A servant led the way to the entrance. After entering the inner door, there was a long table with five or six clerks seated around it.
Zheng Fan walked up and handed over the silver taels.
The clerk in charge of registering Zheng Fan looked at the small pieces of silver, stunned. The General had passed away, and all the dignitaries of Nanwang City would come to offer condolences, but this was the first time he had seen anyone send condolence money in such a form.
To make an inappropriate comparison, it was like attending someone’s wedding in a later era and presenting a gift of cash consisting of a handful of five or ten-dollar bills.
But the staff at the General Mansion were indeed highly professional. Following protocol, they first took out a small scale to weigh the silver pieces. Then, they turned the gift register towards Zheng Fan and handed him a pen, gesturing for him to write his name.
Zheng Fan signed his name and turned the register back to the clerk.
The clerk glanced down at it and smacked his lips thoughtfully. He had never heard of any high-ranking official or noble in Nanwang City with the surname Zheng. Of course, such a person wouldn’t send broken silver as condolence money either. Still, he reminded him, "Kindly leave your place of origin, and if you hold an official position, please state your rank."
Such was the nature of social obligations; there was always give and take.
Zheng Fan shook his head and said, "There’s no need. My family has fallen on hard times. I was once fortunate to receive the General’s kindness. However, my career has been unsuccessful, and reviving my family’s fortunes has proven difficult. Upon hearing the terrible news of the General’s passing, I borrowed some silver to come and offer this small token of my respect. As for other details, it’s best not to leave them." This text is hosted at N0veI.Fiɾe.net
A Ming, standing behind him, lowered his head slightly, trying to conceal his smile.
He also felt a touch of emotion. When Zheng Fan first awoke, he barely dared to step outside the inn. Now, it seemed he had completely integrated into this world.
Hearing this, the clerk stood up, clasped his hands in salute towards Zheng Fan, and said with sincere emotion, "Your noble character is admirable."
"You’re too kind," Zheng Fan replied.
Then, he pointed towards the inner area and said, "May I go in to offer incense for the General?"
Without further hesitation, Zheng Fan turned and entered the inner residence. Inside, mourning banners hung everywhere, ashes from burnt spirit money drifted about, and the air was thick with the smell of incense and candles.
More than thirty Daoist priests were chanting scriptures. However, as it was only the first day and many mourners were present, they merely sat cross-legged, reciting quietly, and hadn’t begun the more elaborate parts of the ritual.
In the corridor, Zheng Fan saw a man in a green robe sitting there. The man was about thirty, tall, with sharp, well-defined features. Although seated, an unmistakable heroic aura emanated from him.
Zheng Fan noticed this man particularly, not because he was overawed by his "heroic air," but purely because the man looked somewhat familiar. That, combined with his ancient-style attire, reminded Zheng Fan of Lv Bu from the old TV adaptation of "Romance of the Three Kingdoms."
Hmm, also known later as the Commander of the 358th Regiment.
The other man seemed to sense Zheng Fan’s gaze. He not only met Zheng Fan’s eyes directly but also immediately stood up and walked over to him.
The moment he rose, Zheng Fan noticed the man seemed to let out a subtle sigh of relief.
This small detail reminded Zheng Fan of his former self. Back then, he had been obsessed with creating comics in his studio, a typical homebody. When he occasionally had to attend public events, he often found himself in similar situations: feeling very awkward, sitting there not knowing what to do, just pretending to be calmly engrossed in his phone, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. At times like those, if someone came up to chat, even for a few words, it was a godsend. It wouldn’t matter if one sold comics and the other sold floor tiles; they could still have a lively conversation. After all, they were both just trying to make a living in their respective niches.
"Brother, are you in the military?" the man asked, proactively saluting Zheng Fan with clasped hands.
Having been a captain for so long, accustomed to giving orders on the journey from north to south, Zheng Fan naturally carried a certain air about him. In fact, he believed there was another crucial reason: wearing armor for extended periods had a much better posture-correcting effect than any back brace. Even after removing the armor, one’s gait and stance would be markedly different from an ordinary person’s.
Zheng Fan immediately returned the salute and replied, "Yes. I am Zheng Fan, the new Commander of Green Willow Fortress."
"Oh? What a coincidence! I am Zuo Jiqian, the new Commander of Jitui Fort."
Chicken Leg Fort? Not bad. We’re practically family then. I’m from Chicken Willow Fort.
Anyway, Zheng Fan had long lost interest in mocking the Yan State’s naming conventions. No wonder the people of the Qian State derided them as uncultured, making their forts sound like items on a KFC menu.
Actually, Jitui Fort was named a hundred years ago to commemorate a general surnamed Ji. During the Qian State’s northern expedition, General Ji, knowing no reinforcements were coming, defended his post to the death rather than retreat.
"Brother Zheng, are you also here to offer condolences to the General?" Zuo Jiqian asked.
"Indeed," Zheng Fan replied.
This guy’s a bit slow, isn’t he? Or maybe he just genuinely doesn’t know how to make small talk. We’re at a funeral. If I’m not here to offer condolences, what am I here for? A picnic?
"Ah, the Prefect and over ten heads of prominent local families from near Nanwang City are currently paying their respects up ahead. I suppose we should wait a little longer," Zuo Jiqian said.
Oh, so there’s a queue.
Zheng Fan nodded, walked over to the spot where Zuo Jiqian had been sitting, and sat down as well. A Ming proactively positioned himself behind Zheng Fan.
After Zuo Jiqian sat down again, he immediately turned to Zheng Fan, smiled, and pursed his lips. He was clearly anxiously trying to find a topic to prevent an awkward silence.