Chapter 5: Rest Assured
The dungeon never saw daylight, so when Fu Xun stepped outside, even the sunlight felt dazzling.
Not far away, Han Min was standing with Wei Huan, speaking with a smile on his face—also quite dazzling.
When Wei Huan reminded him, Han Min turned his head and walked toward Fu Xun.
Still unused to the bright sun, Fu Xun narrowed his eyes, “Why did you come over?”
Han Min handed him two thick stacks of hand-stitched booklets, “The literature review and countermeasures we discussed last night—I finished writing them and brought them for Your Highness.”
Fu Xun accepted them and casually flipped through them, “Thank you. You’ve worked hard.”
Han Min still held another stack of papers, “There’s another matter.”
“Speak.”
“I’d like to borrow Young Master Wen Yan for a while.”
Wen Yan had been standing behind Fu Xun. Hearing his name, he turned toward Han Min.
Han Min said, “The memorial draft is ready. I need to discuss some details with Young Master Wen.”
Fu Xun glanced at Wen Yan, “Go with him.”
“Yes,” Wen Yan replied.
After bowing to Fu Xun, he left with Han Min.
Fu Xun watched them walk away. A guard stepped forward and handed him a bamboo tube, “Your Highness, this is from the people we sent to Tongzhou.”
Fu Xun opened it. Inside was a single paper—
The deed to the Han family ancestral home.
Han Min had mortgaged it in exchange for grain and medicine.
Fu Xun thought for a moment, then pocketed the deed.
Back at the inn, Wen Yan opened the door.
He stepped aside, “Please come in, Master Han.”
Just as Wei Huan had said—he really did look constantly displeased.
A book lay open on the desk. Han Min sat down in front of it. Wen Yan closed the door and sat opposite him.
Han Min handed him the papers, “About last night’s fire at the granary and the sand mixed into the grain—it’s the perfect chance to impeach the Duke of Gong. This is my draft memorial. Use it if you find it suitable.”
Wen Yan nodded, “Thank you.”
Han Min smiled, then noticed the ink-blotted draft paper on Wen Yan’s table, “You’re writing too?”
“I drafted a bit last night. But nowhere near your effortless flow, Master Han.”
Han Min said nothing.
He knew Wen Yan didn’t like him.
They had been like this since their academy days—always fighting for first place.
Scholarly pride only made it worse.
Wen Yan disliked Han Min, and Han Min naturally disliked Wen Yan.
They had barely exchanged a few words in years.
Wen Yan asked, “Why didn’t you submit this to His Highness yourself?”
Han Min replied, “You’re his number-one scholar. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to bypass you on a matter like this.”
Wen Yan responded dryly, “Thanks for the compliment.”
“No need to be polite.”
An awkward silence followed.
Today felt strangely different—Wen Yan actually picked up the ink stick and began grinding ink.
He invited, “If you have time, we can revise your draft together.”
Han Min accepted, “Sure.”
They didn’t like each other, but they both respected each other’s talent—though neither would admit it aloud.
Han Min opened his brush kit and sat beside Wen Yan, nudging his arm, “Move over a bit.”
So casual.
Wen Yan shot him a glance but eventually moved aside without complaint.
They took fresh paper to rewrite the draft. The original was marked black with edits and circles.
Sometimes they argued endlessly—over a single word.
Han Min finally snatched the page, “I wrote this draft. I’ll change it how I want.”
Wen Yan pressed his lips together, trying to reason with him, “It’s not logical.”
Only when Wei Huan brought lunch at noon did they pause.
Han Min held a clay bowl and was about to pick up vegetables when Wen Yan suddenly asked, “How did you end up coming here?”
Han Min pulled his chopsticks back, “When my family was raided, His Highness helped us. I came to repay that kindness.”
Wen Yan looked at him, gaze clear.
Han Min quickly added, “Okay, fine—I admit I have a tiny bit of personal motive. I hope once His Highness becomes emperor, he can clear my family’s name.”
Wen Yan let out a cold laugh, “Even if you did nothing, once His Highness ascends the throne, he’ll clear your family’s name. You’ll be promoted and rewarded. Everything others fight and bleed for—you’ll have it handed to you.”
Han Min frowned, “That can’t be right. Why would I?”
Wen Yan gave him a strange look, “You really don’t know?”
Han Min blinked, “Huh? Know what?”
Wen Yan frowned, staring at him in a probing way.
Feeling weird, Han Min secretly asked his system, “System, what does he mean?”
The system thought for a moment, “He probably means your deep ruler-minister bond with the Duke of Ding.”
Han Min nodded and lowered his head to eat, “So that’s what he meant.”
Han Min stayed in Liuzhou for two more days. After delivering all the grain and medicine he had brought, and finishing the revisions with Wen Yan, he prepared to leave.
That night, he sat on the postal station’s corridor railing watching snow.
Fu Xun returned from handling affairs and saw, amid the white snow, a scholar in coarse clothes leaning against a pillar, his cloak slipping off his shoulders.
His fingertips were stained with ink.
Han Min saw him and hopped down from the railing, straightened his clothes, and stepped into the snow.
Fu Xun asked, “What are you doing?”
Han Min replied, “Waiting for you.”
Before Fu Xun could ask anything further, Han Min said, “I’m returning to Tongzhou at dawn. I came to say goodbye, Your Highness.”
Hearing that, Fu Xun’s eyes darkened, “Mm. I’ll see you off tomorrow.”
Han Min waved his hands, “No, no, I just came to say goodbye. And—there’s something else.”
He pulled out three silver notes and the deed.
“These—returning them to Your Highness.”
Last night, when Han Min returned to his room, he found them left on his desk.
Fu Xun pressed his lips together, “They aren’t mine.”
Han Min narrowed his eyes, “Your Highness, lying is unnecessary.”
Fu Xun coughed lightly, “Just take them. Why give them back?”
He had already expected Han Min might refuse.
So he resisted the urge to leave thirty notes—only left three.
Han Min said seriously, “You’re not like the Duke of Gong—you don’t have businesses, don’t embezzle. You have soldiers to pay, and the court never allocates enough. You must already be patching the shortfall yourself…”
At that moment, Wei Huan called from behind, “Brother Han, supper’s ready!”
Han Min responded, rolled the deed and notes into a bundle, and stuffed them into Fu Xun’s hand, “Returning them.”
As he turned to leave, Fu Xun grabbed his sleeve, holding him in place, looking half amused.
“I have no money? No businesses?”
Han Min blinked, “…Don’t you?”
Fu Xun suddenly realized—it had been two years since they last met.
Only Han Min in this world would think he had no money, no power—and even insist on returning just three silver notes.
Han Min asked, “Want to eat together?”
Fu Xun nodded, “Alright.”
Inside, Han Min blew on his porridge to cool it.
Fu Xun asked, “You mortgaged your ancestral home—aren’t you worried you won’t be able to buy it back?”
“I’m not. I made arrangements with the lender—I’ll redeem it slowly.”
He paused, “I’ll redeem it myself. Your Highness shouldn’t spend money on me. If you can redeem it, then quickly redeem it back for yourself.”
Fu Xun chuckled softly and didn’t reply.
So foolishly earnest.
They departed at dawn. Han Min left the same way he came—
Coarse clothes, hair tied with a simple band, bright apricot eyes.
Fu Xun, “honoring talent,” held his horse and escorted him out of the city.
After leaving the city, they rode side by side for ten li.
On horseback, Fu Xun told him, “Rest assured.”
“Of course,” Han Min replied. “You are—”
The system-appointed future emperor, he thought.
But he changed it at the last second, “Your Highness, be careful in everything. And… if things don’t go well, you can come to Tongzhou. I’ve already mapped out escape routes. I can even take you with me—”
He loved joking like this.
Fu Xun said steadily, “That won’t be necessary.”
A little farther along, Han Min said, “We’re far enough. Any farther and you’ll reach my home.”
Fu Xun pulled the reins, stopping his horse.
Han Min looked at him.
He had prepared countless poetic farewell lines with the system—but now, not a single one came out.
He only said softly, “I’ll go. Aftershocks may follow the quake—Your Highness, be careful.”
Fu Xun nodded slightly and motioned for him to leave.
Just as Han Min tugged the reins to set off, Fu Xun suddenly said, “Rest assured.”
He always liked saying that.
Han Min looked back, smiled, and answered, “I know.”
The horse leapt forward, sleeves billowing.
A scholar’s silhouette—straight and unbending.
Fu Xun watched him until he vanished into the snow, a faint smile reaching his eyes.
In his heart, he thought—
He and Han Min could be considered childhood companions.
But he himself couldn’t pinpoint when he had fallen in love.
Perhaps it was the year they went boating with friends, Han Min standing at the bow, plucking a pipa and singing lyrics he made up on the spot.
Perhaps it was that palace banquet, when the plum blossom song was sung—Han Min called “Fu Xun,” then threw a branch of plum blossoms, along with himself, into his arms.
Crashing into him—heart shaken ever since.
Once Fu Xun had placed Han Min in his heart, Han Min’s weight there only grew.
There were many noble youths in the capital.
But only Han Min believed he was poor, powerless— Only Han Min would sell his ancestral home for him, would insist on returning three tiny silver notes.
If Han Min merely wanted his family vindicated—would he still tell Fu Xun that even if they failed, they could run away together?
So genuine.
So kind.
Only when Han Min’s silhouette faded into the snow did Fu Xun turn back.
Childhood bond. Youthful friendship. The Han family’s downfall. Court intrigue. All swept aside for now.
In one “Rest assured” and one “I know,” both had set their hearts.
In the snow, riding forward, Han Min suddenly saw the boundary stone ahead.
It was half-buried in snow.
Fu Xun had escorted him all the way to the border of Liuzhou.
In ancient times, scholars sought a sovereign who understood them. Han Min had never thought himself orthodox, yet suddenly—he was moved.
Han Min clutched his chest dramatically, “In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Liu Bei sent Xu Shu off just like this. This Xu Shu is a little dizzy.”
The system sighed, “Pathetic.”
“What scholar could withstand this? Who could resist?”
“Get a grip!”
Author’s Note:
Han · Orthodox Scholar · Min: I can’t withstand it anymore!!! (nonsense noises)
