It was still early morning, the sky not yet fully bright, and the Capital was entirely draped in white.
All the shops inside and outside the Nine Gates were shut, with white paper hangings on display in front.
The iron furnaces that usually burn all night long had already been sealed, and even the coal-carrying Flint Wheel Cars stopped beneath the district walls, leaving only water droplets trickling down from the copper pipes after the steam had dissipated.
On either side of Chengtian Street, the Forbidden Army had blocked all the road junctions.
The Imperial Guard carried wind lanterns, verifying waist badges one by one.
The Ritual Officers from Taichang Temple were running back and forth, checking banners, ceremonial regalia, and funeral procession order.
The porters responsible for carrying the coffin were divided into several groups, each with thick white felt on their shoulders, whispering in lowered voices as they made a final check on shoulder-switching positions.
