Chapter 21: Tugging and Pulling
Han Min stayed in Funing Palace with Turnip Head to recover for a few days.
In his spare time, he helped Wen Yan revise memorials—Fu Xun was preparing to use one of these memorials as a starting point to challenge the Duke of Gong, Fu Quan, and bring him down.
This memorial was essentially the opening salvo, written for all the world and court officials to see.
It was also meant to establish the new emperor’s authority.
So it was particularly important.
Occasionally, Han Min would help Fu Xun look over other memorials, though these were minor and not crucial. He dared not touch anything of major importance.
One morning, in the study, Fu Xun sat at his desk going over memorials, while Han Min, still a little sleepy, propped his head up and stared blankly at a line of text for quite some time.
The two desks were close to each other; Han Min sat just below Fu Xun, within easy reach of his hand.
Lost in thought, he suddenly felt someone tug at his hair ribbon.
Instinctively, Han Min reached out and grabbed the hand: “Hey!”
He was about to speak, then realized—this wasn’t the academy. The person tugging his hair ribbon was the emperor.
Han Min turned his head, glanced at him, then withdrew his hand.
Fu Xun, being unceremonious, untied his hair ribbon and twirled it around his fingers, just like old times.
“What are you thinking about?”
“About Tongzhou,” Han Min replied, switching hands to prop up his head, sighing. “The old, the young… even with my cousins taking care of things, it’s still not as close as me. I wonder if Grandpa has been drinking his ginseng soup at home, if my brother’s leg is any better.”
He sighed again, but didn’t continue.
Fu Xun suddenly said, “After handling Fu Quan, you should bring them back.”
It was originally just casual talk, but Han Min was surprised by how direct he was.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” Fu Xun nodded. “But—”
“Hmm?”
“The late emperor just passed, so we can’t rehabilitate your family immediately.”
“That’s not urgent,” Han Min smiled, then thought of another matter, his smile gradually fading. “How can I stay in Yong’an? Become a eunuch?”
He didn’t know why that thought came to mind.
Fu Xun chuckled lightly: “What do you want to do?”
“Me?” Han Min answered honestly. “I originally wanted to take the imperial exam, then go to Yangzhou as a clerk.”
“A clerk is too humble for you. Think again—what else would you like to do?”
Han Min thought seriously for a moment. He didn’t know if Fu Xun already had an answer in mind, and he didn’t want to say something too lofty that might anger him. He followed his own heart.
“I’ve been thinking about how Grandpa used to be a historian, working at the Lantai compiling the national history…”
“I think being a historian isn’t bad either.”
His heart pounded. Han Min held his chest. Was Fu Xun about to grant his wish?
But Fu Xun continued: “A court historian who records the emperor’s daily activities is a very respectable post.”
Han Min’s face froze: “Huh?”
There were two types of historians at court.
One was a historian in the Imperial Archives, compiling the national history.
Han Min’s grandfather had been a low-ranking copyist in the archives for over ten years, later promoted to Eunuch YangHistorian, overseeing the compilation of the national history.
The other was the court historian, also called the Qiju Lang.
The Qiju Lang stood by the emperor in the palace, followed him on tours, recorded ministers’ memorials, and the emperor’s words and actions.
In short, they were the historians who stayed close to the emperor, documenting his daily life and speech.
Fu Xun glanced at him: “What, you don’t want it?”
Han Min composed himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it; the two historian ranks were equivalent, with one exception—
The Qiju Lang had to follow the emperor day and night.
Thinking of past fights with Fu Xun, and just now being tugged by him, Han Min sincerely felt he might not be suited for this post.
Seeing Han Min’s expression, Fu Xun assumed he was shy, and gently reassured him: “Don’t worry, all the other Qiju Langs are the same. I won’t do anything else to you.”
The words were spoken softly, but Han Min heard clearly.
To Han Min, “I won’t do anything else to you” sounded like revenge for childhood fights.
“That’s definitely a lie!”
But serving at court wasn’t easy.
Han Min touched his nose and made up his mind. Fine, if I get beaten, I’ll just take it. Being a sixth-rank Qiju Lang isn’t that easy anyway.
He bowed his head and whispered, “I’ll follow your orders, Your Majesty.”
Fu Xun, seeing his obedient demeanor, was in high spirits and pinched his cheek.
Han Min kept his head down, his face paling from the pain.
Now Fu Xun was about to take revenge. He should have gotten along better as a child.
He now regretted it, very much so.
Fu Xun withdrew his hand and, after a while, placed something on Han Min’s head.
Han Min lowered his head, not daring to look, fearing he might knock it off. He sat properly.
Then the young eunuch outside announced: “Your Majesty, Lord Wen is here again.”
Wen Yan pushed open the door, glanced at the study, and almost fainted.
He bowed and helplessly remonstrated: “Your Majesty, the study is a quiet place. The emperor’s portrait still hangs in the outer hall. This frivolous act is inappropriate and humiliates Master Han.”
Fu Xun was unconcerned, a faint smile on his face: “No banquets are held during mourning in the palace. In past banquets, golden silk flowers were tokens of imperial favor. Why isn’t this flower considered favor? I want to put another flower for him.”
Han Min didn’t quite understand. Suddenly, a blue cloth flower fell into his lap, startling him.
It had been tied with his hair ribbon by Fu Xun.
Previously, Fu Xun mentioned “golden silk flowers,” intricately crafted in the palace. At banquets, the emperor would personally pin them on ministers’ hats to show favor.
After the Mid-Autumn and New Year banquets, under the moonlight, ministers would ride home with the flowers—a particularly romantic scene in Yong’an City.
Han Min said hurriedly: “System, check if Liu Bei in Romance of the Three Kingdoms… no, at that time they didn’t have the custom of wearing flowers.”
He held his hair ribbon, lost in thought.
The unorthodox scholar was starting to feel his heart stir.
Fu Xun took the ribbon, untangled the flower, straightened it, and returned it to Han Min.
He glanced at Wen Yan, coldly saying: “Wen Yan, you’ve been meddling too much lately. I made you a censor, not head eunuch.”
Wen Yan’s expression changed.
Han Min, still tying his hair, paused at these words.
No wonder it’s said that serving the emperor is like handling a tiger—just a word and everything changes.
He carefully considered speaking.
At that moment, Eunuch Yang brought a young eunuch with tea.
Eunuch Yang was the senior eunuch by the emperor’s side; the young one was unfamiliar to Han Min.
Eunuch Yang had heard the previous remark. Seeing Han Min about to speak, he hurriedly intervened, “That won’t do. I’ve promised my little apprentice that after I leave the palace, he’ll be recommended as head eunuch. It’s too late for His Lordship Wen to take that position.”
The young eunuch silently served tea to Han Min.
Fu Xun had intended to say more, but saw Han Min speaking to the young eunuch.
Han Min quietly asked: “You’re Eunuch Yang’s apprentice? What’s your name?”
The young eunuch lowered his head: “I’m called Yang Mian.”
“Yang Mian?”
“If it’s hard to remember, you can call me Little Jizi.”
Han Min was puzzled: “Little Jizi?”
“It means a small piece of dough—small person.”
Han Min couldn’t help laughing: “Interesting. Did you come up with that yourself?”
“Yes. I used to work in the kitchens.”
Fu Xun, seeing the rapport between Han Min and the young eunuch, slightly raised an eyebrow.
He said to Han Min: “If you like him, keep him.”
Before Han Min could refuse, Fu Xun instructed Little Jizi: “Follow Lord Han from now on.”
Little Jizi quickly thanked him.
He knew Han Min didn’t particularly want him, but—
If he thanked quickly enough, Han Min had no chance to refuse.
Having been in the palace long enough, he knew how to seize opportunities.
That morning, Han Min gained much:
A promise to return the Han family to the capital.
A position as Qiju Lang.
And Little Jizi.
Han Min felt he was on a lucky streak this year.
A few days later, it would be the 21st day after the late emperor’s death. By custom, members of the royal family were to keep vigil at the Fengqian Hall.
After arriving in Yong’an, Prince Fu Rang had wanted to visit Han Min at Funing Palace, but Fu Xun forbade it, fearing it would disturb Han Min’s recovery.
Fu Rang was dissatisfied.
After all, when Han Min first returned, he was the first to see him and carry him back.
But even then, he wasn’t allowed to see him. Not made of jade or snow—how could he damage him?
So this time, on vigil duty, Fu Rang secretly sent a message early in the morning to Han Min, asking him to step out for a while.
Near evening, judging the time right, Han Min donned his clothes. Little Jizi accompanied him to meet Fu Rang.
Walking along the palace path, Little Jizi assumed Han Min would lose his ways, but Han Min seemed even more familiar with the palace than him.
“I used to play hide-and-seek in the palace as a child,” Han Min explained.
Recalling the past, he added: “I often hid on the tall tower near Fengqian Hall. The emperor didn’t like hiding; he usually caught people. Prince Fu Rang was more playful—once he got stuck on the wall, and afraid of being laughed at, he refused to call for help.”
Little Jizi asked: “And then?”
Han Min smiled: “Then Late Emperor Dezong came and brought him down. But Late Emperor Dezong was followed by all the officials, so Fu Rang didn’t dare go out for days.”
When they arrived, Fu Rang approached from behind, patting Han Min’s shoulder.
“Han Min.”
Han Min turned and bowed: “Prince.”
Fu Rang waved his hand: “Formalities aren’t necessary. Just call me by name, like before.”
Fu Rang’s mother had some Hu blood, so his features were slightly Central Asian—large eye sockets, high nose bridge, a broad frame.
He had a wolf tooth tattoo on his arm—a half wolf tooth, due to Han Min insisting it looked better than a full tooth.
Fu Rang looked stern but gentle, and was the emperor’s favored son.
Han Min laughed: “Long time no see.”
Fu Rang produced a large bag of bird’s nest and ginseng: “For your recovery. You collapsed at the palace gate the other day—you really scared me.”
Before he finished, someone sneered: “I heard a few days ago that Your Brother found someone at the palace gate. I came early to see, only to find it’s the second son of the Han family, Han Min.”
Han Min followed the voice, noticing three claw marks on the back of the person’s right hand.
The person covered them with his sleeve: “Got scratched by a beast a few days ago—so bloody and miserable.”
He continued: “Han Min, now that you’ve connected with the emperor, why are you still teasing other men, privately sharing? If you lose favor, who will shed bitter tears for you?”
Author’s Note:
Fu Xun: Crazy, stay away from my wife and our treasure (Turnip Head)!
Fu Rang: Brother! What about me?
Fu Xun: Crazy, and that silly little brother—stay away from my wife and our treasure!
