roccoschili Chapter 473 Han Zhong was executed!
Chapter 473 Han Zhong was executed!
The Yuelai Teahouse in the east of the city was packed with people.
The tea master, carrying a long-spouted copper kettle, weaved through the crowd. With a tilt of the spout, the boiling water traced a silvery arc before precisely falling into the teacup.
But nobody was really enjoying the tea; everyone's mind was on that important matter.
A middle-aged man in a blue cloth robe lowered his voice, but his eyes gleamed with barely suppressed excitement.
"Have you heard? Han Zhong is to be executed at noon today!"
A fat, white man across the street slapped his thigh and spoke so loudly that the whole street could hear him.
"Who hasn't heard about it? It's the talk of the town!"
"But Han Zhong is the General Who Guards the South. He's fought so many battles over the years. Even if he's lost a battle, surely he shouldn't be beheaded?"
A young man approached, his brows furrowed.
The middle-aged man in the blue robe shook his head, lowering his voice even further.
"Who knows? Perhaps Han Zhong has committed other crimes that His Majesty hasn't mentioned."
The chubby man waved his hand dismissively. "What does it matter what crime he committed? If His Majesty wants to kill him, he must die. We commoners can just watch the show."
At a breakfast stall on the street, steaming hot buns were just taken out of the steamer, the steamers stacked higher than a person.
An elderly man with white hair sat in the corner, slowly drinking soy milk, and suddenly sighed.
"The Han family has been loyal and virtuous for generations, yet they have come to this end. What a pity."
A young woman next to him curled her lip, her voice tinged with schadenfreude.
"What's a pity? Those high-ranking officials in the Han family are usually high and mighty. Now it's time for them to taste some bitterness."
The scholar opposite him shook his head, put down the steamed bun in his hand, and said seriously.
"That's not how it works. If Han Zhong is truly guilty, then His Majesty should execute him. But if he is innocent, then he shouldn't be killed. This is not something to gloat over."
The restaurant was bustling with activity.
The windowsills on the second floor were packed with people, each with their own pot of wine and dishes of food, their spittle flying everywhere.
A man with a full beard held a wine bowl and spoke in a loud voice.
"His Majesty is cracking down on military discipline! Defeat means execution; let's see who dares to fight recklessly in the future!"
A thin, middle-aged man opposite him sneered.
"Reform military discipline? The Qin Dynasty has been established for hundreds of years, and there have been countless generals who have suffered defeats, but few have been executed. Han Zhong's case is definitely not that simple."
"Then tell me why?" the bearded man asked, his eyes wide.
The thin man picked up his wine glass, took a small sip, and his gaze was deep.
"Who knows? Anyway, it's not something we can worry about. Let's drink, let's drink."
People on the street gathered in small groups, whispering among themselves.
Most people don't really care about this matter, since neither Han Zhong nor the Han family are relevant to ordinary people like them.
They were just spectators, just there for the spectacle, just wanting to see what the once-mighty General Zhennan would be like before his death.
Some people even gloated, eager to see what it would be like for a top family like the Han family to have its property confiscated.
To their disappointment, the Han family's property was not confiscated.
As noon approached, the area around the execution ground was already crowded with people.
The platform stood at the entrance of the market, the wooden stakes were new, and the guillotine blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
The executioner sat solemnly on one side of the high platform.
Han Zhong was brought up.
His hair was disheveled, his face was covered in blood, his official robe was tattered, and his shackles dragged on the ground with a rattling sound.
He was supported by two golden-armored guards and walked step by step up to the high platform.
The area below the platform was packed with people.
There were commoners dressed in plain clothes, scholars waving folding fans, merchants in fine clothes, and spies from various factions mingling in the crowd with gleaming eyes.
Many ministers and military officers from the court also arrived. Some had solemn expressions, some were expressionless, and some had a hint of barely perceptible schadenfreude in their eyes.
Almost all of the Han family members were present.
The clan elders stood at the front, while Han Demao leaned on his cane, his hands trembling violently, the cane tapping the ground.
Han Dechang's face was ashen, his lips devoid of any color. Han Deren's fists were clenched so tightly they cracked, his nails digging into his palms.
They looked at the figure forced to kneel on the platform, their faces filled with despair.
Everyone feels like they're carrying a mountain in their heart, making it hard to breathe.
Liu Ruolan stood at the front, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her clothes, her body trembling slightly.
Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes were red and swollen, and her lips were trembling violently.
Although she knew it might be a charade and that Han Zhong might not actually die, her tears still flowed uncontrollably.
Most importantly, she must be sad.
If she isn't sad, wouldn't others see right through her?
She had to act convincingly, she had to make everyone believe that Han Zhong had really been beheaded, and she had to make the spies who were secretly watching believe that Han Zhong was dead.
Her two daughters stood beside her. Han Xin'er bit her lip, her eyes red, and tears silently slid down her cheeks.
She didn't cry out, but just gripped her mother's hand tightly, trembling all over.
Han Qin'er threw herself into her mother's arms, crying her heart out. Her little face turned bright red, and tears streamed down her face like a broken string of pearls.
Seeing Liu Ruolan and her two daughters crying so sadly, everyone shook their heads and sighed.
"Oh, how pitiful," an old woman said, wiping away her tears.
"How will this orphan and widow survive?" a middle-aged man sighed.
There were two other figures in the crowd, standing in an inconspicuous corner.
One was Yun Luan, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her back straight, her gaze cold and stern. The other was Yun Suxin, dressed in a plain white dress, her face calm.
Yun Suxin turned her gaze away from the high platform, swept it around, and suddenly spoke softly, her voice very low.
"Why isn't Qin Mu here?"
Yunluan's gaze fell on her face, as cold as the winter wind.
"Just focus on observing the execution. You don't need to ask any questions about His Majesty's whereabouts."
Yun Suxin's eyes flickered slightly, a faint smile appeared on her lips, and her voice became even softer, carrying a hint of probing.
"I heard you're also surnamed Yun? Are you Qin Mu's most trusted commander?"
Yunluan's eyes suddenly turned cold, sharp as a knife.
"If you dare to address His Majesty by his given name again, you'll regret it."
Yun Suxin's heart skipped a beat, and the smile on her face froze for a moment.
She quickly lowered her eyes, and her voice became obedient.
"Yes, I misspoke."
She paused, then looked up, a smile returning to her lips, her voice carrying a hint of trying to get closer.
"My surname is also Yun. We might even be related three generations back."
Yunluan's expression remained unchanged, and she didn't even glance at her.
"Focus intently on observing the execution."
Yun Suxin sighed inwardly. This person was really cold-blooded; it was difficult to make a move against him.
It's not as easy to deal with as Empress Zhao Qingxue of Liyang. At least Zhao Qingxue can still laugh, talk, and reveal her weaknesses.
Thinking of Zhao Qingxue, she glanced around again, but still couldn't see that moon-white figure.
She couldn't help but speak again.
"Where is Empress Li Yang? Why hasn't she come here?"
Yunluan's voice remained cold and devoid of any emotion.
"The execution is about to take place. Watch closely."
Yun Suxin shut her mouth and turned her gaze back to the high platform.
The execution was about to take place.
Han Zhong was pressed against the wooden stake, his head down, his expression unreadable.
The executioner stood up, unfolded the imperial edict, and read it aloud.
"Your Majesty, I, Han Zhong, have failed in my duties, missed crucial opportunities in battle, and caused our army to suffer a crushing defeat. My crime deserves death. By His Majesty's decree, I shall be executed at noon today!"
Han Zhong's body trembled slightly.
He raised his head and took one last look at the crowd.
His gaze lingered on Liu Ruolan's face for a moment, then on Han Xin'er and Han Qin'er's faces for a moment.
His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
He just smiled, a bitter, desolate, and desperate smile.
Then he slowly closed his eyes.
A tear slid down his cheek.
At this moment, apart from the fear of death itself, he felt a sense of peace.
At least he saw that his wife and daughter were safe and sound, and that was enough for him; he was content.
The executioner raised the command flag and swung it down sharply.
"cut!"
The executioner raised his large, gleaming sword, the blade tracing a bright arc in the sunlight.
With a "crack," the head fell to the ground, and blood gushed out.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Some people covered their eyes, some turned their heads away, some sighed and shook their heads, and some remained expressionless.
Then the crowd began to disperse, receding like the tide.
Liu Ruolan trembled slightly upon seeing this scene.
She didn't know if the person being beheaded on stage was her husband, nor did she know how realistic the performance was.
All she knew was that she had to cry, she had to cry her heart out.
She rushed forward, knelt on the ground, hugged the headless corpse, and wailed loudly.
"My husband—!!!"
The sound was shrill and desperate, echoing in the silent execution ground like the mournful cry of a wounded beast.
Han Xin'er rushed over, knelt beside her mother, hugged her father's body, and silently shed tears.
Her shoulders were trembling violently, and tears streamed down her face.
Han Qin'er cried so hard she could barely breathe, her face flushed red, her voice hoarse, yet she kept shouting desperately.
"Father! Father, don't die! Qin'er doesn't want Father to die!"
The cries of the mother and her two daughters mingled together, like a dull knife cutting into everyone's heart.
Those who hadn't yet dispersed watched this scene; some had tears in their eyes, some lowered their heads, and some hurried away, unable to bear to look any longer.
Among the crowd, a few men dressed in ordinary cloth clothes glanced at each other.
They blended into the crowd, observing everything discreetly.
The moment their heads hit the ground, a look of relief flashed in their eyes.
One of the men looked at Han Zhong's body, remained silent for a moment, then turned around and squeezed out of the crowd.
He walked quickly, passing through alley after alley, and stopped in a quiet corner.
He looked around to make sure no one was following him before taking out a tiny folded piece of paper and a thin charcoal pencil from his sleeve.
He squatted down, placed the piece of paper on his knees, and quickly wrote a line of words.
"Han Zhong is dead. He was beheaded at noon. Nothing unusual."
He rolled the paper into a thin strip, stuffed it into a thin bamboo tube, and then took out a grayish-white carrier pigeon from his pocket.
He tied the bamboo tube to the pigeon's leg, then let go, and the pigeon flapped its wings and flew into the sky.
He looked up and watched the carrier pigeon fly higher and higher, farther and farther away, until it became an almost invisible black dot and disappeared into the clouds.
Then he lowered his head, turned around, and disappeared into the depths of the alley.
........
P.S.: The two extra chapters are late, but they're finally here. Thank you again for the generous donation, I'm extremely grateful. I wish you good health and that you live forever!