Chapter 31: “I’m So Scared”
Han Min stood on the steps, tilting his head slightly to look at Fu Xun. Before he could speak, someone approached from behind and bowed deeply.
“Your Majesty, Lord Han.”
Fu Xun released his chin. He turned his head and saw Chu Yu wink at him.
—Helping you out of trouble.
Then Chu Yu turned to Fu Xun, taking a folded document from his sleeve: “The roster of officials has already been organized. Please review it, Your Majesty.”
Fu Xun composed his expression: “Let’s discuss it in the study.”
Chu Yu followed, and as he left, he smiled at Han Min again.
—See you.
Han Min waved at him and returned alone to the side hall.
After changing into civilian clothes, Eunuch Yang brought water for him to wash his face and said, “A letter has arrived from Tongzhou. I’ve placed it on your desk.”
Han Min acknowledged him, washed his hands, and sat down to open the letter.
Eunuch Yang sat across from him, shelling walnuts to feed him.
Han Min often corresponded with his family, usually receiving a letter every few days, each a thick stack with multiple pages written by different family members.
Six-year-old Han Pei hadn’t learned many characters yet and only filled half a page.
His grandfather, always loyal and patriotic, didn’t urge him in the letter to serve the new emperor diligently. Instead, he advised him to act within his means, never overexert, and prioritize preserving himself.
Perhaps after experiencing the disaster of their household being seized, he had become more understanding—or maybe he simply worried for his grandson.
Most of the time, Grandpa Han reminded him to take care of his health.
He also reminded him to have Physician Liang check on his insomnia.
Han Min read through the letter, pulled out two sheets, and handed them to Eunuch Yang: “Last time, the imperial physician asked about my brother’s leg. My brother replied. Please make sure the message reaches him.”
Eunuch Yang stuffed a walnut into his mouth, folded the letter neatly, and tucked it into his bosom: “Alright.”
He paused for a moment: “Actually, writing letters like this is inconvenient. In my opinion, it’s better to bring everyone here sooner rather than later.”
Han Min nodded: “I was thinking the same thing.”
The the Duke of Gong had already been executed, and the day of the Han family’s rehabilitation should be near.
Even if immediate rehabilitation wasn’t possible, he could at least bring his family back first.
His grandfather was old and had lived in Yong’an for decades, with close friends all around. His elder brother’s leg needed treatment in Yong’an, and Pei would turn seven next year—the age to begin formal education. Staying in Tongzhou would be inconvenient.
Han Min grabbed a piece of paper and listed the conditions for bringing his family back.
First, they needed to reclaim the old residence and renovate it.
Summer was approaching, and the heat would make long-distance travel unbearable for the elderly; the move would have to wait until early autumn.
As for travel expenses and house repairs, the most important factor was money.
When he left, he had left all the money boxes at home. Now, he had to save again.
Han Min calculated in his mind the modest salary of a junior official.
Officials in the Great Qi dynasty didn’t earn much. They either relied on family estates or sought other sources of income.
Currently, Han Min relied on the few volumes of storybooks he wrote.
So he thought it best to finish submitting those volumes quickly. If he had time, writing a few more wouldn’t hurt.
However, writing these stories inside the palace was inconvenient; he would need to find a time to move out.
He didn’t know why, but his brother’s letters also urged him to move out of the palace soon.
So he wrote a reply to his family and then took out manuscript paper to start writing Volume Four of “The Emperor and the Censor: A Few Matters.”
Eunuch Yang happened to be shelling a plate of walnuts and pushed it toward him: “Eat quickly.”
“Mm.”
Han Min grabbed one, chewing thoughtfully. The parts about the emperor and the censor were mostly done; this volume could probably conclude the story. What should he write next?
He suddenly remembered seeing Chu Yu outside.
The charming, handsome, naturally smiling third-place scholar, also able to act in plays, known as the “Jade-Faced Gentleman” when in costume. (TNote: third-place scholar in the imperial examinations.)
Very good, very good.
Han Min stroked his chin thoughtfully. Well, sorry, Chu Third-Place Scholar.
The system suddenly asked: “Do you want to know the storyline of Fu Xun’s wife?”
“No…” Han Min hesitated, awkwardly: “Tell me.”
“The currently unlocked storyline reveals that Fu Xun and his wife were childhood sweethearts.”
Han Min instinctively said: “Nonsense! Where did he have a childhood sweetheart? If he had one, I’d know!”
“That’s what the control center says.”
“Anything else?”
“Fu Xun and his wife are very affectionate.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Han Min snorted and casually picked up his pen to doodle: “If he’s still the same temper as when he was a child, he wouldn’t be able to find a wife. Childhood sweetheart? No way he had one.”
The system said: “Aren’t you writing him little storybooks yourself? Why are you snorting?”
Han Min defended himself: “I’m not writing for him; I’m only referencing the character relationships. Literary creation must be separated from reality.”
Pairing characters in a story is fine; he knew the stories weren’t real.
But the system’s revealed storyline was supposedly real.
Han Min wracked his brain and still couldn’t see where Fu Xun had a childhood sweetheart.
Forget it. Han Min popped another walnut into his mouth, thinking no more.
He munched on walnuts until the plate was empty.
Eunuch Yang, thinking he loved them, cheerfully shelled more.
A few days later, it was the end of February.
The contract with Baishi Bookstore stipulated that Pine Smoke Ink Guest had to submit one manuscript per month.
But Pine Smoke Ink Guest was usually lazy and only panicked at the last minute. He holed up in the side hall for several days, finishing the fourth manuscript overnight.
—Volume Four of “The Emperor and the Censor: A Few Matters.”
At noon, after writing the last character, Han Min threw down his pen and stretched.
He organized the manuscript and wrapped it with a proper book cover for disguise.
At that moment, Eunuch Yang knocked on the door: “Min’er.”
Han Min wrapped the manuscript in blue cloth and replied: “Ah.”
He carried in a plate of peanut candies: “Here, eat.”
Han Min poked his stomach.
Eunuch Yang sat down: “What have you been busy with these past few days? I can’t understand it either.”
“Just some small things.” Han Min picked a peanut candy, crunching it: “Where did the emperor go today?”
“Seems like he went to the Duke of Gong’s mansion.”
Fu Xun had sent Wei Gui to inspect the Duke’s mansion and Jiang Huan to interrogate the Duke of Gong’s faction—something must have happened, prompting him to go.
Eunuch Yang added: “Oh, you asked for a wooden wheelchair last time. The craftsman delivered it. When should we send it to the Wen residence?”
“I’ll go check on Wen Yan later. Ask the kitchen to stew some pig’s trotters.” Han Min thought a moment: “Has Little Jizi returned?”
“Not yet; they’ll send someone to hurry him this afternoon.”
“After visiting Wen Yan, I’ll check on Little Jizi. He’s at the Duke of Gong’s mansion, right?”
“Probably.”
From the Marquis of Wenyuan’s residence to the Duke of Gong’s mansion, passing by Baishi Bookstore, he could stop briefly to deliver the manuscript.
Han Min swallowed a peanut candy. I really am smart.
—
Wen Yan was injured and couldn’t move easily, so he stayed in his original residence to recover.
The Marquis of Wenyuan, previously reprimanded by Fu Xun, had been more obedient lately.
When Han Min arrived, he was respectful.
Han Min bowed and went to find Wen Yan.
Wen Yan, supporting his injured leg, was lying sideways reading a book.
Because it was noon and warm, he seemed sleepy and barely conscious, eyes half-closed.
Han Min quietly entered, removed the book in front of him: “What are you reading, Master Wen? Let me see.”
“Ah, you’re here?”
Wen Yan now woke, propping himself up.
Han Min stood a pillow for him to lean against, then sat beside him.
Flipping through a couple of pages, he returned the book: “Boring. Reading Confucian classics while sick.”
Recently, Wen Yan had grown closer to him; they no longer sat in silence like before.
“What have you been reading lately?”
“I…”
I’ve been reading “The Emperor and the Censor: A Few Matters,” and writing it too.
Han Min quickly changed the topic: “I got a wooden wheelchair made for you. Do you want to see it?”
“Too lazy, later.”
“Alright. Also, I had pig’s trotters stewed for you. Eat now or leave it on the stove?”
Wen Yan asked softly: “Why pig’s trotters?”
“To heal the corresponding body part. Didn’t you know? Back when Fu Xun and I fought, I broke my arm, he broke his leg. His mother and mine…”
Han Min remembered Wen Yan’s mother had died early, so he stopped.
Wen Yan seemed not to notice, saying: “No wonder people said if children broke limbs, they’d grow improperly. You and the emperor are fine now, so pig’s trotters work. Thank you.”
“No need to be so formal. Are you feeling better? What did the imperial physician say?”
“Just need more recovery.”
“That’s good. Liang is excellent at treating broken legs. A little more rest and you’ll recover quickly.”
“Mm.”
After chatting a while, Han Min, initially leaning against the bed, gradually slid down and lay on the bamboo couch.
When Wen Yan tried to push him, he was already asleep.
Knowing Han Min had been overworked, Wen Yan didn’t wake him. He unfolded a blanket and covered him, then picked up a book to continue reading.
If Wen Yan knew Han Min’s fatigue was from staying up late to write storybooks—especially ones based on him—he would never have covered him.
Han Min still slept restlessly, often dreaming about their family’s home being seized.
He dreamed of being locked in a dark room for days without seeing daylight, eventually dragged out and pressed onto a wooden table.
Fu Xun rescued him, but beyond the palace walls, faint flickers of fire glimmered.
He asked Fu Xun what happened, but Fu Xun only touched his forehead and told him to sleep. After a short rest, everything would be fine.
Han Min woke with a start, instinctively reaching for the curtain in front of the couch—
He had hung the long sword Fu Xun gave him there.
After searching, he realized he wasn’t in the side hall of Funing Palace—he was in the Wen residence. No sword hung there.
He wiped his face, a thin layer of cold sweat on his brow.
Wen Yan, lowering his gaze, wasn’t sure whether to wake him, curiosity and confusion in his eyes.
Han Min sat up, clutching the blanket: “It’s okay. Just a bad dream.”
Wen Yan patted his back: “Dreaming of your family being raided?”
Han Min didn’t answer, just nodded.
He sat in thought. Wen Yan poured him a cup of hot tea and casually said: “Do you know why I didn’t like you before?”
Han Min sipped the tea and pouted: “Even if you don’t know what to say, don’t bring this topic up. If you stay silent, our relationship is fine.”
Wen Yan said to himself: “Because when the emperor was still a prince, he sacrificed so much for you. I always felt it wasn’t worth it for you.”
“Why think so much about me?”
“Because back then, to save you, the emperor burned down the Duke of Gong’s mansion. The late emperor was furious…”
Han Min spilled tea on his sleeve as he failed to hold the cup steady.
“How did you know what I dreamed?”
He thought it over, startled: “That wasn’t a dream!”
When Fu Xun carried him out, he was dazed and could barely open his eyes, let alone see clearly.
Only in nightmares did he relive those events.
The flames beyond the palace walls were faint and indistinct in the dream.
Han Min naturally didn’t think the fire was real, nor that Fu Xun burned anything. He dismissed it as imagination.
Seeing his shock, Wen Yan asked: “You didn’t know?”
Han Min shook his head: “I thought it was just a dream.”
“Then where do you think you were held?”
Han Min naturally: “In the palace’s chastity quarters.”
Wen Yan glanced at him complexly and said helplessly: “So you remembered everything wrong.”
“What?”
Han Min wanted to ask more, but a young servant entered with medicine: “Master, it’s time for your medicine.”
Han Min checked the time; it was late.
He stood to leave: “I’ll take my leave first.”
After bidding Wen Yan goodbye, Han Min left the Marquis of Wenyuan’s residence, touching the manuscript hidden in his sleeve.
He told Eunuch Yang: “Let’s go check on Little Jizi.”
Passing Baishi Bookstore, Han Min lifted the curtain to stop the carriage.
“I’ll pick two books for Grandpa. Carriage traffic is inconvenient. Please wait here for me.”
The street was crowded, making turning the carriage tricky.
Eunuch Yang: “Want me to accompany you?”
“No, I’ll be back soon.”
Han Min jumped down and walked into the crowd.
It was crowded. In Guoxiao Lane, no feasting or gathering was allowed, so he had to pass time with storybooks.
Plus, Pine Smoke Ink Guest’s new edition had just been printed, attracting many buyers.
Entering the bookstore, the young clerk recognized him and led him to the back yard.
Mr. Ge was there, reviewing a manuscript for a scholar-like man.
The clerk called out; Mr. Ge looked up and saw Han Min: “You’re here?”
Han Min handed over the blue-wrapped manuscript: “This month’s manuscript.”
Mr. Ge flipped through two pages: “I was looking forward to seeing it.”
“Any news on my grandfather’s manuscript?”
Mr. Ge shook his head regretfully: “Not yet. I’ll have them keep looking. We’ll find some eventually.”
“Alright, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
A scholar standing next to him bowed to Han Min, who returned the gesture.
Han Min asked Mr. Ge: “Are you working at Baishi Bookstore now?”
Mr. Ge smiled: “Yes, thanks to you, I don’t need to go out fortune-telling, and I can drink as much as I want. When I first met you, I knew you were my benefactor.”
He added: “If you need anything, just tell me; I’ll help.”
Han Min thought: “Actually, there is one thing. In Yong’an City, there’s a Gouchen Street. Starting from the third house, if you have time, check if it’s been sold. I won’t take money from the storybooks; if it’s enough, help me buy that house.”
That had been the Han family residence in Yong’an City for over a decade.
Mr. Ge agreed: “Alright, I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thank you. Others are waiting, so I’ll go first.”
the Duke of Gong’s mansion had long been confiscated.
Wei Gui stationed people there.
When the carriage stopped, Wei Gui was holding his helmet by the pillar, joking with soldiers.
Hearing the carriage, he turned.
Seeing Han Min lift the curtain, he hurried over: “What are you doing here?”
Han Min jumped down: “Checking on Little Jizi.”
Wei Gui, smiling before, now pouted: “So heartless.”
Han Min looked around: “Where is he?”
Wei Gui placed his helmet on Han Min’s head without a word.
Startled, Han Min reached up: “It’s all your sweat; I don’t want it.”
Wei Gui pressed it down: “You look good in it—like a Confucian general.”
He led Han Min inside. Others asked: “General Wei, who is this?”
Wei Gui patted Han Min’s shoulder, loudly: “My good friend—”
Formally introducing: “Exceptionally talented and knowledgeable. The literary star above, Han Min below.”
Han Min joked back: “No match for the invincible, unparalleled Martial Star, General Wei of Great Qi.”
Everyone laughed, and Wei Gui led him in.
After passing the screen wall, the crowd thinned, and Wei Gui said: “That’s Yang Mian, Little Jizi. Weren’t you looking for his sister?”
“Mm, didn’t find her?”
Wei Gui shook his head: “That night, we checked all the duke’s concubines. No luck. We learned his sister left three months ago.”
Han Min was shocked: “I see…”
“She caught lung disease, was sent to a rural estate, died after a year, and was hastily buried outside.”
“So…”
“She’s been searching for her remains these past days.”
“Good. If you see him, tell him not to rush back to the palace. Anything he needs, he can come to me.”
Wei, arms crossed: “If he asks, I’ll help. No need for you to worry.”
Hearing this, Han Min felt a heavy gloom.
Wei Gui comforted him: “Fortunately, the Duke of Gong has fallen.”
Han Min sighed: “Just three months too late.”
Wei Gui changed the topic: “Do you know where the Duke of Gong is held?”
“Hm?” Han Min looked up. “Not in the Tian Prison? Somewhere else?”
“You wouldn’t guess—he’s in secret rooms under the artificial hill in their backyard.”
Wei Gui stepped forward: “He’s to be executed after autumn. He’s in the dark rooms now. Who knows how many people were held there—it’s his own doing.”
‘Dark room.’
Not a comforting word. Han Min’s brow twitched.
Seeing him silent, Wei Gui guessed he remembered something from the past and didn’t continue.
“By the way, the emperor came to interrogate him. He’s still there. It’s getting late. Want to return to the palace with the emperor?”
Han Min nodded.
Just then, Jiang Huan walked over from nearby.
Fu Xun had sent him to interrogate the Duke of Gong, so it wasn’t surprising.
After greetings, Wei Gui asked: “Going back now, Lord Jiang?”
“Yes, likely school is over too.”
Han Min was puzzled; what did the academy have to do with it?
Jiang Huan explained: “I stood by the emperor, angering Chancellor Jiang. Haven’t gone home these days. Needed some space.”
Daring to leave one’s father hanging.
Han Min silently gave a thumbs-up. Jiang Huan was cool.
He continued: “I’m temporarily living at the Liu residence.”
Glancing at Wei Gui, he frowned and tapped his head: “Don’t give me that pitiful look. Staying at Liu’s is fine.”
Wei Gui looked confused. Jiang Huan explained quietly: “Chu Yu wanted to interrogate the Duke of Gong at the rear of Fengqian Hall, but the emperor gave it to me. Likely afraid my father would interfere with the official roster. Moving out avoids suspicion.”
Wei Gui and Han Min simultaneously gave thumbs-up.
“Brother Jiang, strong.”
“Brother Jiang, cool.”
Jiang Huan smiled helplessly, then looked at Han Min: “Your Brother Liu misses you too. When will you move there? The three of us haven’t been together in a long time.”
Han Min nodded: “Alright, convey my regards to Brother Liu.”
After seeing Jiang Huan off, Wei Gui said: “Let’s go; I’ll take you to the emperor.”
“Good.”
Passing the Moon Gate, Wei Gui spotted his younger brother, Wei Huan.
He waved: “Black Pig, come here.”
Wei Huan pouted. Seeing Han Min, he was even more embarrassed.
He steadied his waist sword and stepped forward quietly: “Brother, can you not call me that in front of others?”
Wei Gui: “Is your Han Second Brother an ‘other’?”
Han Min waved: “I heard nothing, don’t be shy, Black Pig.”
Wei Huan nearly cried.
The Black Pig cried.
Wei Gui told his brother: “Go to the dark room and see if the emperor is done. If you can speak, tell him Han Min came to go back with him.”
“Understood.”
Han Min rubbed his face, trying not to look too tense at the word “dark room.”
As dusk fell, recalling the dark room from before, his legs felt heavy and immovable.
If he had known the Duke of Gong mansion also had dark rooms, he wouldn’t have come.
Han Min took a deep breath, reassuring himself: Don’t be afraid, Han Min. This isn’t the palace chastity quarters dark room. Fu Xun is here; he’ll be here soon, very soon.
Author’s note:
In the Great Qi kindergarten, little Min Min hugs his teddy bear on the bed: I… my bedmate is Third Brother. He’ll be back soon. He… he’s really amazing.
