Chapter 53: The Remaining Old Manuscripts
Han Min had woken up too early. He had also had a bizarre dream during the night, unable to write a single word, and was still terribly sleepy.
He wiped his face and prepared to rest his head on the desk for a while.
“System, wake me in half an hour.”
The window was half open. The system had taken possession of a gray hawk named Turnip Head. It flapped its wings, flew in from under the eaves, and landed beside him.
“Got it.”
The system used its beak to smooth the down under its wings, then leaned closer to help Han Min comb his hair.
Seeing the manuscripts piled on Han Min’s desk, it asked, “Who are you going to write about next? What if someone finds out again?”
Han Min yawned. “I haven’t decided on a suitable candidate yet.”
The system specifically warned: “Don’t write about yourself.”
“Why?”
After a pause, the system said simply: “In case it can’t be untangled later.”
Han Min seemed thoughtful and replied, “I know. He’s the emperor. I shouldn’t have written about him in the first place. Once I finish the books required by the contract, I won’t write anymore.”
He closed his eyes to catch up on sleep.
Even with Fu Xun’s long sword nearby, he still slept best during the daytime, when the sunlight was bright.
He quickly fell asleep. The system timed the half hour while stepping back a few paces, fanning him with its wings.
Suddenly, loud noises came from outside.
Han Min frowned and covered his ears with his hand, showing no intention of getting up.
When the half hour was up, the system, reluctant to wake him, flapped its wings and flew out to check.
The noise was coming from the main gate of the Liu Residence. The hawk perched on the eaves and watched.
Ji Heng, who had once bullied Han Min at the Tianxiang Brothel, was now in pitiful shape, wearing only light clothing, carrying a bundle of thorny branches, kneeling in front of the Liu Residence gate.
Beside him stood his long-time backing in Yong’an City—Duke of Xin, Li Shu—his expression icy, as if a layer of frost had formed in the early summer sun.
The old steward of the Duke’s residence held a long list and stood aside.
Li Shu asked, “How many households remain?”
The long list seemed bottomless. The old steward replied respectfully, “Your Highness, nearly a hundred households remain.”
Li Shu cast a cold glance at Ji Heng. “We probably won’t have time to finish today. Hurry and call Master Han out so we can go to the next household.”
Ji Heng’s clothes were soaked with spots of blood from the thorns on his back.
Li Shu tapped him on the back with the flat side of his sword. Ji Heng shuddered, straightened up quickly, clasped his hands over his head, and loudly said, “I, the humble Ji Heng, respectfully invite Master Han.”
Then he placed his hands on the ground and bowed deeply.
That day, after being taken back by Li Shu from the Tianxiang Brothel, he had been whipped, and afterward, the palace issued an edict for Chu Yu to teach him to write the characters “Li” and “Ji.”
When he heard Li Shu planned to confiscate everything in the Duke’s residence as military pension, it struck him like thunder, and he collapsed in a daze.
After a brief unconsciousness, Li Shu sent someone to bring him some medicinal herbs and supplements to recover properly.
He thought his uncle would eventually regret it.
He had assumed that Han Min, an outsider, even if he addressed Li Shu as “Uncle,” would not have the close familial bond that he, Ji Heng, shared with Li Shu.
Even his mother, Madam Ji, said: “Of course you can’t compare. Duke of Xin’s surname is Li. I am his only living sister, and you are his only nephew. He wouldn’t be so heartless.”
Ji Heng relaxed, but his injuries were severe, so he stayed in the residence to recuperate.
That morning, Li Shu came to ask if his injuries had healed.
Having been well-fed and cared for, it was only natural that he was mostly healed.
Ji Heng thought his uncle had come to apologize, so he put on airs and complained about this pain and that pain.
Finally, Li Shu asked, “Are you mostly healed?”
Ji Heng replied, “Most of the wounds have healed, except…”
Li Shu interrupted, “Do they affect your walking?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll take you out for a trip.”
“Eh.”
Thinking his uncle would take him somewhere pleasant, Ji Heng happily followed.
But as soon as they stepped outside, several guards held him down and strapped the thorny branches to him.
The old steward held the long list. “Your Highness, the first household is the Zhou family. Your niece caused their daughter to attempt suicide, fortunately she was saved.”
Li Shu nodded and had the guards lift Ji Heng. “Alright, let’s go.”
It was not to a pleasant place.
Li Shu had been away from Yong’an for years and was not fully aware of Ji Heng’s misdeeds.
In the past ten days, Li Shu had investigated all of Ji Heng’s actions and now brought him along to apologize household by household.
Hence the question about whether he could walk.
Ji Heng was resentful but had to obey his uncle, seething silently.
The third household to apologize to was Han Min.
Ji Heng called for a long time at the Liu Residence gate, but Han Min did not come out. The gatekeeper offered to send word, but his uncle insisted Ji Heng fetch him himself.
Earlier, the old Liu scholar had come out with his cane, learned what had happened from Li Shu, snorted coldly, and returned leisurely, instructing the residence staff not to tell Han Min and leave Ji Heng outside to wait.
To let him stew.
Han Min, sleeping soundly, was far from the courtyard and could not hear Ji Heng’s calls.
After a while, more pedestrians crowded the street.
Ji Heng, accustomed to bullying others in Yong’an City, felt humiliated as passersby glanced at him, and he lowered his head even more.
Li Shu “comforted” him: “Don’t worry. Your face has already been completely ruined.”
The system, in the hawk, perched on the roof and couldn’t help but laugh.
Ji Heng’s face was iron-like. He could only call loudly again and again: “I, the humble Ji Heng, respectfully invite Master Han.”
Finding it ridiculous, the system watched a little longer before flapping its wings and returning to Han Min’s room.
Han Min, still covering his ears, automatically blocked out the noise, and his sleep was not restful.
The system tapped his shoulder with the hawk’s wings. “Han Min, half an hour is up.”
Han Min groggily lifted his head, rubbed his eyes, and picked up his pen.
The system perched on his shoulder, pressing it down slightly.
“System, you’re heavy.”
“It’s not me, it’s your hawk.”
The system hopped on him, finally jumping onto the desk.
Han Min tilted his head. “Did you hear any noise?”
Intending for Ji Heng to kneel a bit longer, the system said, “No, what noise?”
Hearing this, Han Min put down his pen and stood.
The system panicked: “Eh? Didn’t I say there was no noise? Where are you going?”
Han Min smiled. “System, you never use the ‘ya’ suffix when you speak. That’s odd.”
He pushed the door open, and the system quickly followed.
The sun rose higher, beads of sweat covered Ji Heng’s forehead and back, streaming into his eyes, making them squint, and into his back wounds, causing a sting.
Today, Liu Ting and Jiang Huan were absent. Han Min left the courtyard, walked along a flower corridor, and could hear what was happening at the main gate.
“The humble Ji Heng, respectfully invites Master Han.”
Han Min snorted, holding his sleeve, and went to look.
The old Liu scholar and Liu An were seated in the main hall, facing the gate.
After refilling tea two or three times, the old Liu scholar noticed Han Min, put down the cup, and waved at him.
Han Min stepped forward, bowed, and a small attendant brought a round stool, placing it near the old scholar.
The old scholar handed him a plate of chestnut cakes, glancing at the main gate.
“I only just heard from Duke of Xin about that incident. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t important. I didn’t even take it to heart, why would I tell you?”
The old scholar’s expression darkened. “He called you a courtesan, and you didn’t take it seriously?”
“Really, I didn’t. I think the sisters are fine. As for Ji Heng, he’s not worth holding a grudge against for long.”
“Next time something happens, come and tell me.”
Han Min obediently nodded. “Understood.”
“Won’t you go out?”
“I don’t want to. It’s dirty for my eyes.”
“Good.” The old scholar smiled. “Then let them return. But we still need to invite Duke of Xin in. Alright?”
Han Min nodded. “Of course.”
Previously, at the Tianxiang Brothel, Li Shu had taken Ji Heng and told him that Ji Heng would apologize to him in the future.
Han Min had not had high expectations about that. After all, they were blood relatives.
Unexpectedly, today Li Shu actually brought Ji Heng to apologize.
The old scholar sent for the Duke of Xin. Han Min sat beside him, holding a snack plate, eating two pieces of chestnut cake.
After greetings, Li Shu sat across from the old scholar, sighing: “It’s truly embarrassing. He’s only been in Yong’an a year, and caused so much trouble. I failed to supervise him before, shame on me.”
The old scholar comforted him, and Li Shu then looked at Han Min. “Have you calmed down?”
Before Han Min could answer, the old scholar said: “He doesn’t hold grudges. He just asked me who Ji Heng is. This foolish child couldn’t even remember him.”
The old scholar’s words were both humorous and cutting.
Han Min set down the snack plate, nodding.
Everything the teacher said was true.
With elders present, he didn’t need to face this alone.
After a few words, Li Shu had two large boxes brought in.
“I’ve been stationed on the northwest frontier the past two years. Song merchants occasionally pass by, carrying old manuscript fragments. I thought you’d like them and bought these over two years as an apology.”
He pulled out a stiff-covered manuscript folder, handing it to Han Min. “Here’s the catalog. It was written by scholars whose knowledge isn’t perfect, so there may be errors. Please forgive them.”
Han Min quickly rose and took it with both hands. “You’re too kind, Uncle.”
Li Shu then prepared to leave, and Han Min escorted him out.
Standing under the eaves, they spoke.
Li Shu asked, “Have you calmed down now?”
Han Min smiled but said nothing.
Li Shu added, “Next time, I’ll have him avoid you.” He paused, then asked, “Did you think I wouldn’t make him apologize?”
Han Min nodded sheepishly. “I thought so before.”
Li Shu smiled helplessly. “I don’t come back often, and I didn’t know what he had done. You’ve grown taller since I last saw you.”
“Mm.”
“When will your family return?”
“Probably next month.”
“Good.” Li Shu patted his shoulder. “Don’t be angry. Check the two boxes of books. If anything’s missing, write a note to the residence, and I’ll keep an eye on it.”
Han Min smiled and thanked him, sending him out the gate.
As he turned back, Ji Heng screamed in fright.
Han Min looked back. Turnip Head, the hawk inhabited by the system, was flapping its wings at Ji Heng.
Li Shu seemed not to see, only asking the steward: “Next household?”
The steward squinted at the long list. “The Wang family outside the city, who sell paintings and calligraphy. Last year, Master Ji forcibly bought a fan from them and had someone injure the elderly seller.”
That was enough. Han Min reached out to Turnip Head: “System.”
The system paused, perching on his arm, ruffling its feathers, and followed him inside.
—
The two large boxes of books were still in the main hall. Both the old scholar Liu and Liu An were book lovers and were waiting for him to return so they could open the boxes and take a look.
Han Min handed the book catalog that Li Shu had given him to his teacher so that the teacher could look at it first.
As he looked through the books, the old scholar Liu sighed, “Not bad, not bad at all. I’ve never seen many of these incomplete books even back in the Song Dynasty.”
He was formerly a native of the State of Song and once served as the Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince.
In his youth, dissatisfied with the Song Dynasty’s politics, he crossed the river by boat one night and came to Jiangnan. He gained the favor of Emperor Dezong and served as an official in the Yong’an Academy, which led to his students being all over Jiangnan today.
The State of Song was located in the Central Plains north of the Yangtze River, a place where learning originated.
They lived in the Qi state south of the Yangtze River, and many books had to come from the north. Sometimes, the Song court would issue orders prohibiting the sale of scriptures to the south. Many fragmentary books could only be delivered to the Qi state through private channels.
That’s why he said that.
The old scholar, Liu, handed the memorial back to him, saying, “These are all very good things. Take them back and take a closer look.”
Han Min nodded in agreement.
The old scholar patted him on the shoulder, seemingly with a touch of melancholy: “I’m getting old, it’s too late for me to keep reading. You younger scholars should take more time to study, and ask me again if you have any questions.”
“Yes.”
—
A few days later, Mr. Ge suddenly asked Xie Yan to pass on a message to Han Min.
It is said that some of his grandfather’s manuscripts have been found.
The Han family was confiscated for privately compiling the national history. Everything in the house with writing on it was searched, and several large boxes of manuscripts were eventually collected. After being taken to the palace, they disappeared without a trace.
Since the late emperor hated the Han family so much, he probably wouldn’t have left the manuscript behind, so Han Min didn’t think about looking for it in the palace.
Before the house was ransacked, Grandpa Han had given some manuscripts to Baishi Bookstore, asking them to print them into books so he could give them to a few friends.
Before they could even get the book published, the Han family’s property was confiscated.
Han Min wanted to help his grandfather find the manuscript he had written for Baishi Bookstore back then, which was why he started writing books for the bookstore in the first place.
After arriving in Yong’an, he asked the bookstore and Mr. Ge to keep an eye out for him.
Several months later, news finally came.
Upon receiving the message early in the morning, Han Min rushed to the bookstore with Xie Yan without even having breakfast.
Mr. Ge was waiting for him in front of the back gate of the bookstore. When he saw him coming, he pulled him onto the carriage.
“Let’s go first, we can talk as we go.”
He ordered the carriage to leave the city quickly, then lowered the curtain and said to Han Min, “The bookstore is afraid of causing trouble, so they usually burn your grandfather’s manuscripts. At first, we tried to find the typewriter who did the typesetting and the clerk who took on your grandfather’s job, but they don’t remember them.”
“Later I found a guy who handled the manuscripts, but after two or three years, many of them had left, and it wasn’t easy to find him. A few days ago I finally found one, and he said that some of the guys were greedy and would take the discarded manuscripts home with them.”
“The night your family had that accident, the bookstore urgently told them to take the manuscript away and burn it overnight, but they were too lazy to do anything about it. It wasn’t until the next morning that a clerk mixed your grandfather’s manuscript with other discarded manuscripts and took it home.”
Han Min unconsciously clenched his fists and asked, “What will they do with the manuscript?”
Mr. Ge glanced at him cautiously: “Pasting windows with this is more translucent than using straw paper. Or it can be used to start a fire when cooking, saving some straw.”
There was half a sentence he didn’t say.
—They’re probably gone. Who would keep a few pieces of paper for more than two years?
Han Min should have been able to foresee this.
Two years have passed, and the probability of finding the manuscript is extremely low.
He only wanted to try because he thought there was a one in ten thousand chance.
He sighed, composed himself, and said, “Thank you anyway. I’ll know once I get there.”
“Don’t be discouraged. I’ve heard that some black market dealers collect manuscripts from the public, mix them with other manuscripts, organize them, and resell them as collections of works from previous generations. Who knows, your grandfather’s books might be being sold on the black market right now?”
Han Min had heard a little about this kind of thing.
The southern barbarians were desolate and books were scarce. The books circulating in the Great Qi were a mixed bag, difficult to identify, and some merchants took advantage of this to make a profit.
Alternatively, they could find manuscripts that others didn’t want, or have an unknown scholar write them.
They pieced together a book and signed it with the names of famous figures from previous generations.
Anyway, it’s not widely circulated, and not many people can recognize it. The famous figures of the past have all passed away, so the case can’t be overturned.
This is what is known as counterfeiting.
Why didn’t he think of that?
Han Min rubbed his head and breathed a slight sigh of relief.
The carriage quickly left the city and arrived at a small village outside the city.
In the courtyard of a farmhouse, a woman was feeding chickens with millet. Mr. Ge approached her and gave her two pieces of silver as a reward. Only then did the woman lead them to a small room where miscellaneous items were stored.
The room was made of mud, had no windows, was dark and dusty, and had papers with writing on them piled up haphazardly on the floor.
Han Min covered his face with his sleeve, coughing as he said, “Take it back first, I’ll look at it slowly when I get back.”
He came out of the room and handed the woman two silver ingots: “Excuse me, ma’am, do you have any more manuscripts like this?”
The woman glanced at the silver that Han Min had handed her and immediately beamed, “Yes, yes, yes! My husband handles these things for the bookstore and brings some back every day.”
“May I ask if he worked at Baishi Bookstore two years ago?”
“Yes, but he only stayed for a short while before moving on to other places.”
“Then… are there any manuscripts from Baishi Publishing House among these books?”
“This…” The woman’s eyes darted around, then she smiled and said, “Of course we’ll have some. Think about it, my husband brings some paper back every day and piles it on top. We always use the paper on top. Paper from two years ago might still be buried at the bottom.”
Han Min nodded, and the woman led him to the kitchen, where a bamboo basket by the stove was piled with many discarded drafts.
The woman looked at him with a smile on her face. Han Min understood and slipped her another piece of silver.
The woman put the silver away and asked, “There’s still some left that’s pasted on the windows. Do you want it?”
The paper on the window, after being exposed to wind and sun for so long, has become so illegible that the writing is no longer visible.
Han Min smiled and said, “No need. Have there been people like us who came here to collect these things before?”
“Yes, they did. But they were picky and rummaged through the papers for ages before taking a few, unlike you guys who were much more decisive.”
“I see. Do they come often?”
“They don’t come often, only a few times a year, but when they do come, they usually stay here for a few days.”
Han Min nodded knowingly: “Then next time they come, could you ask your husband to go to Baishi Bookstore and let us know?”
As he spoke, he took out another piece of silver from his sleeve.
“Of course, of course. If they come again, I will definitely have my husband inform them.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, you’re welcome.”
The woman touched the heavy silver coins in her sleeve, wishing Han Min would come every day.
Meanwhile, Mr. Ge and his men had already loaded all the manuscripts onto the truck.
There weren’t many things, just enough to fill two bamboo baskets, but it looked messy.
I wonder if there will be one or two that he wants.
Han Min sat in the car, lifted the curtain, and glanced back.
Mr. Ge poured him a cup of tea and comforted him, saying, “It’s alright, it’s okay if you can’t find it, I’ll help you look again.”
Han Min took the teacup: “Thank you, sir.”
“What exactly is that manuscript about? Why does it seem like we absolutely have to get it back?”
“My grandfather used to be an official in the Imperial Academy. He was on good terms with several friends in the palace. At their request, he compiled his personal experiences and observations over the past ten years into a play. He revised it several times, and it took him almost ten years to write it. The original was already finished, and it was just waiting to be printed and sent to them.”
Han Min propped his head up, leaned against the carriage window, and sighed softly.
“During the two years in Tongzhou, my grandfather wanted to pick up his pen and rewrite it dozens of times, but unfortunately he was too old to see clearly, couldn’t sit still, his hands trembled badly, and he couldn’t hold the pen. He often couldn’t write more than two or three pages.”
“I saw him sitting at his desk several times, hitting his own hand while writing, and when he couldn’t write, he would quietly wipe away his tears.”
“I wanted him to dictate it and I would write it down, but he said it wasn’t a big deal and there was no need to go to so much trouble, and he didn’t want me to get involved. I think he probably can’t remember what he wrote. So I want to help him find the manuscript, at least the script of this play.”
Even if we only find one or two, that would be fine.
Han Min rubbed his temples, feeling a bit of a headache, and said to Mr. Ge, “Please help me, sir. If you need money, just take it from my storybook.”
Mr. Ge had always cherished these intellectuals, and upon hearing this, he felt extremely distressed.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll help you look again.”
Back at Baishi Bookstore, Han Min piled up all the discarded manuscripts he had bought in the courtyard. He didn’t mind the dirt and sat on the stone steps, examining each one one by one.
Xie Yan sat down next to him, saying nothing, just helping him look at the drafts.
By the afternoon, only a few sheets of paper remained at the bottom of the bamboo basket.
Mr. Ge said, “That woman was just trying to make you happy. How could she be from two years ago…”
Xie Yan suddenly held up the basket: “Han Min, isn’t this what’s on top?”
Two pieces of paper were hidden in the gaps between the bamboo strips of the basket. Perhaps because they were pressed tightly, they were not used to cover the windows.
I took the bamboo basket apart and found that the paper, which had been sitting in the kitchen for two years, was very dirty.
Han Min immediately recognized it as his grandfather’s handwriting from years ago—steady and calm.
He then smiled, carefully held the paper in his hands, and read it two or three times.
Mr. Ge breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Are you happy now? Let’s go out for lunch, we haven’t even had lunch yet.”
Just in case, Han Min made two copies of the two manuscripts and kept them in different places before going out with them.
—
It was still afternoon, and the three of them decided to find a place to grab something to eat.
As soon as he stepped out of the bookstore, he saw Chu Yu and Wen Yan in front of a storytelling stall. Wen Yan looked terrible, but Chu Yu kept smiling at him.
As Wen Yan pushed his wheelchair to leave, Chu Yu stuck out his foot and blocked the wooden wheel, preventing him from moving.
Upon closer inspection, he realized that the storyteller was recounting “Two or Three Things Between the Emperor and the Censor”.
Chu Yu withdrew his foot only after seeing Han Min arrive.
Wen Yan pushed the wheelchair to Han Min and said angrily, “Look what you’ve done.”
Chu Yu smiled and said, “Be more magnanimous. You were quite soft-hearted towards Han Min the other day.”
Then the storyteller said, “To find out what happens next, stay tuned for the next chapter. After finishing this one, let’s talk about ‘The Emperor and the Third-Rank Scholar’.”
Chu Yu’s smile froze, then he hid in the crowd and shouted, “The Imperial Censor is the best!”
Some even echoed, “That’s right! The censor is the best!”
Han Min pushed Wen Yan’s wheelchair and said softly, “Bianzhang, let’s go.”
Wen Yan pointed ahead: “We can’t leave now. Look, His Majesty has come in person.”
Han Min looked up and saw that the carriage parked at the street corner was none other than the palace carriage.
Fu Xun lifted the curtain from the carriage and glanced outside, wondering if he had heard what they were shouting.
For what felt like the umpteenth time, Han Min nervously sucked on his hand.
Author’s Note:
Chu Yu: (Immediately changes his tune) Han Record Officer is the best!
Chu Yu: Expert in Public Opinion Guidance
Min-Min: Hand-sucking expert
