Chapter 14: Pine Smoke Ink Guest
Han Min quickly reassured the system: “Alright, alright, I won’t call it that.”
The system shouted: “And you’re not allowed to call it ‘Red Peony’ either!”
“Fine, I won’t, I won’t.”
“Really?”
“Really, really. I’ll go to Baishi Bookstore now, and I’ll think of a proper name on the way.”
Han Min packed his things, said goodbye to Mr. Ge, and went to the bookstore alone.
The shopkeeper was in the inner room, and a young clerk attending to customers outside led him in.
The clerk lifted the cloth curtain, glanced inside, and said to Han Min, “Master Han, please have a seat on the corridor. Someone from the Yong’an headquarters has come; the shopkeeper is talking with them.”
Han Min nodded and sat down on the wooden railing of the corridor.
The clerk continued attending to other customers, leaving him alone.
He sat there, resting his hands on the railing, swinging his legs, thinking about his pen name.
From behind the curtain, he faintly heard one or two words leak out:
“The situation in Yong’an…”
“The Emperor…”
“the Duke of Gong…”
Han Min stopped swinging his legs and pricked up his ears to listen carefully.
It turned out they were discussing business matters.
“The Emperor is ill, and the Duke of Gong is managing affairs, so the city gates of Yong’an are closed. I’m lucky to have left before the New Year; otherwise, this year’s books wouldn’t be published.”
This was a voice Han Min had never heard before; it must have come from someone from Yong’an city.
Then Han Min heard the shopkeeper say: “Thank you, thank you.”
After a few more polite exchanges, the shopkeeper stood up to see the guest off.
Han Min turned back, still sitting on the railing.
The shopkeeper lifted the curtain, saw him, and smiled: “Master Han, you’ve arrived?”
Han Min seemed to come back to his senses, jumped down from the railing, and bowed.
The shopkeeper bid farewell to the person from Yong’an, then looked at Han Min: “Master Han, have you finished writing the second volume?”
“No, no,” Han Min waved his hand. “I heard Mr. Ge mention the naming issue, so I came to let you know.”
“Very well, Master Han, please tell me.”
“We’ll call it…” Han Min touched his chin, paused for a moment, “Pine Smoke Ink Guest.”
“Is there a particular reason for that?”
“Um… Pine smoke ink is of high quality. After my family’s decline, we stopped using it. I really miss it now. Actually, regular oil smoke ink isn’t bad either, but it feels awkward as part of a pen name.”
The shopkeeper smiled: “Then I wish Master Han an early chance to use Pine Smoke Ink.”
Han Min returned the gesture, said goodbye, and left the front of the bookstore.
It was just after the New Year, and there were still some unsold yellow almanacs in the bookstore.
Passing by, Han Min flipped through a few pages and calculated the dates.
Finally, he left the bookstore.
With a brush pouch hanging at his waist and a stool in his arms, Han Min walked slowly.
The system asked: “What are you worrying about again?”
“It’s been over ten days; I imagine Fu Xun should have arrived in Yong’an by now. That person just said that when he came, Yong’an city was already sealed. Fu Xun went back just like that, seemingly without any precautions. I don’t know what he might encounter. I even wrote him letters, but he hasn’t replied…”
“The news of the city being sealed reached even you—wouldn’t the Duke of Ding know?”
“That’s true.”
“Don’t worry; the Duke of Ding should become the emperor.”
“What do you mean ‘should’? You’re not sure either?”
“‘Should’ means he probably will, but the heavens are unpredictable; something unexpected could happen. But don’t worry, the plot spoilers I give are always accurate.”
Han Min muttered: “What important spoilers have you actually given? You didn’t tell me who the Duke of Ding was when you said he’d become emperor; you didn’t explain why my family would be seized. You just keep making me guess.”
The system was about to reply, but Han Min continued: “When Fu Xun returned, he brought a few guards. What if they encounter bandits who impersonate him and claim the Duke of Ding’s title?”
The system replied helplessly: “He’s been leading troops at the border for years; his strength surpasses that of bandits.”
“What if the bandits try to ambush him?”
“His intelligence isn’t low either.”
“What if…”
“You should ask, what if the Duke of Gong schemes against him and seizes the Duke of Ding’s title?”
“That makes sense too. Why is your plot spoiler so unreliable?”
The system was silent for a moment.
Finally it said: “You usually seem clever. Why are you acting so foolish today, asking all these nonsensical questions?”
—
It was just that Han Min was overthinking. Back home, he thought carefully and realized that what he worried about was unlikely to happen to Fu Xun.
Still, Han Min considered writing him a letter.
He opened the window, blew his bamboo whistle a few times, but did not see the gray eagle.
The messenger eagle had not returned either.
Han Min waited a little longer, but had no choice; he sat back at his desk and opened his manuscript.
He tucked the note into Treatise on Security. Unable to wait for the eagle, he wrote by lamp light A Few Things About the Emperor and the Censor.
That night, Han Min propped his head up and wrote, and gradually he fell asleep at the desk.
In his dream, there was complete darkness, with no borders in sight, and laughter and voices from all directions engulfed him.
It was the scene of his family being seized, something he had dreamed of often over the past two years.
Han Min furrowed his brows and hummed twice, but could not wake up.
Later, someone—he did not know who—carried him out of the darkness.
He vaguely saw flames burning not far from the palace wall and asked, “What’s happening there?”
After asking, he vaguely heard someone speaking beside him.
It was the Duke of Gong, Fu Quan, who had previously fought fiercely with Fu Xun.
He shouted loudly, clearly furious, “Father, my third brother returned to the capital and burned my residence for a guilty subject. I beg you, Father, to take action for me!”
Han Min lifted his eyelids but could not open his eyes.
The emperor’s men shouted behind him, and the person holding Han Min did not turn around, only pressed his forehead to Han Min’s and whispered soothingly: “It’s alright. Sleep, you’ll be fine when you wake up.”
Author’s note:
the Duke of Gong: Damn it, my house!
Old Fu: I’m still handsome in my wife’s dreams (thumbs up)
