Chapter 75: Brother and Sister at Odds
Han Min carefully drafted a reply to Chu Yu’s memorial and showed it to Fu Xun. Only after Fu Xun nodded did he close the memorial and set it aside.
He asked, “What does Your Majesty intend to do with Zhao Cun?”
Fu Xun replied, “I haven’t decided yet.”
Han Min was taken aback. “And you dare—”
Fu Xun ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry.”
However, for the Song’s ruler to willingly cede the strategic northwestern stronghold, it would inevitably cause a stir.
Han Min turned his head to dodge Fu Xun’s hand and picked up a new memorial.
Yesterday, he had told the system that he quite liked Fu Xun. The only flaw was that Fu Xun liked to be physically affectionate, which could cause misunderstandings.
He had never noticed before, but from today onward, Han Min realized he too was a literary man with feelings.
After replying to over ten urgent memorials, it was noon.
The palace servants were arranging the meal outside. Han Min put down his brush, hid his hands in his wide sleeves, and stretched lazily.
Fu Xun pinched his arm. “This afternoon, send someone to fetch Little Jizi, let him pack your things and bring them into the palace.”
Han Min dodged to the side. “For what?”
Fu Xun raised his right hand. “Until my hand is free, you must stay in the Funing Hall.”
“Before, it was Bian Zhang who helped Your Majesty review memorials. Why didn’t I see him stay in the Funing Hall?”
Fu Xun said seriously, “Jiang Huan and Chu Yu also helped review memorials, but they are very busy. You, however, have more leisure.”
Han Min frowned. “Is Your Majesty complimenting me? Is that it?”
Just as he was about to argue, the voice of the old lady came from outside.
“Your Majesty, Lord Han, the Empress Dowager has sent dishes.”
Whenever Han Min dined in Funing Hall, the Empress Dowager always sent someone with food. They had all grown accustomed to it.
Before standing, Han Min asked, “Did Chu Yu and the others get this too when they were here?”
“No. If you want to know why, ask the Empress Dowager yourself.”
At lunch, Han Min said, “I need to make a quick trip home.”
Fu Xun offered him some food. “Why?”
“I secured a vacant spot at the academy for my cousin, to let him fill it first.”
Fu Xun glanced at him. “Are you sending him away?”
Han Min nodded slightly, offering no further comment.
“Then go.”
After a brief silence, Fu Xun said, “I heard Princess Rongning sent you a gift yesterday?”
“Yes. I suspected she had something to tell me, so I watched carefully. It was just two ordinary porcelain brush holders, nothing special.”
“If she gave them to you, then use them.”
“But the porcelain holders are painted with a scene.”
“What scene?”
“Hunting dogs chasing a rabbit. Is Princess Rongning implying that the Duke of Guangning and the Song emissary still mean her harm?”
Fu Xun chuckled lightly. “You don’t know her methods. Duke of Guangning is foolish; if he managed to ascend to prince, it’s entirely due to her plotting.”
Han Min didn’t understand, but Fu Xun did. Princess Rongning had deliberately sent him that. A princess in danger naturally arouses sympathy.
Fu Xun pondered and added, “If you’re worried, I’ll help you send a return gift.”
“What will Your Majesty send?”
A painting titled ‘Women Playing Cuju’, wishing the princess a swift recovery and continued excellence on the field.
He didn’t say anything, just helped Han Min with his meal. “Eat quickly.”
In the afternoon, Han Min took a moment to return home and spoke with Han Li in his room.
Though Han Li’s character was not entirely upright, he was clever.
He had long known that neither Chu Yu, Wen Yan, nor the circle of friends around Han Min favored him. Clinging to Han Min offered little benefit.
He had already been seeking connections unrelated to Han Min, attempting a new path to success.
Hearing that a spot opened at the academy, he eagerly accepted and bowed to thank Han Min.
Han Min steadied him and spoke a few extra words. “Most at the academy are children of noble families. Your studies represent the Han family’s reputation. Please pay extra attention.”
Han Li smiled, though not fully in his eyes. “Naturally. I entered the academy to study, not to cause trouble.”
Han Min smiled too. “I’ve asked Senior Brother Liu to keep an eye on you. If anything happens that you can’t handle alone, tell him.”
Han Li’s smile stiffened—Han Min was clearly warning him: Liu Ting would be watching. Don’t do anything to shame the Han family.
Han Min sat at his desk, fingers tapping absentmindedly. He looked at Han Li, unintentionally making him nervous.
Finally, Han Li twisted the corners of his mouth in a smile. “I understand.”
Han Min then took the two gift boxes sent by Princess Rongning from the pile of gifts he hadn’t yet sorted.
“I didn’t have time yesterday to ask, cousin—did you accept Princess Rongning’s gifts for me?”
“Yes. You weren’t here, so I put them aside for you.”
“Thanks then.”
Han Li remained composed. “This morning, the Duke of Guangning of the Song also sent you something, to your left.”
“Oh.”
Han Min set down his current box and picked up the one on his left.
Opening it, there were only a few trinkets.
Apparently, Zhao Cun, upon hearing that Princess Rongning sent him something, couldn’t resist sending a small gift in return while gathering information.
Han Min guessed correctly, but one detail surprised him.
When Han Li accepted the gifts, Zhao Cun’s men chatted briefly and even left the courier address, suggesting Han Min could contact Zhao Cun anytime if needed.
After seeing Han Li off, Han Min organized the gifts he’d received, taking only a few clothes and a writing pouch into the palace.
After spending two or three days in the palace, Chu Yu was on duty, and Han Min still assisted Fu Xun in reviewing memorials.
At lunch, Chu Yu complained to him, “If you give me more time, I could investigate the polo field incident. But the Emperor forbade it, and you won’t let me either.”
Han Min turned. “I didn’t—”
“I recognize your handwriting; you helped the Emperor review memorials. The phrasing is yours too.”
Han Min was speechless.
Chu Yu rested his head on his arms, staring at the ceiling beams. “Why? Does the Emperor fear touching Zhao Cun?”
Han Min only said, “Perhaps the Emperor has his own plan.”
“Any clear-eyed person can see that apart from Princess Rongning, all other Song emissaries, especially the Duke of Guangning, are involved.”
“If everyone already understands, that tacit understanding can be more effective than uncovering the truth.”
“That’s true.”
Chu Yu stared at the ceiling, thinking, then turned to hug Han Min.
“Just like these past few days, the people tacitly acknowledge the Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer are a pair. That’s more useful than knowing the truth, right?”
Han Min pushed him away. “What about my ‘Chancellor’?”
Chu Yu tenderly touched his temple. “Precious Xici, you must understand: nothing stays popular forever. Pine Smoke Ink Guest wrote seven or eight popular books; now it’s his own turn to shine.”
Han Min slammed the bed in anger. “You three are ganging up on me! I quit! I quit!”
Chu Yu stroked his hair, smiling. “Think about why your previous works, ‘Censor’ and ‘Exploring Flowers’, were popular. Why is ‘Imperial Record Officer’ even more so?”
“Of course, because Young Master Chu is willing to spend money.”
“No. Your previous works were popular because they were real—down to what incense was lit in the Funing Hall, what the Emperor ate. You captured reality.”
“That’s true.”
Chu Yu continued, “Then why is ‘Imperial Record Officer’ more popular? Also because it’s real. But this reality isn’t just about objects or food—it’s the genuine feelings between the Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer.”
“The emotions in your earlier works were fictional. ‘Imperial Record Officer’’s emotions are genuine, so it’s the most popular.”
Han Min had a point but would never admit it.
He insisted, “Literature isn’t solely about truth; it’s about beauty. You don’t understand aesthetic value.”
“You’re right. The Emperor and the Imperial Record Officer’s feelings are beautiful, so it’s popular. Didn’t I give you a copy? Didn’t you read it?”
“Nonsense. Aren’t you going to sleep? Don’t you have to go to the Dali Temple this afternoon?”
Han Min ignored him, pulled the blanket over himself, and slept with his back to Chu Yu.
He wanted to secretly like Fu Xun, without his playful friends knowing, and without making Fu Xun uncomfortable.
The dungeons of the Dali Temple in the west city were cold and damp. Even at noon, there was no warmth.
At the end, in adjacent cells, were the guards and Ji Heng captured from the polo field with the Duke of Guangning, Zhao Cun.
Chu Yu, assigned to interrogate them, pursued his duties diligently, often questioning them.
Before the Song offered a minor envoy as a scapegoat, the two had suffered physical punishment.
One was Duke of Guangning’s Attendant; the other, a new friend of Zhao Cun. It was untrue that they were completely ignorant of the polo field incident.
But after receiving Fu Xun’s decree, Chu Yu no longer visited often. They remained imprisoned, awaiting further disposition.
This afternoon, Ji Heng opened his eyes, struggled up from the hay, moved to the wall, and tapped it.
No response from the neighboring cell—it had probably been taken for interrogation.
He leaned against the wall, staring at the rare sunshine through the small window bars.
He had been here nearly half a month.
Initially, he had roared in court, claiming his uncle, Duke of Xin, Li Shu, would protect him.
But his uncle never came.
The dungeon was strictly guarded; no one entered.
Ji Heng, once of noble birth, had enjoyed luxury under his uncle’s care. Even when restricted, his meals were never insufficient.
Now, hay, plain clothes, white rice and vegetables, cockroaches, and spiders.
He had never suffered such grievances.
His resentment grew. He resented Li Shu for not saving him, for leaving him to attract the local elite while shirking responsibility.
He resented Chu Yu’s cunning, his own trust in Zhao Cun, and the emperor’s folly.
In short, he resented everyone.
He hugged his knees, staring at the clear sky.
Suddenly, someone tapped the bars.
Ji Heng turned, seeing his uncle Li Shu outside, expression grave.
“Come quickly.”
Seeing his stern face, Ji Heng turned pale.
Li Shu added, “You can leave; I’ll take you.”
Ji Heng finally exhaled and stood, supporting the wall. “Uncle, could you at least finish a sentence?”
Li Shu said nothing, turning away. Guards opened the cell, and Ji Heng, without complaint, limped after him.
Outside the main gate, two bronze beasts stood guard.
The old steward of Duke Xin’s mansion waited with a small carriage, helping Ji Heng aboard.
“Young Master.”
Ji Heng muttered, “Why just like this? Shouldn’t there be a fire ritual at least?”
Li Shu glanced back coldly. “You know what you did.”
Ji Heng, suddenly emboldened despite bare feet, sneered. “Uncle, you are truly a good uncle.”
Li Shu seemed not to hear and warned, “Do not associate with the Duke of Guangning.”
“Uncle, you forget? If not for me, the polo field…”
Li Shu’s face darkened. “Shut your mouth.”
Ji Heng waved his sleeve. “If not for me, how could you have gained prestige in Yong’an? You even let me stay here so long…”
Li Shu instinctively glanced into the shadows, lowering his voice. “I said, shut your mouth. Everything is the Emperor’s will. Do not associate with Duke of Guangning again—”
Ji Heng interrupted him for once.
“Why must I suffer under him? Uncle, you are a relative of the late emperor, trusted as Duke Xin. Why not pass the throne to—”
His words cut off as he turned his head. Blood leaked from his mouth. Li Shu’s half-raised hand trembled.
Ji Heng was foolish, failing to notice the quiet of the usually busy Dali Temple today.
Li Shu struck him again, then commanded the steward: “Take him back.”
Ji Heng pushed away the steward and rose, wiping his mouth. “Dungeon is inside; will you send me back?”
Li Shu ignored him, grabbed his collar, and dragged him to the carriage.
Once Ji Heng was inside, the steward drove off. Li Shu turned, paused, and knelt.
“Your Majesty, forgive me.”
Fu Xun stepped out of the corridor shadows. Han Min tugged his sleeve, signaling him not to let the uncle kneel.
Fu Xun brushed aside his hand. “Duke of Xin, do you wish to be emperor?”
Li Shu lowered his head further. “I dare not, nor wish to.”
Han Min tugged Fu Xun again; Fu Xun finally smiled, bending to help him up.
“Just joking. Rise, uncle.”
Li Shu was ten years older; Fu Xun had once brought him out from the northwest. Now, Fu Xun had changed entirely.
Fu Xun said, “I warned earlier, Ji Heng would be a burden to you.”
Li Shu lowered his eyes, silent.
After a long pause, Chu Yu approached: “Your Majesty, Duke Xin, all is ready; you may proceed.”
They came not to see Ji Heng, but the Duke of Guangning’s attendant.
The man was blindfolded, hanging in the dark.
A table was set in front. Fu Xun waved his sleeves, commanding Chu Yu to remove the cloth.
The candlelight revealed him blinking and shedding a few tears.
Fu Xun reclined. “Princess Rongning is dead. Song cannot marry her off now. She is dead.”
The man froze. “Impossible! She was fine that day…”
“She is dead. Our Qi kingdom coroner examined her—internal organs stained with blood from the fall. That’s why it wasn’t obvious at first.”
“After ten days, she kept complaining of pain. One night, she cried, then fell silent. Her maid Xiaotao thought she slept. Next morning, she was dead.”
Fu Xun spoke calmly and convincingly.
The man steadied himself. “No, the Duke said—”
Hearing “duke,” they exchanged glances. Chu Yu said, “The princess is dead. Duke of Guangning was preparing her coffin for Song; recently he’s been busy, hence no communication.”
The man murmured, “No, you deceive me.”
Then a young maid, dressed in mourning, burst in, eyes red, voice hoarse, shaking him.
“You killed the princess! You killed her! How dare you?”
The man gasped, “Xiaotao?”
Seeing the incense ashes embedded in her fingers, he finally believed.
Chu Yu loosened the ropes, bringing him down and pressing him against the barred window.
Outside, the old steward drove a carriage nearby.
“Inside the carriage is Duke of Xin’s nephew Ji Heng. You stayed together in adjacent cells for ten days. He already confessed. Duke of Xin couldn’t bear to watch his only nephew die, so substituted him with a death row criminal for two years.”
“Did the Duke of Guangning tell you someone would take the blame? You’d suffer only minor injuries. But how long without news? Would he save you? Or would he kill you?”
“And you, with this young maid…”
Sunlight fell on him, casting shadows.
The man closed his eyes. “Duke of Guangning.”
“What?”
The young maid rushed forward, pushing Chu Yu aside, lifting him.
The man remained oblivious, eyes closed. “Duke of Guangning befriended Ji Heng, prompted him to build the polo field. I handled the medicine, dosage controlled…”
The young maid trembled. “What did Zhao Cun plan?”
“To make the princess fall in front of the Qi Emperor’s horse. If he helped her mount, claim intimacy to force a political marriage.”
“This plan wasn’t Zhao Cun alone. It was dangerous, but guaranteed success with support from several ministers. Without them, the field couldn’t be cleared for the princess and emperor.”
“If the princess dies?”
“She won’t. I already—”
The young maid threw him to the ground, tore off his mask—it was Princess Rongning herself.
She laughed bitterly. “Won’t die? I would die, giving you reason to attack Song.”
He tried to kneel, but she kicked him away.
“Do you know? At the polo field, I originally intended to reconcile with Zhao Cun. I sent men to follow the Qi officials, didn’t believe them, thought they framed Zhao Cun. Only today did I see and hear the truth.”
Princess Rongning laughed. “Good, good. Zhao Cun must have forgotten who plotted his rise. The Song ruler is blind, mistaking jewels for stones. Song shall fall, Song shall fall!”
Fu Xun stood. “I leave it to you.”
Princess Rongning smiled. “Thank you.”
They stood outside; no screams from the dark room.
Han Min glanced back as Princess Rongning pushed the door open, smirking at him.
“Lord Han.”
“Yes.”
She stepped aside, revealing the scene.
The man’s eyes bulged, staring at her, lying still. A small cut in his throat gushed blood.
She said, “It doesn’t matter. Even if a corpse is sent back, Zhao Cun won’t pursue it. Letting him live plants future trouble.”
She looked at Fu Xun. “What must I do to handle Zhao Cun and the Song emissaries?”
She took out a handkerchief, carefully wiping her hands. “Also, don’t call me Princess Rongning anymore. My name is Zhao Yin.”
Author’s note:
Princess Rongning first disguised herself as a maid in Chapter 58. Taking Han Min’s advice, she refined her disguise and acting skills to a masterful level.
