cw: Unsurprisingly, grief. It's a funeral with a pyre at the end.

  (A week later)

  In a way, the regimented structure of funerals made it easier. A week of preparation in which the funerary offerings were debated, in which the Xia were honoured guests, organisers and grief counsellors. The commission fees for making expensive funerary offerings at speed were so large that it would have made Flowing Silk's head spin were he not so busy concentrating on his duties and training.

  Just a week, only a week since Ren had died, and yet it felt like both an eternity and a blink before he was opening the door to the ceremony and entertainment hall. The hall was quiet as Flowing Silk approached the front through the rows of people, incense curling around him from the cone cupped in his hands. His steps were slow and steady, following the metronome of his own heart.

  When it came to the ceremony itself it was… almost easy. Once you had memorised the steps and the words it came naturally after the first few times. It had to be like that, so that someone numb with grief could still go through all the motions. So that someone who was not a priest could do it - if they had to.

  He would not wish that task on anyone. That was why he wore the heavy white robes.

  He stepped up to the dais in a gentle swish of cloth, eyes closed and motions graceful as he bowed low. The rest of the room bowed with him, a collective sigh of cloth that always helped settle him in the role of priest.

  Ren always did like to see me calm and balanced like this.

  Flowing Silk turned to the room and bowed to the assembled. First to the dead, then to the living, that was how it worked. Get the spirit’s attention, and show them they were not alone. He slowly turned back to the coffin, feeling the world turn with him as he moved.

  The fulcrum between the living and the spirits. Neither one nor the other. No wonder we don’t tend to have too many friends.

  “Master Zhou Ren of the Azure Crane, Gold Phoenix Magistrate, son of Zhou Tai and Zhou Chanming, brother of Zhou Hua.” he said simply, the clear words part of and rising above the silence rather than splitting it, “We gather here to honour your life and deeds. Hear us, and see that we give your spirit the respect it deserves.”

  Flowing Silk let the faint ripple of grief pour over and away from him like the river off a swan’s back, not letting it touch him as he brought his hands together in a priest's clap, signalling the end of the first part of the funeral.

  Naming. Offerings. Eulogy. Farewell.

  The Naming was for the dead, reminding them of who they were so that they were less likely to turn into a vengeful ghost. It was partially for the living to let everyone attending know the honour they held, but mostly for the ghost.

  The entire funeral was like that really, to connect and soothe both the ghost and those they'd left behind. It was why white was the main colour of a funerary priest's robes with the Immortal's colour as the secondary. Much as the Immortals were paramount in all aspects of life, the Phoenixes were part of the cycle of reincarnation. They either understood that this was a time for mortals or didn't care about taking a back seat.

  The Offerings were mostly for the living, an apology for letting them die through the giving of gifts, a last message they could send through choosing things the deceased had loved. This too helped remind the ghost of who they were, but as the naming was mostly for the ghost, this was for the living.

  Zhou Tai wore white as he walked up with a small white phoenix statue cradled in his hands, unable to move his eyes from it as he approached. He didn’t quite jump as Flowing Silk’s hands cupped his shaking ones, looking up with a silent plea. I don’t want to let him go.

  Something changed in Flowing Silk at that point, just as it always had when he was called upon, when others needed him to be strong. His shoulders relaxed just that bit more, his stance graceful, older, wise. Flowing Silk held Tai’s gaze in silence, gentle and kind, hands steady with a silent promise.

  Don't worry, I’ll take care of him.

  Tai slowly released the phoenix, letting it slide into Flowing Silk’s hands. The priest gave a small smile of Well done before he straightened, turning back to the altar on the dais. “We give you a symbol of the path you held so close to your heart.” he said, voice loud and steady in the silence, “May Xi Fèng Huáng keep you steady.” He placed the phoenix at the back and centre.

  The White Phoenix, guiding those who follow her to endure against what the world throws at them, remaining calm and polite no matter the strain. I cannot think of someone who suits that description more than Ren.

  The path came first, setting the stage for the rest of the offerings, just like in the naming ceremony. The phoenix was beautiful, marble feathers individually patterned as it reared up on the verge of taking off. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d got the best Yinghao craftsman to make it. Most families couldn’t afford to buy something new for a funeral, nor something so beautiful, but for once Flowing Silk was glad Ren was a Zhou, they would do his spirit justice.

  He stood and turned to find Hua waiting behind him with the tray of small bowls, dressed in white just like her father had been.

  The oldest and youngest member of the immediate family. Balance. Beginnings and endings.

  He had seen funerals where they had been the same person, tears streaming down their cheeks. Those funerals had always been the hardest, to see one person take so much grief. At least Tai and Hua had each other, even if they were the only ones dressed in white, the only ones with the same dusty brown hair as Ren. More distant relatives had to wear more colour, with the amount of white dependent on the familial connection. If Flowing Silk hadn’t been a priest he would have been forced to wear dark or bright colours, having been technically nothing to Ren but a friend.

  Call it selfish, but he was glad that he was able to wear white for his loved one. Perhaps that was another reason why Ren had wanted him to do this.

  Flowing Silk took the first bowl, a tiny metal rod with a hoop suspended flat from the top so that the wind could make it chime, ribbons of all colours dangling from the hoop fluttering as Flowing Silk placed it on the altar, “For Wind, we give you the ribbons of your style.”

  The colour of the ribbons had been the subject of some debate. Tai had wanted the Zhou family colours whereas Flowing Silk had pointed out that Ren had found using the style easiest when he discarded them entirely. Ren’s father had been shocked to silence by that revelation, eventually closing his eyes with shame before Flowing Silk had quietly suggested a solution. The compromise was to have all the colours with the Zhou ones next to each other on the rim. Flowing Silk thought Ren would appreciate the subtlety.

  He lifted the next bowl, careful not to spill any of the water in it as he set it next to the first. Light glinted and flashed off the semi-precious stones that formed the ‘bed’ of the pool, long worn smooth by the passage of water. “For Water, we give you the memory of the day when you chose your path.”

  That had been a tale from Tai. A young Ren had been playing by the banks of one of the ornamental streams, lying flat along the bank to run his fingers over the stones of the riverbed. The bushes had obscured Ren enough that the crane hadn’t spotted the child, landing almost next to him. The young boy hadn’t moved, quietly watching his guest as they fished. The elegance of the crane had stayed with Ren since.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “For Fire, we give you your favourite food, sweet spiced pork from Han Sou Lin.” This one Flowing Silk needed to be careful with too as he placed it slightly in front and to the side of the water to start forming the circle, partially because it was hot and partially for the sauce. Sweet and spicy pork, dark red, made by the chef of his favourite food-stall, the only one who could get it just right. Images flooded through his mind, sharing a bowl beneath the red cloth awning, the smiles and the laughter as they bantered, the chef cooking it before their eyes. In later years there had been the brush of a hand against his and a smile that glowed with the simple joy of being together.

  I shall have to go back there sometime.

  The next offering was the simplest of the lot, a bowl of plain rice mounded high at the front of the set of five. Flowing Silk set it down gently, “For Earth we give you rice, grown from the oldest holdings of the Zhou family.”

  He noticed the Zhou nodding with approval in the crowd while a few others frowned. Rice was normally used for Water or Air in these offerings, but as every Zhou knew, rice was where you started. It was at the base of everything they did, stretching back through history to one man and his sickle. That was why every Zhou had rice at their funeral, and why each child was shown how it grew.

  “For Wood we give you your flute.” Flowing Silk completed the circle with the last bowl, “Carved by your own hands and given life by your voice.”

  He had to focus hard to stop himself from reacting, running over his lessons in his mind to force away the sounds of Ren playing his flute while he sat beneath his favourite tree by the riverbank. He couldn't afford to remember his own voice singing alongside it or the way Ren smiled as his hair caught in the breeze or he'd end up crying.

  An offering for each of the elements represents the body. The centre of the circle is for the spirit. Usually it is just a flame of some kind used to show and warm their soul on their journey, but something intrinsic to the spirit’s soul may also be given.

  In this they had again been traditional. The small boat-shaped lamp glowed golden in the light from its flame and the liquid wax had tiny flecks floating in it, the pool glittering as it shifted. Strange, he could feel the flame’s chi as if it ran through the entire bowl, just like with his wheels.

  Flowing Silk stared at the lamp in his hand, glad he was facing away from the audience as he realised what he held. Jade dust, Jade dust in the wax of the candle. If he had been in Pure Flame stance the candle would have flared as soon as he touched it.

  As it was he held enough money in his hands to keep a small province fed for a month. More than he’d ever imagine he’d see in his lifetime. For Ren. Dōng Fèng Huáng witness it…

  “For your spirit we give a candle to light your way.” Flowing Silk said steadily, glad once more for the structure of the funeral rites dinned into his mind, setting it in the centre of the other offerings.

  Next he turned to the table a short distance to the side where his candles rested, placing and lighting each of them in turn, naming and thanking each immortal with a small prayer for the soul’s safe passage, forming another circle around the offerings.

  So the Immortals are in all things so too they are in this. To leave even one out would be an insult, even if they are not the main focus of a funeral. That is another way that Funerary Priests are strange, even among other priests. No normal priest would be able to accept their Immortal was not the centre of attention, but we understand that balance as a matter of course.

  The White Phoenix’s candle was the one Flowing Silk had used to represent Ren, glittering against the marble wings of the statue it stood in front of. The dancing light almost made it look like She was watching him.

  Flowing Silk clapped again and he heard Tai and Hua moving back to their seats. The offering section was done. Halfway through. The hardest one yet to come.

  He moved to the side to pick up the sheet of neatly calligraphed paper and then returned to his place in the centre, looking out towards the audience this time. This would be the hardest step. He had to keep his face controlled and hands still despite whatever he may feel. This was always the most difficult section. He couldn’t let himself think about what he was saying, otherwise he would hear Ren’s story, he would miss him or even possibly accidentally call him back. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He would have to meditate then instead of speaking as himself, just being a mouthpiece for the family and spirit. To trust them to handle everything and let his mind sleep.

  “I now speak for Family and for Friends, to remember the life of Master Zhou Ren and remember his deeds so that everyone may know the quality of their soul.”

  … and just like that he was calm. Thank goodness for the structured rites. This wasn’t personal, these weren’t his words any more. He was just letting them go as he kept the balance. He could hear his voice, smooth, soft and strong as the words flowed away from him.

  “Master Zhou Ren was born to Zhou Tai and Zhou Chanming on…”

  The Eulogy was for both ghost and living. Not only would the ghost have their sense of self reinforced, but their story would be impressed on every person there. Each person carrying Ren's memory with them so that his memory would live on. With enough time and reinforcement they might even become an honoured ancestor, given a worthy abode in the Heavenly City.

  In some ways this state almost felt like he was floating, like that perfect moment where the fire danced around him. He knew from what others had said that he was beautiful when like this, warm and peaceful, wrapped in himself as if he were sleeping in warm flames.

  He could almost feel Ren standing at his back.

  The scroll tailed away in his hands, Flowing Silk letting the silence hang for a moment as he resurfaced from the trance before lowering the scroll and placing it on the altar in front of the lamp.

  There. The Eulogy was done, and he hadn’t slipped. Or at least, he didn’t think so and no-one was reacting so he had probably been fine, thank goodness.

  He clapped once again, remaining facing the body this time as he subtly shifted, drawing a single breath and letting it spill out again, voice more powerful now, though his mind still felt as if it drifted slightly.

  “Master Zhou Ren, we thank you for the time you have spent with us, but as the seasons turn and fade so too do we.” Flowing Silk pushed away the sadness and continued, refusing to let his voice falter, even if he wasn’t facing the audience now. “May Dōng Fèng Huáng grant you safe passage to your next life, let your light guide you along the Bridge to Reincarnation, and may my song speed your journey as we wish you farewell.”

  The priest lifted his head and tried to put everything out of his mind apart from the song, failing as he looked at the coffin. No. This song was for Ren. For the audience to release whatever emotion they had been holding he needed to release the emotion he was holding and ignoring.

  This was the last time Ren would hear him.

  He needed to sing with all his heart, for himself if for no-one else.

  Ren deserved to be given the best that Flowing Silk could give.

  And so he sang.

  The familiar words of the prayer rose as Flowing Silk closed his eyes to concentrate more fully on the connection between him and Ren, letting his emotion spill into the song, voice soared clear and strong in the relative silence. He might not have been a professional singer but he knew this song and his voice didn’t falter, choke or crack. No one watching could ignore the simple beauty of it. It didn't matter if he didn't hold his composure as the priest in charge now, no-one behind him could see his expression and if anyone commented that the song seemed very heartfelt then he could simply tell the truth, that Ren deserved the best he could give.

  In his heart he sang for his first human friend in a sea of people who veered away from the small boy in white. For the boy who had drawn him into the human world rather than that of the spirits. For the friend whose touch had calmed his anxiety and allowed him to show what he was truly capable of.

  How ironic that he had proven his worth through Ren's death.

  Flowing Silk couldn't let himself cry properly, it would ruin his singing voice and be too obvious to the audience who wasn't supposed to know that he was their love.

  Two tears escaped, one from each eye. They would be lost in the bone-white robes. Two tears to contain his longing, his love, his heartbreak.

  No, don't let your heart waver, put all of your love and emotions into the song.

  I miss you. I love you. … And now I need to let you go.

  Goodbye, my love. I'll never forget you.

  As he sang the candle at the centre of the altar grew brighter, a small star in a glittering sky before the last notes trailed away, holding its brightness for a moment longer. Flowing Silk opened his eyes in time to see it flare once before fading back to a normal intensity.

  He released his breath and gave the final clap, bowing one last time to the altar before turning to the audience. Now the audience stood, Tai and the other taller members of the family moving to pick up the coffin ready to take to the pyre. Flowing Silk nodded when they were in place and picked up the Jade dust candle, holding it before him in one hand with the Eulogy in the other as he led the hall in a procession out to the pyre.

  Flowing Silk rested the scroll on the coffin before bowing and stepping back, handing the candle to Tai with a small nod. He took a small breath to compose himself, though seemed a lot more at ease now that the ceremony had been observed, giving away his own grief with the offerings and the song.

  It is strange, yet it works to put their hearts more at ease almost every single time. Flowing Silk allowed himself the faintest of smiles, Even for me. I am glad that I’m able to help people like this.

  Tai knelt and touched the flame to the pyre, watching it take on the oil-soaked wood and spread, roaring around the coffin as Tai stepped back to watch, eyes not moving from where his son burned. He didn’t try to hide the few tears that escaped his control, but nor did he speak, simply watching as the flame burned higher.

  Flowing Silk wanted to help it burn, but to do so at this point would be incredibly rude, and so Flowing Silk also watched, unmoving, as everyone else started to drift away towards the food that had been prepared for the celebration of Ren’s life.

  Ren was gone. The man he had loved so much had finally passed on.

  ramifications, which you'll start to see next chapter.

  Patreon with extra content, though I may be shuffling things around soon, so watch this space!