindset of the Spring and Autumn era. They stood high above others, claiming not to care about reputation, yet deep down they cared more about it than anyone else. They could not stand to be called barbarians.

Xiang Yu once killed a man for mocking him as a “monkey wearing a crown.” Naturally, his grandfather Xiang Yan also valued noble dignity above all.

Lord Chunshen had died out of loyalty, and Lord Changping had risked his life out of righteousness. Even if Xiang Yan himself had been there, he could only have called off the pursuit and watched them go.

Xiang Yan sighed at the missed chance to kill Zhu Xiang, Li Mu, and Lian Po, then asked the king’s leave to return to his fief.

He would have to keep a low profile for a while—he couldn’t afford to draw the anger sparked by Lord Chunshen’s death onto himself.

Fortunately, he hadn’t allowed his own family’s soldiers to participate.

As for the troops he had mobilized—they were, after all, the king’s soldiers. The king had only been moving his own army.

When the Chu king learned of all this, he was dazed and confused. Even when Xiang Yan left the capital and returned to his fief—voluntarily stepping back from the struggle for power—he didn’t care.

He merely said to his attendant, “I regret it.”

He regretted it.

……

“Thank you, Lord Changping.”

Lord Chunshen’s widow brought her children and wept as she thanked Zhu Xiang.

The Qin envoy, who had come slowly with ten wagons of gold, silver, silk, and treasures to invite Lord Chunshen to Qin, left all the riches behind, gifting them to his family instead.

Lord Chunshen’s kin decided to settle in a city on the Qin–Chu border. His former retainers removed their swords, took up hoes, and farmed the land alongside his family, becoming self-sufficient commoners.

They all swore never to serve in office again until the fall of Chu—no matter how many years it took.

Lord Chunshen had demonstrated his loyalty with his life. No matter how hard things became, they would uphold that loyalty.

Still, with Qin’s gifts and Lian Po’s protection, their lives would be comfortable—though far from the splendor of when Lord Chunshen had served as Chu’s prime minister.

When Qin had sent an envoy to invite Lord Chunshen to defect, other nations—knowing he would refuse—had done the same. Their invitations were all part of various schemes to sow discord.

Now, seeing Qin leave its gifts behind for Lord Chunshen’s family, the other envoys, whether moved by his loyalty or simply eager to share in this wave of posthumous glory, also left their offerings.

Envoys from all states came to pay respects. Their kings sent delegations to offer condolences.

Lord Chunshen’s funeral was as bustling as his life.

But his family remained indifferent to all the noise, showing true gratitude only toward Lord Changping, Zhu Xiang.

Huang Xie had been nearly fifty when he died. His eldest grandson, Huang Di, was twelve.

Lord Chunshen’s widow entrusted Huang Di to Zhu Xiang, asking him to bring the boy to the academy in Xianyang.

Her voice was cold as she said, “When my grandson comes of age, I hope he can serve in Qin. Di, study well.”

Huang Di bowed. “Yes, Grandmother.”

Once Zhu Xiang departed, Lord Chunshen’s once radiant, black-haired widow—now gray and aged—closed her doors to guests, silencing the bustling mourning.

She thought, My lord probably wouldn’t have liked such noise. Now that his friends have gone, he must want to rest.

……

Zhu Xiang had intended to take Huang Di under his own care, but the boy refused.

He insisted on staying in Xianyang, building a small hut for himself, and attending the academy there. He said that if he couldn’t endure even this small hardship, he would have no right to serve Qin under Lord Changping’s name.

Seeing his resolve, Zhu Xiang could only ask Xunzi to look after him.

Lian Po left his seal of command to his deputy and returned to Xianyang with Zhu Xiang and Li Mu.

Then he punched Li Mu.

“If you can’t stop Zhu Xiang, what use are you!”

He decided he’d personally escort Zhu Xiang back to Xianyang—just so the young man wouldn’t go running off again and give the old generals another heart attack.

Lian Po had also wanted to punch Zhu Xiang, but seeing his hollow, lifeless expression, he swallowed his words for now, waiting until Zhu Xiang’s mood recovered before berating him properly.

Zhu Xiang kept insisting he was fine, which only made Lian Po stomp with rage. He kicked the bruised and swollen Li Mu toward him. “Go comfort him yourself!”

Of course, Lian Po himself would never do such a thing.

Looking at Li Mu’s still-bruised face, Zhu Xiang said gleefully, “Serves you right!”

Li Mu was speechless. “I got beaten because of you, and you say it serves me right?!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “When Lord Lian appeared, who was it that tried to hide behind me? Even if you’d dodged, he’d still have hit you!”

Li Mu let out a cold laugh. “If you hadn’t looked so half-dead, it’s you he’d have hit!”

Zhu Xiang smirked. “No, he’d have hit both of us. You’re not escaping.”

Li Mu took a deep breath, fighting the urge to punch him again.

This Zhu Xiang—making others take beatings for him, then gloating about it—was this really the world-famous virtuous Lord Changping?

“Seems like your mood’s recovered,” Li Mu said dryly. He grabbed a potato Zhu Xiang had been roasting on a stick, sprinkled seasoning on it, and took a bite. “Still having nightmares?”

Zhu Xiang said softly, “Not really nightmares.”

He stared into the flickering campfire. When his eyes began to blur from the heat, he murmured, “I thought I could handle it, after all I’ve seen on the battlefield. But when Lord Chunshen’s blood covered my fingers, I realized I still couldn’t.”

Li Mu said quietly, “Killing on the battlefield and watching someone take his own life aren’t the same. The death of a friend is also different from the death of anyone else.”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “You know, I never really thought of Lord Chunshen as a friend. More like… someone I admired, but even that admiration was half-hearted.”

Li Mu stayed silent, letting him talk.

Zhu Xiang had met Lord Chunshen, drunk with him, exchanged words. Chunshen’s fondness for Zhu Xiang had grown, but Zhu Xiang’s feelings toward him had remained unchanged—static.

Lord Chunshen’s temperament and conduct had never quite matched his own. Zhu Xiang had clicked instantly with Lord Xinling, but with Chunshen, there had only ever been polite civility.

His “favorability list” looked like that for most people.

They liked him—but he might not even remember who they were.

That “favorability list” had always been one-way.

He didn’t tell Li Mu about that part. He only said that he’d never truly regarded Lord Chunshen as a friend—and never imagined that Chunshen, before his death, would entrust the people of his fief to him.

Only then did Li Mu answer, “And Lord Chunshen never imagined you’d come alone to see him off.”

Zhu Xiang protested, “You came with me! How can you call that alone?”

Then he added quietly, “But I didn’t expect it either.”

The fire crackled, its flames shrinking lower and lower.

After Li Mu finished his roasted potato, he tossed another branch into the embers.

“Li Mu.”

“Mm?”

“I think… I may have truly regarded Lord Chunshen—Huang Xie—as a friend.”

“Mm.”