After My Emperor Fanfiction Was Discovered – CH80

Chapter 80: The Cellar’s Chill

Before the age of seven, Han Min studied at home with his grandfather. After turning seven, he entered the Imperial Academy and became a student under the senior instructor Master Liu.

He studied diligently for ten years, passed both the county and provincial examinations, yet ultimately fell short right before the palace examination—because his family was raided two years prior.

Before the raid, he had been preparing for the palace exam.

On the day of last year’s palace exam, he locked himself in his room in Tongzhou and imagined himself sitting in the examination hall, writing with the ease of flowing water.

After finishing, he set down his brush, feeling as though a lifetime had passed.

His wish to see his name on the Golden List, to serve during an era of peace and prosperity, was something he would never get to realize.

Han Min still felt unwilling to give up. Looking at the sheets of paper, he couldn’t hold back his tears. Afraid of alerting his older brother next door, he bit down on the back of his hand and cried silently.

He cried most of the night. The next morning he still had to get up early. He stacked the pages, tucked them randomly into a book, and went out with his brush case to earn money writing letters for others.

Only after returning to Yong’an did he find out that the palace exam topic that year had been exactly what he guessed. But he hadn’t brought the essay with him, so he had to rewrite it from memory.

After reading it, Master Liu told him privately that if he had attended last year’s palace exam, Xie Yan’s top rank and Chu Yu’s third-place scholar position might have needed to be reassigned.

He didn’t know if Master Liu was only trying to comfort him. But Han Min smiled at his teacher as if the matter no longer weighed on his heart.

—

Han Li naturally knew nothing of this.

At that time, Han Min was still in Yong’an. Fu Xun had ordered that the Han family be looked after, and since the prefect of Tongzhou considered them kin, Han Li’s household was assigned to help.

Han Li’s family didn’t take it too seriously. But Han Li, sharp as he was, sensed this was a sign that the Han family’s fortunes were about to turn.

So he often visited the Han household and occasionally brought his own essays to show Grandpa Han.

Once, he happened to catch Grandpa Han tidying Han Min’s room. The old man nearly tripped, and Han Li caught him.

He helped with the cleaning—and then saw the essay Han Min had tucked inside a book.

Han Min’s room was piled with books and papers. The essays he had written casually filled several large boxes. Only this one happened to be tucked in a book and, by coincidence, caught Han Li’s eye.

Suppressing his excitement, Han Li read the entire essay from beginning to end. His heartbeat sped up, and heat rose to his limbs.

It was an argument for implementing new reforms—rare in that it was both visionary and practical—painting a picture of a peaceful and prosperous future for Qi. Even the late emperor, who had always held resentment toward the Han family, would have been moved by it.

Right then, Grandpa Han found the dozens of silver banknotes hidden in Han Min’s bed and called the whole family over. Han Li took a deep breath, stepped back a few paces, and while they were distracted, slipped the essay into his own sleeve.

The essay truly was remarkable. After bringing it home, he often took it out to read when no one was around.

Later, when he followed Han Min to Yong’an, he asked Master Liu and the others to read his essays—and even had Han Min read them.

Though he refused to admit it, he knew perfectly well that Han Min’s talent far surpassed his own.

He simply didn’t want to acknowledge it.

After entering the Imperial Academy, his essays were unimpressive. After being summoned yet again for a talk by Scholar Ning, he sat before a blank page, unable to write a single word.

In the end, he took out Han Min’s stolen essay from the bottom of his chest, rewrote it, and even deliberately altered some phrasing.

Han Min’s essay had always been excellent. Even the notoriously picky Scholar Ning praised it endlessly, called it a tremendous improvement, and even brought him along to gatherings with court officials.

Faced with so much praise, Han Li swallowed all clarifications he should have made and accepted every compliment with a smile.

He knew that since both he and Han Min were in Yong’an, Han Min would discover the essay sooner or later.

But he refused to confess—and didn’t dare to.

He only prayed that Han Min hadn’t paid attention to that essay, or hadn’t kept a copy, or hadn’t shown it to anyone.

If so, even if confronted, he could grit his teeth, refuse to admit it, and simply claim it was coincidence.

But now that matters were urgent, fear began to rise.

Sweat gathered in his palms. The carriage was still stuck in traffic. Han Li looked out the window—and suddenly his eyes brightened.

He saw a familiar face.

He hadn’t been in Yong’an long, and most people he knew were through Han Min. Only this person was different.

The day after Han Min completed his coming-of-age ceremony, the Duke of Guangning, Zhao Cun, sent gifts. Han Min wasn’t home then, so Han Li received them.

The one who delivered the gifts was a retainer of Zhao Cun. That retainer also gave him the address of an inn, saying he could come if he ever needed help.

Han Li swallowed, his voice still trembling slightly as he said to Scholar Ning,
“Teacher, it seems we won’t be moving for a while. I’ve spotted a friend—I’ll go speak with him briefly.”

Scholar Ning agreed. Han Li fled the carriage, hurried toward the man, and called out softly twice.

The man turned, looked at him for a moment before recognizing him.
“So it’s Young Master Han,” he said with a smile, pointing toward a nearby restaurant.
“His Highness is there. Would Young Master Han like to go up and pay him a visit?”

“Another day. I’ve run into a bit of trouble right now…”

Han Li glanced back at the carriage. With no way out, he could only confess everything to the man.

The man gave a brief laugh, clearly looking down on him. “I’d better listen to His Highness. I’ll go ask the prince what should be done.”

“I must trouble you, then.”

The man entered the restaurant. Han Li waited anxiously downstairs.

Before long, the man came out again. He pulled Han Li into a corner and took something from his sleeve, stuffing it into Han Li’s hand.

When Han Li felt the object, he recoiled several steps in fright.

The man grabbed his hand and forced the items back into his palm.

“The drug on the handkerchief is the kind used on horses at the polo grounds. The dagger cuts through iron like mud. Only if he dies will the trouble end for good. Decide for yourself.”

Han Li’s hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped them.

The man glared at him, eyes like they were shooting poisoned needles.
“Our prince is helping you out of kindness. Don’t you dare go around talking.”

Han Li shivered and nodded. “I—I know, I know.”

Up ahead, the previously motionless carriage finally started to move. Scholar Ning lifted the curtain and beckoned him.

Han Li shoved the items haphazardly into his sleeve and hurried toward the carriage, hands clenched tight.

—

In the gray, overcast autumn afternoon, the sun was hidden behind clouds.

At the Wen residence, several small tables were arranged. After a few rounds of wine, a servant reported that Scholar Ning’s carriage had started moving again, but it was still far off and would take some time to arrive—they need not wait any longer.

Chu Yu laughed and said to Han Min, “Looks like I won’t be lucky enough to see your masterpiece today.”

Beneath the table, Han Min slapped his hand lightly.

“Alright, alright, I get it. No matter what, he still shares your surname. I won’t say more.”

Then Fu Xun, seated beside Han Min, quietly straightened up. His gaze passed over Han Min and landed on Chu Yu.

Chu Yu, raising his wine cup, froze mid-motion. “…I’m leaving. I’ll leave right now.”

Why is he leaving already?

Han Min looked back in confusion. Fu Xun blinked innocently, returning to that harmless, gentle expression he always showed in front of Han Min.
“What’s wrong?”

Han Min shook his head, picked up his chopsticks, and focused on eating.

After a while, Han Min put them down.

Fu Xun asked softly, “Finished?”

“Mm.”

Fu Xun cleared his throat and said to the room, “I cannot hold my drink well. Everyone, continue at your leisure.”

He was already getting up. The others hurriedly rose to bow and see him off.

He reached out toward Han Min. Han Min, caught off guard, asked in confusion, “What are you doing?”

Fu Xun looked at him and repeated with emphasis, “I cannot hold my drink.”

“You? Since when?”

“I just can’t.”

“You look perfectly fine to me. Last time at the Purple Dawn Hall, I was drunk out of my mind and you were completely unaffected.”

Since he refused to drop the excuse, Fu Xun simply placed his hand directly into Han Min’s.

Completely calm, he said to the others, “Minister Han will escort me to rest. No need for you all to see me off.”

Not that any of them planned to, anyway.

They could all see clearly that this “Minister Han” was very reluctant—he wanted to stay with his friends—but ultimately was still dragged away by His Majesty.

Everyone thought: Abusing your power… far too much.

Chu Yu thought: ‘Abusing power’—how delightful.

After bidding farewell, Han Min was promptly hauled away by the supposedly “weak to alcohol” Fu Xun.

“Where does Your Majesty want to lie down?”

“Your house is right across from the Wen residence. I can’t sleep anywhere else. I’ll just reluctantly stay in your room for a while.”

Han Min curled his lips but still glanced at him. “Then perhaps Your Majesty could wait a moment. The gardeners renovating the courtyard haven’t left yet—we can have them build a palace here expressly for Your Majesty. Why trouble yourself with my little room?”

Fu Xun went along with it immediately. “Then tell them to build it. I’ll come live here every day.”

Han Min choked. Then asked, “Should someone prepare sobering soup? Does Your Majesty’s head hurt?”

“…No—”
Fu Xun paused, then changed his answer. “A little. If someone massaged it for me, I’m sure it’d get better.”

But Han Min refused instantly: “Sorry, can’t help. I’m not human.”

Fu Xun turned to look at him. “Is that necessary?”

Han Min raised his brows proudly and said with a grin, “I’m the Star Lord of Literary Fortune, descended from the heavens.”

Two cups of wine and already ascending to the celestial realm—Fu Xun had never seen such a foolish “star lord.”

—-

While escorting him back to his room, Han Min saw his grandfather fussing with potted plants in the main hall.

“Grandpa, are my teachers coming this afternoon?”

“Mm, they should be here soon.”

Han Min glanced at the dark sky outside. “Looks like rain. Tell Xiaoji to remember to close the windows.”

“Alright.” Grandpa Han lifted his head—and only then noticed Fu Xun standing beside his grandson. He hurried to rise. “Oh! Your Majesty.”

Han Min quickly supported Fu Xun’s arm. “Grandpa, it’s fine. He’s drunk. No need for formalities.”

Fu Xun obediently leaned his body toward him, as if proving the point.

Grandpa Han frowned. “What nonsense is this?”

Being drunk means no need to bow?

“No need, really. Grandpa, sit. I’ll just take him back to sleep for a bit.”

As he spoke, Han Min tried to pull Fu Xun forward—but Fu Xun didn’t move.

Han Min pushed him lightly. “Stop pretending. Let’s go.”

Fu Xun leaned against him. “Drunk.”

Han Min slipped an arm around his waist, but couldn’t move him at all.

In the end he patted Fu Xun’s left leg, as though teaching a child to walk.
“Alright, Your Majesty, lift your left foot. Good.”

Then patted his right leg. “Now step with this one. Very good.”

Fu Xun couldn’t hold back a laugh. He tapped Han Min lightly on the head and strode across the hall.

Grandpa Han stared in confusion.
So… is His Majesty actually drunk or not?

—

Han Min’s room wasn’t large. Aside from a few simple pieces of furniture, the walls were lined with bookshelves. Even so, they still couldn’t contain all his books: several large wooden chests sat side by side in the corner.

Truly a scholar blessed by the God of Literature.

Fu Xun looked around, and his gaze finally landed on Han Min’s bed.

Autumn had already arrived, and Han Min feared the cold, so several layers of bedding were stacked on the bed, looking very warm. The curtains were lifted by bronze hooks; on them were embroidered two tiny bamboo leaves, and hanging there was that long sword.

Fu Xun walked over and tapped the sword. “Still keeping this?”

“Can’t sleep without it.” Han Min thought for a moment, then added, “But I definitely don’t sleep holding it.”

Fu Xun lifted the quilt on the bed, but before he could do anything else, Han Min grabbed him, clutching his sleeve to stop him right in front of him.

“Smell yourself. You reek of wine—it’s awful.”

Fu Xun wasn’t angry. He simply said, “I came in disguise today. Didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

Han Min gave him a resigned look and turned to find him something else to wear.

Fu Xun sat on the bed, watching the figure bent over the clothing chest, entirely pleased with himself.

Suddenly, from outside the window came a hoarse, desperate cat’s yowl. The system, perched on the windowsill, glared fiercely at Fu Xun.

Fu Xun looked at it, then casually picked up the pillow from the bed and hugged it against his chest.

The system let out a sound that didn’t quite resemble a cat’s meow—more like a “wroar”—then leapt into the room.

Hugging Han Min’s pillow, Fu Xun rubbed his thumb over the embroidery of the two tiny bamboo leaves and muttered, muffled, “Han Min, your cat is really fierce.”

He actually dared to complain first.

Han Min turned around. The system, looking wronged, padded over to him.

Han Min patted its head. “Don’t make trouble.”

The system spun in place anxiously—its usually cold electronic voice now tinged with urgency. “He sat on your bed! And he touched your pillow!”

“Well, it’s not like I can keep him from doing that.”

Han Min pursed his lips, pulled out two fresh garments from the clothing chest, and walked over to Fu Xun. He shook them out and held them against Fu Xun’s shoulders to measure.

“New autumn clothes—I think they might be a bit small on you. Tie the sash loosely; just wear them for now.”

Han Min sounded troubled, but Fu Xun couldn’t be happier.

When Han Min had reached adulthood, Fu Xun had gifted him several sets of top-grade pine soot ink. Han Min had been using it recently; the faint scent of ink lingered on his clothes and bedding.

In the end, Fu Xun lay down on Han Min’s bed, covered with his quilt, resting on his pillow—utterly content.

Han Min sat by the bed with the white cat in his arms, slowly stroking its fur. “Your Majesty, aren’t you going to sleep a bit? Didn’t you say you were drunk?”

Fu Xun leaned closer to him. “You should sleep too.”

Han Min was about to go sleep on the bamboo couch on the other side, but Fu Xun pulled him back.

“Making another bed is a hassle. The weather’s not hot—we can squeeze.”

He said it righteously, with absolutely no ulterior motive.

So Han Min set the white cat down, letting it go play.

“I’m only sleeping for a little while.”

The system leapt out the window in fury. Han Min removed his shoes, but Fu Xun stopped him. “You drank too.”

He said seriously, “I smell good. And I’m only sleeping for a while. I was supposed to see Xie Yan off today, but I barely spoke a word to him. I’ll go out later and find them.”

Han Min lay down on his side, still in his clothes. He tugged a corner of the quilt from Fu Xun’s body and pulled it over his own waist and stomach, ready to doze for a moment.

He had never been good with alcohol. Since he lived nearby, he had drunk a bit more than usual. With his eyes closed, his brow relaxed, and he soon fell asleep.

Fu Xun sat close beside him, reaching out to brush aside the stray strands of hair by his ear. His fingertips brushed Han Min’s cheek, and Fu Xun felt heat beneath them.

He didn’t know whether Han Min’s face was hot from the wine, or whether his own fingertips were burning.

Fu Xun stopped messing with him. He tucked Han Min’s hair behind his ear and slid under the quilt as well.

Han Min, facing away, presented only his slender back to him.

Listening to Han Min’s breathing, Fu Xun thought that Han Min had always been right about one thing—

“I smell good.”

Enough to make someone dizzy.

Han Min slept soundly. Fu Xun lay flat on his back, wide awake.

Before long, there came a knock outside. A young servant called softly, “Young master? Young master?”

Fu Xun was originally going to get up and open the door, but Han Min let out two soft grumbles and opened his eyes.

Fu Xun immediately closed his eyes again, pretending to be sound asleep.

Han Min pushed himself up, answered quietly, then looked back at Fu Xun to pull the quilt up over him—

But Fu Xun was only overheating, which was why he’d kicked the quilt off.

Han Min even thoughtfully lowered the bed curtain for him before stepping out.

The servant said, “Someone from the Wen family came to invite you. Scholar Ning and Young Master Tang have both arrived.”

“Alright, I’ll go meet them.”

He glanced at the dim sky outside—it was clearly still afternoon. Autumn must truly have arrived.

Little Jizi wanted to follow him, but Han Min said, “It’s just one door away. What’s the point of following? Did you close the windows in the house? Go close them.”

Han Min walked alone through the corridor and stepped out of the house.

Scholar Ning had already arrived; the carriage was still parked in front of the Wen residence.

Just as Han Min was about to enter, someone suddenly stepped out from beside the door and called to him, “Little Brother Min.”

Han Min turned his head and gave a polite, distant smile. “Cousin, you’re here. Please go in.”

Han Li’s face was pale, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have something I want to tell you. Could you…?”

Han Min immediately sensed something off. He took a step toward the Wen residence and said, “Just say it here. Bianzhang and the others are waiting for me inside.”

Seeing that Han Min was about to leave, Han Li hurried forward, pushed the Wen residence door shut, then fell to his knees with a thud.

Startled, Han Min instinctively stepped back. “What is it?”

Han Li said, “You’ve probably heard—my essay is being highly praised by Scholar Ning. But that essay… that essay was actually… it was yours…”

With him stammering like this, Han Min already guessed most of it. He planned to calm him down and then head inside to find Scholar Ning.

“It’s alright, I—”

“Don’t go in. Since I’ve already used that essay, why don’t you just let me have it… After all, we’re both from the Han family…”

Han Min said nothing and simply lifted his foot to leave.

Seeing his reaction, Han Li knew playing weak wasn’t going to work. He shouted, “The manuscript! I know what you’ve been writing in secret!”

Han Min stopped walking and looked back at him.

Han Li looked up at him and slowly recited the title he had seen: “‘A Few Affairs Between His Majesty and the Chancellor’. It should still be in your room. Since they’re all here today, I can go to your room right now and take—”

Han Min answered openly, “Go ahead and tell them.”

After saying this, he no longer paid him any attention and turned toward the Wen residence.

An autumn gust swept through the alley, lifting fallen leaves and dust.

Han Min stepped up the three steps before the Wen residence. Kneeling on the ground, Han Li brushed his sleeves, and just as Han Min was about to push the door open, Han Li suddenly leapt up and clamped a cloth over Han Min’s mouth and nose.

That man had specifically told him the powder was a sedative used at the horse farms. But fearing it might not be strong enough, Han Li pressed it down for a long while before finally loosening his grip.

“You forced me.”

Han Min’s body went limp and collapsed against him.

He glanced around. The alley was already secluded, and now it was afternoon with the wind rising—no one had seen anything.

He hooked Han Min’s arms and dragged him deeper into the alley.

Things had already reached this point; he had no other choice.

He remembered there was an abandoned cellar deeper in the alley, which he had discovered by accident.

The ground was covered with moss, merging with the stone slab that sealed the cellar entrance. Han Li fumbled for quite some time before he found the slab.

He kept glancing around while searching his sleeves, but the dagger the man had given him was nowhere to be found.

In his rising panic, he simply dumped Han Min into the cellar and pushed the stone slab back over it.

It was hidden, the slab was heavy—surely nothing would go wrong.

Han Li didn’t look back. He hurried out of the alley and found the dagger by the Wen residence door.

He must have dropped it earlier in his panic.

He picked the dagger up, didn’t dare enter the Wen residence, and after a moment’s thought, went instead to the Han residence across the street.

He guessed that Han Min’s room would be empty at this time. If he could get those manuscripts, they would surely prove useful.

A sudden crash—rain began pouring down in sheets.

—

Fu Xun was in Han Min’s room at that very moment. He had never actually fallen asleep—he had only closed his eyes to trick Han Min into covering him with the quilt. But Han Min hadn’t returned.

He must have gone to the Wen residence. Fu Xun sat up, pushed aside the quilt, and had just finished putting on his clothes. He was about to head over to look for Han Min when the room door was pushed open in a hurry.

The footsteps weren’t Han Min’s.

Fu Xun lifted the bed curtain, and his gaze landed on the intruder.

Han Li, coming to steal the manuscripts, had only been wary of being seen by others outside and hadn’t considered the possibility that someone might be inside. There had been no guards at the alley entrance, none at the Han residence door, and none outside this room. How could he have imagined that Fu Xun would be here?

Han Li’s legs nearly gave out from fright. He almost fell to his knees. “Y-Your… Your Majesty…”

Fu Xun asked coldly, “What are you doing here?”

“Your subject…”

He had originally intended to say he had gone to the wrong room—after all, his own and Han Min’s rooms were adjacent. But in a split second he changed his story: “We were discussing essays at the Wen residence. Little Brother Min asked me to come fetch a few books.”

As he spoke, he moved toward Han Min’s writing desk.

But Fu Xun knew Han Min far too well. He knew Han Min didn’t particularly like this cousin—he was polite but distant. How could he possibly have asked him to come get anything?

Han Li reached the desk, forcing himself to stay calm, and using his memory from before, pulled out Han Min’s manuscript.

Half from genuine fear and half as an act, he suddenly fell to his knees with a loud thud. His sleeve swept across the desk, knocking objects to the ground with a clatter.

Before Fu Xun could speak, he bowed with his head to the floor. “Your Majesty, forgive me, forgive me—this humble subject saw nothing!”

But Fu Xun said only, “Put it back. Leave.”

This was not the reaction he expected. Han Li froze, then knocked his head on the ground several more times. “Your Majesty, this humble subject is terrified. I accidentally saw Your Majesty’s name in Young Master Han’s essays. The contents… they were filthy. It was not intentional! Please, please do not punish the Han family…”

Han Li’s thoughts were simple:
If his plagiarism was going to be exposed anyway, he might as well drag Han Min down with him.

Once angered, the emperor would naturally fixate on the scandalous manuscript and would not have the patience to listen to anything else.

Fu Xun rose, took the long sword hanging beside the bed, and stopped in front of him.

Han Li prostrated himself on the floor, not daring to move, seeing only the hem of a robe and a pair of embroidered boots.

Lowering his head, he held the manuscript up with shaking hands.

Fu Xun accepted it, glanced at it once, and placed it back on the desk.

Then he said, “I wondered what it might be. It’s just something he scribbled the other day after losing a bet with me.”

This was, of course, a lie. Han Min had always been extremely secretive about writing storybooks—especially from Fu Xun.

Fu Xun himself had only just learned that Han Min wrote things like that.

And Han Li’s accusation was so deliberate that Fu Xun had immediately understood his intention.

Therefore, he said this merely to protect Han Min in front of an outsider.

This matter was not something an outsider had any right to meddle in.

When Han Min returned, Fu Xun could question him privately.

So Fu Xun told Han Li, “Do not speak of this.”

Han Li had imagined countless outcomes, but in every one, the emperor would be furious, punish Han Min, punish the Han family, and perhaps even implicate him.

He had never imagined that Fu Xun would shield Han Min, tell a lie on the spot, and brush the matter aside just like that.

He had thought he held Han Min’s greatest weakness in his hands, something he could use to threaten him—but it had meant nothing.

Han Li steadied himself on the desk and slowly stood up—when he suddenly heard the sharp ring of metal.

Looking down, he saw the tip of the long sword pointed directly at his throat.

When he stood, Fu Xun had caught the faint trace of drugged powder drifting from his sleeves, and only then realized the matter might be far more serious.

Fu Xun’s voice was icy. “Where is Han Min?”

Outside, the autumn rain fell harder and harder.

The cellar at the end of the alley had been abandoned precisely because of its faulty design—it flooded in the rain.

When it rained heavily, the entire cellar could fill with water.

—
Author’s Note:
Old Fu’s performance scorecard:
Prioritizing protecting Min-min in front of outsiders: +5
Keen observation, meticulous mind: +10
Completing the “Save Min-min” mission within the time limit: +100

Old Fu, CHARGE!!!