While he was still stunned, she pressed her lips together, looked up toward the temple gate, and then back down at him, speaking softly:
“Deng Ying, it would pain Master Zhang to see you like this.”
She then used a bit more strength, “Stand up, I’ll help you.”
Not daring to hurt her by pulling away, Deng Ying quickly stood up following her guidance.
Yang Wan helped him steady himself, then took out her handkerchief and handed it to him, “Dry the rain from your face, and hold your umbrella properly.”
With that, she walked alone toward Zhang Luo.
“Yang Wan!”
Yang Wan didn’t respond to Deng Ying, walking straight to the stone steps at the temple gate.
This wasn’t her first time facing Zhang Luo, but this time, there wasn’t a trace of fear in her heart.
“Though you share the surname Zhang, are you Master Zhang’s relative?”
Zhang Luo’s eyes darkened.
Yang Lun hurriedly stepped out from the crowd and rebuked, “Wan’er, don’t be impudent.”
Yang Wan turned to look at Yang Lun, “Lord Yang, I am a female official of the Bureau of Ceremonies, in charge of inner palace etiquette. Am I not allowed to point out and correct errors in funeral and memorial rites?”
Yang Lun was so angry his chest felt tight. She had no intention of giving face to him, or indeed to anyone present.
Yang Wan looked at Zhang Luo again, repeating, “Is Official Zhang a relative of Master Zhang?”
Zhang Luo was silent at first, then said coldly, “No.”
“Today, Master Zhang’s relatives are not here. Of those close to him, only his sole student remains, yet you force him to kneel and beg, refusing to let him pay respects. What kind of proper ceremony is this? Did you study for decades just to stand above others and attack those who differ from you?”
Zhang Luo said in a deep voice, “Do you know what you’re saying?”
Yang Wan curtsied, “If my words have given offense, I willingly accept punishment.”
A few drops of rain ran down her cheeks and into her mouth.
After saying those words, she suddenly felt somewhat dazed.
This scene seemed entirely new to her and yet as if she had experienced it countless times.
In numerous academic seminars, she had stood alone like this, facing a group of stern people. Those people weren’t wrong either – they too had buried themselves in ancient texts their whole lives, steadfastly defending their academic views. It’s just that they didn’t believe her, or the person behind her. Compared to those years when she desperately tried to reconstruct Deng Ying’s image before them, desperately tried to correct those deeply prejudiced views about him, and tried to protect the posthumous reputation of someone already gone.
Now, she was protecting Deng Ying’s real dignity.
He was alive, standing right behind her.
Not an illusory figure in the river of history, nor her lonely obsession.
Yang Wan’s throat tightened.
If she hadn’t come back from six hundred years in the future, would Deng Ying never have known that later there would be a descendant he didn’t know, standing opposite to most people, expressing the feelings he couldn’t voice?