Chapter 113: Elderly Life
In the eighth year of Dingyuan, after the New Year festival, the weather warmed up. When Han Min returned home, Grandpa Han asked him to help dye his hair again.
The elderly man sat in the rocking chair in the courtyard, while Han Min stayed in the kitchen. Rolling up his sleeves, he sprinkled a handful of black beans into the pot.
Over the years, he had been the one to dye the hair of several elderly people, and he was very skilled at this task.
Something was still cooking on the stove, and Han Min took the opportunity to glance at the tonics stored in the kitchen. Some were sent by Old Physician Liang, some he had taken from the palace, and some his elder brother had brought from the northwest. They were piled up in the cabinets, and Grandpa Han hadn’t eaten much of any of them.
After a while, Han Min carried the cooked black bean paste outside, “Grandpa, here it is.”
Grandpa Han leaned forward slightly. Han Min tested the temperature, “Too hot, you’ll have to wait a little longer.”
He brought over a small stool and sat next to his grandfather. Grandpa Han reached out and draped an arm over his shoulder, and Han Min naturally leaned against him, just like when he was a child.
The grandfather and grandson exchanged casual words, feeling very content.
“Are you staying home tonight?”
“Mm.”
“Will His Majesty let you come?”
“He won’t, so he’ll come after finishing the memorials.”
Grandpa Han smiled: “That’s good. You’re both busy; no need to come back all the time.”
“I’m not that busy. If I don’t come back, who will dye your hair?” Even if he was busy, Han Min wouldn’t mention it now. He glanced aside: “You just dyed your hair before the New Year, and it still doesn’t make you look old. Grandpa, you’re so vain.”
Grandpa Han only smiled, making no protest, and leaned back in his chair. Early in spring, many people went outside the city to enjoy the fresh air, swinging and flying kites. A kite shaped like a swallow flew exceptionally high, passing over the city gate.
Han Min followed his grandfather’s gaze, understanding immediately, “Grandpa, take me to play tomorrow too?”
“You’re not a child anymore. You don’t need Grandpa to take you. Let His Majesty accompany you.”
“I don’t want him.”
After saying this, Han Min picked up the small pot and brush to dye his grandfather’s hair.
Since it had only been dyed once before the New Year, there weren’t many new white hairs. This time, Han Min only touched up a few spots.
Soon, he put down the tools, “All done. Just wait another half hour.”
To avoid staining his clothes, Grandpa Han had a white cloth wrapped around his neck. He gestured toward the small stool beside him, signaling Han Min to sit again. Han Min followed his lead, adjusting his robes and sitting by the rocking chair.
The two of them sat quietly together.
These past few days, busy with the new laws, Han Min was also somewhat tired. He unconsciously closed his eyes, wanting to rest for a moment.
Grandpa Han reached out and touched his temple, looking at him as if he had never seen him before. He stared for a long time, and Han Min was completely unaware. Finally, he said, “When Grandpa first saw you, you were still as small as a kitten.”
Han Min opened his eyes: “Hm?”
Grandpa Han, somehow finding strength, gripped his shoulders. Han Min sensed something was wrong, and seeing the vacant look in his eyes, immediately called, “Grandpa!”
But he still held Han Min, “It’s nothing.”
Han Min refused to listen, “I’ll go get the medicine, and have Little Jizi go find Liang…”
Saying this, Han Min ran out. He instructed Little Jizi to go to Old Physician Liang’s residence and brought back a bottle of pills from his grandfather’s room, letting Grandpa Han take them with warm water. He patted his grandfather’s chest: “Grandpa, how do you feel?”
“Much better.” Grandpa Han exhaled, reaching out his hand:
“Come here and lean on me, I’ll rest for a while.”
The first few times, Han Min leaned on him, but this time, it was his grandfather who leaned on Han Min.
Han Min nodded and returned to his place.
Grandpa Han rested with his eyes closed. Han Min’s face remained composed, but inside he was very unsettled, only hoping that Old Physician Liang would arrive soon.
He whispered, “Grandpa, don’t sleep.”
Grandpa Han said, “Okay, and you don’t cry.”
Suddenly, Han Min felt a pang in his heart. When he looked again, his grandfather’s hand had already dropped.
He didn’t know how much time passed before Little Jizi hurriedly brought Old Physician Liang, only to see Han Min, back to them, carefully washing off the hair dye from his grandfather.
People often say that the elderly have a premonition before passing.
Today, Grandpa Han asked him to come back and touch up his hair—it was actually to prepare for his final moments.
—
In the forty-eighth year of Dingyuan,
Han Min fell ill at the start of last winter and did not recover for a long time.
Until just before the New Year, Yang Mian—Little Jizi—along with several officials, planned to accelerate reforms. After a month, the matter reached Han Min’s ears. He didn’t even use a cane, jumping straight out of bed, followed by palace attendants who could not persuade him. Opening the study door, he saw everyone already there.
Actually, this decision was not just Yang Mian’s. Several central officials overseeing the reforms all knew and tacitly agreed, fearing that Han Min might not live to see the day.
Han Min scolded Yang Mian, and in turn rebuked everyone present, including Fu Xun, whom he called an old fool.
Fu Xun didn’t mind and didn’t argue. He asked everyone else to leave and then took Han Min’s hand, speaking gently. Han Min had a fit of temper, sweating heavily, and seemed to feel better afterward.
The decisions of the past month were withdrawn. Carefully recuperating, Han Min eventually overcame the illness.
Everyone reconciled, spending a peaceful New Year together.
Only Fu Xun knew Han Min was still very angry, so much that he hadn’t spoken much to his “old fool” these past few days.
They had been together nearly forty years, always happy.
Except once, during a quarrel—they themselves couldn’t remember why. Han Min packed overnight to leave the palace and find Wen Yan, but Fu Xun stopped him. Han Min slept in the hall; Fu Xun went to the study. Later, Fu Xun quietly returned to the bedroom, and they lay together, talking all night, reconciled completely.
Recently, a large square in Yong’an City was completed but not yet open. To cheer him up, Fu Xun decided to take him there first.
The carriage rumbled along the newly widened Xuanwu Avenue. The streets were bustling, with many foreigners among the crowd.
Han Min sat in the carriage, resting his head against the window. Seeing a slight smile on his lips, Fu Xun knew his mood was good and took his hand.
Han Min hesitated, glancing at him, still wanting to pull his hand back. Fu Xun held it firmly.
Finally, they disembarked hand in hand.
Fu Xun draped a cloak over him and tucked his hand into the sleeve,“It’s so cold. You’ve just recovered from a serious illness, so take care.”
Han Min ignored him, looking instead at the newly arrived attendant taking notes.
“You don’t need to record this.”
The young official hesitated, but the emperor said, “Record it.”
Fu Xun turned to Han Min, “Emperor and Empress are models for all couples. If you don’t let him record it, how will the world know how couples should get along?”
Han Min whispered, “Nonsense.”
The official continued writing.
The square was newly built, vast, intended for future public celebrations. Twelve bronze guardian beasts lined each side. In the center stood a tall stone stele, inscribed not with generals or nobles, but essays by several scholars, explaining the purpose of the reforms and advising future generations.
Before the New Year, the weather was still cold. Within a few steps, light snow began to fall.
The white snow quickly covered the dark stone pavement. Palace attendants and guards followed at a distance. Walking side by side, their footprints in the snow were soon covered.
Neither was a young man in his twenties anymore. They walked slowly, supporting each other, passing the twenty-four bronze statues and the stone stele—just as they had walked through more than sixty years together.
—
On the way back, they were reconciled, holding hands, walking close together, whispering secrets like young lovers, nothing like old people.
Passing a milk tea shop—something newly opened in Yong’an City, because Han Min liked it and locals found it good—Fu Xun stopped the carriage and led Han Min inside himself.
“You can only have half a bowl.”
“Okay, but I want peanut candy.”
Tables and chairs were set up outside. Han Min sat and waited as Fu Xun brought out the drinks.
Soon, Fu Xun carried half a bowl of milk tea and a plate of finely powdered peanut candy. Han Min took a piece of candy, bit it, and let it melt slowly in his mouth. Fu Xun ate the other half.
Han Min glanced around, then tapped Fu Xun, “You’re shameless.”
Fu Xun didn’t reply. They each held half a piece of candy, letting it dissolve. Han Min reached out to touch his graying temple, “I was sick all these days, and no one dyed your hair.”
“I’ll do it when we get back.”
—
The Funing Hall was still warmed by the underfloor heating, very cozy. After dinner, palace attendants brought Han Min’s usual hair dye.
Han Min had previously dyed the hair of several elderly people, and later, when Fu Xun also grew white hair, he dyed his as well. He had adjusted the dye formula many times to achieve the best result.
He changed into an old sleeping robe, letting Fu Xun sit. The robe was worn when he dyed hair to avoid stains; there were two or three small spots on the sleeves.
Unexpectedly, this time, Fu Xun took the dye from the attendants and asked Han Min to sit instead.
Han Min glanced at him and reluctantly agreed, letting his hair down, “Okay, your turn.”
His hair had always been fine and soft, even during illness. Fu Xun carefully brushed the dye over the silver strands.
They shared one portion of hair dye, dyeing each other’s hair, sitting together as they waited.
Han Min suddenly clapped his hands, recalling, “I forgot to dye your beard.”
Fu Xun took the brush, “A little bit more.”
Han Min took it, leaning in to see clearly due to his eyes strained from writing by lamplight in youth. He evenly applied it, also touching up Fu Xun’s left eyebrow.
“When you were young, your eyebrows were slightly damaged on the battlefield. I’ll fix them.”
Fu Xun, always vain in old age, often asked Han Min to shape his eyebrows.
Han Min examined him briefly and sat beside him.
The candlelight was dim, as if yesterday Han Min had jokingly helped dye his hair for the first time.
Just one day later, they both had white hair.
As if yesterday, Han Min sat at the desk drafting development plans for the state of Qi.
Agricultural development in Dingyuan Year 8, technological advancement in Year 10.
Fu Xun had sat beside him, holding his hand, and after sixty years, wrote four words:
“Till the end of time.”
Dingyuan Year 60, the emperor’s decree, “Till the end of time.”
Author’s note:
The book is complete.
