Chapter 23: Graceful and Refined
Han Min stood with his arms folded, leaning against a corridor pillar, waiting for Fu Rang to come out while chatting casually with Little Jizi.
Little Jizi asked, “Young Master, are you old acquaintances with the princes?”
Han Min nodded. “Yes, we grew up together.”
“Just now, the Duke of Gong said you almost—”
Little Jizi glanced at him cautiously. Seeing Han Min’s calm demeanor, he continued, “I’ve walked through the palace’s eunuch quarters myself. I almost became your master’s disciple—otherwise, it wouldn’t have been your turn.”
Little Jizi smiled. “Young Master is truly blessed.”
Before long, Fu Rang came out of Fengqian Hall again.
He leaned against the wall, closed his bright brown eyes briefly, swung his sleeves, and complained irritably: “Fu Quan just left the palace. Let’s leave later so we don’t run into him.”
Han Min smiled and nodded. “Then I’ll see you out later.”
“Mm.”
Fu Rang brightened at Han Min offering to see him out, but then he remembered what happened earlier and his expression darkened again.
“What were you stopping me for just now? It was only a matter of a title. He has a title, I don’t—yet I’m no worse than him. Wouldn’t it have been better to insult him back? He was being sarcastic.”
Han Min smiled. “It’s nothing.”
Seeing Fu Rang still pouting, Han Min asked, “Have you heard the story of ‘Zheng Bo Conquered Duan at Yan’?”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a line: ‘Those who commit too many injustices will bring about their own destruction. Just wait and see.’ The emperor probably intends to let him overreach, waiting until he can’t handle himself, then step in and deal with him once and for all. If you had argued with him just now, you might have disrupted the emperor’s plan.”
Fu Rang’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained uneasy: “I see… you understand the emperor’s mind better than I do.”
After chatting for a while, Fu Rang straightened up: “I’m going back. Will you see me out?”
“Of course.”
By early February, it no longer snowed in Yong’an City.
The morning sun was already warm.
The two walked side by side along the palace path. Fu Rang asked about Han Min’s family, and Han Min asked about Fu Rang’s friends.
At the palace gate, Fu Rang took Han Min’s hand. “My carriage is just ahead. Want to sit for a while?”
Han Min raised an eyebrow. “Why sit in your carriage? What’s so special about it?”
It was odd.
Fu Rang pulled him forward. “Just go see.”
Little Jizi couldn’t stop him. Han Min was guided to the carriage, and Fu Rang lifted the curtain, pushing him inside.
Two people were already seated in the carriage.
Han Min looked closely: “Uncle Yue, Senior Brother.”
Prince Yue, Fu Le, was the youngest brother of the late emperor, Fu Xun and Fu Rang’s uncle. Broad and kind, he was the most carefree wealthy man in Yong’an City.
When Han Min was little, he often took a group of children out to play, so they called him “Uncle.”
The other was a scholarly young man only a few years older than Han Min, wearing willow-green robes, a white jade crown, and a small red mole on his brow. His expression was gentle, graceful, and refined.
This was Liu Ting, eldest grandson of Elder Scholar Liu. Han Min had studied under Elder Scholar Liu and still addressed Liu Ting as senior brother.
Fu Rang lightly pushed Han Min from behind. “Hurry inside.”
Han Min lifted his robes and sat properly.
Fu Rang squeezed next to him, speaking to Fu Le and Liu Ting: “My idea wasn’t bad, right? We couldn’t go to Funing Palace, but at least we got Han Min out.”
He looked at Han Min, draping an arm over his shoulder: “See? I’m nice to you, aren’t I? Some other friends wanted to come, but the carriage is too small. We’ll bring them next time.”
Han Min smiled in thanks.
Liu Ting held his wrist, squeezing gently. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.” He glanced up and down. “Much leaner.”
He released Han Min’s hand, pulling a bundle from behind, unwrapping a new robe. Holding it against him, he said: “I don’t know if it will fit. I used your old measurements. I thought you’d have grown taller, but you’re still thin.”
Han Min straightened and let him compare. “My aunt and Pei’er are well.”
Liu Ting paused. “Good. I was worried your Han family might treat them poorly.”
Lady Liu—Pei’er’s mother—was Liu Ting’s elder sister by blood.
On the day she married Han Min’s uncle, Han Min had openly complained, feeling he lost out in front of Liu Ting.
They spoke while Prince Yue watched, chuckling.
Han Min turned to him: “Uncle Yue.”
Prince Yue replied: “All well?”
Han Min nodded: “Yes, all well.”
Prince Yue handed him a small heavy pouch. “For staying in the palace, to take care of your needs.”
Han Min tried to refuse, but Prince Yue said: “When you left the capital, you showed me a box of silver ingots, claiming you had money—I was reassured. Later, I realized it wasn’t enough. I wanted to give you more, but couldn’t avoid the late emperor’s notice. Now the palace guard has changed, I can finally give it to you. You’ve been in the palace, you know—people step on the low, bow to the high. Money works best.”
“I’ll take the silver and give it to you, Uncle Yue.”
Prince Yue laughed: “No rush. Just paint me a couple of fan faces when you have time.”
After a few more words, Fu Rang lifted the carriage curtain. “Hey, we need to go. The palace guards keep watching us!”
Prince Yue laughed. “You sneaked Han Min up here, and you think the emperor doesn’t know?”
He patted Han Min’s arm. “Go on.”
Han Min gathered the gifts and prepared to leave the carriage.
Liu Ting said suddenly: “Junior Brother, living in the palace must be inconvenient.”
Han Min looked back.
“Grandpa wanted me to take you home today. I rushed, so there wasn’t time. Pack your things and come when you can. The courtyard is ready.”
Han Min thought: “I’ll go back and inform the emperor.”
“Good. There are two packs of pills in the bundle, the ones you used to take as a child. Eat them as snacks if you like. If there’s anything you want, ask Fifth Prince to tell Senior Brother. If the robe doesn’t fit, have the palace adjust it, or take it back.”
Han Min stood on the ground while Liu Ting held the curtain to talk to him, worried he’d run off. His speech was quick and anxious, and the little red mole on his forehead seemed even redder.
Fu Rang held him back. “He’s not three years old. Enough, enough.”
Finally, Liu Ting, still a little uneasy, reminded him: “Hurry home.”
Han Min nodded to reassure him, waved goodbye, and watched the carriage leave, then turned to go.
He handed the bundle to Little Jizi, his pouch heavy at his waist, and returned to Funing Palace.
Back at the palace, Fu Xun was under the eaves, feeding his hawk.
He had clearly noticed Han Min’s return earlier but waited until he was close to look at him.
“Yanzhi ate a lot today.”
Han Min patted the hawk’s head and corrected him: “It’s Turnip-Head.”
Author’s Note:
Turnip-Head: Don’t fight, I’m your little baby (hawk’s face is blushing red).
