The Mute Wife Who Brings Prosperity-Chapter 758 - 720: Returning with the Coffin, Exhumation for Autopsy (2 Updates)
This year’s winter arrived particularly early; just in the beginning of October, the sky was already sprinkled with snowflakes, and the cold wind howled, sweeping through the alleys of the Capital, big and small.
The once bustling main street now only left with chilling winds, whining and swirling under the eaves.
Song Wei, the Vice Minister of the Imperial Sacrificial Worship Office who went to suppress the Tongji Association, the son-in-law of Emperor Guangxi’s niece, and a legendary man of humble origin who graduated as the third-place scholar and joined the Hanlin Academy, has been killed.
The death of Song Wei once again reshaped the public’s perception of the Tongji Association’s derangement; even at the foot of the Emperor, everyone shut their doors, daring not to go out, avoiding where possible.
In just a few short days, the Imperial City seemed to be struck by a plague, shrouded in thick fear, lifeless, showing no signs of joy or vigor for the approaching New Year.
A white silk hangs over the Song family door, with white lanterns dangling on both sides.
A few people stood outside the main gate.
Leading them was Wen Wan, wearing white flowers on her head and dressed in plain clothes. Supported by Song Jiao, who returned upon hearing the news, Jinbao stood beside them.
Further back were Song Erlang and his wife with both children, Duobao and Song Qi. The Xie family also arrived, including Aunt Xie, Uncle Xie, Xie Zheng, and Xie Tao with their wives and children.
The younger ones stood in neat rows, all wearing matching hemp mourning clothes, with hemp hats on their heads and grass ropes around their waists.
The sound of drums and gongs for the spirits rang from the archway.
Everyone raised their eyes and saw from afar a slender, thin young man cradling a memorial tablet, coming forward with his head down, followed by a black coffin wrapped with cold white silk flowers.
Wen Wan’s gaze locked tightly on the memorial tablet in Song Yuanbao’s hands; the characters "Song Wei" were like a curved blade, cutting through and carving out her already tormented heart, dripping with fresh blood.
Snowflakes silently fell, hitting Wen Wan’s face, even her nose tingled with sourness.
A searing pain spread throughout her body.
Tears brimmed in Wen Wan’s eyes; at this moment, her feet felt too heavy to lift. She wanted to step forward to see, to intercept, but helplessly, her body seemed fixed in place, unable to move a single bit.
Behind her, the sound of anguished cries gradually arose, Wen Wan’s colorless lips trembled fiercely, the hand clenched in her sleeve, nails almost piercing the skin.
In a daze, Song Yuanbao had already reached the steps, his hands cradling the memorial tablet frozen purple, his knees bent, kneeling before Wen Wan, "I am unworthy, unable to fulfill mother’s last wish."
The young man kept his head lowered, wrapped in plain mourning cloth, his back held straight as an arrow.
Wen Wan couldn’t bear to look at the heart-wrenching coffin, her gaze fell on the young man’s hair top, "Third Son he..."
Hearing Wen Wan speak, Song Yuanbao’s back stiffened further.
He slowly lifted his head, his pallid face cloaked in a layer of death, his voice deep and weighty.
"Deceased."
A single word shattered Wen Wan’s last pillars of belief and support.
She didn’t know how she was led inside by the others, no longer hearing the women’s cries around her, only Song Wei’s gentle and soft words before departing, "Don’t worry, wait for my return."
Her last semblance of consciousness sank into utter darkness.
What followed was a chaotic dream.
She dreamt again of the sorghum field with red tassels, where the fifteen-year-old girl, clinging to her last hope, with frostbitten hands nervously grasped a thin twig to write a few familiar words on the ground: "Marry me, I bring good fortune."
"Okay."
The man’s rich magnetic voice floated far away; she reached out her hand but couldn’t grasp anything.
Married at sixteen, gave birth to their first child at eighteen, by twenty-four, she was already a mother of two.
Eight years, many heartaches and difficult barriers to overcome.
She couldn’t believe the halfway journey of marriage would abruptly end like this.
...
Upon waking again, Wen Wan lay in her own bedroom, the room was very quiet, Yun Cai busy at work outside, leaving only Linglong inside to serve, avoiding movement to keep from disturbing the lady’s sleep, quietly standing guard by the bed.
If not for seeing the white flower on Linglong’s head, Wen Wan almost believed she truly just had a dream.
"What hour is it?" Wen Wan asked.
The Song Mansion was too large, with layers of high walls blocking the sounds from the memorial hall, barely audible within the inner yard.
"5 p.m.," Linglong replied softly, "Madam has a slight fever, the household doctor advises to rest well."
She added, "Over at the memorial hall, Aunt and Second Madam are organizing."
Finally, choking, she uttered, "Madam, please find solace in grief."
Saying this, her tears fell.
Wen Wan’s eyes seemed a bit vacant, then she sat up, reaching for the white flower on the tripod to wear on her head.
Linglong was slightly alarmed, "Madam?"
Wen Wan’s gaze was resolute, "In that memorial hall lies my husband; anyone can falter, but I cannot."
While speaking, she had already tidied herself up.
Linglong looked at her like this, opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed back her words.
Upon coming to the outer room, Linglong lifted the curtain and opened the oil-paper umbrella, shielding it over Wen Wan’s head.
Wen Wan took the umbrella herself, "I’m fine, you go take care of Qi Bao."
Exiting the alley, passing through the vestibule, the sound of drums and suona from the memorial hall grew clearer.
The winter days were short and the nights long; it was just the hour of 5 p.m., and the sky had already turned dark. Snowflakes as small as fingernails fell in a fitting manner, landing above the solemn memorial hall.
Wen Wan paused at the door, seeing only the extreme black and white.
Erlang’s wife was the first to notice, hurriedly coming out to support Wen Wan, muttering with knitted brows, "Letting you come out alone in this bitter cold, these reckless young ones, just see if I don’t beat them to death later."
While speaking, she glanced at Wen Wan.
Seeing her seemingly unbothered by her words, she then lowered her tone, "Sister-in-law of the third brother..."
She initially wanted to console Wen Wan in her grief.
Before she could finish, Wen Wan spoke, "Has the news of mourning been reported to the Imperial City?"
"It has been," Erlang’s wife said, "Yuanbao went personally."
Wen Wan nodded, seeing Granny Song’s figure approaching from afar, she closed the umbrella and went to meet her, "Mother."
When the coffin passed through the door, Granny Song fainted once, and upon finally waking, the first person she met was Wen Wan.
Granny Song looked at the young woman before her.
Over the eight years since marrying into the Song family, she had always been diligent in supporting her husband and raising their children, never allowing her mother-in-law to worry about anything, yet this time, despite already sensing the impending death of the third son, she hadn’t followed to avoid the disaster.
Now that the third son was gone, who would return her son to her?
With tears in her aged eyes, Granny Song raised her hand.
Wen Wan did not dodge, she closed her eyes.
If she had another chance, and faced with a choice between a daughter about to die from illness and a husband doomed to die, she might still choose the former, but she was willing to bear this consequence.
"Mother!"
Granny Song’s slap did not land on Wen Wan’s face, as Song Fang hastily intervened.
With red eyes, Song Fang said, "Third Brother is gone, and Third Sister-in-law is already in excruciating pain, why must you trouble her further."
Granny Song withdrew her hand, her lips trembling, "I just want my third son back."
Tears fell unchecked from Song Fang, "But even if you beat Third Sister-in-law to death, Third Brother will not come back."
Looking at the mother and daughter in tears, Wen Wan was powerless to console them, standing motionlessly.
The pain, of course, was there; the thought of spending the remaining decades alone made the ache pierce straight into her heart.
Urgent, hurried footsteps sounded from behind.
Wen Wan turned and saw Xu Shu, his expression heavy, "There’s one good news and one bad news right now."
Upon hearing "bad news," Wen Wan’s heart sank, "What’s happened?"
Song Fang and Granny Song wiped their tears, looking towards him.
Song Fang angrily said, "At such a time, can’t you speak plainly?"
Xu Shu pursed his lips, "The bad news is, Yuanbao has been arrested."
Wen Wan’s expression drastically changed, "Why?"
Wasn’t Yuanbao going to report the mourning at the Imperial City? Who would arrest him at such a time?
Xu Shu frowned, "According to the soldiers who survived the return, Brother-in-law’s death was caused single-handedly by Song Yuanbao."
"Impossible!" Wen Wan loudly refuted, "How could Yuanbao harm Third Brother?"
"Calm down," Xu Shu said, "At the time, everyone saw that it was Yuanbao who killed Brother-in-law, the sword that stabbed Brother-in-law was Yuanbao’s, piercing his chest, killing him instantly."
"No, no, Yuanbao couldn’t possibly do such a thing..." Wen Wan murmured, her mind a chaotic mess.
Song Fang asked, "What about the good news?"
Xu Shu turned to look in the direction of the main gate, "Brother-in-law died in service to the state, Chief Minister Yang has asked for an audience with the Holy Emperor, granting the posthumous title ’Wenzheng.’ The funeral rites will be conducted with marquis honors, the new coffin has arrived, and those here to switch the coffins are outside."
’Wenzheng’ is the highest posthumous title for civil officials, something many scholars strive for their whole lives to have bestowed upon them after death, immortalized through the ages.
Highest posthumous title and marquis funeral rites—such honors are boundless, yet Wen Wan understood more than anyone else that Chief Minister Yang’s true intention was merely to open the coffin for autopsy.
