Chapter 54: Little Rivals
Behind them was the storytelling stall that had just finished reciting “The Emperor and the Censor, Two or Three Things”, with some people still shouting, “The Censor is the best!”
In front of them was a carriage coming out of the palace, with the Emperor seated inside. Fu Xun lifted the curtain of the carriage and was looking directly in their direction.
Han Min was pushing the censor’s wooden wheelchair, caught in a dilemma.
He stepped back a few steps and nudged Chu Yu’s arm to remind him that the Emperor was right ahead.
Chu Yu glanced over, smiled, and hooked his hand over Han Min’s shoulder, asking, “What do we do now?”
Han Min whispered, “We agreed before… not to tell him.”
Chu Yu asked, “What did we agree on before?”
He seemed to be reconsidering. Han Min became anxious: “We agreed that I would read the script to you, and you wouldn’t tell him.”
“We’ve only read it once, and it’s not finished yet.”
“Then I’ll read it for you next time.”
“How many times?”
Han Min gritted his teeth. “Ten times?”
Chu Yu remained silent.
“Twenty times?”
Chu Yu pinched his chin, casually saying, “Until it’s done.”
Heavens, he even knew how to bargain on the spot—a true son of a wealthy merchant family.
Han Min glared at him angrily, grinding his molars. “Fine.”
“Deal.” Chu Yu made a sealing gesture with his hand. “I absolutely won’t tell him.”
Writing a script like this could be trivial or serious. At its smallest, it was just a scholar’s playful pastime; at its largest, it could be considered slander against the emperor.
All of Han Min’s friends, teasing him, naturally wouldn’t bring this matter to the Emperor before understanding Fu Xun’s attitude toward it.
Chu Yu took the wheelchair from him, pushing it with one hand while looping an arm around Han Min’s shoulder, heading toward the carriage.
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.”
Fu Xun didn’t get out of the carriage; he just lifted the curtain and looked at them.
His cold glance swept over Chu Yu’s hand on Han Min’s shoulder. Chu Yu noticed and quickly put his hand down.
When they arrived in front of him, the group bowed. Fu Xun asked, “I just heard someone shouting over there. What was it?”
His gaze fell on Han Min, as if specifically asking him.
Feeling a bit guilty, Han Min quietly stepped back half a step and was steadied by Chu Yu.
Since it wasn’t appropriate to bow to the Emperor outside, Chu Yu simply said, “I wanted to write a new script and asked the listeners at the storytelling stall which character would be better.”
“What do you want to write?”
“The Censor…”
Han Min was startled and discreetly pinched him.
Chu Yu shook his hand off but still smiled: “About the Censor and the Third-Rank scholar.”
Han Min relaxed, but Wen Yan looked away, annoyed.
Why did the Censor always have to be with someone else? Couldn’t he just work alone in court?
Very frustrating.
Fu Xun didn’t ask further and continued to look at Han Min, a smile in his eyes.
An obvious favoritism.
“Where are you going?”
Han Min said, “To eat.”
Fu Xun nodded. “I haven’t eaten either.”
The hint was clear.
As he spoke, he glanced at the few friends beside Han Min.
—Those who wanted to have dinner with the Emperor, step forward now.
So they all stepped back.
Chu Yu stretched his hand and silently pulled Wen Yan’s wooden wheelchair back as well.
A deathly silence fell. Han Min looked around, puzzled.
His friends smiled at him, walking leisurely: “Enjoy your meal.”
Han Min scratched his head. “Then I’ll go?”
Fu Xun personally lifted the carriage curtain. “Get in.”
The group stood still, watching the carriage leave.
Mr. Ge asked, puzzled, “Can’t you all just eat together?”
Chu Yu waved his hand. “Don’t want to.”
Wen Yan said, “Avoid suspicion.”
Xie Yan also said, “We’re not close.”
Being peculiar, Mr. Ge asked, “What’s there to avoid suspicion for? He’s just a friend of Han Min’s, isn’t he?”
Chu Yu pushed the wheelchair back and asked, “Oh? You’ve met him too?”
“Twice. Once in Tongzhou, Han Min brought him and his younger brother, sitting on the steps eating malt sugar. Another time at Tianxiang Tower, he came to discuss business after buying the Han family old residence.”
Mr. Ge still couldn’t figure it out. “What’s wrong with him?”
Chu Yu leaned close to his ear and whispered two words.
Mr. Ge froze on the spot, stunned for a long time. “Oh my heavens!”
No wonder Wen Yan wanted to avoid suspicion. “The Emperor and the Censor” was extremely popular. As a Censor, he would never have any private dealings with Fu Xun.
Mr. Ge thought for a moment and then quietly asked, “So Han Min is also an official now?”
“The Han household record keeper.”
He gasped, then grabbed Chu Yu’s hand: “‘The Emperor and the Record Keeper’—any interest? With my recent experience working for Baishi Bookstore, if this book existed, it would definitely be popular.”
Chu Yu squeezed his hand. “Great minds think alike.”
He added, “But I haven’t known them long. I heard they’ve known each other since childhood. You’d need someone who’s known them from that time.”
They both looked at Wen Yan. He pushed his wheelchair straight ahead: “I won’t write it.”
Chu Yu used his foot to stop the wheelchair, persuading him: “If he can write for you, why not write for him? When ‘The Emperor and the Record Keeper’ becomes more popular than ‘The Censor’, you won’t hear street storytellers reciting ‘The Censor’ anymore.”
Seems reasonable.
Wen Yan felt tempted.
Inside the carriage, Han Min rocked his feet with his hands.
Having written the Emperor into a script, he felt guilty with Fu Xun right in front of him.
Strangely, he couldn’t understand his own feelings.
When he started writing the first book in Tongzhou, he hadn’t seen Fu Xun for two years and clearly had no other thoughts, even confidently claiming the script was all false.
Now, growing more familiar with Fu Xun and writing more scripts, the feeling became stranger.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have written it in the first place.
Han Min rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, Fu Xun lifted his hand, startling him.
Fu Xun plucked a small scrap of paper from Han Min’s head, likely stuck while organizing manuscripts.
Han Min touched his hair and said, “Thanks.”
Fu Xun asked, “Where did you go today?”
“I went outside the city, then to the bookstore…” he deliberately vague, “read books all day.”
“No wonder.”
“What happened?”
“The craftsmen fixing your old residence couldn’t find you, so they reported to me.”
Han Min looked at him, puzzled.
Seeing Han Min’s absent-minded, dazed expression made Fu Xun want to laugh. “Your neighbor is moving. They asked if you wanted to buy the adjacent lot and build a garden.”
Han Min instinctively refused: “I’ll wait until I’ve saved enough money…”
“You can borrow first, deducted from your record keeper’s salary.”
“But last time, the house renovation was deducted from my salary.”
“No problem.”
Han Min felt tempted.
Although overspending required caution, having a garden meant his grandfather could plant flowers there, and his elder brother could have a place to walk during recovery.
Han Min stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Then… thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You’re welcome. Wait until they calculate the bill and bring it to you.”
“Yes.”
He calculated mentally that Fu Xun probably wouldn’t deduct seventy or eighty years of salary… right?
Fu Xun reached out again, startling Han Min, who instinctively moved away.
Fu Xun frowned. “You seem scared of me today.”
Han Min didn’t know either—perhaps due to guilt over the script. He just shook his head: “I’m not daring.”
Fu Xun said, “Haven’t I told you before?”
“What?”
“When we interact, just like before is fine.”
“I understand.”
After a pause, Fu Xun suddenly coughed twice.
Han Min looked at him. Fu Xun spoke first: “Not convenient outside, don’t call me ‘Your Majesty.’”
“Oh, got it.”
Fu Xun sat upright, eagerly waiting to hear “Third Brother.”
Han Min said seriously, “Fu Dog.”
Fu Xun frowned, incredulous.
Han Min remained very serious: “You said like before…” and then couldn’t hold back laughing: “You said it yourself.”
So Fu Xun called him: “Jiao Jiao.”
“Han Jiao Jiao” turned away and didn’t reply, lifting the carriage curtain to glance out: “Where are we going?”
Fu Xun didn’t answer. He just watched.
The carriage went straight to the north of the city, where there was a night market mostly of Western merchants.
After the late Emperor’s passing, the market reopened brightly and bustling.
Han Min remembered coming here as a child with several friends.
The carriage stopped at the street corner. Han Min got off. “Going to the old place for food?”
Fu Xun quietly instructed the driver, then nodded.
Familiar with every corner, Han Min walked in smoothly.
It had been a long time; many foreign goods were new to him, and he liked to peek.
The market was crowded. Fu Xun occasionally tugged on his sleeve to prevent him from getting lost.
On the way, they saw a man with a rope tied to a child who was pulling forward, unable to hold back.
Fu Xun smiled and pulled Han Min back.
Amid the noise, Fu Xun whispered: “If you keep doing that, I’ll tie you up with a rope.”
Han Min was shocked: “You’re trying to be my dad now? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
Fu Xun helplessly tugged his mouth and let go. “Walk yourself.”
Han Min laughed and held his sleeve. “I’ll hold you.”
He hadn’t eaten breakfast after being called by Mr. Ge to check manuscripts outside the city. He was busy all morning reading, only snacking lightly—now he was actually hungry.
In the market stood an old two-story building, a restaurant in operation for over ten years.
As a child, Han Min often came here with friends. Now, holding Fu Xun’s hand, he navigated the crowd toward it. Someone waved from the second floor.
“Han Min!”
It was Fifth Prince Fu Rang, a childhood friend.
Han Min waved back and pulled Fu Xun into the building.
Fu Rang was with Duke of Yue, Fu Le.
The uncle-nephew pair sat by the window with a few side dishes and two cups of wine.
Han Min and Fu Xun arrived, and they were holding one hand while eating and laughing.
Seeing them, they stood to greet and had a square table added. Old wine was cleared, new dishes served.
Han Min sat beside Fu Rang, talking closely.
Fu Rang opened the window, pointing outside: “The flower girl is new; her grandmother used to sell flowers but can’t walk. That troupe is new too, their plays are odd.”
Han Min laughed: “But the tattoo master’s been there all along.”
Fu Rang had tattooed there as a child, crying while Han Min held him down.
He coughed heavily, signaling Han Min not to mention it.
Fu Rang turned to Fu Xun: “Elder brother… why come with Han Min?”
Fu Xun said lightly: “He wanted to see, so I brought him along.”
Han Min said, “I never said I wanted to come! Your carriage dragged me here.”
Fu Xun ignored him and reached for his hairband. Han Min leaned back. “What are you doing?”
Fu Rang waved: “Don’t hit, don’t hit.”
Breaking things meant paying—Fu Rang remembered it well.
The two had fought as children, broke cups, money insufficient—had to leave them as collateral while someone fetched cash.
Night fell; they returned, but no one was left. Han Min and Fu Xun sat at opposite ends, ignoring each other.
Once Fu Xun stood, Han Min fell—they fought again, breaking more porcelain.
More debts, endless repayment.
Thus, Fu Rang feared them fighting and stopped any sign immediately.
When Han Min returned to Yong’an, he saw Fu Xun carry him back to his chamber, thinking the fighting stopped. But it resumed immediately.
Han Min stood: “Fu Rang, switch seats.”
Fu Rang hesitated, meeting Fu Xun’s indifferent gaze.
Han Min nudged his arm: “Hurry, I won’t sit opposite him.”
While lingering, a server arrived with a wooden tray.
Fu Xun said: “Sit down and eat. I won’t move you.”
Han Min huffed and sat back in front of him.
The elderly server placed dishes, smiling: “You two have been here before?”
Neither spoke. Fu Rang answered: “Yes, often. You have a good memory.”
“Of course. Always noisy, sometimes fighting.”
Han Min hid his face. “Not me, not me.”
The server nodded: “Exactly.”
Pointing downstairs: “When you arrived, we recognized you. Back then, we called you ‘little rivals.’ Sometimes, runners would shout: ‘Little rivals are here! Protect the dishes!’”
He placed four cups: “You won’t fight now, right?”
Embarrassed Han Min: “No.”
Server left after saying: “Call if needed.”
Han Min saw Fu Xun still smiling, glared: “Always pulling my hairband.”
Fu Xun laughed: “Little rival.”
“Stop it.”
“Little rival?”
Han Min rolled up his sleeve, serving him: “Eat! Stop calling me that!”
Inside, candlelight and shadows made Han Min the focal point.
Han Min, having missed meals all day, ate carefully, feeling half-full. He lifted the cup but Fu Xun held his hand: “No drinking outside.”
He summoned the server: “He’s not wearing a cap. Bring a pot of tea.”
Selling alcohol to minors caught by the Emperor himself!
The server replaced the cup with fragrant tea.
Han Min sipped quietly, looking at Fu Rang and Duke of Yue: “Why here?”
Fu Rang: “After the late Emperor passed, eating at public restaurants could draw censure. So we came here.”
Duke of Yue, previously quiet, leaned back, watching outside.
Then, drums sounded from a tent outside. Four or five Indian dancers emerged.
Their hips swayed gracefully.
Duke of Yue, stout and jolly, clapped along.
Fu Rang explained: “Little Duke can’t go to the music house, so he watches dancers here and eats.”
Han Min understood. He peeked out.
Fu Xun only glanced, served him, and coldly asked: “Finished eating? What’s to see?”
Han Min, appreciating artfully: “I think it’s beautiful.”
Fu Xun elbowed Duke of Yue, who realized and knocked the bowl: “Stop looking, kids shouldn’t watch, eat.”
He partially closed the window by Han Min.
Han Min glanced once more, couldn’t see, and ate.
The meal was brief; Han Min felt full. Outside, music paused.
Duke of Yue warned: “Min Min, don’t imitate, wine and women ruin people.”
Han Min asked: “Then Little Duke?”
Duke Yue waved: “After eating, walk elsewhere. Too old to go play.”
Drums resumed; the dancers performed. Duke of Yue watched attentively, ignoring them.
They went downstairs to stroll.
The server joked: “No fighting, no one held as collateral. Come again.”
Han Min ran ahead to Fu Xun, hugging his shoulder, announcing: “We’re no longer rivals; we’ve reconciled. Don’t call us that.”
The server skeptically: “I’ve seen it—fought fiercely as kids.”
Han Min hugged Fu Xun tighter: “Quick, explain—we’re reconciled.”
Fu Xun pursed his lips: “Mm.”
“Speak up.”
“I think ‘little rivals’ is fine.”
“You…”
Han Min let go but was pulled by the waist by Fu Xun.
Han Min whispered: “Let go.”
Fu Xun: “Since reconciled, we walk like this.”
They left arm-in-arm. Fu Rang was left behind: “Bro? Han Min? Wait for me!”
The server stroked his chin: “Really? Reconciled?”
Outside the building, a tall, charming dancer threw a jeweled flower at Han Min.
He reached to catch it, but Fu Xun hugged him aside, dodging it.
Han Min froze, smiling foolishly.
“Why? It was for me!”
Fu Xun: “Unsteady.”
He led Han Min away.
Yong’an had many foreigners; years ago, Emperor Dezong allowed registration for foreigners.
Many did business in the northern market, including the western dancers.
Crowded, Fu Xun held Han Min’s waist the entire way.
Fu Rang followed, often separated, but Han Min pulled him back.
Fu Rang: “You’re walking too fast…”
Fu Xun glanced: “Why glare at me?”
Han Min held his hand: “Why glare at him?”
Fu Xun lowered his eyes: “I didn’t.”
Passing a Persian tent, a woman held a white Persian cat with heterochromatic eyes.
Han Min called: “System, isn’t this your favorite long-haired heterochromatic white cat?”
He approached; the cat opened its eyes—one blue, one green.
The Persian woman handed it to Han Min without bargaining.
He stroked the cat, which mewed softly, likely too young.
His eyes instantly teared up—The cat was too adorable.
After the woman named the price, Han Min’s eyes were even wetter.
Fu Rang: “I’ll buy it…”
Fu Xun glanced at him but said to Han Min: “Deduct from your salary.”
Han Min nuzzled the cat: “Deduct everything from my salary. I fear I’ve sold myself to you like this cat.”
Fu Xun, caught, covered his mouth, suppressing a laugh.
Author’s note:
It’s fine, Min-Min, buy it if you want!
You can repay later with salary from the Record Keeper and Empress posts.
(Friendly reminder: don’t imitate Min-Min)
