Chapter 83: Don’t Disturb Him
“Pine Smoke Ink Guest” – the pen name sounded nice enough.
But the title of the book he wrote didn’t sound very appealing at all. What’s ‘The Emperor and the Chancellor: A Few Matters’?
Fu Xun lowered his gaze, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the sleeve of his robe.
Who was the chancellor? Jiang Huan? How could there be “a few matters” between the emperor and the chancellor? How did anyone even know there were “a few matters”?
At that moment, Wei Gui had already received his orders and left. Fu Xun glanced back: Han Min was still drinking his porridge, accompanied by family.
Han Min held the bowl of porridge and looked up at him, as if wanting to speak, but Fu Xun didn’t notice and turned to leave.
He intended to use this time to review the memorial that had been brought from the palace yesterday.
Han Min lowered his head and continued eating.
Grandpa Han stroked the side of his hair: “My darling has suffered.”
Han Min shook his head: “No, it’s just that I let my guard down for a moment.”
He never imagined that Han Li would actually make a move right at the Han family gate.
At that time, Little Jizi hadn’t been with him. The Han and Wen households were extremely poor, with no dedicated gatekeepers, and luckily the alley was empty. That’s how Han Li succeeded.
Han Min drank his porridge while his family watched attentively, afraid he might overheat in the warm room.
Although his health had always been weak, after growing up he rarely fell so ill, at least not in front of the family.
This time, however, they had all been scared out of their wits.
After only half a bowl of porridge, Han Min put down his bowl: “It was Han Li. That article, actually…”
Grandpa Han patted his hand: “Don’t worry. He’s already been arrested by His Majesty. Your teacher immediately recognized it as yours, and Ning Xueguan has already helped clarify things with the official who was previously deceived.”
Han Min nodded.
“When did you write it? Even I didn’t know about it.”
He whispered: “It was on the day of the imperial exam last year.”
And there were many other articles even Grandfather didn’t know about.
Grandpa Han sighed, leaning on his cane as he sat on the couch, wrapping his arm around Han Min’s shoulders: “You’ve suffered injustice. Our darling has suffered injustice.”
This time he wasn’t referring to Han Li causing him illness, but rather to Han Min missing last year’s imperial exam.
Han Min leaned his head on his grandfather’s shoulder, smiling: “This is fine too. Good writing will eventually be recognized. Even if I had died back then, my articles would still be passed down.”
“Nonsense! I’d rather you be talentless and write terrible articles.”
“That’s beyond my control,” Han Min feigned a sigh. “With the literary lineage of the Han family, whenever I lift my brush, it’s as if divine aid assists me; I can’t help but write well.”
The grandfather and grandson were joking when Eunuch Yang entered, accompanied by Physician Liang.
“That’s enough, enough. He’s not eight years old. Let Old Liang take a look.”
Eunuch Yang sat on the other side of the couch, pulling Han Min close: “Poor little one. Your godfather even has some private funds and knows two retired palace experts. I’ll have them come protect you as bodyguards, keeping watch secretly.”
Han Min whispered the words he just heard: “I’m not eight years old.”
“Eighteen, still needs bodyguards.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty still needs them.”
Old Physician Liang took Han Min’s pulse, adjusted his prescription, and ordered someone to prepare the medicine.
Since Han Min had just woken up, they didn’t want to trouble him, merely advising rest before leaving.
After lying down for two days, his whole body ached, and he felt unclean, even though Grandfather said His Majesty demanded hot water daily, several buckets’ worth.
If Fu Xun helped him bathe…
He decided it wouldn’t do.
Han Min got up, dressed, and went out to see the Han household had essentially become Fu Xun’s temporary residence.
Palace servants bustled about, managing everything efficiently.
The Han family originally had two or three servants, mostly attending to Grandpa Han or the ladies, but not always present. Compared to now, it was vastly different.
However, the palace servants didn’t disturb daily life. They moved efficiently and spoke little.
Han Min requested a few buckets of hot water, which Little Jizi carried in.
“Master, do you wish to bathe?”
“Yes.” Han Min tugged at his clothes. “I feel uncomfortable.”
“Very well. But you’d better be quick so you don’t catch a chill.”
“I know.”
The room still had a brazier burning, so it wasn’t so easy to catch a chill.
Once the palace servants left, Little Jizi suddenly knelt.
Han Min was startled, rushing over to help him: “What’s wrong?”
“This is entirely my fault. I failed to care for you properly. I deserve death.”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
He knelt firmly. Han Min couldn’t lift him and had to wave his hand: “Get up quickly. I can’t lift you. I’ll get sick if I linger here.”
Only then did Little Jizi rise.
“I’ve prayed for your safety day and night. If anything happened to you… I wouldn’t want to live. I would follow you.”
“What foolishness are you talking?”
Little Jizi grasped his hands, head lowered, eyes secretly red.
“Don’t cry. It’s not your fault. Don’t act foolishly.”
When persuasion failed, Han Min pinched his chin: “Stop. If you keep this up, my bath water will go cold.”
Little Jizi wiped his eyes with his sleeve, embarrassed: “I was rude. I’ll leave now.”
Han Min reminded him: “Don’t be sad.”
After a quick hot bath, Han Min sat on the couch drying his hair.
Palace servants took the things away, and Little Jizi entered with a medicine bowl.
“Master, it’s time for your medicine.”
“Leave it. I’ll take it later.”
“Eh.”
Han Min opened his mouth to ask: “Where is His Majesty…”
Before he could finish, Han Pei rushed in, leaping into Han Min’s arms: “Second Brother!”
Han Shi entered as well: “Your second brother’s still sick. Don’t bump him too hard.”
Han Pei ignored him, climbing onto the bed, sitting in Han Min’s lap, fingers tangled in his wet hair: “Second Brother’s been sick for two days. I haven’t seen you for two days. Let me dry your hair.”
He kicked off his shoes, took the cloth from Han Min’s head, and carefully smoothed it again and again.
Han Shi noticed the medicine bowl nearby.
He asked Han Min: “Why aren’t you taking your medicine?”
“It’s too hot.”
Han Shi stirred it with a porcelain spoon, checked the bowl’s edge, and handed it to him once it cooled.
Han Min sipped a bit, hearing Han Shi say: “Recover quickly. You should’ve learned the Emei Thrust earlier.”
Han Min nearly spat out the medicine, frowning as he swallowed: “Brother.”
“For self-defense.”
“The situation was urgent. Even if I knew the Emei Thrust, it wouldn’t have helped. He came from behind with a cloth soaked in sedative. The Emei Thrust was useless.”
Seeing he couldn’t convince him, Han Shi turned to Han Pei: “You learn it.”
Han Pei pouted: “If Second Brother doesn’t learn, I won’t either.”
Han Shi’s expression hardened. He wanted to discuss His Majesty’s matters but, seeing Han Min’s weak state, kept his words to himself.
After taking the medicine, Han Min was left alone to sleep.
He wrapped himself in the blanket, reaching for his usual item at the bedside—but it was gone.
Sitting up to confirm, the long sword was indeed gone.
He sighed, tossing himself back onto the bed. Without the sword, how could he sleep?
After lying a while, the window rattled, and a snowy white figure quietly slipped in, landing beside his pillow.
Han Min reached out to smooth its fur. The system asked: “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve always feared the dark. I wasn’t by your side then.”
“It’s okay. I was rescued, right?” Han Min rolled over, hugging it: “Sleep a bit.”
System: “Are you really going to be able to sleep without the sword?”
Han Min glanced around: “Fu Xun has been staying here these past two days. Surely there’s something else to substitute.”
He noticed a trunk in the room.
Han Min got out of bed, put on his shoes, and carefully opened it.
It was full of Fu Xun’s clothing, not much.
He checked the surroundings. No one else was around. Borrowing the clothes temporarily, without messing them up, should be fine.
He moved quietly, arranging Fu Xun’s clothes on the bed in a circle, making a “Fu Xun-scented” nest.
System: “Is this necessary?”
Han Min: “It is.”
He burrowed back into the blankets.
No one else could see, but he knew—he had become dependent on Fu Xun. He needed to hold Fu Xun’s sword to sleep.
After being trapped in the cellar and rescued by Fu Xun, Han Min felt his dependence had peaked.
In this nest, he quickly fell asleep.
In the afternoon, after reviewing the memorials, Fu Xun sent the palace items back, planning to check on Han Min.
At noon, Han Min was woken for a little food and medicine, then resumed sleeping. Fu Xun could only see him sleeping, still surrounded by his “Fu Xun clothes.”
Fu Xun tucked the blankets without waking him and left.
The water prison wasn’t an official jail. One could be submerged for days, forced to stand lest they drown—extreme punishment, reserved for the emperor’s private use.
Han Li was currently imprisoned there.
Fu Xun had been busy caring for Han Min these past two days. Now that Han Min recovered, it was time to settle things.
Peering through the iron bars, Fu Xun saw Han Li—spineless, wanting glory without effort, willing to steal from others. Standing chest-deep in water, he lowered his head, breathing weakly.
Fu Xun: “Don’t let him die.”
Wei Gui nodded: “Understood.”
There was nothing worth watching. Fu Xun turned and left.
Wei Gui took from a nearby guard a dagger, a cloth, and a written confession: “Han Li explained everything early. The dagger and cloth…”
He glanced around, dismissing the onlookers: “Zhao Cun gave them to him. On the day he came, he met Zhao Cun’s servant on the road. Makes sense—Han Min had offended Zhao Cun several times, causing him to lose face. Zhao Cun held a grudge, trying to kill using someone else’s hand.”
“What about the courier station? Any movement?”
“None. Zhao Cun seems unconcerned. Well, it’s only Han Li’s one-sided story. As long as he sticks to it, it’s fine.”
Fu Xun flipped through the confession, returned the items: “Have the eagle send a message to Li Shu and Zhao Yin. I’ve changed my mind—cancel the plan. You mobilize troops, surround the courier station. Tonight, Zhao Cun dies.”
He didn’t want the fifteen strongholds of northwest Song. As long as Zhao Cun lived, he felt sick.
But acting rashly and killing a Song envoy might leave leverage for them.
Wei Gui was about to speak when Fu Xun added: “Bring troops around the Han household. Don’t disturb him.”
Author’s note:
Clothes, clothes, clothes.
Clothes, Min Min, clothes.
Clothes, clothes, clothes.
Wei Gui, troops, troops, troops.
Troops, troops, Min Min, troops.
Troops, troops, troops, troops, troops, troops.
