Chapter 111: Follow-up Story (3)
Xi Tong, System.
Han Min looked into his blue-green eyes and couldn’t resist hugging him again. Others tried to pull them apart, but the two remained close.
Mr. Ge said to Liu Xi Tong, “You don’t recognize him. He is Han Record Officer, the emperor’s male empress. He can hug you all he wants, but I’m afraid the emperor might take it out on you.”
Liu Xi Tong smiled at Han Min. Han Min didn’t mind and leaned toward Mr. Ge: “Sir, when did you get back?”
“You arrived just a few days after heading northwest. If it weren’t to wait for you, I would have left long ago.”
Han Min draped his arm over his shoulder with a smile: “Sir, you really are a walking literary detector. I, Han Xici, truly owe you thanks.”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
They drank in the pavilion, enjoying the snow, feeling comfortable and relaxed.
Han Min had a couple of cups of fruit wine, feeling warmth spread through him. Liu Xi Tong sat across from him, lifted his cup, and gave him a look. Han Min understood and got up.
Taking advantage of the moment when everyone was distracted by the drinking game, the two quietly left, hiding behind a rock by the lake to talk.
Han Min lifted his eyelid to look closely at those blue-green eyes: “This is so strange… won’t people think you’re a monster? Is it convenient for you to go out like this?”
“I said my ancestors had Persian blood, so I look this way.”
They sat on the rock behind the fake mountain, unsure what to say. Han Min brushed down the slightly raised hair on his head: “Not bad, really good. Looks just like my cat.”
Han Min asked again, “Why didn’t you say earlier you could come? You made me sad for so long.”
“I already submitted requests to the Control Center long ago. You know their efficiency. They didn’t approve it in time, so I didn’t know if I could stay. If I had told you and still had to leave later, wouldn’t it just make you happy for nothing?”
Han Min grinned foolishly and reached out to touch his head.
Liu Xi Tong frowned: “Are you being silly?”
Han Min shook his head, still grinning: “No, I’m just very happy.”
“Idiot,” he murmured, then stood up: “Look, this body is made by me for myself.”
“Not bad, really good.”
“I’m taller than you.”
Hearing this, Han Min couldn’t sit still. He stood up abruptly and looked up at Liu Xi Tong, who was indeed taller than him by a head.
Han Min complained: “Why are you like this? It’s not fair!”
Liu Xi Tong shrugged, smug: “I have Persian blood in my ancestry; being taller is not surprising.”
“You’re abusing your power…”
Before he could finish, Liu Xi Tong held down the stomping Han Min with one hand: “For you, I wrote thousands of applications to the Control Center, gave up my position there. So now you owe me some respect.”
Han Min felt embarrassed. After all, the system had sacrificed a lot to let him stay.
“Fine, I’ll be good to you.” He sat back down on the rock and remembered something: “By the way, why is your surname ‘Liu’? Why not take mine?”
“You guess.”
“I don’t know,” Han Min thought. “Maybe ‘Liu’ sounds like ‘stay,’ so…”
“No.” Liu Xi Tong sat beside him calmly. “Because Sister Liu Ting married your uncle, Liu Ting counts as your uncle. He’s one generation older. My identity is set as Liu Ting’s distant brother, so you must call me…”
—Uncle.
Han Min pushed him off the rock. Liu Xi Tong sat in the snow, looking aggrieved.
Back in the pavilion, they stuck together like one person again.
When asked why they seemed so close at first meeting, Han Min casually invented a story: “I remember wandering the streets as a child and meeting a blue-green-eyed Persian little master. We played together all day and agreed to meet the next day. But when I came back, I couldn’t find him. Today, after a long separation, it feels natural to be close.”
Liu Ting laughed: “Are you sure it was this young master?”
“Sure. I even asked him, and he remembered it too.”
“Maybe you just dreamed it. Did I ever meet a childhood friend you didn’t know?”
Liu Ting was his senior, tasked by their grandfather and teachers to care for him. Han Min didn’t know how to explain away his casual remark, so he just led Liu Xi Tong aside: “Anyway, we met long ago. Old friends reunited after a long time.”
Everyone laughed, calling him silly for confusing dreams with reality. Liu Xi Tong humored him, letting him speak.
Han Min didn’t care. He took a plate of snacks and sat next to Liu Xi Tong, asking while eating: “So, tastes the same?”
He meant, eating with the system in cat form versus human form, was it the same.
Liu Xi Tong shook his head: “Before, I didn’t dare eat much.”
Han Min stuffed the entire plate into his hand: “Then eat quickly now.”
They drank a little wine, spirits high, and switched the snacks for paper and pens.
Chu Yu pulled them over: “Stop eating, come write poetry.”
Han Min rolled up his sleeves: “Sure, what to write?”
“Odes to snow, forbidden willow fluff, one rhyme through, limited…”
Han Min handed a pen to Liu Xi Tong: “My old friend is the poet here, he’s the top.”
Liu Xi Tong’s brow moved slightly but said nothing.
When they judged the poems, indeed, he was first. Everyone said Mr. Ge brought back another excellent literati.
Outside, snow fell heavily. The pavilion was drafty and cold. They prepared to leave. Before leaving, they counted the poems to send to Baishi Bookstore for printing. Han Min noticed two blank sheets.
He was about to point it out, but Liu Xi Tong held his hand, shaking his head.
Han Min didn’t understand. Liu Xi Tong whispered: “I cannot leave anything here; otherwise, it would disrupt the world’s process.”
Not just today—his poems would soon turn blank, unnoticed by others, visible only to Han Min. For thousands of years after, he could leave no name in Qi’s history or scholarly records.
It was as if he had never existed.
Han Min was startled. Liu Xi Tong comforted him: “It’s fine. Not important. I don’t care.”
He forced a smile and held Liu Xi Tong’s hand.
Before tidying up, someone said: “Good mood, everyone.”
They turned, quickly put down things, and bowed.
Fu Xun walked through the corridor, wearing a black fox cloak, saying, “No need for etiquette,” and saw Han Min holding hands with Liu Xi Tong.
He frowned. Han Min quickly let go. Fu Xun shook the cloak, draped it over him: “Out playing and forgot your clothes.”
After fastening it, Fu Xun looked at the blue-green-eyed person. He remembered Han Min’s cat—very annoying.
—
On the way back to the palace at night, in the carriage, Han Min was in a good mood, swinging his legs.
Fu Xun glanced at him: “Those eyes… exactly like your cat’s?”
Han Min thought a moment: “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“Really?”
“The emperor wouldn’t think my cat became a spirit, right?”
“Very much so. When I approached you, its eyes stood up, exactly like your cat’s.”
Fu Xun grabbed his hand. Han Min couldn’t dodge, pulled over.
“Who is he?”
“Consider him my literary star protector.”
Before Fu Xun could ask more, Han Min kissed him. Every time Fu Xun wanted to speak, he leaned in to nudge, smiling nervously and playfully.
Until Fu Xun stopped asking.
This couldn’t be explained clearly. Doing so would reveal the system and the Control Center—something they wouldn’t allow.
Fu Xun said again: “I told you not to get too close to those literati.”
Han Min, slightly annoyed, let go: “What have my literary friends done to you?”
“Before, you even made me promise to leave the harem empty, yet you have a whole group of literati. Mr. Ge keeps finding more. Now even I come after them.”
His foresight didn’t matter; he couldn’t stop Han Min from going to them.
“Not at all, very different.” Han Min lightly touched his mouth, feigning a frown: “Tsk, sour, record it in the ‘Daily Records.’”
He always teased and ran, without caring. This time, Fu Xun held his waist, and he couldn’t escape.
He held Han Min’s hand, pulling it to him. Han Min tried to pull back: “No, this is the carriage… let go…”
Fu Xun rubbed the ink on his fingers, laughing: “Dirty little cat.”
Even though his hands were a bit dirty, Fu Xun didn’t let go.
When getting out, he still held tight. At the front of Funing Hall, in front of many palace staff, Fu Xun insisted Han Min’s foot was twisted and carried him in.
Han Min sat on the bed. Fu Xun helped him remove shoes and socks, rolled up pants, pretending to examine the “injured foot.”
Palace staff thought it real and brought medicine for injuries.
After they left, Fu Xun took another ointment from a secret compartment.
Han Min felt uneasy, trying to retract his foot, but Fu Xun held it.
Without dinner, to protect the system’s secret, Han Min endured a long, exhausting, costly time.
Finally, Fu Xun stroked his fingers: “No more holding hands with them.”
Han Min, exhausted, responded casually: “Mm.” He pulled back his fingers: “I’m hungry, want milk tea.”
Fu Xun was unusually agreeable, no longer asking about the system and responding to requests. He got out of bed, dressed, and sent palace staff to prepare food.
It was late. Han Min, thinking to eat and sleep, leaned on the seat, exhausted. Then Tongzi, the white cat, sneaked in, jumped beside him, rubbing affectionately against his clothes.
Han Min pinched its paw: “Come, Tongzi, hold hands, sit down, sit and hold hands.”
Something felt off. He looked up and saw Fu Xun’s deep gaze.
“Not… Your Majesty, this is just an ordinary cat, really. I can’t even hold hands with a cat?”
Han Min lifted the cat to show him.
Author’s note:
People: “Your Majesty, it’s just a cat, a simple cat.”
If Old Fu knew, Min-Min and System had held hands and hugged when System was a cat—Min-Min even carried him daily in his arms.
