Chapter 108: General History of Literature (2)
Before long, the bell rang again.
The elderly professor covered his tea cup and stood: “Alright, let’s continue.”
He glanced back: “Just now we mentioned Wen Yan’s ‘true kindred spirit.’ That kindred spirit is one of the Seven Sons of Ding Yuan we’re about to discuss: Han Min.”
“Han Min, courtesy name Xici—‘Respecting and Treasuring Words.’ His grandfather was the old Han historian Han Yun, whom we discussed last class. Because Han Yun was close to Liu Yingliu, Han Min began studying under Liu Ying at the age of seven. Later, people called him, Jiang Huan, and Liu Ting the ‘Three Sons of the Liu School.’”
“You surely know his elder brother, mentioned in general history class: Han Shi, the Great General of the Western Campaign during the Ding Yuan era. His younger brother—not biologically, but his uncle’s child—Han Pei, would also become a rising star in the literary world, whom we’ll discuss later.”
“Back to Han Min. I know you all recognize him—either from The Emperor and So-and-So: Two or Three Stories, or from Emperor Ding Yuan himself. The first is literature-related; the second… well, we’ll see. If there’s time, I’ll tell you more. That The Pleasure Trip Painting you have actually hides secrets you can’t see.”
The students’ eyes lit up at this, and they straightened their posture.
“Now, Han Min’s life. As mentioned, he studied under Liu Ying from age seven. After ten years of diligent study, by seventeen, he was ready to sit for the imperial examination. But there was an unexpected turn: De Zong died, a new emperor ascended, and the Han family was sent back to their hometown in Tongzhou. The reasons… were somewhat unreasonable, constrained by the circumstances of the time.”
“He stayed in Tongzhou for two years, so he missed the exams. On the day of the exam, he was at home. According to Liu Ying in a preface, Han Min even drafted a topic himself and wrote an essay. When he returned to Yong’an City and showed it to his teacher, the teacher was amazed and used the term ‘peerless in Yong’an.’ This shows, indirectly, that good writing will not be buried.”
“Back to the story. He stayed in Tongzhou two years. Then came the struggle for the throne among the three princes. Rumors swirled in Tongzhou that the Duke of Ding had died. At first, Han Min didn’t know and, believing he would surely die, insisted on traveling to Yong’an. Some may think, ‘Ah, Han Min is foolish—a mere scholar going there, isn’t he sending himself to death? Isn’t he making trouble?’”
“No, I can say clearly that’s not the case. The rumors in Tongzhou said Ding Yuan (a.k.a Fu Xun, this emperor name is Ding Yuan) had died—or was gravely injured. Based on what Han Min knew, Ding Yuan could not have ascended. Han Min’s trip to Yong’an was not to assist Ding Yuan to the throne; he was going to retrieve Ding Yuan’s body.”
“Rituals were highly valued. If one of the two brothers ascended, Han Min could likely convince the emperor to hand over Ding Yuan’s body. So he wasn’t causing trouble—he was following loyalty. I see you’re snickering; I know you like this kind of story.”
“When he discovered Ding Yuan was alive, Han Min became a Qijulang (Imperial Record Officer). There’s a poem that says, ‘Be careful not to miss form when taking notes, be careful not to miss content when recording words.’ This refers to the Imperial Censor and the Imperial Record Officer. Wen Yan was a censor; Han Min was the record officer, recording the emperor’s daily life. He stayed by Ding Yuan’s side as a close attendant.”
“After new laws were implemented, Han Min was titled ‘Marquis Wen Ding,’ later promoted to ‘Duke of Wen Ding.’ I see you’re laughing. Yes, his ‘Wen Ding’ uses the same ‘Ding’ character as Emperor Ding Yuan’s name. This character was not only a title; when Ding Yuan was first made emperor, he was called Emperor Ding. I told you before, Ding Yuan especially liked this character.”
“Now, Han Min’s works. His writings are diverse. Strictly speaking, the Seven Sons’ political significance outweighs their literary significance, since most were officials promoting new laws. But Han Min was different: besides memorials, he wrote many works that seemed unrelated to politics, apparently just for fun.”
“For example, Two or Three Stories, which you still enjoy. At the time, the ten-volume set of stories was considered lowbrow. Today, you might praise it as ‘ahead of its time, breaking conservative norms, a model of the new novel.’ Back then, he probably didn’t think that way—partly because of poverty, partly because he enjoyed it.”
“The characters like chancellor, censors, and third-rank scholars corresponded to real people. It’s like writing fiction today for fun. Compared to other writers focused on policy, he’s more like a modern creator.”
The professor rolled up his sleeves and glanced at an antique watch: “Time is short. I’ll tell the story of him and Ding Yuan another time. For now, let’s finish the last two of the Seven Sons.”
The students frowned and begged: “Teacher, please, teacher.”
The professor ignored them and wrote the last two names on the board:
“Chu Third-Rank Scholar, Xie First-Rank Scholar”
“Chu Third-Rank Scholar, courtesy name Zhuoshi, studied in Song State, later passed the Qi State exams as Tan Hua. He came from a merchant family, the wealthiest in the region.”
“Xie First-Rank Scholar, no courtesy name. He was originally a Chu family servant, accompanying Chu Third-Rank Scholar in studies. Later, both took the exams, and Xie First-Rank Scholar became top scorer. He was the first servant to succeed in the exam system. Song State had no precedent and didn’t know how to handle him; Xie First-Rank Scholar, proud and ambitious, went to Qi State.”
“Ten years later, during the Qi State exams, the same year as Chu Third-Rank Scholar. There was no top scorer, and someone missed the palace exam, rumored to be Xie First-Rank Scholar. He never confirmed this, but history records it as true.”
“These two wrote not only policy essays but also several volumes of The Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer: Two or Three Stories, co-written with Wen Yan to counter Han Min’s ten-volume stories. When I asked who you liked by the Pine Smoke Ink Guest writer, you said the Imperial Record Officer. Actually, the Imperial Record Officer himself didn’t write it.”
Flipping to the last page of the paper handout, the students grew excited.
“Teacher, can you tell the story of the Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer?”
“Wait, there’s one more person.”
He wrote the final name: Yang Mian.
“You probably know him. Yang Mian was a powerful eunuch in Ding Yuan’s later years. Han Min called him ‘Little Medicinal Apprentice’ in his writings. Often mentioned in general history, he was a bit impetuous.”
“He entered the palace as a young boy. Han Min personally taught him to read and write. He admired Han Min, and they were close. Though taught by Han Min, he had little literary talent; the works he left were mediocre.”
“In Han Min’s later years, bedridden with illness, local officials visited the capital. Yang Mian secretly gathered them to push new laws faster. After just half a month, Han Min discovered it, stopped the scheme without major incident.”
“This was a point often criticized—too rash. He mainly feared Han Min wouldn’t notice. After Han Min died, he no longer interfered and retired to Mingshan to guard the tomb.”
“There’s still a little time, so let’s discuss…”
But before he could continue, the bell rang again.
“Well, no choice—time’s up.”
The students begged: “Teacher, just a little longer, please.”
“Alright, alright. Ding Yuan had only one male consort—Han Min. They were childhood friends, together until old age.”
“More details, more details,” the students urged.
The professor smiled helplessly: “I’ll make copies of the few volumes of the Pine Smoke Ink Guest stories and give them to you. The versions circulating today are all edited. Also, the three-person co-written The Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer: Two or Three Stories, and several large volumes of Ding Yuan-era Qiju Zhu.”
“Study them carefully. You’ll notice these books are very different. Han Min’s early writing of Ding Yuan and others was smooth, but the characters were often superficial, differing from real-life counterparts to suit the market. Later, he wrote reluctantly, especially when depicting Ding Yuan and others together.”
“The three-person co-written Imperial Record Officer series is based on true events but with exaggerated prose, written mainly as a rebuttal. When Ding Yuan and Han Min married, they wrote a celebratory volume, which sold best riding the wedding’s publicity.”
“Also, Han Min and other record officer compiled Qiju Zhu, completely factual, in the historical style, concise, with ample blank spaces for additions. For example, one passage says that after a court session, Ding Yuan was distracted and everyone left. He simply said, ‘What’s the matter, darling?’ a record officer explains it was because Han Min had been ill, and Ding Yuan was accustomed to caring for him.”
“That’s all I’ll tell for now. The rest you can explore yourselves.”
The students continued to beg: “Teacher, the secrets of The Pleasure Trip Painting haven’t been revealed—just a little more, please.”
The professor picked up the silk reproduction: “In this painting, Han Min isn’t in the center. He stands at the palace entrance, holding a few plum branches in his left hand. Notice anything unusual?”
“Yes. At that time, painters left blank spaces instead of filling the entire canvas. Liu Ting and Han Min were senior and junior brothers; he wouldn’t be painted at the edge. This indicates there was more to the painting, but for some reason, it’s now incomplete.”
“Look closely—Han Min holds the plum branches in his left hand. The blossoms are painted differently, with jade-white petals and red centers. These plum blossoms are rare—Red Plum of the White Jade Terrace. Where is the White Jade Terrace? In the palace. Look at the palace arrangement; clearly, they were gathered inside the palace.”
“This painting was found in Ding Yuan’s tomb at Mingshan. Ding Yuan placed it in their joint coffin. Does that make sense—portraits of the Six Sons of Ding Yuan? This has nothing to do with Ding Yuan.”
Qiju Zhu says Ding Yuan was jealous—he loved jealousy. Wen Yan told Han Min “Meeting you today, I finally find my kindred spirit” over 300 times. Each time, Ding Yuan would remark, ‘Scholars are presumptuous, but Min Min alone understands me.’ Could he place unrelated paintings in his coffin? No. He would have been too jealous, so this painting is definitely related to him.”
“Thus, Han Min holds the flowers in his left hand, his right hand reaching outward. This indicates another gesture. Inside the palace, holding palace-specific plum blossoms, and eventually placed in the tomb—who else was involved? Who accompanied him in picking the plum blossoms?”
Author’s Note:
Students: Teacher, continue telling the story = I’m obsessed, tell more
Old Fu: “Scholars are presumptuous, but Min Min alone understands me.”
