Li Shimin faked his death? Then I will be powerful enough to conquer the world!

In the late autumn of the 20th year of Qianwu, leaden clouds hung low and the city of Chang'an was shrouded in a solemn and depressing atmosphere.

The biting north wind whistled past, carrying dead leaves and fine sand, mercilessly beating the city walls and streets, as if it was also mourning for the deceased emperor.

Li Chengqian's coffin was made of golden nanmu wood and covered with thick black brocade. The five-clawed golden dragon embroidered with gold thread shone with a cold luster under the dim sky.

Eight strong horses with snow-white fur and dressed in plain white robes moved forward slowly and heavily, led by their drivers.

Every step he took carried a heavy weight.

Li Zhi wore plain white mourning clothes, a sash tied tightly around his waist, and personally pulled the coffin.

His eyes were filled with sadness, and every step he took seemed to be recalling the past when he was with his royal brother.

Behind him, hundreds of guards wearing black armor and holding white flags lined up in neat rows and followed slowly.

The flags fluttered in the wind, making a low whimpering sound.

After leaving the Suzaku Gate, there were some elderly people kneeling on both sides of the road.

Most of them have white hair, their faces are full of wrinkles of time, and they wear coarse linen clothes that have been washed white.

Some of them were leaning on mottled wooden sticks, some were supporting each other, and they were kneeling tremblingly on the cold and hard stone road.

A hunchbacked old man held a worn pottery bowl filled with turbid rice wine in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping into the bowl.

His lips trembled, his voice choked with sobs, "Your Majesty... During the severe drought, if you hadn't opened your granaries and released grain, the people of this vast area would have starved to death long ago. I will never forget your great kindness!"

As he spoke, he slowly poured the rice wine in the bowl onto the ground.

Not far away, an old woman was holding a faded swaddling cloth, tears streaming down her face.

There was no baby in the cradle anymore, only a piece of worn cotton cloth, which was the testimony that her grandson survived when Li Chengqian ordered the establishment of a porridge shed to provide relief to the victims.

"Your Majesty, you left too early! My little grandson is still talking about repaying your kindness when he grows up..."

The old woman's crying was carried away by the howling north wind and gradually dissipated into the air.

Li Zhi looked at the sad scene in front of him, feeling sad and confused.

His thoughts involuntarily went back to the time of Taizong's funeral. At that time, Chang'an City was crowded with people, and the people spontaneously wore mourning clothes. From the imperial city to Baqiao, the cries were earth-shaking.

The streets were lined with offerings spontaneously made by the people, including fruits, cakes, and fine wine, piled up like mountains.

But now, the emperor's funeral is so deserted. Why is it so?

His hands, which were clutching the ribbon, trembled slightly, and his eyes were filled with heartache.

The funeral procession was huge and marched along the official road towards Xianyang.

The wheels rolled over the cobblestone road, making a dull sound.

The horse's hooves stepped on the ground, raising clouds of dust.

The team was like a giant white dragon, slowly crawling on the vast earth.

As they got further and further away from Chang'an City, the number of people attending the funeral became fewer and fewer. Only the whistling autumn wind and the sound of the marching team echoed in the empty wilderness.

Halfway through the journey, the team suddenly stopped without any warning. Li Zhi was startled and asked quickly, "What happened?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a guard came riding in at full speed, panting and with a look of shock on his face.

He dismounted and saluted Li Zhi, his voice trembling with excitement: "Your Majesty, you... please look ahead!"

Li Zhi was confused and looked forward.

Seeing this, he couldn't help but take a breath and his eyes instantly became moist.

The road ahead was filled with people in white kneeling down, with no end in sight.

They stretched from both sides of the road to the foot of the distant mountains, like a white ocean.

In the crowd, there were white-haired old men, men in their prime, women holding babies, and innocent children. Sorrow was on everyone's face.

"Your Majesty, it's Xianyang! The people of the entire city have come to see the late emperor off!"

The guard's voice was high-pitched, unable to conceal his excitement.

Li Zhi felt a warm current surge in his heart, and tears burst out uncontrollably.

He walked towards the people step by step.

With every step he took, he could feel the people's passionate emotions.

"Your Majesty, let us see the late emperor off together, let us see him off together!"

In the crowd, an old man was crying out, his voice heartbreaking.

Immediately afterwards, countless voices rose one after another: "Send the late emperor on his final journey!"

"Your Majesty, have a pleasant journey!"

"We will never forget the late emperor's kindness!"

"Your Majesty, you are home!"

The sound, like a surging tide, resounded through the sky.

That voice was filled with the people's deep reluctance to part with Li Chengqian.

Li Zhi stood in front of the crowd, looking at the touching scene before him, his heart filled with shock.

He raised his trembling hand, motioning for the people to stand up, his voice choked with sobs: "Everyone, I will send you off with me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the people stood up and spontaneously joined the funeral procession.

For a moment, paper money flew like snow, elegies resounded through the sky, and the whole world seemed immersed in grief.

On the streets of Xianyang City, in an elegant room on the second floor of "Yue Lai Inn", three figures stood quietly in front of the window.

Although Fatty Lin was fat, he stood still like a wooden stake, his eyes fixed on the coffin moving slowly on the street, his hands tightly gripping the window frame.

His voice trembled: "Lao Qi, did you see that? It's His Majesty."

Mr. Qi held tightly in his hand a yellowed scroll, which was the annotated copy given to him by Emperor Li Chengqian.

At this moment, his eyes were red, tears welled up in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse: "I saw it, Fatty."

Two lines of clear tears slowly flowed down his cheeks and dripped onto the book.

Hu Bugui stood behind them, silently wiping the jade pendant around his waist.

The two words "Cangsheng" on the jade pendant sparkled in the dim light. They were written for him by Li Chengqian himself.

He recalled the time when he was in the academy, when the late emperor personally put on the scholar's cap for him and said to him earnestly: "Studying is not for fame, but for the people."

This sentence has always been engraved in his heart and has become his lifelong belief.

At this moment, tears quietly fell.

"No, you won't be able to go back. You can only follow the two of us."

The stingy man turned around and slapped Hu Bugui's shoulder with his thick palm. "Do you regret wandering around the world?"

Hu Bugui raised his head, his eyes firm and bright, as he looked at the coffin that was gradually receding into the distance: "I have no regrets. My heart has found a home, and I am not wandering around aimlessly. I, Hu Bugui, am the luckiest student."

"Thank you very much."

Mr. Qi turned his head and looked at the stingy fat man: "Have you left enough money for your god-grandson? If so, we should prepare to set off. Fatty, stop dragging it out. We've only just begun."

The fat man nodded.

"It's all done."

Mr. Qi patted Lin Dafu on the shoulder and said, "Fatty Lin, it's all in the past. How long has it been since you last laughed? You already have a son, yet you're still so gloomy all day long."

"His Majesty and Xianhuai, seeing you like this, will they be happy?"

He paused, then continued, "Alright, enough talking. Look, His Majesty wrote so many words to you, but only two sentences to me. 'Mr. Qi, please.' Just six short words. I'd die working for him."

"Bugui, please go down and wait for us. I want to have a few words with your teacher Lin."

Mr. Qi said. Hu Bugui nodded: "Okay." After Hu Bugui walked downstairs, Mr. Qi patted Lin Dafu's shoulder again: "Fatty, this time, we really are short of one person."

"By the way, let me ask you something. Is there anything you want to say to His Majesty?"

Lin Dafu was silent for a long time.

He spoke slowly, "If I have anything to say, can't I tell His Majesty myself? Why do you still have to speak for me?"

But soon, his voice gradually became low, and after a pause, he continued: "If, I really want to say something."

"I think I should tell His Majesty that if there is an afterlife, I will still be your brother and I will still risk my life for him."

After saying that, he raised his head and looked at the sky, tears blurring his eyes again.

At this time, the funeral procession had gradually gone away, and only the bleak autumn wind remained on the streets of Xianyang City, still telling the unknown stories between the emperor and the people.