The white-haired and white-bearded Zhuang Xiaocheng opened his bloodshot eyes, meeting his gaze with an unusually calm expression: "I only seek death."
"Good, good... when you see His Majesty and face torture in the Imperial Prison, I hope you can maintain this stubbornness." Zhao Douan sneered, uttering the typical villain's lines.
He pulled out a talisman from his sleeve and slapped it on Zhuang Xiaocheng's forehead with a "pop."
The latter immediately fell into unconsciousness.
"Put him in the box, let's prepare to enter the city," Zhao Douan said expressionlessly.
Yun Xi nodded, got up, dragged over a large box, and threw the unconscious Zhuang Xiaocheng inside.
Moments later, the boat docked.
Under Gongshu Tianyuan's "blind eye technique," the group smoothly passed the inspection by the government officer at the dock, rented a cart for transporting goods, and tossed the large box onto the cart. Yun Xi sat on the box, committed to not leaving it.
The rest of the group cheerfully sat in the cart, rejecting the dock's cartman, and Zhang Han personally drove the cart.
Once they entered the city gate and walked down the bustling streets, with wine flags fluttering in the wind, everyone finally felt at ease.
Looking at the hour, it was already noon, and the tired individuals simply found a nearby noodle shop to eat.
Taking the opportunity to inquire about the city's current situation.
"Recently... the biggest news in the city is the death of that Zhao Yan... Junior Guardian Zhao." The shop assistant collected a few coins, smiling as he recounted the rumors.
Zhao Douan's death news had spread, it is said that the current Emperor was so grief-stricken that he hasn't attended court for several days.
Many scholars vied to write poems to mourn Zhao Douan, to please the Empress.
"I heard that Lord Zhao didn't have a good reputation, yet people are willing to mourn him?" Zhao Douan asked with interest as he ate his bun.
"Ah, whatever we think in our hearts is best not spoken out loud at this juncture, isn't that adding to the Saint's troubles..." The assistant puckered his lips and, realizing his slip of the tongue, covered his mouth, awkwardly grinning, "I've only heard rumors. How could someone like me know the thoughts of the big figures above? Enjoy your meal, guests."
As he walked away, he glanced suspiciously at the girl who insisted on sitting on the large box even while eating... people from out of town are really odd.
Zhao Douan was amused yet helpless, he could roughly guess that many in the city were already celebrating in their hearts, they just dared not express it openly:
The corpse of Lord Zhao was barely cold, who dared to laugh openly at this time? If the Empress heard, wouldn't that be a grave disaster?
"Tsk tsk, they even mourn you, how about you write a poem for yourself?" Haitang teased him.
Zhao Douan retorted, "Eunuch Hai knows you're dead too, I wonder how saddened he is."
"Ahem, later should we go to the government office first? Or head straight to the palace?" Zhang Han hurriedly tried to smooth things over.
Zhao Douan took another bite of his bun, swallowed, and said, "No, we'll head to my place first. We managed to 'die' once; going directly to the government office or the palace would expose us immediately. Let me think, maybe I can make something small out of this."
Everyone exchanged glances.
After the meal, the escort team drove the cart, winding around, finally approaching the Zhao Mansion.
Even from a distance, they could see the entire Zhao family in a "desolate" state, with the red lanterns at the door replaced by white ones.
Faintly visible were white ribbons hanging in the courtyard, and on the steps at the entrance and under the walls on either side, were condolence "flower baskets" sent by unknown individuals.
White and yellow paper flowers lined up in a long row, almost filling the entire alley, clearly sent by various families in the city.
A well-located "rich area" was turned into a funeral scene, and passersby stealthily avoided it, seemingly afraid of bringing bad luck upon themselves.
"..." Zhao Douan gasped, the corners of his mouth twitching: "No, my 'body' is still on the way, how are there already condolences?! Are these people afraid I won't die?"
Kukuku... Gongshu Tianyuan and others struggled to hold back their laughter, their faces turning red one by one.
"Haha, Brother Zhao. If we had come back a bit later, we might have caught your big feast..." Gongshu Tianyuan winked, unable to hold back his amusement.
Feast? Jin Jian, who was napping on the cart, perked up and instinctively clutched her purse.
She'd heard that attending feasts required an offering... and you could never really eat your money's worth back.
"...Sigh." Zhao Douan chuckled wryly, suddenly losing the courage to walk through the front door to return home, he directed Zhang Han to take a detour to the back door.
The tone finally normalized a bit.
The cart stopped outside the back door, Zhao Douan jumped off without calling anyone, and flung a flying knife into the courtyard.
With a "bang," the bolt was lifted, the back door opened, and the carriage led inside, Zhang Han and Haitang tacitly lifting the box one in front, one behind.
They followed Zhao Douan inside.
Gongshu Tianyuan walked with his hands behind his back, looking around: "Tsk tsk, Brother Zhao, your home is impressive, much better than where I live. How much was this property? Sigh, I poured all my money into making Magic Artifacts, otherwise, I'd get a set too... Hmm, if these lanterns weren't white, it'd be even better..."
Ji Yue silently followed at the back, nearly floating in with her loose black hair matched with her red attire, surprisingly aligned with the funeral tone of the mansion...
Zhao Douan, wearing a dark expression, walked in the lead. As they turned past the backyard, they were met by a kitchen maid coming out.
The maid had a white ribbon wrapped around her head, holding a bamboo winnow loaded with dried mushrooms.
She was stunned to see this utterly peculiar group:
A man and woman carrying on emotionlessly with a large box akin to a coffin.
A chubby man with a bamboo cylinder commenting incessantly, pointing here and there, followed by a pale-faced girl looking ready to collapse from exhaustion.
Trailing the "coffin" was even something resembling a textbook drowned Water Ghost...