Chapter 29: Innocence and Charm
Blood ran down Fu Quan’s right palm, pooling at his fingertips.
The Fengqian Hall was utterly silent, except for the faint sound of blood droplets hitting the floor, like the ticking of a night watch.
Han Min was still stunned, turning to look at Fu Xun, who was holding his hand and had taught him how to draw a bow and shoot an arrow.
—He was very different from the Fu Xun he thought he knew.
Fu Xun leaned close to his ear and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong?”
Han Min came back to his senses, shook his head, and looked toward Fu Quan.
Civil officials ruled the court without shedding blood. Han Min had never imagined he would witness blood in the court.
Lost in thought, he suddenly felt Fu Xun lift his hand.
He drew the heavy bow; the arrow cut through the air.
Fu Quan’s face was slick with cold sweat. He opened his mouth but could not scream.
He watched helplessly as the arrow flew toward him, forgetting even to dodge.
With a sharp sound, the arrowhead pierced through his ceremonial headpiece, pinning him to the hall door behind him.
Fu Xun reluctantly released Han Min’s hand, gesturing for the guards to take him away.
A guard stepped forward, trying to pull the arrow from the door.
Fu Quan leaned against the door. The door creaked, and the guard could not budge the arrow.
Fu Xun exerted full strength; the arrowhead had gone too deep. The guard finally had to break the arrow to free Fu Quan.
His legs trembling, Fu Quan could barely stand and was dragged away.
The court officials remained kneeling, not making a sound.
Fu Xun put down his longbow and said coldly, “It’s late. You may all return.”
The officials breathed a sigh of relief. Before they could kowtow and give thanks, Fu Xun said, “Tonight, you all followed the Duke of Gong to coerce the throne. Were you influenced by him, or were you his accomplices?”
The officials hurried to reply, “Naturally, we were misled by the Duke of Gong. He committed patricide, a crime condemned by heaven and earth. Had we known, we would never have…”
Fu Xun raised a hand slightly to stop them.
The hall fell silent again.
“I don’t have the energy to investigate each of you. Write a memorial individually and submit it. How does that sound?”
The officials quickly kowtowed, their foreheads striking the terrazzo floor with loud thuds.
Fu Xun looked at his subordinates and nodded to a deputy general: “Escort these officials back to their residences.”
The deputy saluted and stepped forward.
Then a small line of soldiers came up, two standing behind each official, serious in tone but with mocking expressions.
“Please, gentlemen.” The officials, kneeling for a long time, slowly got up, trying not to admit their legs were numb, and were carefully guided out by the soldiers.
“Mind yourselves, if you fall on the steps and knock out your teeth, I’d be worried.”
The speaker looked brave, but the officials were even more afraid.
They forced a strained smile, voice trembling, “Thank you… thank you.”
Han Min watched quietly for a while, then said softly, “Even if Wen Yan didn’t come, I wouldn’t. His Majesty doesn’t mind. Everything’s already arranged, just like in Liuzhou before.”
Fu Xun handed the longbow to Eunuch Yang and glanced at him. “He does care.”
He thought for a moment. “You on the Golden Hall podium… looked very… striking.”
Perhaps it was a compliment.
But what a strange way to put it! Han Min frowned.
Calling him spirited or heroic would make sense—what did “striking” mean?
Fu Xun looked him up and down again. Indeed, he looked good.
He withdrew his gaze, looking at a few loyal officers still in the hall. He said to Eunuch Yang, “Invite a few gentlemen to the rear hall.”
The group included two civil officials and two military generals.
The two civil officials had helped Han Min earlier in the hall: the scholar Chu Yu, and Jiang Huan, son of Chancellor Jiang.
The two generals: Li Shu, an adopted prince who had forced him to take the emperor’s last edict from the late emperor’s coffin; and Wei Gui, elder brother of Wei Huan.
Fu Xun looked at Han Min: “You come too.”
Han Min was pleasantly surprised, nodding vigorously: “Yes.”
Adorable, Fu Xun wanted to ruffle his hair but refrained due to the official hat.
Han Min followed him to the rear hall.
After a few steps, someone squeezed beside him and bumped his elbow.
Han Min turned and quietly called, “Little General Wei.”
It was Wei Gui, Wei Huan’s older brother, same age as Han Min. They grew up together.
When the Han family was in trouble, he pleaded for Han Min, angering the late emperor, who dismissed him.
Now, seeing him in armor, Han Min guessed Fu Xun had promoted him.
Happy to see his friend back in court, Han Min greeted him as “little general.”
Wei Gui bumped his shoulder: “Back, huh?”
Han Min rubbed his shoulder, stepping aside, whispering, “Mind the armor—it hurts.”
Wei Gui smiled. “Recently, Ah Huan sent word that he saw you in Liuzhou. I planned to visit you after the mourning, but you arrived first. Made a bit of a show in front of the scholars just now?”
“Not really. I just temporarily stepped in.”
Han Min held out his hand. “See? My palms are sweaty, I can’t compare to General Wei’s bravery.”
“No, not at all.”
“If you restrained your smile, I might really believe it.”
They reached the rear hall.
Fu Xun sat at the main seat. Officials bowed individually, and he said, “No need for ceremony.” He hadn’t invited Han Min to sit yet, but Wei Gui pulled him to a table.
What were they doing? Did they even care about the emperor?
Wei Gui sat Han Min down. The other three took their seats at low tables. Eunuch Yang brought in tea and snacks.
It was late; everyone must be hungry.
The attendant served Han Min, kneeling behind him to attend to his tea and snacks.
After a short pause, Fu Xun looked at Prince Li Shu: “Organize the late emperor’s burial at Mingshan. Handle it personally.”
Li Shu set down his cup and straightened: “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll arrange the coffin to Mingshan tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, Wei Gui whispered to Han Min: “Uncle hasn’t married yet; I’m worried sick.”
Li Shu was ten years older; they had played together at the military camp as kids, so they called him “Uncle Li.”
Fu Xun then turned to the two civil officials:
“Two tasks: one is interrogating the Duke of Gong, the other drafting a list of usable officials. Each of you handle one.”
Chu Yu dabbed his lips with a handkerchief, about to speak.
Wei Gui continued: “You don’t recognize him. He’s last year’s top scholar, Chu Yu, handpicked by the late emperor.”
From his looks, he seemed calm, bright, a “prosperous era” type. Charming since childhood, like a painted doll.
The late emperor must have liked him, and the top scholar was chosen based on appearance.
So selecting him was not surprising.
Wei Gui added, “Though he can be a bit reckless, a bit dizzy-headed sometimes.”
Chu Yu earnestly said, “I’ve dreamed since childhood to serve as a Dali Temple Minister, to interrogate criminals.” [1]
Fu Xun looked up. “Good.”
Chu Yu quickly thanked him. Before he could stand, Fu Xun knocked on the desk: “By this time tomorrow, deliver the official list to the study.”
Chu Yu frowned, clearly reluctant, and obeyed with Jiang Huan.
Wei Gui told Han Min: “Senior Jiang has always served His Majesty. He didn’t tell you to avoid exposing himself.”
Han Min nodded. “I see now.”
In school, Jiang Huan was their senior. Later, his father, Chancellor Jiang, worked with Fu Quan, so Han Min assumed Jiang Huan had switched sides too. Though previously close, the Han family had old enmity with Fu Quan, so Han Min hadn’t spoken much.
Unexpectedly, he was a spy. From the Chancellor’s reaction, it seemed Jiang Huan acted on his own.
The civil officials accepted their tasks, sat back, and Fu Xun turned to Wei Gui, “Wei Gui, take men to search the Duke of Gong’s mansion.”
Wei Gui was talking about changes in Yong’an City for two years. Hearing Fu Xun, he quickly straightened and saluted: “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He left with the attendant, chatting freely.
“Who are you looking for at the Duke of Gong’s mansion?”
“Are you close with Han Min?”
“Yes? Is that better than my closeness with Han Min?”
The attendant didn’t know how to respond, just smiled along.
Fu Xun waved his hand: “Everyone, disperse.”
The group rose, bowed, and left. Han Min was walking smoothly when Chu Yu tugged his sleeve:
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Chu Yu. Your name?”
“Pleasure, Han Min.”
Not understanding the character, Han Min traced it in his palm.
Chu Yu realized: “Ah, ‘Min’ as in ‘using literature as the heart.’”
Jiang Huan also looked: “Han Min, long time no see.”
Han Min nodded: “Senior Jiang.”
Chu Yu laughed: “We’re colleagues now. Next time, I’ll take you to see an opera.”
Jiang Huan wisely stayed back, leaving Han Min clueless as Chu Yu eagerly chatted.
“I didn’t want to be an official. My family forced me to take the exam; I scribbled a bit and became top scholar. But I liked acting. After performing, they called me the ‘Jade-faced Scholar.’”
Han Min was surprised. “Wow!”
“What plays do you like?”
“‘Swallow Cuts the Willow’ is good, ‘The Joyful Knot’ is okay too.”
“Perfect, we have the exact same taste.”
Han Min enthusiastically responded, unlike Jiang Huan who was indifferent. Chu Yu’s eyes lit up, sticking to him.
Fu Xun walked ahead silently.
After sending Wei Gui away, Chu Yu appeared—annoying.
The fun was theirs, but the emperor had nothing.
Walking along the corridor to Fengqian Hall, Fu Xun called back: “Everyone return.”
Chu Yu suddenly spoke up: “Your Majesty, I’ve spied on the Duke of Gong for years. Even if I have no merit, I have effort. I request a favor.”
Fu Xun looked up: “Speak.”
“I wish to—”
Chu Yu pointed at Han Min, winking.
Fu Xun’s face instantly darkened.
Dare you say that again?
Chu Yu gasped: “—observe Han Min’s memorial presentation in Fengqian Hall.”
Han Min felt the paper in his sleeve, shaking his head: “This can’t be.”
Chu Yu earnestly: “Seeing Han Min speak in the hall, impassioned, I wish to see it myself.”
Han Min stepped back: “No, next time. I’ll show you when it’s ready.”
It wasn’t his style to withhold.
Sensing something, Fu Xun grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer, snatched the paper from his sleeve, and glanced at it.
The memorial—perhaps not truly a memorial—was just a shell.
Inside were no contents Han Min had spoken of, only a few large characters:
A “wen” repeatedly traced.
Han Min explained: “I was teaching the attendant characters. This is practice paper. I don’t have Wen Yan’s memorial, don’t know what he planned to say. This was just to scare the Duke of Gong.”
Since Fu Xun had smashed the incense burner, Wen Yan no longer discussed revisions with him, so no draft existed.
Chu Yu hesitated: “So all those accusations in the hall… were improvised?”
Han Min’s eyes were clear and honest: “Pretty much.”
Chu Yu gasped, clutching his chest, then shook Han Min’s hand: “Unbelievable! How did the emperor hide such a treasure so long?”
Unable to understand literati emotions, Fu Xun tossed the paper at him, frowning: “If you want to see it, see it. Let go of my hand.”
Reluctantly, Chu Yu released him, asking Fu Xun: “Your Majesty, what post does Han Min hold?”
“Court Attendant.”
“I also want—”
Fu Xun shot him a cold glance.
Chu Yu shrank his neck: “Never mind, I don’t.”
Funing Palace and the exit followed different paths. Chu Yu, Jiang Huan, and Li Shu bowed and left. Han Min returned with Fu Xun.
Before going far, Fu Xun said: “Your official robe…”
Han Min touched the brocade, hesitating, then guessed the emperor’s intention: “Shall I return it after washing?”
Fu Xun said: “Keep it if you like. No need to return.”
“Yes.”
It was more than clothing; it was an official post.
Han Min kept a straight face, while Han Jiaojiao internally did a little penguin dance.
Yes! Grandfather, brother, mother, ancestors of the Han family—I’m an official!
Fu Xun said again: “When we slept together before, I measured your figure while you slept, and had the robe made. If it doesn’t fit, we’ll adjust.”
He spoke casually, yet everyone nearby heard.
Jiang Huan and Li Shu pretended not to hear, but paused.
Chu Yu, always outspoken, immediately turned back.
Han Min glanced back; Jiang Huan and Li Shu also turned.
They exchanged puzzled looks.
Han Min froze.
Oh no! Grandfather, brother, mother, ancestors—Fu Xun is favoring me again.
Fu Xun cheerfully pulled him along.
Han Min could only shake his head vigorously—I’m not a demon concubine, really!
Chu Yu gave a reassuring look—I know, don’t worry, I won’t misunderstand.
Then Han Min was led away.
Chu Yu, after Han Min left, took out a handkerchief, pressing it to his eyes to wipe nonexistent tears.
Jiang Huan glanced: “What are you doing?”
Chu Yu: “This little scholar is pitiful.”
Jiang Huan smirked: “You came last year, don’t know the story.”
“What?”
“The emperor fights him fiercely; they aren’t close privately. The emperor likes to bully him.”
Chu Yu doubted.
Jiang Huan rolled his eyes: “Ask the Duke of Gong. When they were young, he never let them play together, afraid they’d fight instantly.”
Li Shu, silent until now, thought: “Yes, they often fought. Now the emperor rules; Han Min dares less.”
Chu Yu still didn’t believe: “This is bullying? Just this?”
At the palace gates, carriages waited. Jiang Huan went to one with a lantern bearing the character “Liu,” lifting the curtain and entering.
The carriage rolled along the long, stone-paved street under a faint midnight moon.
Back at Funing Palace, Wei Huan returned after searching for Wen Yan.
He reported: “Your Majesty, Wen Yan has been found. Fu Quan had him bound this evening. Scholars wrote a counter-memorial based on Wen Yan’s original.”
The literary quarrel seemed simple, but making it to the Golden Hall was no easy task. The political currents below were turbulent and unpredictable. Han Min didn’t follow Wen Yan’s prepared memorial, leaving Fu Quan unprepared.
Wei Huan continued: “Wen Yan was imprisoned in the Duke of Gong’s mansion. One leg broken, he crawled out through a ditch. When found, he asked if the task was done. I said yes; he fainted from pain.”
Fu Xun pondered: “Have all imperial doctors attend. Get any medicine needed. Tell him the Censorate seat is reserved. Let him recover properly.”
“Yes.”
Seeing Han Min about to speak, Fu Xun said: “The situation outside is chaotic. Wen Yan’s house cannot attend to you. Wait a few days.”
Han Min thought: “I should go now. Their household seems unstable. Wen Yan suffered for Your Majesty; I should check on him.”
Fu Xun did not object: “If you wish, go tomorrow morning.”
“Fine.”
They sat together on the couch. On the table, a small incense burner released thin smoke.
After a pause, Han Min said: “It’s late; I’ll leave first…”
Fu Xun asked: “Sleeping well recently?”
Han Min nodded: “Yes. The incense burner and sword from Your Majesty help a lot.”
Placed beside his couch and the sword in the canopy, Han Min slept better.
Fu Xun continued: “You’ve met my scholars.”
Han Min recalled, nodding.
“Wen Yan is straightforward, sometimes rigid. There were misunderstandings…”
Han Min curved his eyes: “We’ll reconcile. No one is bad.”
“Jiang Huan, son of Chancellor Jiang, has served me for many years.”
“Senior Jiang…I really didn’t notice before.” Han Min touched his nose.
“Jiang Huan is deep, capable of succeeding his father as chancellor.”
Han Min still nodded.
“And Chu Yu. Born frivolous, I intend to let him serve a few years as a minor official to temper him.”
Han Min nodded, unsure why he was being told this.
Fu Xun said seriously: “Wen Yan is rigid, Jiang Huan deep, Chu Yu frivolous. You are…too…adorable. Don’t mingle with them—stay by my side.”
Han Min froze, then tilted his face: “Your Majesty, did I hear that right?”
Fu Xun’s expression changed. He couldn’t resist, pulling off Han Min’s official hat, ruffling his hair.
He said loudly: “You are adorable! Understand?”
Han Min had been rushing out, under twenty, hair unbound, now messy from the emperor’s ruffling.
He looked up at the emperor: “Ah?”
Fu Xun patiently held a lock of his hair: “Not like a kitten or puppy, but the innocent charm of a scholar. Understand?”
Han Min instinctively: “Wow! You appreciate my inner beauty! You didn’t say this when I was little…”
He paused, holding back laughter: “…I mean, Your Majesty has truly discerning eyes.”
Candlelight reflected in Han Min’s eyes. Complimented by the emperor, the little scholar felt a bit proud.
—I feel like I’m going to float!
Author’s Note:
Min Min: floating
Old Fu: (holding wife)
(By the way, a reminder to everyone, including but not limited to Wei Gui, Chu Yu, Wen Yan) Han Min is mine, already shared a bed, don’t get ideas.
Footnotes:
[1] The term can also refer to historical ministers who served in the Dali Temple, the highest judicial court in imperial China, but there are no current public records for a “Dali Temple Minister” as this is a historical role.
