Chapter 81: I Have a Fever
The cellar was bone-chilling cold. Han Min fell onto the dust-covered floor.
The anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet; he shouldn’t have been conscious at this time, but the cold water all over the floor woke him up.
He couldn’t move and could only struggle to open his eyes, yet saw nothing.
Han Min felt as if a hand was gripping his heart tightly. The endless darkness spread like a tide, stretching from the secret room in the Duke of Gong’s mansion two years ago all the way here.
Outside came a noisy sound, like rain. Raindrops fell on the stone slabs, the sound amplified infinitely in the empty cellar.
For a moment, he didn’t even dare to breathe.
After a long while, suffocated by the tension, he finally regained some composure and exhaled a long breath of foul air.
He forced himself to calm down and tried to move his hands, but grasped nothing.
Time passed again, the sounds outside grew louder. He moved his hands once more—cold water had already covered the back of his hands.
The alley outside where he was was higher inside than out; if it rained, the water would not flow into the streets but instead go through the back channels.
This cellar was at the very end of the alley, so naturally the rainwater flowed here.
Rainwater poured through the cracks of the stone slabs, quickly soaking the floor.
Water was leaking in from all sides, yet Han Min still had no strength. The water was about to cover his mouth and nose.
He braced himself with his hands, using all his strength to sit up from the water.
Darkness surrounded him, ears filled with the sound of water, direction impossible to discern.
Han Min forced himself forward, not knowing where to go, just inching ahead.
The cellar was small; soon the rainwater reached his ankles. He soon found the wall and groped along it, trying to find an exit.
After walking more than halfway around without finding a way out, he only found a stepped platform.
It was probably used to store things up high. By now, the rainwater had reached his calves. He was soaked, his wet clothes sticking to his body, shivering from the cold.
He thought for a moment, then dragged himself, wet clothes and all, onto the platform.
Even if he found the exit stone slab, in his current state, he wouldn’t be able to move it.
By the time Han Min reached the top of the steps, he had exhausted all his strength.
His body was cold, yet his heart pounded rapidly. Breathing was difficult. Afraid of falling and never being able to climb back, he could only hug his legs, left hand fingers gripping his right hand into his flesh.
He would drown in the dark.
—
The autumn rain’s chill seeped into his bones.
Fu Xun showed no expression, holding a sword in one hand and dragging Han Li by the collar with the other, pulling him out of the Han family home.
Han Shi pushed his wheelchair from the corner and, seeing the scene, furrowed his brows. “Your Majesty, he—”
“Han Min is in trouble. It concerns him.”
Fu Xun’s tone seemed calm, yet concealed a massive undercurrent.
Hearing this, Han Shi immediately supported himself with his cane and followed.
Fu Xun continued: “Go to the Wen residence first. Don’t alarm the family.”
Today, Grandpa Han and the elders were all present. If they learned of this, even Chief Physician Liang might collapse. Once Han Min came out, he would certainly blame them.
Rain poured down in sheets. The gates of the Wen residence were wide open, and water flowed from the front channels.
Fu Xun threw Han Li to the ground, drew his long sword, and demanded sharply, “Where is Han Min?”
Han Li regained consciousness and realized how foolish he had been.
It had originally been just a plagiarism of an article—not a crime worthy of death.
He had never intended to kill Han Min. But despite kneeling and pleading with Han Min, Han Min still refused to give him the article, insisting on going to the Wen residence.
At that time, Scholar Ning was inside the Wen residence. How could Han Min disregard his reputation and go in?
So he used a cloth soaked with sedatives to knock Han Min out.
He hadn’t wanted Han Min’s life; he only wanted to hide him for a while, expose the plagiarism in Han Min’s manuscript, and divert attention from his own theft.
But the emperor was insane. Seeing such vile behavior, he still defended Han Min.
Now Fu Xun stood before him with a sword, eyes bloodshot, already red even without having killed anyone.
“Where is he?”
Han Li didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t spoken when the orderly, precise, and hurried footsteps sounded outside.
The two brothers from the Wei family removed their hats and entered the hall: “Your Majesty.”
Fu Xun suppressed his anger, perhaps tinged with fear: “Go find him. Quickly.”
He paused, then added, “Lock the city gates, search this alley thoroughly, meticulously.”
They each led men down; the hall fell silent for a moment.
Suddenly, Han Li let out a sharp, wretched scream.
All eyes fell on him. He was face-down on the ground, a long sword piercing his right palm, pinning him.
The sword-wielder was Fu Xun.
He asked one last time: “Where is he?”
Beneath his thunderous shout, a small trembling went unheard.
Only Fu Xun knew how terrified he was of Han Min being missing.
Two years ago, it had been the same. He received Han Min’s blood-stained plea from the northwest, rushed to Yong’an sleeplessly, and learned Han Min had been taken by the Duke of Gong Fu Quan.
He stormed into the Duke of Gong’s mansion recklessly, searched everywhere, and when he stood at the gates with a torch, it was the same panic.
Only he knew how his hands trembled with fear.
Han Li lay on the ground, cold sweat pouring, unable to make a sound.
Fu Xun withdrew his sword and was about to stab again. Han Li opened his mouth to speak, but Fu Xun’s sword fell again, piercing his palm—this time, he couldn’t even cry out.
Fu Xun crouched down, noticing the dirt and moss in Han Li’s fingernails.
He drew his sword again and checked Han Li’s shoes—there was the same moss, soaked by the rain.
He vaguely remembered seeing this moss somewhere, so he sheathed his sword and strode into the rain before anyone could react.
This time, few people followed him. He later called the two Wei brothers, who were already dispatched to search.
A group of civil officials followed, holding hats and raincoats.
Rain hit Fu Xun’s face; he gritted his teeth, facial muscles taut. Rain pooled under his chin and dripped down.
His eyes were as dark as ink. He carried the sword, its blood washed clean by the rain.
Fu Xun stopped at the Wen residence gate. Wen Yan stood behind him, holding a raincoat, too afraid to step forward.
He had long served as an advisor to the Duke of Ding, following Fu Xun, rarely seeing him like this.
The first time had been two years ago at the Duke of Gong’s mansion; today was the second.
Fu Xun bent down, touched the moss on the corner bricks of the Wen residence, and traced his steps into the alley.
Rain soaked his clothes; he didn’t look back, instructing the others, “Search thoroughly. Interrogate Han Li later; leave him alive. Ask long-time residents about hidden rooms or cellars.”
Having issued orders, the others dispersed.
Han Shi could barely stand. After standing in the rain for so long, he was exhausted. A servant brought his wheelchair to let him sit while searching the alley.
The alley was short. Soon Fu Xun reached its end.
Although washed by rain, one spot remained obvious—moss on a stone slab had been scratched.
Fu Xun bent down, probing the gap with his hands.
Just then, Chu Yu returned after questioning the other alley residents.
“Your Majesty, there’s a cellar in the alley!”
This was it.
Everyone ran to the alley’s depth. A soaked white cat also leapt anxiously from a wall.
The wet moss was slippery. Fu Xun wedged both hands into the stone gap and lifted the slab.
The slab fell, breaking into two.
In the faint light filtered by clouds, Fu Xun stepped in; the cellar water covered his feet.
Looking inside, he saw Han Min, hugging his legs, curled up on the only raised platform to avoid the water.
Fu Xun called out: “Han Min?”
He just sat there, no reaction, not even lifting his head. Fu Xun remembered the earlier crash when the slab broke—Han Min hadn’t reacted at all.
The cellar was small; water rose quickly. The murky water obscured the depth.
Wei Gui stepped forward, about to go down. Before saying more than two words, Fu Xun plunged in as if hearing nothing, leaving his clothes untouched, walking straight into the water.
Water reached his waist; unsure of what lay beneath, he focused on Han Min and moved toward him.
Wei Gui and other guards either stayed outside or waded in. The cellar water was colder than rain, freezing them.
Fu Xun soon reached Han Min and reached to lift him.
Han Min, dazed, thought his last thought before fainting: make sure not to fall.
When Fu Xun touched him, he swayed, thought he’d fall, screamed in fright, then fell into Fu Xun’s arms.
Fu Xun held him firmly, strong arms wrapping him tightly. Han Min’s eyelashes twitched as he struggled to open his eyes, vision blurred, unable to speak.
Fu Xun looked down: Han Min’s face was pale, breath feeble.
He held him tighter, wading through water, brushing his cheek to Han Min’s forehead, whispering comfort, unsure if he could hear: “It’s okay. Sleep, and you’ll be fine.”
Han Min either heard or was too weak—he closed his eyes, sleeping quietly, lashes no longer twitching.
Fu Xun lifted him as much as possible to avoid water, though he himself was soaked.
At the cellar entrance, others carefully took Han Min.
The rain hadn’t stopped; water in the cellar had risen. Fu Xun braced himself, stepped out, and received Han Min again.
He had to hold him in his arms to feel at ease.
He walked quickly toward the Han residence, still composed, ordering: “Confine Han Li in the water prison and interrogate thoroughly. Call Chief Physician Liang, prepare hot water and clean clothes.”
He paused, remembering Han Min’s fear of darkness: “Light candles. Every corner must be illuminated.”
—
The commotion had reached the household. The elders called a guard inside to understand what happened.
With rain pouring, it wasn’t convenient to go out. To avoid chaos, preparations were made inside.
Chief Physician Liang checked his medical kit repeatedly, preparing emergency pills, hot water, and ginger soup.
The elders paced anxiously. Pei was sent to his mother. Madam Yuan twisted her handkerchief, rushing to the door several times, returning soaked.
Grandpa Han, leaning on his cane, went to the Wen residence.
Han Li was still lying in the Wen hall, two blood holes in his right hand, blood flowing.
Scholar Ning and two guards watched.
Seeing Elder Han, Scholar Ning felt ashamed: “Elder Han, I truly… my old face…”
Grandpa Han waved: “It’s none of your concern.” He looked at Han Li: “What did you do?”
Han Li naturally didn’t answer. Elder Han no longer asked, gripping his cane, face grim.
Elder Liu paced, noticed some papers on the table, picked them up.
He was Han Min’s teacher, taught him personally—how could he not recognize Han Min’s writing style?
Moreover, Han Min had copied this article for him without pause when coming to Yong’an.
Elder Liu slammed the papers on the desk, glared at Han Li, immediately realizing what had happened. He picked up a teacup, threw it at him, spat, gritting his teeth in anger: “Ungrateful wretch, you dare!”
Those unaware, especially Scholar Ning, didn’t understand.
“Senior Liu, what’s this?”
Elder Liu pointed to the papers: “Whose article is this?”
“This…”
“This is Min’er’s. He copied it for me earlier this year; it’s still in my study.”
He looked at Han Li: “You dare?”
Han Li never expected that the article Han Min had shown to others would expose him despite all his schemes.
Outside, two guards entered, clasped fists: “Gentlemen, Master Han Min has been found. His Majesty brought him back to the Han residence.”
The elders hurried to the Han residence, while the two guards dragged Han Li away.
The emperor had ordered Han Li imprisoned in the water prison for careful interrogation.
The water prison had two levels: upper for standing cells, lower filled with water. One could only stand; sitting would mean drowning.
It was very similar to the flooded cellar.
Han Li offered little resistance and was taken away.
A dagger fell from his sleeve; the guards exchanged a glance and secured it as evidence.
—
Han Min’s room was tightly closed.
Chu Yu wiped his face and told Grandpa Han: “His Majesty is inside helping Xi Ci change clothes; it should be soon.”
Grandpa Han, leaning on his cane, frowned, eyes fixed on the door, brushing away a handkerchief offered.
Han Shi, in his wheelchair, ignored his soaked clothes, hands gripping the armrests.
Soon, the door opened.
Fu Xun hastily wore clean clothes, likely to avoid dirtying Han Min again.
His tone normal: “Chief Physician Liang, come in.”
Everyone else had left for the Wen residence, so the Han family entered briefly.
Chief Physician Liang placed his medical kit.
Han Min had already changed into clean clothes, lying on the couch, eyes closed, lips pale.
His body was cold, yet sweat covered his forehead. He frowned tightly, restless even in sleep.
He murmured: “Mother… mother…”
Madam Yuan sat beside, wringing a handkerchief to wipe his face: “Mother is here, mother is here.”
Chief Physician Liang gently opened his eyelids, examined his eyes, and gave him two emergency pills from a small porcelain bottle.
He set up a pulse pillow; Madam Yuan carefully lifted Han Min’s wrist onto it.
Grandpa Han sat nearby, eyes fixed. Han Min’s small white cat, also soaked, crouched unnoticed in a corner.
Fu Xun and Han Shi, one standing, one sitting, motionless, watched attentively.
Chief Physician Liang withdrew his gaze: “You two should change into dry clothes.”
Neither moved.
He continued: “The room is full of dampness. Min’er must be uncomfortable.”
The two and the cat all left simultaneously.
—
The palace staff acted quickly. When Fu Xun left, the Chief Eunuch waited outside with supplies, including clean clothes and over ten large red candles as Fu Xun had requested.
The candles burned bright; two were enough to illuminate Han Min’s room.
Wrapped carefully to prevent water damage, they were carried in layers.
Also present were imperial physicians.
Fu Xun changed clothes quickly in the adjacent room, then returned to Han Min’s side, standing guard.
Han Shi, now changed and dried, also returned.
They formed a line, standing or sitting, by the bedside, motionless.
Chief Physician Liang checked Han Min’s pulse, stroked his beard, then withdrew to write prescriptions.
Madam Yuan placed Han Min’s hand back in the blanket.
By now, Han Min no longer spoke, no reaction—just lay quietly.
Grandpa Han rose, looked, and told Fu Xun: “Thank you for today, Your Majesty. This illness is severe; perhaps you should—”
Fu Xun, eyes fixed on Han Min, said steadily: “He will call for me later.”
—
Night fell. Two red candles lit the room like daylight.
Even after feeding him a bowl of decoction, Han Min showed no signs of waking; his cold sweats persisted.
Chief Physician Liang fed him more pills, added extra blankets, and placed a small charcoal stove in the room.
Still, Han Min didn’t react—not like before when he would vomit medicine or talk nonsense. He just lay there.
Chief Physician Liang said it was fine, though when he would wake was uncertain.
Deep into the night, autumn rain ceased, the air growing chillier.
Grandpa Han and Madam Yuan, after watching for a long time, were persuaded by the physician to leave.
Only Fu Xun and Han Shi stayed. The system, unable to rest, remained attached to the cat’s body since Han Min was unconscious.
The two and the cat stared at Han Min. Han Shi took over Madam Yuan’s role, repeatedly wiping his face. Seeing chapped lips, he replaced the handkerchief, dabbed with water to moisten them.
This routine repeated endlessly, attendants changing water repeatedly.
Fu Xun sat upright, recalling when he last visited Yong’an. Han Min had fallen ill, insistent on writing at the desk before sleeping.
Today, he slept deeply, no crying, no fuss.
Han Shi eventually said: “Your Majesty, rest a while.”
Fu Xun replied: “Big brother’s legs are inconvenient; he should rest.”
Han Shi didn’t argue; he had to stay. No one could drive him off.
Fu Xun placed his hands on his knees, expression calm.
The long night stretched on. Han Min was quiet; Fu Xun reflected on many things.
He recalled how he cared for him during his last illness, and how he looked after him when rescuing him from the Duke of Gong’s mansion.
Then he thought of a distant memory.
As a child, Han Min was often sick. One autumn, Emperor Dezong intended to take them hunting, but Han Min was ill and couldn’t go.
Fu Xun went, caught a wild rabbit under the emperor’s guidance, let craftsmen prepare it, ignored the mountain of rabbits, and insisted on showing it to Han Min, riding back that night.
He sneaked into Han Min’s room, gently shook him awake to show the rabbit fur.
Half-asleep, Han Min murmured: “Are you crazy?”
Fu Xun said nothing, thinking he was ill, not bothering him. He imitated Chief Physician Liang, checking his forehead: “Feeling better?”
“No, I want to sleep. Go play yourself.”
“They’re all at the hunting ground. It’s late. Nothing fun left. I’ll sleep too.”
Han Min, drowsy, moved aside: “Then come up.”
Fu Xun joyfully lifted the blanket, lay beside him: “You’re so warm.”
Han Min sighed: “I have a fever.”
Next morning, Han Shi peeked in, saw Fu Xun already in bed with Han Min, complicated expression. That night, Han Min recovered; Chief Physician Liang said it was likely from being held by Fu Xun, sweating under him, and then getting better.
The rabbit fur became part of Han Min’s winter collar, though he never knew.
Now it was as if he were a child again, lying sick in bed.
Night deepened. Han Shi handed a handkerchief: “Please watch him, Your Majesty. I’ll step out.”
Fu Xun took it, sat beside Han Min, quietly lifting the blanket to hold his hand.
If not for the time they had slept together, when Han Shi had covered them, he would have climbed onto Han Min’s bed by now.
Author’s note:
Big brother: this behavior earns a reluctant +1 point.
