Chapter 4: Literature Review
After settling all the grain and medicinal supplies, it was already deep into the night.
Fu Xun and Han Min walked around to inspect everything. Wei Huan followed behind them, not daring to speak another word.
Han Min tried to explain, “I didn’t refuse to write you a letter.”
Fu Xun looked at him, signaling him to continue.
“I just…” Han Min paused, lowering his voice. “I was afraid of dragging you down with me.”
Fu Xun nodded. “I know.”
If he truly didn’t care, Han Min wouldn’t have traveled all this way to deliver all these things.
The two returned to the post station in silence. Fu Xun casually brushed the snow off Han Min’s shoulders.
“You should go back to your room.”
“Alright. Your Highness should rest early too.”
Fu Xun looked at him, “I’ll have Wei Huan follow you. If you need anything, tell him.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
After saying goodbye, Han Min turned around to leave.
Wei Huan was just about to follow when he suddenly felt a sharp gaze slice across his back like a blade.
He froze, stiffened his neck, and slowly turned around. “Your Highness?”
Fu Xun stared at him. Wei Huan immediately made a “shush” gesture and whispered, “I get it, I get it, I won’t talk nonsense anymore.”
He hurried to catch up with Han Min, “Brother Han, are you hungry? Want a late-night snack?”
Han Min declined and instead asked about their friends back in Yong’an.
“How’s your older brother?”
“Same as always. Awful temper, hates everything he sees—especially me.”
“And my senior brother?”
“Master Liu’s son is doing well. After his father retired, he took over his position and now teaches at the academy.”
Back in the room, the two chatted for a bit longer.
It was getting late. Wei Huan excused himself, “Brother Han, you should sleep early. I’m in the room next door—just shout if anything happens.”
Han Min nodded. “Go rest.”
After Wei Huan left, Han Min sat back at his desk, picked up the copper scissors to trim the candle wick, and spread out the unfinished writings from earlier.
He skimmed what he had written, then mentally reviewed the documents the system had transferred to him before continuing to write.
He didn’t know how long he wrote. Everything grew quieter.
The red candle had burned down significantly when Han Min finally put down his brush and picked up the copper scissors again.
A shadow fell across the translucent door paper—someone was carrying a lantern and stopped outside.
Fu Xun knocked lightly, “Han Min?”
Han Min trimmed the candle wick; the flame flickered and cast trembling shadows across the room.
He answered and got up to open the door.
Fu Xun stood outside, carrying the cold of the night with him.
Han Min opened the door wider, “What’s wrong?”
“I saw your light still on and thought you might’ve fallen asleep at the table, so I came to check.”
“I’m writing something.”
Fu Xun didn’t move. Han Min stepped aside, “Would Your Highness like to come in?”
Fu Xun blew out the lantern and stepped inside.
He sat down at the desk and noticed the piles of papers filled with ink.
Han Min closed the door, shutting out the wind and snow, then returned to his seat, pulling a small blanket over his legs.
Seeing Fu Xun’s gaze on the papers, Han Min explained, “I’m writing something useful. My grandfather and the others are in Tongzhou—I’m worried about them. I have to return soon, so I’m rushing to finish this.”
He separated the papers into three piles, “This is the literature review: methods used throughout history for disaster relief. I’ve read some rare texts before, so I wrote them down from memory. The New Year is coming, and after the festival comes spring. With warmer temperatures, we need to prevent epidemics. And these are suggestions for rebuilding. They should all be helpful—Your Highness can use them as you see fit.”
He continued, “I’m still a criminal by status. My coming to Liuzhou can’t be hidden. If His Majesty still dislikes the Han family, he might blame Your Highness. If His Majesty asks, just answer according to what I’ve written.”
“And regarding the arson in the granary and the matter of sand mixed into the grain—this can be used to impeach the Duke of Gong. This is a draft memorial. It’ll need to be reviewed by Your Highness’s scholars—I’m only providing a reference.”
Han Min gathered the drafts.
“None of it is finished yet. I’ll give it to you after I organize it.”
But Fu Xun only asked, “When are you leaving?”
“After I finish writing all this. Probably in the next day or two.”
“I’ll send someone to escort you back.”
“No need. Too eye-catching. It’s not far—I can go alone.”
Fu Xun said lightly, “It feels like I haven’t seen you in two years.”
Han Min propped his chin on his hand, “Yeah.”
He clearly missed the deeper meaning. After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Did Your Highness just return from outside?”
His body radiated cold; even the room felt colder when he entered.
Fu Xun replied, “My men interrogated the arsonist. I went to check on them.”
“You work quickly. Was it the magistrate Liu who ordered it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We’ve detained him. We also raided his residence overnight and found a letter from the Duke of Gong.”
“I see.” Han Min nodded thoughtfully. “Your Highness must have expected this.”
Fu Xun said, “I did. But there were things I didn’t expect.”
“What?”
Fu Xun looked at him, “I didn’t expect you to come.”
Han Min blinked, then grinned and winked, “I’ve always been chivalrous, full of loyalty, worried for the people.”
Fu Xun was displeased.
Chivalrous? Concerned for the people?
—You were clearly worried about me.
After a while, Fu Xun added, “My people in the Imperial Medical Bureau sent a secret letter. His Majesty has summoned imperial physicians frequently this past month. He suffers nightmares.”
He paused, “After my eldest brother died, Father never appointed another Crown Prince. He gave me military power, gave Fu Quan authority to govern and supervise the state, and gave our fifth brother boundless favor. Perhaps he simply wants to watch us tear each other apart.”
Han Min didn’t dare comment on this matter. He lowered his eyes.
Fu Xun continued, “When the Liuzhou case is resolved, I’ll return to the capital. It will likely be a fierce struggle.”
Han Min speculated, “If the Duke of Gong uses the Liuzhou case as leverage, he might do something desperate.”
“That’s what I think. He might act before I return.”
What kind of action was clear without saying— Coup, poisoning, forcing abdication.
The emperor must have known: his alternating favoritism only cultivated the hunger for power, which would eventually turn on him.
Han Min asked worriedly, “When does Your Highness plan to return?”
Fu Xun remained calm, “No rush.”
Han Min pursed his lips. Before he could speak, Fu Xun said, “Don’t worry. The Han family will be cleared.”
Han Min shook his head, “That’s not what I meant.”
Fu Xun raised an eyebrow, “Then what?”
“I…” Han Min scratched his head, suddenly embarrassed. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
Fu Xun gave him one last look, then stood, “It’s late. Whatever it is, say it tomorrow. Go to sleep.”
Han Min nodded and didn’t move.
Fu Xun clicked his tongue, “Hurry. I’ll watch you get into bed.”
Han Min froze, “…Got it.”
He stacked the papers neatly, placed a paperweight on top, extinguished the candle, and walked toward the bed.
Standing beside it, he loosened his belt, then looked back.
Fu Xun, who was about to leave, also looked back.
Han Min’s robe had fallen halfway, revealing half his underclothes.
Unaware, he rubbed his sore neck and waved, “Goodnight, Your Highness.”
Dark hair, pale sleeves, white inner garments.
Fu Xun nodded calmly and left.
He happened to run into Wei Huan stepping out of the next room with a weapon in hand.
Fu Xun frowned, “What are you doing?”
Wei Huan hid the weapon, “I heard a noise. I was afraid a thief broke into Brother Han’s room, so I came to check.” He let out two awkward laughs. “Didn’t expect it was Your Highness.”
Just as he was chuckling, he suddenly noticed something.
Wei Huan exclaimed, “Your Highness! Your ears are so red! Did you freeze them in the snow?”
Fu Xun looked at him and squeezed out two words, “Shut up.”
Snow fell the entire night.
The next morning, sunlight melted the snow.
Light filtered through the window paper into the room.
Han Min had fallen asleep at the desk, buried in papers.
The red candle had long burned out. It was unclear how long he’d slept.
He had always slept lightly. After being chased to bed by Fu Xun last night, he slept only a bit before getting back up to write.
At some point, he had simply fallen asleep while writing.
The light moved halfway across the floor by the time he woke up.
He stretched, leaned back—and fell onto the floor.
He dozed for a few moments before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
He went out to get hot water and some food from Wei Huan.
After washing up, he sat at the desk with a steamed bun, eating while reviewing what he had written the night before.
The papers were a huge mess, but by the time he finished eating, he had also finished reviewing.
He clapped his hands, sorted the drafts into three thick bundles, tied them with hemp string, picked up his pen case, and went out.
Wei Huan was guarding the door. Seeing him, he stood quickly.
“Brother Han, are you going to see His Highness? He’s been out since early morning.”
“Mm. And I want to find Wen Yan.”
Wei Huan grimaced, “What do you want with Wen Yan? He’s always got that sour face.”
Han Min frowned, “He’s the top scholar under His Highness. As His Highness’s guard, how can you speak like that?”
Wei Huan straightened, “Yes, yes! I’ll take you. They should be at the administrative office.”
The arsonists and Magistrate Liu had all been locked in the county jail.
Fu Xun sat before Magistrate Liu, hands folded, leaning back in the chair, expression cold and sharp.
Even without speaking, he terrified the man. The magistrate knelt trembling, teeth chattering.
A guard entered and whispered something in Fu Xun’s ear.
Fu Xun sat up, “Don’t let him in. Have him wait outside. I’ll go see him.”
He glanced at Magistrate Liu and ordered, “Continue the interrogation.”
Then he stood and left the cell.
Walking through the damp, dark corridor, he smelled blood.
He told Wen Yan, who was following, “When there’s time, have someone clean the floor.”
As they approached the exit, he turned slightly, “Does the smell of blood cling to me?”
Author’s Note:
Wen Yan: “??? Your Highness, please be sane. You’re not going on a date.”
