Beginning with the Ubume Bird-Chapter 583 - 15: The Funeral Without Tears (Part Three)
October 20th, the overcast and rainy weather persisted, and today was Qin An’s funeral. There were no newspaper obituaries, no collection of funeral donations, no public mourning ritual; the procession was set for the following day, and everything was to be done with simplicity.
Qin An was from Luoyang, born in the industrialized old district during the 1960s, so his funeral took place in Luoyang. As the saying goes, fallen leaves return to their roots.
Large and small wreaths of condolence filled both the interior and exterior of the memorial hall, with names like Zhao Jianzhong and Su Ling prominently featured.
In the funeral home’s memorial hall, the violin "Ballad" by Chiprian Bolombescu played on a loop. People wearing lapel flowers mingled and conversed, intentionally keeping their voices low.
A white tablecloth bore an Everbright Lamp, an incense burner, and several reels of old Romanian movies that were not very popular.
An elderly man in an old Sun Yat-sen suit personally greeted every mourner who came to pay respects, speaking kindly. Many people who met this white-haired old man for the first time found it hard to believe that he was the same Zhu Jiuyin, known across Yan Fu for his fierce notoriety and romantic escapades.
Li Yan and his party also came to offer their condolences for Qin An. After a brief encounter with Zhu Jiuyin, the three of them bowed to the portrait and were then led by An Jing to be seated in a corner.
"Here’s your flower."
An Jing handed a white lapel flower to Lady Dan.
Members of the Yan Zhao Club who held a position above second seat or had reserve qualifications did not need to wear lapel flowers beforehand. Such individuals were usually among the elite of the Yan Zhao Club and, regardless of nepotism, their personal abilities were definitely strong; there was no question they would occupy important positions in the club. There was no need for them to participate in any struggle for ascension.
An Jing smiled at Li Yan and Cha Xiaodao, "We met at the shooting range last time, you should remember."
"Of course, Miss An Jing."
"You can just call me by my name."
Li Yan nodded slightly, his manner somewhat reserved.
Among those present, there were some who Li Yan had met only in passing, like Zhao Jianzhong, Zhan Yuejin, and Si Wenji; others he had dealt with but had never met face-to-face, recognizable only with the guidance of An Jing, such as Su Ling and Hou Tu.
There was no direct victim at the funeral; all funeral matters were managed by the Yan Zhao Club, and everyone present was a traveler of Yan Fu.
The bearers, officiants, and the male and female attendants engaged in the funeral services were all relatively formidable proxies, including representatives from the Six Ministries who held positions above second seat.
"You sit here for a while; I’ll go greet the other guests."
Having said that, An Jing walked away.
In the midst of the funeral music, small clusters of guests cast complicated glances at the passersby, some exchanging forced smiles and pleasantries, some anxiously searching for their old friends or partners, and some sitting in deep thought with their heads bowed at their own seats. Of course, most were familiar faces from the Yan Zhao Club, but the number of newcomers still exceeded many people’s expectations. There were no tears at the funeral, only a terrible suppression.
Cha Xiaodao sniffed and nudged Li Yan’s arm, "I’m going out for a smoke."
Li Yan nodded, and Cha Xiaodao got up to leave, while Li Yan’s gaze involuntarily swept across the crowd.
To be honest, Qin An’s funeral was much simpler than Li Yan had imagined. The turmoil raised was confined within the circles of Yan Fu and, aside from causing a few unresolved major accidents in Luoyang, it had almost no chain reaction.
One reason was certainly that Qin An had traveled Daqian Yanfu for a long time. The high-status proxies associated with him, who were also buried alongside, were a group of casual and free-spirited individuals; many of them had not returned for years and were already listed as missing.
Moreover, it was a result of deliberate suppression by the upper echelons of the Yan Zhao Club.
"Oh?"
Li Yan’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar man and woman.
"Mr. Qin was an extraordinary person, you would know if you had seen him. He shouldn’t have died so ignominiously."
Yang Zheng’s palm swayed in time with the rhythm of the violin, staring at the Everbright Lamp not far away, he said so to Bai Xiao beside him.
"Talk all you want, but don’t think about causing trouble."
Bai Xiao glanced sideways at Yang Zheng.
Yang Zheng laughed, "I won’t."
Suddenly, he felt Li Yan’s gaze, and after a long moment of eye contact, the two of them smiled at each other and simultaneously averted their eyes.
The melancholy melody of the "Ballad" played on, like a sudden rainstorm and fierce winds.
Zhu Jiuyin sat beside Zhao Jianzhong, his coarse palm rubbing his reddened eyes, "Most of the guests have arrived."
Zhao Jianzhong did not respond, listening intently to the music, and finally nodded, "I’m at ease leaving the arrangements for An’s funeral to you."
"It’s what I should do."
Zhao Jianzhong suddenly frowned and forced a smile, saying to Zhu Jiuyin, "Did we, perhaps, go overboard with the arrangements, inviting too many random people?"
"When a person dies, there’s no reason to prevent others from paying their respects."
Both old men lowered their heads.
Jiao Chong hurried over, "It’s about time, Mr. Zhuo, here’s the eulogy."
He handed the pre-prepared eulogy to Zhu Jiuyin.
"No need," Zhu Jiuyin pushed away Jiao Chong’s hand and was about to walk away, but Zhao Jianzhong stopped him.
"Jiuyin, restrain yourself."
Zhu Jiuyin glanced at Zhao Jianzhong before picking up the eulogy.
Under the complex gazes of the crowd, he walked to the stage and looked down at the eulogy in his hand.
"Today, with heavy hearts, we deeply mourn..."
Mid-sentence, something seemed to block Zhu Jiuyin’s throat, and the violin music stopped just in time.
There was awkward silence for a few seconds before everyone realized how strange and awkward the atmosphere of the funeral had become without the violin’s cover.
Zhu Jiuyin continued, "We deeply mourn my good friend, Qin An. Qin An and I have been close friends for decades, like brothers. But not long ago, he was murdered."
The old man’s tone suddenly shifted, "No matter who did it, I will investigate to the end, and I will not let them off."
Having said that, he walked off the stage, leaving the two pages of the eulogy unfinished.
For a long while.
Out of place at the funeral, isolated applause broke out.
It was a dark-skinned woman with a scar over her eye, sitting in the front row.
The second to clap was Yang Zheng, his expression neutral.
A scattered applause arose, perhaps from a few dozen people who had come to the funeral early. Unlike others who were scratching their heads and looking around, they had been sitting quietly from the beginning until now, not saying a word.
Now, these people started clapping after Zhu Jiuyin’s brief eulogy, the applause continuing for more than ten seconds.
The funeral of hundreds fell into even deeper silence, faces showing various expressions, Su Ling impassive, Zhan Yuejin tremblingly closing his eyes, Zhao Jianzhong let out a soft sigh, "Let’s continue."
No sooner had his words fallen than a huge explosion came from outside the memorial hall.
Everyone was incredulously stunned at first, then an irresistible torrent of malice and wrath instantly overwhelmed everyone present.
Maybe it was an illusion, but Zhu Jiuyin seemed to have gained many more wrinkles and white hairs, he stood up belatedly, the dense malice pressing down so heavily that no one could move.
Zhao Jianzhong, Su Ling, Zhan Yuejin, Hou Tu, Wuwei Sanzang, one by one, with grim faces, slowly rose to their feet. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂
No matter who it was or for what reason, disturbing this funeral meant facing the wrath of almost the entire Yan Zhao Club.
The doors flung open, and blood was everywhere at the entrance. A representative tasked with greeting guests had his chest holed, spewing blood in great gouts.
Cha Xiaodao was supporting him, her neck also slashed by an unknown object, bleeding profusely.
At the door, a wretched man covered in blood dragged himself forward, his right leg ripped from his body. He continued to kowtow toward the funeral home, sobbing miserably while doing so.
