・❥・ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ : In the majestic Tang Dynasty, where poetry and valor are celebrated, a forbidden love story unfolds within the palace walls.
Xu Liang, the beloved son of the emperor, is known for his gentle nature and exception...
Early in the morning, the palace was abuzz with activity, a stark contrast to the somber tone that had settled over it. Preparations for my father's funeral were in full swing, and the air was filled with a palpable mix of grief and reverence. Every corner of the palace seemed to be touched by the weight of the occasion, the usually vibrant and bustling halls now echoing with the muted sounds of hushed conversations and careful movements.
I stood in my chambers, staring at my reflection in the mirror as Mei adjusted my ceremonial garments for the second time. The heavy fabric felt constricting, but it was a necessary part of the ritual, a symbol of my new role and the respect we owed to my father. Each adjustment Mei made was meticulous, her fingers deftly ensuring that everything was perfect. Despite her focus, I could see the sadness in her eyes, a reflection of the profound grief we all felt.
Taking a few steadying breaths, I tried to brace myself for the day ahead. The grief was overwhelming, a heavy cloak that threatened to smother me. My father had been a complex man, a king who had made difficult decisions, sometimes at great personal cost. The heartache of losing him was intertwined with the unresolved pain of losing Zhao, a wound that had never truly healed.
There was no room for weakness today. My father would have wanted me to face this moment with strength and dignity, to send him off with love and pride. He deserved to be honored with a ceremony that reflected the respect and admiration he commanded. This wasn't just any funeral; it was the farewell of a king, a man who had shaped our kingdom and left an indelible mark on its history.
"Are you ready, Prince Xu Liang?" Mei asked softly, her voice a gentle reminder of the time. She stepped back, her eyes scanning my attire one last time to ensure everything was perfect.
"As ready as I can be," I replied, my voice steady but heavy with emotion. I glanced at myself in the mirror, seeing a reflection of someone who was trying to embody the strength and resilience my father had always shown.
With a final nod, I left my chambers, the weight of the ceremonial robes adding to the burden I carried in my heart. The corridors of the palace seemed longer and more solemn, the usually vibrant tapestries and decorations muted in the early morning light. Every step echoed the inevitability of the day's events.
As I approached the grand hall where the funeral would take place, the sound of hushed voices and the soft murmur of prayers filled the air. The hall was adorned with flowers and draped in the royal colors, a fitting tribute to the life and legacy of my father. Nobles, dignitaries, and citizens had gathered, their expressions reflecting the collective grief and respect for the king they had served and loved.
