Chapter 27: Truly Deserving of the Throne
The late emperor’s spirit had rested in the Fengqian Hall for forty-nine days, after which he was to be interred at the Mingshan Imperial Mausoleum.
Before dawn, several princes entered the palace to guard the spirit in Fengqian Hall.
On this day, Fu Xun also rose early, donned his ceremonial robes, and wore the imperial crown.
It wasn’t because he held deep affection for the late emperor or valued the funeral highly.
The father-son bond between him and the late emperor had been calculated away many years ago.
He got up early mainly because today marked the deadline he had set for the Duke of Gong’s fate.
After the death of the late crown prince, the late emperor had begun playing the game of balancing power among his sons.
He gave military authority to Fu Xun, born of the main consort; political authority to the Duke of Gong, Fu Quan; and finally, he also elevated Fifth Prince Fu Rang.
The three were meant to compete.
Fu Rang’s mind was simple; he just wanted a leisurely life as a prince. His mother maintained a friendly relationship with Fu Xun’s mother, so he had an honest conversation with Fu Xun early on.
Thus, this power struggle boiled down to just Fu Xun and Fu Quan.
In Liuzhou and Yong’an, the conflict continued even after Fu Xun ascended the throne.
The battle lines were drawn long ago, and neither side would yield. Fu Quan would not bow, and Fu Xun would not allow him to act unchecked in the court.
No one cared that it was the late emperor’s funeral day; they only wanted closure.
In Fengqian Hall, the chanting of scriptures never ceased.
During the seventy-seven-day vigil, the princes were required to stand watch day and night.
In the evening, a few of them rested briefly, continuing through the night.
Fifth Prince Fu Rang rubbed his sore knees and rose from his meditation mat.
A servant supported him as he walked out of the hall.
Fu Rang reached the corridor of the side hall and saw Han Min standing below, hands folded, staring at the pond outside, perfectly still.
He called out and limped toward him.
“Han Min.”
Han Min turned: “Hmm?”
Fu Rang rubbed his leg: “This vigil is exhausting. I haven’t eaten all day.”
Han Min took a snack wrapped in a clean handkerchief from his sleeve: “Here, eat.”
Fu Rang’s eyes lit up. He dismissed the servant, took the snack, and gulped it down.
Mumbling, he said, “I really don’t know how they managed to endure. I’m so hungry I can see stars. By the way, why did you come?”
Han Min sat on the railing: “Just suddenly wanted to come and see.”
He knew that today Fu Xun and Fu Quan were going to settle matters.
Feeling uneasy, he had stayed inside the hall all day but could not resist coming out to check.
Fu Rang sat beside him, smiling: “I know, you must have been worried I’d go hungry, so you brought me food.” Han Min smiled back.
Before they could talk further, Han Min caught sight of someone outside the corridor. He immediately composed himself and stood, bowing slightly.
“Your Highness, the Duke of Gong.”
Fu Rang pursed his lips, put away the snack, and returned the bow.
Fu Quan, wearing the heavy ceremonial robes of a prince and a long sword at his waist, stood outside the corridor, beckoning Han Min: “You came. I have something to discuss with you.”
Fu Rang tugged at Han Min’s sleeve anxiously, but Han Min shook his head, pushed his hand away, and stepped before the Duke of Gong.
Being in the palace, Han Min had no fear.
“What counsel does Your Highness have?”
Fu Quan raised his hand and began walking with him outside.
“Han Min, you are a scholar of unmatched talent—appearance, intellect, character, and literary skill, all exceptional. You also have courage and strategy. I had originally hoped to win you over…”
Han Min interrupted: “You allowed my brother to enter the palace to recite scriptures without rescue, broke my right hand, and intercepted the eagle that brought me a message, nearly killing it. Such an attempt at winning me over is unbearable.”
Fu Quan’s expression did not change: “So you know everything.”
He continued: “But you are indeed exceptional. Over the years, I have had many scholars under me; I understand them far better than Fu Xun does. Fu Xun has only Wen Yan, and he barely acknowledges you. Why suffer there?”
He paused: “Had you taken the imperial examinations two years ago, you would have been the top scholar. It’s a pity… if you join me, I would treat you as the top scholar.”
Han Min barely frowned: “That won’t be necessary.”
“You don’t need to reject me so quickly. If I told you that tonight, someone else would occupy that position?”
He said the last sentence softly, as if carried by the wind.
After walking a short distance, Fu Quan produced a small pouch from his sleeve and offered Han Min a preserved plum.
Han Min did not accept it.
Fu Quan sighed: “I remember when we first met, you gave me a plum.”
Han Min said lightly: “That was long ago.”
Fu Quan placed the plum in his hand: “To repay the debt from that one plum in your youth, I offer you this opportunity. What I did before—seeing you stubbornly stand by Fu Xun—angered me. Now I apologize. Is that acceptable?
“I love talent and cannot bear to see it wasted. You are a scholar; scholars under me all know to choose their trees and masters wisely. Don’t you understand?”
Han Min relaxed his hand, letting the plum drop to the ground, his almond-shaped eyes sharp: “And so?”
Fu Quan looked down briefly, then withdrew his gaze: “If you truly do not wish to…”
At that moment, Fu Rang arrived with Wei Huan.
Wei Huan stepped forward and clasped his fists toward Fu Quan: “Your Highness, Fengqian Hall is looking for you.”
Fu Quan looked at Han Min, lowering his voice: “If you refuse, settle matters quickly tonight. If you fall into my hands later, the treatment of a top scholar will not apply.”
Han Min remained silent and walked away.
He refused.
Fu Quan glanced regretfully at his back, then left.
He had truly wanted to recruit Han Min.
Everything he praised earlier was genuine.
A useful talent is the sharpest blade; if not, no matter how regretful, it must be destroyed.
He walked through the corridor, summoned a guard, and instructed: “Tell the palace gate guards, open the gates.”
Wei Huan followed Han Min: “Brother Han, His Majesty asked me to escort you back and reminded me to tell you not to go out tonight—stay in Funing Hall.”
Han Min did not reply and instead looked toward a tall building nearby.
Night deepened, clouds hung low.
Fu Xun, in his imperial crown and robes, stood atop the tower, hands resting on the railing. The patterns of sun, moon, and stars on his sleeves seemed to swirl in his grasp.
He noticed Han Min looking and couldn’t help but smile at him.
Fu Rang followed beside Han Min: “Hey, what did Fu Quan just tell you?”
Han Min smiled lightly: “He plans to act tonight. When you’re in Fengqian Hall, if things go badly, quickly hide in the side hall. Better safe than sorry.”
Fu Rang nodded, half-understanding: “Oh, so you stay in Funing Hall too, don’t come out.”
“All right.”
Under the late emperor’s instruction, Fu Quan had managed state affairs for many years.
Having long resided in Yong’an, the city and palace were filled with his men.
After Fu Xun ascended, he only replaced personnel in Funing Hall and added Wen Yan as an imperial inspector; court offices and palace arrangements remained otherwise unchanged.
Firstly, there were many people, tangled in complex relationships, hard to move; secondly, perhaps he deliberately kept things static.
Now, a host of officials in ceremonial dress, holding memorials, waited at the palace gate.
At Fu Quan’s instruction, the palace gates opened. Guards raised torches, illuminating half the palace walls.
Fu Quan bowed deeply to the assembled officials: “Thank you, ministers, for your efforts today.”
Among them, the venerable Chancellor Jiang stepped forward to support him: “Your Highness is too gracious. We have witnessed your diligence over the years. The late emperor’s will wrongly enthroned the emperor. Today, you reclaim what is just.”
Fu Quan shook his hand.
From the high tower, Fu Xun saw the torchlight at the gate.
He guessed Fu Quan had begun pressuring the court.
He remained calm, leaning on the railing like watching a play, observing for a while.
Until Wei Huan returned: “Your Majesty.”
Fu Xun asked: “Was the person returned?” He meant Han Min.
“Yes, accompanied by Little Jizi, and His Majesty’s instructions have been conveyed.”
Fu Xun replied with a single “Good,” shook the cold wind off his sleeves, and turned away.
Wei Huan added: “It seems Wen Yan did not come.”
Fu Xun paused, his eyebrow lifting barely perceptibly, then said: “Once this matter is resolved, send someone to find him. He has probably been detained by Fu Quan.”
“Yes. But if Wen Yan does not come, what about our people…”
Fu Xun was indifferent: “It doesn’t matter.”
Wei Huan hesitated but had no choice but to follow.
Fu Xun clasped his hands and descended the steps, the palace gate ablaze with torchlight.
He glanced once, then told Wei Huan: “Take the bows and arrows.”
Expression calm.
In Fengqian Hall, the late emperor’s coffin rested to one side, white silk and banners flapping violently in the gusts.
Fu Xun sat above in dark solemn robes, expression calm.
Wei Huan and Eunuch Yang stood beside him.
the Duke of Gong, Fu Quan, also wore heavy ceremonial robes with a sword at his waist, followed by the officials and generals he had recruited over the years.
Fu Xun glanced—Fu Xun’s men stood outside the steps.
It was a posture of pressing the throne.
Fu Quan bowed deeply: “Long live His Majesty.”
Fu Xun spoke coolly: “Tomorrow is the late emperor’s funeral. Such Eunuch Yangarrangements are unnecessary. You brought so many—what is your intent?”
“My younger brother served Father Emperor managing affairs over the years; the ministers greatly respected Father Emperor. They came to see him off, in all-white attire. It is a notable story. Moreover, ministers had matters to report, and public opinion was favorable; I cannot prevent them.”
“What matter is this?”
Before Fu Xun finished, a crowd of people on the steps bowed.
Ministers shouted: “We request Your Majesty to abdicate.”
Fu Xun’s voice turned cold: “the Duke of Gong, what do you mean?”
“Brother, during the confrontation at the city tower, it was an all-or-nothing situation. Then, King Xin produced Father Emperor’s…” He paused, “will, allowing you to ascend.”
Fu Quan adjusted the gold thread on his sleeve: “King Xin is of another surname, not Fu. I do not trust him. I suspect the will is false.”
“Father Emperor entrusted me with governance, as the crown prince had before. Brother, do not fall into the trap of a foreign surname out of selfish desire. Years later, King Xin might usurp the throne.”
“Now, who do the ministers support? Who holds the military? I advise you, brother, recognize the situation quickly.”
Fu Quan’s plan was indeed shrewd.
Although Fu Xun had military experience, the previous Liuzhou earthquake left some troops there; part accompanied him to Mingshan for the funeral, most still in the northwest.
His forces were scattered, impossible to mobilize quickly.
So it was better to act early, using ministers and public support to force Fu Xun to abdicate—a practical path.
Han Min, earlier advised Fifth Prince Fu Rang, so when Fu Quan brought his men, he hid behind a white tent.
Seizing an opportunity, he slipped away to Funing Palace.
Han Min knew Fu Xun’s plan; with Wei Huan conveying instructions, he stayed put, accompanied by Little Jizi, and spent the day teaching him characters.
Later, Han Min saw a figure rushing through the corridor.
“Fu Rang?” he called.
Fu Rang skidded to a stop: “Han Min, trouble.”
“What happened?”
“Fu Quan really brought people…”
Han Min understood, stepping aside: “Come in.”
Fu Rang sat at the desk, Little Jizi pouring tea.
“Thanks.”
He sipped tea and reported: “Fu Quan brought many ministers, including Chancellor Jiang. He claims the late emperor appointed him to govern, to make him crown prince; then claims the will is fake. Basically, he’s forcing the throne.”
Han Min lowered his eyes—it was as expected.
Fu Rang: “But he only talks. How can that succeed?”
Han Min: “If this fails, it becomes a charge against him. He first finds scholars, speaks Eunuch Yangprinciples, excites them, then removes the emperor—no one dares oppose him.”
“I see.”
Fu Rang touched his chin, suddenly remembering: “Brother is in danger, yet we’re chatting here!”
“No problem. He has prepared everything, just waiting for Fu Quan’s act, to trap him and his men.”
“Oh, is this the ‘Zheng Bo overcomes Duan at Yan’ story?” [1]
“Not entirely.”
Han Min toyed with the teacup lid: “Scholars on both sides confront; no one can say they’ve won. The emperor resolves a prince and many ministers overnight, seeking legitimacy to stabilize hearts. That’s good governance.”
Fu Rang nodded, smiling: “You understand more.”
Han Min smiled: “Then Wen Yan must have arrived, right?”
Fu Rang puzzled: “Huh? Why would Wen Yan come?”
Han Min sat up sharply: “What? He hasn’t?”
“Yes, he hasn’t.”
“No Wen Yan, which scholar is left for Fu Xun?”
Han Min panicked, shouting Fu Xun’s name.
Fu Rang realized something might be wrong: “Could he have been detained by Fu Quan? That would be bad.”
Han Min thought, decided, stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To Fengqian Hall.”
Little Jizi warned: “Sir, Wei Huan said to watch over you.”
Fu Rang: “You’re too weak.”
Han Min: “Fu Quan may have kept Wen Yan, still leaving room for strategy. Fu Xun has no scholar, we don’t know when his troops will arrive. But I suspect he has also assigned someone, just waiting for a leader.”
He added: “Don’t worry, I modified the memorial with Wen Yan before, I still have a copy. I roughly know what will be said. This game is missing only one scholar—and I am one.”
He grabbed his plain robe from the clothing rack, changed behind the screen, pocketed writing materials, and tied the bag to his waist.
Fu Rang tugged his sleeve: “I’ll go with you.”
“All right,” Han Min said, patting his hand to reassure him.
He stepped out into the night, robes fluttering.
At Fengqian Hall, the wind raged, candles flickering.
Fu Xun sat high, eyes on the sky outside, fingers lightly moving on his lap.
Two quarters remained.
Wen Yan’s absence didn’t matter; his men would arrive in time.
He always preferred to operate on the edge of life and death.
In Liuzhou, learning of a rebellion, he timed the guard transport that night.
Now in Yong’an, with Fu Quan pressuring the throne, he timed troop arrival to tonight.
He liked to hold everything in his hand, observing coldly.
Seeing opponents fail at the last moment brought him immense satisfaction.
Inside, Fu Quan’s scholars spoke passionately. Fu Xun watched coldly, calculating time.
Soon, Fu Rang arrived, sneaking in quietly behind him.
Fu Xun glanced back, unsure of his purpose, but suddenly heard a commotion outside.
He turned to see a youth in white steps, ascending the palace platform.
Though Fu Xun thought he controlled all matters, one person repeatedly surprised him, giving all effort for him.
Han Min never knew Fu Xun’s true control, yet ran on courage alone.
In Liuzhou, in Yong’an, and now at Fengqian Hall, it was the same.
Without Wen Yan, Han Min could still act.
Amid countless ministers, Han Min was the scholar wielding his pen like a sword beside Fu Xun.
Fu Xun instinctively grasped the railing, leaning forward, wanting to pull him closer—but not yet.
Perhaps Han Min’s appearance startled everyone, leaving a path.
He stood on the stone platform, untied his outer robe.
In thin inner robes, he took the memorial from Little Jizi, holding it high, kneeling on the steps.
The wind blew behind him, robes snow-white, hair like ink—like a scholar spilling ink on a page.
Immersed in literary spirit, elegant and resolute.
Han Min called loudly: “Han Min, twenty-ninth generation descendant of the Han family of Tongzhou, guilty subject, requests an audience with His Majesty.”
Silence prevailed inside and outside the hall.
He called twice more, voice hoarse.
Fu Xun wanted to support him but could not yet.
He instructed Eunuch Yang, then sent Wei Huan to bring Han Min up.
Han Min, thin, in single robes dusted like snow on bamboo, held the memorial.
Fu Quan recalled a sharp memorial from before, eyes narrowing slightly, signaling behind him.
An elderly official stepped forward: “I didn’t know a criminal punished by the late emperor could dare act in front of his spirit.”
Han Min looked at him, lifting his eyes: “Chancellor Jiang.”
Chancellor Jiang, with graying beard, continued: “If Han Min is a criminal, how can he enter the hall, stand with us, submit memorials, or discuss affairs?”
Han Min calmly: “Writers are determined by heaven, ministers by sovereign. Heaven precedes the sovereign; thus, I am first a scholar, then a criminal. Heaven grants literary mandate; I present it, then punish—what is wrong?”
He glanced at ministers below: “Most in court are beasts at heart. I speak because they do not. If true scholars were here, I wouldn’t risk my life.”
Chancellor Jiang was stunned: “Absurd… insulting my integrity!”
Han Min snorted softly: “I observe you as one observes the Wei River.”
Chancellor Jiang claims integrity, Han Min says its waters are muddy.
A young official behind Chancellor Jiang laughed, then was scolded by Chancellor Jiang: “You… you…”
Speechless, Chancellor Jiang finally whipped his sleeve: “Without rank and guilty, I am ashamed to be near you.”
Han Min retorted: “I didn’t know scholars were judged by rank. Does this make schemers the highest of scholars?”
Eunuch Yang brought a wooden tray with a red official robe.
Han Min stopped, noticing Fu Xun standing before him. He paused, calling: “Your Majesty?”
“Mm.”
Fu Xun stood, Eunuch Yang at his side.
Han Min saw a red robe—official attire, crimson.
Fu Xun held it, shook it open, glanced at him
Footnotes:
[1]Refers to the famous story “Zheng Zhuanggong subdues his rebellious brother Duan at Yan”.
Duan rebelled with the support of their mother, trying to seize power. Duke Zhuang waited until Duan revealed his full ambition, then sent troops to crush the rebellion at Yan.
