Chapter 82: You Slept Silly
Han Shi pushed the wheelchair into the courtyard, where the palace attendants came toward him.
“Eldest Young Master Han, do you have any instructions?”
He shook his head, dismissed the others, and went alone into the courtyard to wash his face with cold water.
He had stayed in Han Min’s room with the charcoal brazier for most of the night, sweating profusely from the heat.
Autumn nights were chilly; a cold wind cut to the bone.
Han Shi was six years older than Han Min. When Han Min was a child, his body was weak, constantly sick. At first, their parents cared for him, then Han Shi, as the older brother, took over.
After the family’s downfall, Han Min couldn’t sleep well at night. Only with his brother by his side could he get any rest. Han Shi’s legs were crippled, so his sole duty was to watch over Han Min, helping him sleep better.
After a moment outside, Han Shi pushed the wheelchair back toward the house.
The room door was closed, with two palace attendants and two guards outside. As he was about to enter, he was stopped.
One attendant said, “It’s late. Eldest Young Master Han, you should go rest.”
Han Shi’s instincts stirred unease. He frowned. “Inside the room…”
“The Emperor is attending to Young Master Han, and Chief Physician Liang said inducing sweat would aid his recovery.”
Han Shi’s brow twitched; his fingers shifted slightly on the wheelchair wheel. “He’s sleeping?”
The attendant, thinking he understood, nodded quickly. “Yes.”
Seeing Han Shi wheel away, the attendants sighed in relief. He looked imposing, his features radiating cold.
The attendants lingered, pondering: what kind of sweating did Chief Physician Liang mean?
Before they could figure it out, Han Shi returned swiftly with the wheelchair from the corridor.
The attendants were startled. “Eldest Young Master Han, what are you—”
They didn’t see clearly. Han Shi flicked his wrist, and the Emei Dagger hidden in his sleeve clattered to the ground. The iron spikes lodged firmly in the brick floor.
Several people recoiled in alarm, taking a step back. The two guards reached for their swords, but Han Shi left.
The Emei Dagger was a pair. He gripped the other in his hand, determined to ask Chief Physician Liang what he meant by “inducing sweat.”
Arriving at Liang’s room, he called the elderly physician out from under his blanket.
The old man had worked all night and was finally resting, but Han Shi’s demand woke him.
Thinking Han Min was ill again, Liang picked up his medicine box to go check, but Han Shi asked sharply, “Did you have him sweating?”
“I did. The blankets, the stove—wasn’t that for inducing sweat?”
“You even had the Emperor and Han Min together…” He trailed off, then finally said, “for sweating?”
Liang looked puzzled. “When did I—”
Thinking of the Emperor and seeing Han Shi with the Emei Dagger, he feared a scene that might disturb Han Min, so he corrected himself: “Ah, don’t you know Han Min can’t sleep well at night?”
Han Shi sighed lightly. “I know.”
“When he first came to Yong’an, he also slept poorly. Only with the Emperor beside him could he rest a bit. Back then, Han Min always slept with the Emperor. Did you know that?”
So that was the case. Han Shi clenched his fists, teeth gritted. “I didn’t know.”
He only knew that Han Min needed the long sword hung at his bed to fall asleep.
Seeing Han Shi’s expression, Liang quickly grabbed him. “Han Min is ill now. You mustn’t—”
“I know. The Emperor has saved him before and cared for him many times. That counts as our family owing him. We’ll talk after Han Min recovers.”
“That’s right,” Liang said cautiously. “Then Han Shi, put down the Emei Dagger.”
—
The half-draped curtains at the bed were swaying. After Han Shi left, Fu Xun had the white cat carried out and instructed the door closed.
The Han family had watched for a long time. With Han Min’s grandfather, mother, and elder brother present, how could Fu Xun approach to wash his face?
Only when the room was left with just him and Han Min did he dare to hold Han Min’s hand.
Han Min slept quietly, breathing steadily.
Fu Xun wiped his face, then touched his neck, noting that he was no longer cold. Soon, he would begin sweating.
Earlier, Chief Physician Liang had said that gradual warming and sweating would signal recovery.
Fu Xun removed his outer clothing, lifted a corner of the blanket, and lay beside him, wrapping his long arms tightly around Han Min. He tucked the blanket snugly, afraid a draft might seep in.
Just like when he had insisted on sleeping beside Han Min as a child.
The red candles in the room had burned for most of the night, wax dripping into the holders. The light flickered brightly, making it hard to sleep.
Fu Xun didn’t dare sleep either. Holding a cloth, he constantly monitored Han Min, wiping his face.
By the later half of the night, Han Min had warmed up and begun sweating. Fu Xun still stayed awake, simply holding him and watching.
Han Min’s pale face, still weakened by illness, had regained warmth and a hint of color on his cheeks.
His eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows in the candlelight, trembling slightly with each breath.
Fu Xun didn’t move him, only pressing his thumb to Han Min’s lips.
Soft and plump, like the glutinous rice balls at Uncle Wang’s house. Fu Xun had thought that since childhood.
On impulse, he touched his own lips with the thumb, sensing a faint bitterness, perhaps from the medicinal broth Han Min had drunk.
He snapped back, realizing he had taken advantage of Han Min in sleep.
Fu Xun wasn’t human.
He cleared his throat, placed a hand on Han Min’s waist, and pulled him closer.
Looking down, Fu Xun’s expression darkened, resolve firm. Not human or not, he would continue.
He leaned down and quickly kissed the corner of Han Min’s lips.
Not human? So what. Even under the watch of the Han family, he risked a beating, sleeping alongside Han Min. Courage commendable.
—
Han Min didn’t know how long he had slept.
He remembered being trapped in a dark room, then water flooding in. Climbing higher, half-conscious, he feared drowning—until Fu Xun caught him.
Like last time, Fu Xun said a nap would fix it.
So he slept soundly.
When he became aware again, he hadn’t opened his eyes before calling out, “Light the lamps!”
Fu Xun snapped awake, pressing Han Min against his back, lifting him under the blankets, and shouted for attendants: “Bring lamps!”
Han Min, eyes closed, almost in tears: “Light the lamps, light the lamps—it’s so dark…”
Fu Xun reassured him: “It’s lit, don’t worry about anything else.”
“Yes.”
Two red candles were lit, though daylight streamed in, almost useless.
Fu Xun patted his back gently. “It’s lit, it’s lit.”
Han Min’s tears soaked his clothes. Fu Xun paused, lifted his face, opened his eyes, and held them open.
“Han Min, it’s daytime.”
Blinking, Han Min murmured, “I see.”
Fu Xun touched his forehead. “Still burning? Uncomfortable anywhere?”
“I… still dizzy.”
Han Min sensed something off but couldn’t explain.
Fu Xun’s hand traced down his neck: “Call Chief Physician Liang. What do you want to eat?”
Han Min squirmed, avoiding his hand. “How long have I slept?”
“Two days.”
“I want to rinse my mouth, then drink water.”
“Alright.”
Fu Xun agreed and got out of bed. Suddenly, there was a gentle knock.
“Han Min, are you awake?”
It was his elder brother’s voice.
Han Min shivered, instinctively pulling Fu Xun close. “You need to hide first.” He glanced around nervously. “Where to hide? Where?”
Finally, he lifted the blanket and whispered to Fu Xun: “Quick, hide under here.”
Fu Xun’s expression was conflicted. Han Min urged him, then addressed his brother: “Hurry in. What are you waiting for? If my brother sees you, you’ll get beaten. I’m awake, wait—I’ll put on clothes first.”
“You’ve slept here for two days.”
Han Min grabbed his hand, trying to pull him into the blanket: “I know, later… first I’ll deal with my brother…”
Fu Xun continued: “I’ve also slept here for two days.”
Han Min froze. “What?”
“You and I didn’t secretly meet. Your brother knows I’m here.”
Han Min’s expression blanked. Fu Xun rubbed his face. “You slept silly.”
He got dressed, then went to open the door for Han Shi. “Just woke up.”
“Good, Your Majesty, I’ll check on him.”
Han Min ducked under the blanket, silent and still, until Han Shi pulled at it.
He laughed awkwardly. “Brother, you’re here.”
Han Shi frowned. “You slept silly?”
“No… no.”
“Wash up, eat, then call Chief Physician Liang for a pulse check.”
It was now the third morning. Han Min had slept two full days. The Han family gathered immediately upon his waking.
Fu Xun dressed; Wei Gui returned. Palace attendants reported in. Han Min sipped porridge quietly. Seeing him fine, Fu Xun withdrew.
On the desk lay a stack of manuscripts, brought by Han Li to accuse him, left untouched.
Fu Xun glanced at it, then returned it to its place.
First, let Han Min recover; only later could justice be served.
Fu Xun had been at the Han residence, handling urgent reports there.
Wei Gui waited in the courtyard. Seeing him, he saluted.
“Your Majesty, in the water prison, Han Li confessed some things. It’s complicated; the subordinates don’t dare act.”
“Wait until Han Min recovers, then I’ll check.”
“Yes.”
After a few brief words, Fu Xun whispered: “Send someone to Baishi Bookstore. Buy all books by ‘Pine Smoke Ink Guest.’”
Han Min’s manuscripts bore the pen name.
“Don’t let anyone know. Don’t deliver here—send them to the palace.”
Author’s note:
Danger Danger Danger
Danger Min Min Danger
Danger Danger Danger (Highest-level warning)
