Chapter 1: Gurgling
[Warning: All historical names, events, and information in this novel are entirely fictional. Please do not search for them as they do not correspond to real history.]
In the third year of Yongding under the Great Qi dynasty, an earthquake struck Liuzhou.
It was the depth of winter, and heavy snow fell from the sky.
On the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth month, the city had already been without food and medicine for nine days. The common people of Liuzhou supported one another as they walked out of their homes and gathered along the main road leading to the city gate.
The local officials of Liuzhou stood atop the city tower with the imperial minister sent for disaster relief, awaiting the wagons carrying grain and medicinal supplies.
The Magistrate of Liuzhou [1] happened to bear the surname Liu. He was near fifty, thin, and short.
Snow covered his ankles, and after standing in the freezing wind for so long, the hand warmer hidden in his sleeve had already gone cold.
He quietly stomped his numb feet and secretly glanced at the man standing at the center.
The man was tall and straight, standing atop the tower with an imposing presence. Snowflakes rested on his cloak; he was like a pine, like a bamboo.
His crown was tied high and neatly.
His sharp brows slanted toward his temples, his eyes were dark as ink, his thin lips pressed lightly together, his expression solemn.
This was the Duke of Ding—Fu Xun, sent by the court to oversee disaster relief.
Magistrate Liu withdrew his gaze immediately after a quick glance.
He stepped forward and whispered to Fu Xun, “Your Highness, the heavy snow has blocked the roads. It won’t do to wait endlessly like this. I heard that the citizens have already formed factions of their own. If grain and medicine still do not arrive, I fear they may…”
Rebel.
He dared not utter the final word.
Fu Xun turned and looked at him, a faint mocking smile appearing—cold enough to chill one to the bone.
“If that is the case, Magistrate Liu, what do you think we should do?”
Magistrate Liu wet his lips and, mustering his courage, said, “The journey is long, and perhaps the imperial convoy was delayed. Why not allow this humble official to take some men to urge them on? Your Highness could remain in the city to pacify the people…”
Fu Xun let out a cold laugh but said nothing.
Magistrate Liu still wished to persuade him.
Before he could speak, a young gentleman in a jade crown and silk robe hurried up the tower, stopping at Fu Xun’s side.
He saluted Fu Xun and reported, “Your Highness, the men we sent out have completed the arrangements. They’re rushing as fast as they can. The convoy will arrive tonight.”
Fu Xun shot a faint glance at Magistrate Liu, “Lord Liu, you’re standing quite close, so I’m sure you heard. My men will arrive tonight; no need to trouble yourself.”
Magistrate Liu forced a smile, “Yes, yes, Your Highness is far-sighted.”
Fu Xun then turned to the young gentleman, “Wen Yan, accompany Magistrate Liu to calm the people.”
Wen Yan cupped his hands. Then he gestured politely, “Magistrate Liu, please.”
Magistrate Liu bowed, his voice trembling from the cold, “This official will take his leave.”
The two of them descended the tower.
The world was a vast expanse of white.
Fu Xun looked out one more time, then turned away.
Just as he turned, a loud neigh pierced the silent snowy plain.
He frowned and looked back.
Across the pristine snow, a black stallion was galloping toward them.
The rider was a young scholar-like man.
The moment Fu Xun saw him, the gloom in his eyes seemed to brighten, his gaze reflecting the newcomer’s figure.
The scholar was slender, his hair tied with a blue ribbon. He wore coarse cloth in the same blue color, his sleeves and hems fluttering wildly in the northern wind.
His apricot eyes shone like jewels.
The cold reddened his cheeks.
He had traveled in haste; his lips were frozen bright red. Each breath came out as white mist that drifted into Fu Xun’s eyes—softening them with mirth.
When the scholar lifted his gaze and spotted Fu Xun on the tower, he smiled.
He swung his arm and lashed his whip onto the ground. A crisp “pa—” sent bits of snow flying.
A greeting.
Fu Xun’s lips curled up unconsciously, and his voice rose slightly—as if announcing to those on the wall, as if boasting: “That one is also mine.”
He descended the tower as he spoke.
He gave hurried orders, “Open the gate. Prepare a bowl of ginger soup. Bring two thick coats.”
By the time Fu Xun reached the bottom, the scholar had arrived at the gate.
The scholar dismounted and, standing straight, bowed to him.
“Your Highness.”
Perhaps from the cold, his voice was slightly hoarse.
Fu Xun reached out to support him—and wanted to take his hand—but merely brushed it lightly before withdrawing.
Lowering his voice, he called, “Han Min.”
He was truly pleased—enough to call him by name.
Han Min nodded firmly, “Mm.”
Fu Xun quietly asked, “Why are you here?”
“I heard Your Highness came to Liuzhou for disaster relief. I was in Tongzhou—not far—so I thought you might run into trouble. I gathered some food and medicine and brought them.”
He glanced back, “They’re just behind me, arriving soon. Not much, but enough for emergencies.”
Fu Xun’s eyes were full of warmth. “You’ve worked hard.”
Han Min tucked his hands inside his sleeves and whispered, “Your Highness, my identity is inconvenient. Let’s speak somewhere else.”
Fu Xun nodded. The attendants brought a cloak.
Before Han Min could decline, Fu Xun shook it open and carefully draped it around him.
The two entered the city alone.
Elsewhere, Magistrate Liu, who did not recognize Han Min, turned to ask Wen Yan.
He had assumed Wen Yan was Fu Xun’s strategist.
“Young Master Wen, who is that man?”
Wen Yan replied, “Han Min, second son of Historian Han.”
Magistrate Liu paused, then sucked in a breath, “Historian Han’s family? Wasn’t Historian Han…”
He lowered his voice, “Wasn’t he imprisoned by His Majesty for privately revising the national history? Isn’t that family full of criminals—”
Wen Yan shot him a cold glance.
Magistrate Liu shut his mouth instantly and went to ask others, “Wasn’t Historian Han imprisoned?”
“The emperor showed mercy and sent the Han family back to their hometown.”
Magistrate Liu nodded, “Oh. Then this second young master…?”
“Up until two or three years ago, the Han family was still in Yong’an. He and the Duke of Ding are of the same age. They grew up playing together and studied together—they were naturally close…”
As he spoke, Wen Yan suddenly let out a quiet laugh.
The man beside him found it strange and glanced over.
He continued gossiping with Magistrate Liu, “But since the Han family’s exile, His Highness and him have probably not seen each other for two or three years. A long-awaited reunion, and Han Min even brought supplies. Of course His Highness is happy.”
Magistrate Liu rubbed his chin, “But tell me—Han Min is the son of a disgraced family. Where did he get money to buy food and medicine? In a winter like this, grain and herbs are expensive…”
Wen Yan abruptly turned to look at him, then strode away in a hurry.
The man muttered, “My lord, I feel like Young Master Wen is…”
Magistrate Liu waved a hand, “Bah, scholars are always jealous of each other.”
—
Meanwhile, Fu Xun and Han Min walked side-by-side toward the post station where Fu Xun temporarily resided.
The cloak on Han Min didn’t fit well. It drooped long behind him, dragging a winding trail across the snow.
Fu Xun glanced at him and brushed the snow from his shoulder.
Han Min dodged and stepped away, sniffing lightly, “Your Highness?”
Fu Xun withdrew his hand naturally and noticed Han Min’s coarse clothing.
“It’s so cold.”
Han Min tugged his sleeve, “I still carry a criminal’s status. When I travel, it’s best not to draw attention.”
Fu Xun nodded. Before he could speak again, Wen Yan caught up.
He bowed, “Second Young Master Han.”
Han Min returned the gesture, “Young Master Wen.”
Wen Yan said, “This year is an impoverished one. The supplies you brought must have been costly. Please name your price—I will exchange the silver for you.”
His eyes carried a hint of probing.
Han Min didn’t notice at all, “No need. Just think of it as my—”
Fu Xun glanced at Wen Yan, fully understanding, then turned to Han Min, “If anything, we should repay you. Your family isn’t wealthy.”
He sent Wen Yan away, “Go. I’ll repay him myself.”
After Wen Yan departed, Fu Xun dismissed the rest as well.
Only then did he ask softly, “This winter is a famine year. Where did you get so much?”
Han Min answered openly, “I bought it.”
Then changed the subject, “If I hadn’t come, what would Your Highness have done?”
“My men would also arrive tonight,” Fu Xun replied calmly.
Han Min nodded, “Then that’s good.”
Fu Xun returned to the point, “Your family was confiscated. Where did you get money?”
Han Min smiled carelessly, “It’s fine. I have money.”
Fu Xun turned sharply to look at him.
Han Min felt prickles under the stare, “…I really do.”
Still smiling, he explained, “A few years ago, before our house was raided, I sensed danger thanks to my keen political intuition. I secretly hid a bit of money. I was planning to run away with my family. Also, our ancestral house in Tongzhou is huge—my grandfather, mother, and I decided we could mortgage it. We still have a house outside the city.”
Fu Xun’s expression darkened. His steps halted.
They reached the post station just then. Fu Xun pulled him inside, closed the door, and gripped Han Min’s shoulders.
Han Min jumped, “What are you doing?”
Fu Xun originally wanted to pull him into an embrace, but seeing Han Min’s startled look, he only patted his shoulder.
“Don’t worry.”
Han Min regained his composure—and recalled that the Duke of Ding was the system-appointed next emperor.
So he patted Fu Xun’s shoulder back like a good brother, “Of course I’m not worried. We’ve known each other for so many years.”
—You can repay the debt when you become emperor.
Someone knocked outside.
“Your Highness, the ginger soup is ready.”
Fu Xun released him and opened the door.
He took the soup inside and shut the door.
Han Min knelt neatly before the table, holding the bowl and sipping the ginger soup in tiny mouthfuls.
Fu Xun lounged across from him, leaning on an armrest, absentmindedly looking at a letter.
His gaze slipped past the paper onto Han Min’s face.
Han Min had a gentle, jade-like appearance—fair skin and red lips—as if carved from white jade.
He raised his eyes and met Fu Xun’s stare, “What is it?”
Fu Xun simply said, “Don’t worry. Your Han family—”
Han Min hurriedly looked around, “Your Highness, be careful what you say.”
Fu Xun smiled carelessly but obeyed and fell silent.
If I could, I’d bring you back to the capital now and make you…
A prince’s consort? The future empress?
Forget it. You’re a proud scholar. You’d never like that.
Better to make you my Palace Record Keeper Official[2].
Then you’d be with me day and night. Whatever I say, you record.
Day or night, inside or outside the palace.
Han Min—already chosen by the future emperor as his future Record Keeper Official—knew nothing, sipping ginger soup.
Gulu gulu.
Author’s Notes:
The story begins~~ Chubby author peeks out~~ gulu gulu
Reading Guide:
Firstly, Han Min has transmigrated (reborn in the womb; there is no original Han Min). He has a system (not a typical system novel; system scenes are few).
Secondly, Questions like “Is Han Min silly?”, “Why does he do that?”, “Is he courting death?” — will be answered slowly. No need to rush.
Footnotes:
[1] In ancient China, a magistrate was the local official responsible for administering a county (xian), serving as the government’s representative at the lowest level of the hierarchy. Their duties included civil and criminal justice, collecting taxes, public order, and education, making them a central figure in the lives of the populace.
[2] Shiguan (historian officers): These were government officials tasked with recording events, sometimes following the emperor daily to record his activities. They were expected to be incorruptible and their records were the basis for official histories.
