Chapter 10: Golden Wax, Jade Soul
Han Min and his grandfather stood in the courtyard, watching the straw on the rooftop fly away.
It was like a kite whose string had broken, soaring high and far.
Han Min scratched his head sheepishly. “These few pieces weren’t pressed down properly, but the rest are fine…”
Before he could finish, the wind blew away some more straw.
Han Min stepped forward, placing himself between his grandfather and the wind, trying to divert his attention. “Grandpa, the person I mentioned earlier, Old Du—do you know him? His poetry, it’s quite good, isn’t it?”
Grandpa Han withdrew his gaze, stroked his beard, and nodded. “Yes, quite good. The beginning is not ordinary, and the rest?”
At that moment, Lady Yuan came to call them for a meal.
Grandpa Han leaned on his cane and walked toward the side hall.
Lady Yuan tugged at Han Min’s sleeve, pulling him aside.
“You took Pei’er out this morning. What happened? He doesn’t seem very happy.”
Han Min sighed. “He wanted malt sugar, but the old man who sells it was called away, so he didn’t get any.”
Lady Yuan could only say, “Then I’ll take him tomorrow to see.”
Han Min added, “He asked me why we couldn’t invite the sugar seller to our house.”
“And what did you say?”
“I lied to him.”
Han Min repeated to her what he had told Han Pei.
Lady Yuan said, “That’s fine. You did the right thing.”
“But I just feel… a bit upset.”
Han Min had spent seventeen years in Yong’an City. Though the Han family wasn’t rich at the time, his grandfather and elder brother supplemented him, and he always had the snacks he wanted.
But Han Pei was different. When he was still young, the Han family had been raided, and the whole family returned to Tongzhou.
Lady Yuan patted his head. “There’s nothing you can do, right? Come, let’s eat.”
Han Min nodded, silently adding “invite the old sugar seller to the house to perform candy-making” to his personal list of goals.
Dinner was formal, with the family gathered around the round table in the main hall. Han Pei’s mother, Lady Liu, was also present.
Though he hadn’t gotten malt sugar, Han Pei perked up, helping his mother with dishes and cheering her up.
Han Min watched Han Pei, feeling somewhat pained—both were still just children.
Looking at the darkening sky, Han Min made up his mind. He stood and waved at Han Pei. “Come on, I’ll take you to see it again.”
Han Pei’s eyes brightened. He jumped off the bench and ran to Han Min’s side.
The sky grew darker, snow began to fall, and the city gates were about to close.
Han Min lifted him onto the horse and mounted himself.
Grandpa Han laughed and shook his head in the hall. “Min’er just likes to cause trouble.”
Lady Yuan said, “When he was little and wanted something, you would take him even before dinner. Once he dreamt aloud wanting a phone, and you went to look for it! Where on earth would such a thing exist?”
Grandpa Han coughed lightly. “Min’er has a good heart; he can’t bear to see others sad.” Then he praised himself: “Follow your grandfather’s example—he’s really good with kids.”
Han Min rode through the city toward the place where the sugar stand usually was during the day.
The old man was just closing his stall and saw them from afar. He put down the pole across his shoulders.
“So finally, you’ve come.”
Han Min pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.
“You were waiting for us too?”
“Not really. They just told me you and your little brother have been waiting here for a while.”
The old man opened the candy jar, picking the last bit of malt sugar with a bamboo stick.
“I didn’t know if you’d come, so I saved a little. If you hadn’t, it would’ve been for my little grandson.”
Han Pei took the bamboo stick and thanked him.
Han Min saw the old man off and reminded him to be careful on the road. Turning, he noticed Han Pei was holding the sugar without eating it.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to eat it at home.”
“Then eat it at home.”
Han Min checked the sky. “We need to go back quickly.”
They arrived just as the city gates were closing. The guards asked a few questions, and when they learned he had delayed returning for his brother to buy candy, they waved and let him pass.
Han Min returned their salute with clasped fists.
Quickly going and returning didn’t leave much time.
Outside the gate, Han Pei ran inside holding a small piece of malt sugar on a bamboo stick.
Han Min didn’t hear what he said—it must have been something happy.
He tied the horse under a tree and walked over. The family sat around the table sharing candy.
The candlelight was dim. Clean oiled paper lined the table, and Grandpa Han carefully cut the malt sugar into six pieces.
He waved at Han Min to come and eat.
Han Min paused, then stepped forward quickly.
Han Pei leaned against him. “Brother’s been working hard, eat more.”
During the evening rest, Han Min, as usual, massaged his elder brother’s legs.
Han Pei slept in the innermost spot, drooling and already fast asleep.
Han Shi smiled. “Good thing you bought him candy, otherwise he wouldn’t have slept.”
Han Min pounded his brother’s legs seriously. “I must have caused more trouble than him when I was little.”
Han Shi looked at him. “You’ve been doing this for over two years…”
Han Min said earnestly, “One must believe that sincerity opens even stone and metal.”
After a while, Han Min withdrew his hands, preparing to retire.
Han Shi asked, “Going to copy books again?”
He had no books left to copy, and the manuscript project hadn’t progressed.
Han Min pursed his lips but nodded.
Han Shi said, “Sleep early.”
“Okay.”
Han Min went around the screen, sat at the desk, and lit a candle.
He worried about money.
He took out his wooden box of savings and counted what remained.
Besides his own silver ingots and coins, he had three silver notes from Fu Xun.
But Han Min didn’t want to use them.
It wasn’t because of past grievances with Fu Xun; he just didn’t want to ask friends for help.
He rested his head on his hand, staring at the box.
Suddenly, he remembered that Fu Xun was still in Liuzhou.
Liuzhou had another earthquake last night; he didn’t know how it fared there.
Not wanting to disturb his brothers, Han Min picked up his pen case and candle and quietly went to a corner of the corridor.
He took out the bamboo whistle Fu Xun had given him and blew it.
Fu Xun’s falcon, Yan Zhi, and Han Min’s little hawk, Turnip Head, flew from afar and landed at his feet.
Han Min tore off a piece of paper to write a letter to Fu Xun, asking about Liuzhou’s situation.
As for anything else, he thought for a while but didn’t write.
He wasn’t used to complaining to friends, and had no precedent—he had troubled friends enough in the past and didn’t want to involve them.
Besides, Fu Xun had just given him three silver notes.
He rolled the note into a cylinder and placed it in the bamboo tube tied to the falcon’s leg.
Han Min watched the falcon disappear into the night.
He sat in the corridor, lost in thought.
The system said, “Why don’t you…”
Han Min stood, brushed his sleeve, and said, “The literati ancestors watch over me; I won’t be left with nowhere to turn.”
A night full of worries.
The next morning, Han Min rose early with his pen case and a small stool to go write letters for others.
A river ran through Tongzhou City, and many people set up stalls along its banks.
It was winter; the willow trees were bare. A fortune teller sat beneath one.
Seeing him, the fortune teller raised the “Zhuge the Semi-Immortal” banner to make space.
“Here you are?”
“Good morning, Master Ge.”
The fortune teller clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I’ve told you many times, call me Master Zhuge outside.”
Actually, his surname was Ge, but he advertised as “Zhuge the Semi-Immortal,” so people called him Zhuge.
Han Min put down his stool, sat, and unpacked his writing supplies.
Master Ge asked, “Why didn’t you come a few days ago?”
“I had some things to take care of.”
Han Min had no books to copy today, only waiting for people to hire him to write letters.
Business was slow; in the entire morning, he wrote only one letter, earning a dozen coins.
Han Min rested his head in his hand, worried about money, thinking wildly: “If only I’d learned to make soap… or cakes… why don’t I know anything?”
The system said, “I have a manual on handicrafts. Want to take a look?”
“Sure.”
The system transmitted technical documents. Han Min flipped through a couple of pages, but they were too difficult—he couldn’t learn them.
He had spent ten years here; he could write well and dabble in ink, but that was it.
Suddenly, he thought, “I could offer homework-writing services. When spring comes and the academy reopens, I’ll expand my business.”
The system said slowly, “You should practice first, so if parents come looking, you can run.”
Han Min stroked his chin, thinking. “Or I could go to the pleasure houses—”
The system panicked. “What are you going to do? I won’t let you degenerate like that!”
Han Min covered his ears. “I mean write lyrics for the girls to sing!”
Just as he was daydreaming, Master Ge suddenly came over, nudged him with his elbow, and pulled a small booklet from his sleeve.
“Han Min, want a book?”
“Ah?”
Han Min turned, realizing belatedly what it was—
Golden Wax, Jade Soul.
Han Min froze.
Master Ge, seeing this, thought he didn’t like it, sighed, and pulled another book from his other sleeve—
Foolish Slave.
The system prompted: “This is a text I haven’t cataloged. Quickly, let me see!”
Han Min was startled, nearly tripping: “Are you sure you want to see this?”
He glanced cautiously at Master Ge at the divination stall.
Master Ge, seeing him like this, twitched his mouth in helplessness.
Finally, he just asked, “You’ve never been to the Flower Street?”
Han Min shook his head blankly.
He truly hadn’t.
Master Ge said, “I thought you city boys from Yong’an would have seen it all.”
Han Min explained, “Not all the boys in Yong’an go… Me and my friends just…”
Master Ge put the scrolls away and returned to his spot. “Forget it, I won’t force it on you.”
Han Min settled back down.
But the system kept pestering him: “Why don’t you look? I want to see—there’s something in the world I haven’t cataloged. Maybe you can write it.”
Han Min felt embarrassed and annoyed. “There’s plenty you haven’t cataloged, and I can’t write it.”
The system pressed: “But what is it exactly? What?”
Han Min whispered a single word, and the system finally quieted.
Author’s Note:
The system was born in Jinjiang and hasn’t even seen this. Let’s go—one-day tour of Haitang City.
(TNote: Jinjiang refers to Jinjiang Literature City, JJWXC website, whereas Haitang is referring to another website more known for their erotica novels.)
