"What am I in your eyes?"
Lord Yue asked the question not because he hungered for flattery. He asked it because he was genuinely surprised by the wisdom of this commoner. The bearer of his coffin possessed an insight that put the scholars of the royal academy to shame.
He didn't urge the man to speak. He simply waited in the silver stillness.
Yase looked at the Lord's silhouette, his eyes deep and unblinking.
"To me… you are Lord Yue Jingyuan."
The words hung in the damp air, light as a feather. The statement was so simple it was staggering.
Lord Yue froze, too stunned to speak. He turned toward the broken pillar, finding the man looking away, staring at the ruined scripts on the opposite wall with an air of indifference.
A moment of silence stretched between them before a deep chuckle escaped Yue's chest—the first genuine laugh since the rot began its crawl across his body and soul.
He had been called "Sun," "Star," "Rare Jade," and "Divine Light," that he had long forgotten what it was like to be human.
And now, a person who would one day dig the mud to bury him said he saw him as a man of just flesh and blood—Yue Jingyuan as he was born and named.
The temple fell back into silence once Lord Yue's laughter finally tapered into a low, weary sigh.
"Never mind," Yue murmured. "What is your name?" he asked, his voice warmer than it had been all night.
Yase's eyes remained fixed on the ruined scripture on the opposite wall, but every nerve in his body was attuned to his lord's laughter and words.
"This subordinate is called Yase Shouming, my lord."
"Yase…" Lord Yue repeated the name under his breath, letting it settle in the air.
"Do you know who you offended just now?" he asked.
Yase slightly inclined his body in the Lord's direction and bowed gently. "Apologies, my lord. This one was not aware."
Lord Yue hummed, a low sound of warning. "He is Guo Ping, nephew of the Minister of Revenue. Word might have already reached his ears by now. Are you not afraid of luring danger to yourself?"
Yase shook his head and said softly, "My only fear is that the noise will keep my lord from his rest."
Lord Yue felt amused the more he listened to his coffin bearer. This man was a puzzle he wished he had more time to solve.
He turned away from the window, his white robes sweeping across the jagged stone as the inky black sky began to bleed into the grey of dawn.
As the sun's rays began to pierce the land, his strength withered like a dying flame. He walked back to climb into the coffin, his movements sluggish and pained.
Yase stayed bowed, his fingers clamped around his robes, his eyes burning with helpless rage. He hated… he hated that his lord had to return to that narrow, dark space.
Yue Jingyuan lay down, his head resting flat on the soft pillow. The plague that had taken hold of his body was a greedy master. It surged through his limbs, numbing the scales, cooling the fever in his blood.
Just as he closed his eyes, he whispered his last thought.
"You should have killed him."
Only when the morning light shattered through the ruined ceiling, illuminating the dust motes, did Yase rise from the cold floor. He moved toward the altar. Kneeling beside it, he gently pushed the lid into place, shielding his lord from the world's sight.
For a long moment, he sat there, his calloused fingers tracing the rim of the polished dark timber, almost reverently.
"How am I to punish the man my lord pardoned?" he whispered into the silence. "If he does not want to be a monster, then neither will I."
With a sharp intake of breath, he lowered himself, shifting the coffin's weight onto his shoulder. His muscles strained as he carried the heavy wood out of the ruins to the carriage he had stationed outside the temple gate, to begin the next leg of their journey.
By the time the carriage rolled into Luan Town, the wide roads of Jinhe Town had narrowed, and the mourning banners of the capital no longer flew above the gates. Luan Town was sparse, with fewer settlements. Most people worked as depot hands for the wealthy families from Jinhe.
When he reached the gates, he flashed the royal insignia. The officials barely looked at it before waving him through with tired indifference. Yase drove the carriage along the dusty path. The prying eyes on the carriage had thinned compared to the capital, though some locals still cast curious glances now and then.
He found a small, derelict shop in the middle of the town and parked the carriage. The horse needed food and water, and he needed enough strength to keep his hands steady on the reins for the miles ahead.
Yase stepped down from the carriage and asked the shopkeeper to feed the horse. Seeing the good amount of silver in the stranger's palm, the shopkeeper was all smiles and quickly asked the errand boy to tend to the horse.
After double-checking the drapes that shielded the coffin from prying eyes, Yase slipped into the bustling shop. He found a quiet corner and ordered a simple congee and pickles for himself. As he waited for his food to be served, his ears picked up the chatter of the local workers.
"Did you hear? Lord Wenxiu has already succeeded the late Lord Yue as Prime Minister."
Yase paused, his eyes turning cold as they fell on the man who spoke.
"Yes, yes—who thought Lord Yue would pass away at such a young age? A plague, they say," another leaned in curiously.
The fellow workers nodded quickly. "It is. The plague ate him to the bone. There are rumors his features turned monstrous."
A shudder ran through the group. "Thank the heavens His Majesty made the right decision to seal him in a coffin. Who knows how many lives it would have claimed otherwise."
"Hmm. As much as I admire the late Lord Yue, we must prioritize the people's safety."
Yase's knuckles turned white as he gripped the spoon in his hand. These were the people his lord bled for, yet they spoke of him like a diseased beast. He felt an itch in his palm to throw the spoon at the man's head and knock him out. But before he could move, a scream tore through the bustling shop.
"You're the one who needs to be cremated!"
A thunderous voice erupted from the crowd, followed by the crash of a table hitting the floor.