Chapter 49: The Taste of Milk
During the lifetime of the former Crown Prince Fu Lin, he had never actually served as crown prince. The title of Crown Prince Yongle was posthumously bestowed by the late emperor after Fu Lin’s death.
That night, before going to the Duke of Gong Mansion, Fu Xun took Han Min to the Mingtang Hall.
The main hall of Mingtang enshrined portraits and tablets of past emperors. The side halls were dedicated to consorts, meritorious officials, or princes who had died young.
The late emperor had been exceptionally fond of Fu Lin and had even designated a special spot for his memorial tablet, with lamps kept burning day and night, and monks and Taoist priests chanting every month.
Fu Xun pushed open the door to the side hall, and Han Min instinctively stepped back.
“Your Majesty, I’ll wait outside…”
Fu Xun held his hand. “Don’t be afraid. The late emperor has passed; he won’t blame the Han family. My brother never intended to punish the Han family, and neither do I.”
Han Min steadied himself and nodded lightly. “I know.”
Fu Xun touched his temple and gently guided him into the hall.
The side hall was vast. In the center stood a large offering table with the late Crown Prince’s memorial tablet and fresh fruits and offerings. Around it, ceremonial banners hung motionless.
It was already dusk. As the door opened, the scattered light of the setting sun filled the hall, casting a muted yellow glow on the white cloth. A gentle evening breeze stirred the banners slightly.
Han Min then noticed a scorched, barren section on the hall’s left side.
Fu Xun asked, “Did your brother ever tell you about this?”
Han Min thought for a moment and shook his head.
“When the Han family was persecuted, you were in prison. Following Fu Quan’s orders, the late emperor summoned your brother into the palace to pray for him.
“At midnight, water ran through the hall, unnoticed by the servants. Later, Fu Quan blocked the rescue, and your brother hid under the offering table, holding Fu Lin’s memorial tablet.
“Finally, the east wind scattered the rain, and the flames subsided.”
Han Min realized it was this incident.
“My brother never told me, but Eunuch Yang mentioned it,” Han Min said.
Fu Xun continued, “The palace on the left was burned. The late emperor only had the outer wall rebuilt, saying the inner part bore the traces of your brother’s spirit, and ordered it left untouched.”
The late emperor seemed a complicated man.
To Fu Lin, he was a good father. Despite his power, he had never shown the usual suspicions or jealousy toward his eldest legitimate son.
To his other sons, he offered no special training as heirs, merely letting palace consorts educate them, occasionally showing kindness. When young, Han Min and Fifth Prince Fu Rang played together and saw him in his usual stern-father manner.
Perhaps tired of palace life, he invested most of his attention in his eldest son, dedicating his life to leaving a competent ruler for Great Qi.
But when Fu Lin died, it was as if a child’s carefully built tower of blocks collapsed in an afternoon.
The emperor did not know what remained afterward and resented everyone and everything connected.
Even without the Duke of Gong’s incitement, the Han family would have suffered; the root cause lay with the late emperor.
Han Min had long resented him as well. He had tried to cultivate a capable heir, yet had failed to make himself a capable ruler.
Yet Han Min seldom showed his resentment in front of Fu Xun, as Fu Xun’s father was still his father.
But tonight, Han Min pressed his lips together, gathering courage. “But the late Crown Prince manifested not because of the emperor, but because of my brother.”
“Yes,” Fu Xun replied.
He took incense sticks from the table, lit them, and gave three to Han Min.
“He wishes your brother peace, joy, and longevity.”
White smoke rose faintly. Han Min took the three sticks and bowed three times with Fu Xun before the memorial tablet.
When they left Mingtang Hall, it was dark. Han Min pondered for a while before asking, “Next time my brother returns, can he come and pay respects too?”
Fu Xun nodded. “Of course.”
—
Dusk fell, and their carriage slowly rolled out of the palace gates, the wooden wheels clattering on stone.
Han Min wrapped his sleeves around himself in the carriage, his expression somber, eyes lowered, lost in thought.
Fu Xun glanced at him. “Should we send someone to the Liu Mansion to fetch the sword?”
Han Min lifted his eyes. “No need. Your Majesty is here; I don’t need a sword for protection.”
Fu Xun smiled faintly and held his hand.
By late February, the Duke of Gong had been sentenced, examined by Jiang Huan. Perhaps due to so many prior actions, the investigation lasted a month and a half. Today, the files were finally organized.
Wei Gui, holding his sword, stood before the Duke of Gong Mansion and soon saw a carriage approaching.
He adjusted his narrow sleeves, cleared his throat, and descended the steps.
As the carriage stopped and the passengers emerged, he bowed. “Your servant, Wei Gui, pays respects to Your Majesty.”
Fu Xun acknowledged him and helped Han Min. Wei Gui smiled again. “Lord Han.”
Han Min returned the bow. “General Wei.”
Wei Gui stepped aside to let them pass. “Lord Jiang is ready.”
Knowing Han Min feared dark rooms, Fu Xun had arranged for Fu Quan to be brought out for questioning in a hall of the Duke of Gong’s mansion.
After nearly a month and a half in a dark room, Fu Quan had been cleaned up and placed in new white prison garments, handcuffed, kneeling. His eyes were sunken and dark, his body gaunt.
Chairs had been set up around the hall for temporary use after the Duke of Gong’s mansion was seized. Soldiers guarded outside. Jiang Huan sat to the left, eating a modest dinner.
Seeing Fu Xun arrive, Jiang Huan put his bowl down.
Fu Xun waved him off. “Finish your meal first; we’ll continue afterward.”
He sat at the table, letting Han Min sit beside him, flipping through the case files, before handing Han Min a small snack.
Wei Gui stood behind them, hand on his sword. Jiang Huan resumed his meal, straight-backed, precise, occasionally glancing at Fu Quan as if still judging him.
Soon Jiang Huan finished, the files in hand. This interrogation would be the last, and once Fu Quan signed the confession, it could be announced to all subjects.
The charges were many, but only key points were addressed: disloyalty, regicide, attempted rebellion, and harming his own siblings.
After half a month of questioning, Fu Quan was exhausted and answered everything.
Jiang Huan finally looked up. “Three years ago, the late Crown Prince died while hunting. What did you do?”
Fu Quan opened his mouth but could not speak.
He finally said hoarsely, “The Crown Prince’s quiver had three arrows replaced with wax-tipped ones, mixed with the others.”
“Was white tiger tamed by you?”
“Bought from a northern merchant.”
Han Min gripped the armrest. Fu Xun covered his hand reassuringly.
Jiang Huan continued, asking why the Crown Prince insisted on the pursuit. Fu Quan explained dryly, “The white tiger had blood on it, someone shouted ‘help’ in the distance—the Crown Prince naturally pursued.”
So that explained it. It wasn’t because of a momentary impulse or recklessness, but because of an eagerness to save lives.
Upon hearing the cries for help, Fu Lin didn’t have time to tell the two people beside him, perhaps assuming they had heard it too, so he spurred his horse and chased after them.
The deadly arrows had been switched to wax, which could only provoke the white tiger and had no other effect.
Afterwards, Fu Lin was seriously injured and had difficulty speaking. The only thing he said was to ask the late emperor to spare the Han family.
Han Min’s uncle Han Zhongqi had already died. Han Min’s brother Han Shi likely hadn’t noticed the distant call for help, simply following the Crown Prince.
Han Min’s eyes reddened. Fu Xun’s hand held his tightly, calming him.
On the other end, Jiang Huan asked again, “When Emperor Dezong and the late emperor entrusted you with the investigation of this matter, did you tamper with it?”
Fu Quan admitted destroying evidence, blaming those already dead.
At the hunting grounds, the young archer had been led to death by his own good intentions, and afterward, forced to bear suspicion.
Next came the charges of regicide and parricide. This had been discovered when Fu Quan demanded to see the imperial edict, ultimately pulling a piece of blackened bone from the late emperor’s coffin.
Jiang Huan said, “According to the records of the Imperial Physicians, the late Emperor began to experience shortness of breath two years ago. Did you start poisoning him two years ago?”
Fu Quan replied, “Yes.”
What kind of poison is it?
“Hidden needle”.
Han Min could no longer listen. He exhaled, restrained his impulse to throw the candleholder at Fu Quan, pushed away Fu Xun’s hand, and stood, bowing. “Your Majesty, I am mentally unwell. I wish to leave first.”
He spoke calmly, bowed to Wei Gui and Jiang Huan again, and then dragged his feet to leave, rubbing his eyes as he turned around.
Fu Xun noticed something was wrong with him and got up to follow him.
Fu Quan shouted from behind, “Han Min! You think Fu Xun is such a good person?”
Han Min did not stop, only holding his hands together, wanting to leave quickly.
Fu Quan continued, “That night the late emperor passed, he ordered Fu Xun to execute your family first before granting the throne. Do you think he agreed? He knew everything about the poisoned medicine. He’s not a good man either!”
Before he could finish speaking, Fu Quan was pinned to the ground by Wei Gui.
Wei Gui dislocated his jaw, rendering him speechless.
Fu Xun didn’t even glance at him, only instructing Jiang Huan to continue the interrogation, and then followed Han Min out.
—
Han Min pulled his sleeves together, lowered his head, and didn’t seem to be walking down any particular road. Whether he heard Fu Quan’s last words or not, Fu Xun walked to his side.
“Han Min?”
Han Min turned, seeing Fu Xun had come out too. He smiled faintly. “Your Majesty, why are you out? Isn’t the interrogation ongoing?”
“Jiang Huan is interrogating. Where are you going?”
“I was just afraid of making a scene in front of you, so I came out for a casual stroll. It’s nothing serious.”
Han Min pointed to the railing at the front of the corridor: “There’s no one there, go sit down.”
They sat side by side on the railing, backs to the courtyard, moonlight casting faint shadows on the wall.
After a while, Han Min said, “I asked Fu Quan before, but he wasn’t so detailed. He said it was ‘just because my brother happened to be nearby.’”
He wiped his face, feigning casualness. “How strange…. Everyone only has one life, so why does he look down on others so much?”
Fu Xun didn’t speak, only draping an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm.
He felt Han Min’s face damp—he had been crying silently. Fu Xun wiped his tears and pulled him into his arms.
When the late Crown Prince died, Fu Xun had been leading troops in the northwest. He rushed back for the funeral, meeting Han Min in the palace corridor. By instinct, they had embraced briefly, as if the world’s troubles disappeared.
Just like tonight.
Han Min rested in Fu Xun’s arms, silent, his back trembling. Fu Xun patted his back slowly.
Eventually, Han Min realized where he was and tried to rise, but Fu Xun held him. They separated after a brief struggle. His eyes were still red from crying.
Fu Xun instructed him to close his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb.
“Did you hear what Fu Quan said earlier?” he asked carefully.
Han Min sniffled. “All of it.” He paused, then asked, “Before the emperor died, did he really order you to execute the Han family?”
Fu Xun nodded stiffly.
He recalled the scene—
When the late emperor fell seriously ill, Fu Xun hurriedly returned to the capital. That night, the late emperor asked him to stay and talk.
The emperor lay on his side on the dragon bed, loosely holding his hand, his voice broken: “Don’t worry, Fu Quan is insidious and not born of the empress. The throne will definitely be passed to you.”
Fu Xun remained silent.
The emperor continued, “I have only one request: if you want the throne, you must first eliminate the Han family of Tongzhou.”
Fu Xun withdrew his hand and placed it on the bed: “No need for Father to worry.”
After saying this, he got up to leave, and the emperor reached out to stop him, but almost fell off the bed.
He gasped for breath, struggling to catch his breath several times, and said sternly, “I knew you were blinded by that Han family man, defying me time and time again. If you had abandoned him earlier, I would have made you the crown prince years ago, and I wouldn’t have needed to elevate Fu Quan to oppose you.”
He turned to leave, but the emperor hysterically called out his name again: “Fu Xun! Don’t be ungrateful. If you don’t kill him, I will naturally find a way to deal with the Han family. Within three days, deal with the Han family, and I will give you the edict of succession.”
Fu Xun stopped and turned around to look at him: “No need.”
When he pushed open the palace door, Fu Quan was standing outside with a bowl of medicine in his hand, giving him a strange smile.
Fu Xun gave him a cold glance and let him in.
Having just noticed the dark circles under the old emperor’s eyes, Fu Xun guessed that he might have been poisoned by a slow-acting poison. Now, seeing the medicine in Fu Quan’s hand, he understood everything.
He did not stop Fu Quan, but instead closed the palace door behind him, pretending not to know anything, and went out of the palace to muster the troops.
Having spent many years navigating the political and military landscapes, Fu Xun’s mind and hands were not entirely clean.
However, he never revealed it to Han Min.
—
??At this moment, in the corridor of Prince Gong’s Mansion, Fu Quan, who had been standing outside the door, recounted what he had overheard. Han Min then asked Fu about the matter.
Han Min thought for a moment and said, “Then… the assassin I met at Yuanyang Lake last time was actually targeting me. He wasn’t a remnant of Prince Gong’s faction; he was someone left behind by the late emperor.”
Fu Xun nodded: “Yes.”
Han Min pushed his hand away, opened her eyes, and asked incredulously, “Was the late emperor so intolerant of the Han family? Because of the late crown prince?”
Without changing his expression, Fu Xun massaged the acupoints beside his eyes again: “It’s not just because of that.”
“What other reasons?”
Fu Xun thought for a moment: “And for your sake, I always went against the late emperor. My elder brother was raised by him and listens to him very much. If I don’t listen, he thinks I am disobedient and takes his anger out on you, wanting to use the throne to make me bow my head once.”
Han Min laughed immediately: “It’s as if I’m the one bewitching you.”
Fu Xun said seriously, “Perhaps that’s what he’s thinking.”
“And now?”
“The group of assassins left some clues last time, and we’ve already sent people to deal with them. There won’t be any more trouble. That’s why we initially let you stay in the palace, and later had Wei Huan accompany you. There are also some people protecting you near the Liu residence, but you didn’t notice.”
Han Min murmured his thanks.
After rubbing his head for a while, Fu Xun asked, “Are you alright now?”
Han Min patted his hand and stood up: “It’s alright, go back.”
“Okay.”
He tried to walk outside, but Han Min reminded him, “You’re going the wrong way, it’s over there.”
Fu Xun pulled him over: “Let Jiang Huan and Wei Gui interrogate him. I’ll take you back to get something to eat.”
—
Back at Funing Palace, they sat cross-legged, eating snacks.Fu Xun ordered a few dishes and asked the kitchen to make another batch to send to Prince Gong’s Mansion for Jiang Huan and Wei Gui.
Han Min held the bowl and took a big gulp of hot milk tea.
Others might find the milk flavor too strong, but he actually quite enjoys drinking it.
Han Min felt a little better after eating half a meal.
Fu Xun asked him, “Are you able to sleep tonight? Do you want to stay and sleep in the main hall?”
Staying in the main hall meant sleeping with him.
It’s not like it’s never happened before.
“If Your Majesty agrees.”
Han Min chuckled to himself, like a kitten that had just stolen a drink of milk.
A faint scent of ambergris lingered in the tent, and the dragon bed remained as soft as ever.
After blowing out the candles, Han Min lay flat on the bed, pulled the blanket up to cover himself completely, making sure there were no gaps.
He kicked his legs slightly and then went to sleep.
Even he himself didn’t realize that this time he didn’t have the system refer to “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” nor did he cheer in his heart for the deep bond between Fu Xun and his subject.
Without realizing it, he began to get used to it.
The last thought before falling asleep wasn’t about dedicating oneself to the cause, but rather— Fu Xun is truly good.
—
Han Min had gone to bed late that night, but woke up groggily in the middle of the night.
He instinctively reached out and touched the space beside him, but it was empty.
He opened his eyes and looked at the pillow.
Fu Xun has disappeared.
No wonder he woke up. Without Fu Xun around, he wasn’t feeling very at ease in his dreams.
At this time, there were no lights in the hall, and the moon was obscured by dark clouds outside the window, making it pitch black.
Han Min gripped the blanket tighter and tentatively called out, “Fu Xun?”
Thinking he might be going out for a cup of tea, Han Min waited a little longer.
Unconsciously, he recalled the scene in the dark room in the past. The gloomy curtains pressed down on him, and Han Min suddenly sat up in bed, summoned the system, grabbed the blanket, and jumped out of bed to find Fu Xun.
The palace was too large, and there weren’t many servants to attend to it.
The system retorted angrily, “You woke me up so you could go find another man? That’s going a bit too far!”
“Please stay with me for a moment, I beg you, little System.”
The system snorted: “Didn’t I tell you not to be alone with Fu Xun? Why didn’t you listen? Now he’s abandoned you and run away, hasn’t he?”
Han Min was so angry that he blocked it out, pushed open the door to the inner room himself, and called softly, “Fu Xun? Fu Xun?”
He carried the quilt, calling out Fu Xun’s name as he walked out of the outer room and pushed open the main hall door.
It drizzled in the latter half of the night, a light, damp, and chilly rain.
Two people stood under the corridor: Fu Xun and Wei Gui.
Fu Xun, with his back to him, said in an icy tone: “Since he wants to die, just send him to be tortured. Keep him alive with medicine until the time for his execution in the autumn.”
After the guards left, Fu Xun returned Han Min to the palace, gave him milk tea, and reassured him: “Not everyone in the palace has clean hands, but the heart is what matters.”
Wei Gui responded with a “Yes,” and then saw Han Min.
Han Min stood still, took a step back with his bare feet, and curled his toes slightly.
“Did I disturb you?”
Fu Xun turned around and said, “You go back to sleep first, I’ll be back soon.”
“Ah… okay.” Han Min thought for a moment, then asked, “Is Fu Quan dead?”
Wei Gui acted according to the Emperor’s expression. Seeing that the Emperor’s face was normal, he answered Han Min’s question: “Yes, the interrogation went on until midnight. Just as they were about to take him away, he went crazy and banged his head against the wall, breaking a huge bloody hole in his head. But he has already been rescued. How can we let him off so easily?”
Han Min nodded.
Wei Gui continued, “This matter is of great importance, so I came to the palace to report it. I apologize for disturbing Your Majesty’s peaceful sleep.” He glanced at the two of them again and said, “I will return now.”
Fu Xun waved his hand, telling him to leave, and then pulled Han Min back into the hall.
As the palace doors closed, Wei Gui turned back for one last look before leaving.
He walked down the steps in front of the hall and suddenly realized—
How come these two people are sleeping in the same room?
Wei Gui’s mind went blank, and he lost his footing, almost falling off the steps.
He then remembered something else, something he had said before—
“That can’t be right. Didn’t they fight really badly before? If they can make up, I’ll eat noodles upside down and drink the soup.”
Wei Gui cursed, then realized that there seemed to be no one around when he said those words.
He cleared his throat and walked down the steps in a serious manner.
Pretend I never said that.
—
Back in the inner room, Fu Xun lit the candles and called for a bowl of hot milk tea.
The lights were dim, and Han Min sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in a blanket.
Before long, the palace servants brought the milk tea.
Fu Xun tested the temperature and handed the bowl to him: “It’s my fault for leaving you here alone.”
Han Min tried to salvage a little dignity: “I’m not particularly afraid of the dark, it’s just that I can’t sleep once you leave.”
He was enjoying his drink and had just crossed his legs when Fu Xun cautiously asked him, “Did you hear what I said just now?”
What he said just now wasn’t very good. Sending people to be tortured and then keeping them suspended with medicinal soup is quite inhumane.
He had never mentioned these things to Han Min before, afraid of scaring him, so he wanted to ask one more question.
Han Min replied, “Yes.”
Fu Xun sat down next to him, as if explaining to him: “In the palace, where there is infighting and killing, no one’s hands are clean.”
“I know.” Han Min thought for a moment, put down the bowl, and held his hand, which he claimed was “not very clean.” “It’s okay, as long as your heart is clean.”
After drinking half a bowl of milk tea, and with the day still early, Han Min wanted to sleep a little longer.
Lying in bed, he blinked and slapped Fu Xun’s hand away: “You’re pressing down on my hair…”
He realized what was happening. It wasn’t that he was being pressed down; Fu Xun wanted to play with his hair.
Han Min protected his hair, then felt something was off: “Why aren’t you like this in front of other people?”
That is of course—
He suddenly realized: “Because you think I’m easy to bully.”
Fu Xun, resting his head on his pillow, said, “No.”
Han Min rubbed his tummy: “Why is that?”
Seeing that he was having fun rubbing it, Fu Xun reached out and rubbed it a couple of times as well, finding it strangely soft: “You’re more fun.”
Before he could object, Fu Xun said, “You should go to sleep.”
As he massaged his tummy, Han Min let out a short burp that tasted like milk.
It was intertwined with the ambergris in the bed, inseparable.
Author’s Note:
Old Fu’s childish behavior was an attempt to conceal his true, ruthless nature.
Min-Min’s hair is finally free!
Min-Min’s little tummy – danger
