Chapter 32: Incense Burner and Long Sword
In the northwest corner of the Duke of Gong’s mansion garden, beneath the rockery, there were several hidden chambers.
This place was originally very secluded. Before the search, Fu Xun had deliberately hinted to Wei Gui, who then found an inconspicuous iron ring on the ground.
Pulling up the iron ring revealed that the stone slabs on the garden floor were loose. Moving them aside and descending the narrow stone steps led to three side-by-side hidden chambers.
The chambers were cramped; the corridors allowed only single-file passage.
The rooms themselves were extremely narrow—stretch out your hands slightly and you could touch both walls.
Hidden deep underground, these chambers had never seen daylight, and the cold was bone-chilling.
It was impossible to know how many people had been imprisoned here in the past.
Now Fu Quan himself was confined here, a sort of karmic retribution.
Two candles flickered faintly on wall-mounted sconces.
Fu Quan’s hands and feet were bound with chains embedded into the walls.
He sat in a corner, the hollow of blood in his right palm caked with coagulated blood.
Fu Xun sat opposite him, leaning against the chair, hands clasped and feet propped up, his gaze sharp and cold.
No one else was present.
Fu Xun looked at him coldly: “I’ll ask you one last time. When the late emperor passed, what did he instruct you to do?”
Fu Quan gave no answer; he merely lifted his eyelids and glanced at him, eyes calm and unreadable.
At that moment, Wei Huan knocked on the iron door from outside: “Your Majesty, Lord Han is here. It’s getting late; shall we return together?”
Fu Xun straightened: “Where is he now?”
Through the door, Wei Huan replied: “Should be past the Crescent Moon Gate. My brother is with him.”
Fu Xun, however, seemed a little tense: “Don’t let him in. I’ll go out to meet him.”
He stood up to leave.
In the corner, Fu Quan let out a cold, humorless laugh.
“No wonder.”
His tone was flat, without inflection.
Fu Xun paused and looked back at him.
He seemed to be muttering to himself, or perhaps speaking in an unconscious whisper.
“I see… I see… You like him. But the late emperor despised the Han family. He could not tolerate them, could not tolerate Han Min, and certainly could not tolerate your affection for him. The late emperor’s restless spirit… you’ll never have him, you’ll never…”
His voice trailed off into inaudibility.
Fu Xun ground his molars, but did not strike him. Instead, he walked to the candle on the wall and snuffed out the dim flame.
Fu Quan looked up; the light in his eyes dimmed further.
Then he saw Fu Xun move to the opposite sconce, pick up the only remaining candle in the chamber, and walk toward him.
In front of Fu Quan, he extinguished that candle as well. Darkness enveloped the chamber, without a single glimmer of light.
Fu Quan let out a hoarse, low growl from his throat. Fu Xun said nothing, tossing the extinguished candle in front of him before turning and leaving.
The iron door slammed shut, leaving Fu Quan alone.
Before long, the endless darkness became unbearable. He groped for the candle on the ground, held it to his chest, and rattled his chains.
He did not know what words could plead for mercy, only letting out beastly roars.
No one answered. After shouting for a while, he collapsed weakly against the corner.
He knew clearly why Fu Xun had not locked him in the palace dungeon but here instead.
Fu Xun was taking revenge for Han Min.
Han Min had been confined here before—he might not remember, but Fu Xun did.
That was why, when Wei Huan said Han Min had arrived, Fu Xun was particularly tense.
—
Outside the rockery, Han Min idly balanced on a stone, boredom in his movements.
Wei Gui stood beside him, chatting casually.
Han Min remembered what Wen Yan had told him in the afternoon—that Fu Xun had set fire to the Duke of Gong’s mansion for him.
He himself barely recalled the details, wanting to ask Wen Yan, but there hadn’t been time; he had rushed to submit manuscripts at the bookstore.
So he kept it in his heart for the moment, planning to ask later.
After some thought, he surmised only one possibility:
At that time, he had not been confined in the palace at all.
Han Min asked Wei Gui: “Hey, wasn’t the Duke of Gong’s mansion burned once? Where exactly was burned?”
Wei Gui looked around, then pointed southeast: “There, at the main gate…”
Before he could finish, someone tugged Han Min’s belt, pulling him off the stone.
Fu Xun held him by the waist, guiding him down.
“Let’s go back.”
Fu Xun looked down and saw the tips of his fingers, smeared with black soot from the candle.
He subtly wiped the marks on his sleeve, eyes faintly smiling when he looked up.
As if casually asking, he said: “What would you like for dinner? I’ll have them prepare it early.”
Behind them, the attendants were replacing the stone slabs over the hidden chamber, dragging them with a loud clatter.
The sound made Han Min flinch. He remembered it clearly—two years ago, confined in a dark chamber, hearing exactly that sound when lifted out.
He had always thought he was imprisoned in the palace eunuch quarters.
Now the timing and place clearly did not match.
If he had been in the palace, how could Fu Xun have detoured to the Duke of Gong’s mansion to start a fire to rescue him?
It was obvious: he had been confined in the Duke of Gong’s mansion, which was why Fu Xun had set fire to save him.
Fu Xun seemed to realize this as well.
Recalling the darkness of those days, Han Min felt the blackness suffocating his chest.
He closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, Fu Xun was frowning at him.
Han Min shook his head: “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
Seeing him pale, Fu Xun supported his waist with one hand and lifted him as before, just like rescuing him back then.
Wei Gui watched behind, puzzled: “Did I miss something important?”
Wei Huan patted his brother’s shoulder: “I’ll go first.”
Then hurried after Fu Xun.
Wei Gui muttered, twisting his hand: “No way… They used to fight so fiercely. If they’re getting along now, I’ll eat noodles upside-down… and even drink the soup.”
—
Predicting Han Min would not want to stay in the mansion, Fu Xun carried him straight out to the waiting carriage.
Han Min held a tea cup, warmth easing him as he settled his mind.
Anyone cut off from the outside world for several days would feel uneasy; he had spent days alone in a pitch-black chamber, waiting for death.
He sipped the hot tea twice.
Fu Xun watched him, brushing away the fine sweat from his forehead.
Han Min thanked him, swallowing a large sip. Seeing Fu Xun there made him feel safer.
He asked: “Wen Yan told me the emperor burned the Duke of Gong’s mansion once.”
Fu Xun asked back: “You didn’t know?”
Han Min shook his head: “I was dizzy at the time. Later, I thought it was a dream.”
“Not remembering is fine. It wasn’t important.”
Han Min pondered a moment: “I always thought I was in the palace then.”
Fu Xun explained: “At that time, Fu Rang wanted to rescue you, pleading with the late emperor to let you go to his mansion. But Fu Quan intervened, and the late emperor gave you to him.”
Then Han Min was brought from the prison to the underground chamber in the Duke of Gong’s mansion.
He had been dazed and did not know where he was.
He had thought he was in the palace, and the firelight in dreams seemed distant and vague.
He thought perhaps the firelight was imaginary, a creation of his mind.
Han Min wanted to ask more, but Fu Xun did not wish to explain, handing him a clean cloth: “Rest for a while; we’ll arrive soon.”
Han Min accepted the cloth, leaning against the carriage wall with eyes closed.
Closing his eyes did not help; he folded the cloth into a strip over his eyes.
The candlelight flickered in his mind’s eye.
Soon, the carriage stopped.
Fu Xun thought he had slept, lifted the curtain, and motioned to the eunuch outside: “Make another loop.”
Han Min uncovered his eyes: “Are we there?”
Fu Xun lowered the curtain, expression unchanged: “Not yet, just the palace gates. Rest a bit more.”
The carriage circled again and stopped in front of Funing Palace.
Fu Xun removed the cloth and called softly: “Han Min?”
Han Min blinked, eyes clear. He had not slept; perhaps he had not closed his eyes at all, staring blankly at the candlelight.
He was truly terrified of the dark.
Fu Xun wiped the corner of his eye; Han Min nearly cried.
—
Feeling uneasy, Han Min barely ate dinner.
Returning to his side hall, Eunuch Yang served a calming medicinal soup.
“Drink this and rest. I’ll stay outside tonight. Call if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
Eunuch Yang watched over him, urging him to sleep rather than read or write, letting him wash and get into bed.
For days, Han Min had relied on a small incense burner and a long sword to sleep. Both items were Fu Xun’s.
He used a small lotus-shaped copper spoon to place two incense pellets into the burner, releasing a calming fragrance similar to Fu Xun’s.
He went to the bed, removed the long sword hanging in front of the canopy, and drew it slightly. The cool steel reflected his eyes.
Sheathing it with a clang, he hung the sword back and climbed into bed.
Tonight, however, neither the medicine nor the sword worked.
He lay flat, staring at the cloud patterns on the canopy ceiling.
Sleeping poorly these past days had been a rare blessing.
He activated the system: “System, do you have a book with over a thousand chapters?”
“Encyclopedia Britannica.”
“You forgot—I’ve read that already.”
“You should fix this habit. Or you’ll die young.”
Han Min had an idea: “If I relax next to Fu Xun, maybe I can sleep hugging him.”
The system was speechless.
Han Min knew he couldn’t; he sighed, arranged the blanket, and tried to sleep.
The system sang lullabies: “Fu Xun is next door. Don’t be afraid. Sleep peacefully.”
Han Min laughed: “Stop singing. You’re off-key.”
“I’m a literary system. No music plugin installed. If you don’t like it, ask Fu Xun to sing.”
Han Min got up, intending to speak with Eunuch Yang.
The outer room glowed with candlelight. Eunuch Yang sat cross-legged, reading.
Han Min tiptoed to him: “What are you doing?”
Eunuch Yang, startled: “You’re not asleep yet?”
Han Min shook his head: “Can’t sleep.”
Eunuch Yang moved aside, making a soft spot for him to sit with blankets and cushions.
Han Min leaned beside him: “What are you reading?”
“Your grandfather’s letters. He knew I couldn’t read much, so he wrote in a fancy style on purpose.”
“Shall I read it for you?”
“No need.”
Eunuch Yang pointed at a small old booklet: “Your grandfather compiled a character book for me. I just compare characters and read.”
Han Min propped his head: “Hmm.”
Brightening the candlelight, Eunuch Yang continued reading, casually asking: “Can’t sleep again?”
“Yes.”
“Want something to eat?”
“No, just want someone to talk to.”
Eunuch Yang patted his hair: “Little one, tomorrow we’ll have Old Liang come by to check on you.”
Han Min nodded silently, staring into the candle flames, feeling safer.
After a while, Eunuch Yang closed the book with a snap:
“Old Han talks nonsense, wasting my whole night.”
Han Min smiled: “You’ve known my grandfather many years, right?”
“Yes.” Eunuch Yang recalled: “He once dared to block the emperor way with a broken book. If I hadn’t shouted ‘Stop,’ he’d have been cut into pieces. I handed up the final report myself.”
Han Min: “Then he taught you literacy. Why didn’t you learn?”
Eunuch Yang whispered: “I was busy attending to emperors. If I learned, I couldn’t serve three generations.”
Han Min realized: “You were much smarter than just learning to read.”
Eunuch Yang smiled, signaling silence. Han Min nodded.
After a pause, Han Min recalled: “This afternoon, Wen Yan said two years ago our house was raided and the emperor burned the Duke of Gong’s mansion. I asked Fu Xun, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I thought it was a dream.”
“I thought so too.”
“Huh?”
Eunuch Yang: “So strange. I’ve never seen anyone burn a prince’s mansion in the palace.”
He recalled: “On the way, the late emperor asked him why the current emperor burned down his residence. Duke Gong said, ‘For you.’ At that time, Duke Gong had taken you from the late emperor. The emperor was still leading troops in the northwest. He returned to Yong’an at night and went to find you before even entering the palace. He set fire to the gate of Duke Gong’s residence and said—”
At that moment, Fu Xun shot down the lantern in front of Duke Gong’s mansion with an arrow: “If I can’t find Han Min, no one in this mansion needs to leave.”
Fu Quan deliberately prevented anyone from putting out the fire. So that fire burned almost half of Duke Gong’s Mansion, turning the main gate of the mansion to ashes.
Eunuch Yang continued: “When I arrived with the late emperor, His Majesty had already found you. Originally, Duke Gong took you away only to make you a servant. I thought that since he had some past relationship with you, he wouldn’t make things too difficult for you. Who knew he would torture you so severely. You were so badly tortured that you were barely recognizable, as light as a wisp of smoke. It broke my heart to see you like that.”
Han Min: “But I remember the firelight seemed far away…”
Eunuch Yang: “You asked him back then what the firelight was, didn’t you?”
“Yes, the firelight was clearly far away from me.”
“After you asked that question, His Majesty covered your eyes. Since he wouldn’t let you see, you naturally couldn’t see clearly.”
His dream was not wrong, and what others said was also correct.
Just like today in the carriage, he covered his eyes with a handkerchief, and the candlelight seemed to come and go.
It turned out that Fu Xun had covered his eyes to prevent him from seeing.
He whispered, “But Fu Xun has never mentioned it to me.”
Eunuch Yang: “He rarely mentions such things.”
Han Min thought it over: True.
“Then don’t tell him I know.”
“Okay.”
Han Min hugged Eunuch Yang’s arm, leaning quietly.
Eunuch Yang patted his head: “That’s why I told you the emperor values your talent and you wouldn’t leave.”
Han Min asked: “Was he punished by the late emperor?”
“Of course he was punished. The late emperor blamed him for his disobedience and made him kneel outside the Zichen Palace for a whole day. It just so happened that on that day, all the civil and military officials passed by him, not daring to raise their heads or lower them, let alone look at him. He knelt steadily, without moving an inch. It broke my heart to see him like that.””
Han Min remembered that after he was taken back, he lay on the bed in a daze for a long time.
When he fully regained consciousness, Fu Xun had already returned. He said he had been unconscious for several days, and it was during these days that Fu Xun was forced to kneel as punishment.
Eunuch Yang continued: “The late emperor eventually relented and gave you to him.”
Han Min remembered, waking to see Fu Xun sitting beside him.
Tears flowed before speaking. Fu Xun wiped them away: “It’s okay.”
Hoarse, Han Min couldn’t cry, only weeping. Fu Xun hugged him, patting his back like a child.
Overwhelmed with grief, Han Min vomited a mouthful of blood. Fu Xun, seeing the crimson stain on his clothes, also reddened his eyes and hugged him even tighter.
Han Min finally spoke through tears: “Fu Xun!”
Fu Xun patted his back, murmuring: “Hmm.”
Seeing his own blood, Han Min thought he would die, crying harder: “Take care of my grandfather… next life I won’t fight you… all my money, I give you…”
He wiped away his tears and gave his last words, but Fu Xun didn’t answer. He only said two sentences: “It’s okay, don’t cry.”
Later, the late emperor exiled the Han family to Tongzhou. Han Min went with his family; Fu Xun returned northwest.
In the side hall, Han Min and Eunuch Yang talked some more. The wind outside calmed.
Eunuch Yang: “It’s late. Go to sleep. Haven’t eaten much tonight. Hungry?”
Han Min shook his head, but Eunuch Yang heated milk tea.
Han Min drank half, then lay on the bed.
The system said: “The emperor has really been good to you; the bond between ruler and subject must have been maxed out long ago.”
Han Min kicked off his shoes, wrapped himself in blankets, and rolled onto the bed.
“There’s no longer any sense of loyalty between ruler and subject. All I want to do now is sleep with him.”
System panicked: “What nonsense! Wake up!”
After a while, Han Min said sullenly, “I realized that my previous opinion of him was too simplistic. He’s such a strange person…”
He paused for a moment, then said, “But he’s also very good, really very good.”
—
Eunuch Yang spent the night on the couch in the outer room. He was a light sleeper and still did not hear any movement from the inner room. He assumed that Han Min had finally fallen asleep and, fearing that he would wake him, did not go in to disturb him, letting him sleep.
At dawn, Eunuch Yang put on his clothes, walked out of the side hall, and prepared to have the kitchen prepare some of Han Min’s recent favorite foods.
Fu Xun got up early, took his long sword and headed to the training ground. As he went down the steps, he unconsciously looked toward the side hall.
Seeing Eunuch Yang, he called him over: “Asleep?”
Eunuch Yang replied, “He couldn’t sleep last night. I kept talking to him for a while, then he drank half a bowl of milk tea and went back to sleep.”
That’s a decent answer; it’s better than him not being able to sleep at all, even for nights on end.
Fu Xun felt a little relieved and was about to leave when he stopped abruptly after taking the first step. He turned around and walked quickly toward the side hall, wanting to take a look.
The small incense burner in the side hall was still burning; it contained the same incense that Fu Xun often used, and it smelled exactly the same as the one in the main hall.
The curtains in front of the bed were half-drawn, and Han Min lay on his side on the bed, wrapped in a quilt, sleeping soundly.
Fu Xun saw him, reassured, then turned to leave—but noticed something odd.
He reached out and lifted a corner of the blanket—
A sword hilt.
Han Min slept holding a sword.
The long sword Fu Xun had left to ward off evil and aid sleep.
He clutched it tightly, as if afraid of losing it, not caring about the cold or hurting himself.
Fu Xun stared silently, then laughed with helpless amusement, finally ruffling Han Min’s hair.
Han Min grunted, hugging the sword tighter.
Sleeping looked so foolish.
Author’s note:
Dangerous actions, do not imitate! Min Min will be spanked by Old Fu (not really).
In Great Qi kindergarten, little Min Min, unable to wait for Third Brother, fell asleep hugging his small wooden sword: zzz
