Chapter 88: Flooding the Lonely Boat
Unexpectedly, someone was still standing outside the door. Grandpa Han leaned on his cane, eyes fixed.
“Oh, Brother Min is back, and His Majesty is here too.”
Han Min smiled obediently with his hands behind his back. “Grandpa, Teacher, Godfather.”
Fu Xun slightly nodded along with him. As the elders prepared to bow, he said, “No need for formalities.”
The group stood at the doorway, awkwardly silent for a moment.
Finally, Grandpa Han said, “The wind outside is picking up. Your Majesty, would you like to come in for some tea?”
Fu Xun replied, “No trouble necessary. It’s late, I’ll head back now.”
“Ah, then we’ll see His Majesty off.”
“It’s cold at night. Elders, please leave first.”
The elders exchanged puzzled glances and agreed in unison.
Soon, carriages from the Liu and Liang families arrived to take Elder Liu the Scholar and Physician Liang the Imperial Physician away. Grandpa Han glanced at Han Min.
Han Min looked back at Fu Xun—
Tonight, it seemed, there would be no chance for a kiss.
“Then… Your Majesty, I’ll help the two elders back first.”
After bowing, Grandpa Han and Eunuch Yang turned back. As Han Min stepped onto the first stair, Fu Xun grabbed his sleeve.
Han Min turned to look at him, about to speak, but Fu Xun raised his hand and pressed his thumb lightly against the corner of Han Min’s lips.
Han Min couldn’t help but smile, but fearing to startle his grandpa, he quickly looked back.
The two elders had already entered.
Gathering courage, Han Min turned back, held Fu Xun’s hand, and pressed his thumb directly against his own lips.
Soft. Fu Xun couldn’t resist pressing a little, and Han Min nearly took his finger into his mouth.
Then Han Min pushed his hand away, glared at him, and whispered, “I’ll go back first. You should go too.”
Fu Xun clutched his sleeve, unwilling to let go, but someone came out from the door.
Eunuch Yang, hands clasped, stood in the doorway with a smile: “Min Min, aren’t you coming in? The door’s about to close.”
“I’m coming, just a moment.”
Han Min hurriedly pulled his sleeve from Fu Xun’s grip and turned to go inside.
He was nervous, taking two steps at a time to climb the stairs, leaping over the threshold, and closing the door with Eunuch Yang.
Once the wooden door was shut, a pair of lanterns swung under the eaves. Fu Xun looked down at the hand he had touched, stood there for a moment, then smiled, turned, and left.
His carriage was waiting at the alley entrance. As Fu Xun walked away, he occasionally glanced back at the Han family wall—
He wanted to scale it and find Han Min. Right now. To hold him, continue what they hadn’t finished tonight.
But he couldn’t. He had stationed many guards at Han’s house a few months ago.
If he climbed over now, the guards would think he was an intruder.
Han Min walked ahead of Eunuch Yang along the corridor.
Eunuch Yang wanted to speak, but Han Min seemed to sense it and bolted ahead, looping Grandpa Han’s arm.
He smiled foolishly: “Grandpa.”
Grandpa Han understood immediately: “What mischief have you been up to again?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Suddenly so obedient today—surely it’s because you’ve done something bad?”
“Really, nothing.”
Dating Fu Xun—how could that be bad?
No, it was good. He was even a little happy. Han Min couldn’t help sneaking smiles.
Eunuch Yang caught up from behind, noticing Han Min’s foolish expression, thoughtful.
After escorting Grandpa Han to his room, Han Min helped him wash his face with warm water and put down the curtains. After bidding him goodnight, Han Min left joyfully.
The two elders lived close by, their rooms opposite each other.
Han Min turned back and saw Eunuch Yang’s door still open. Yang was sitting on the bed shelling walnuts, looking up and smiling at him.
Han Min smiled back. Yang beckoned him over.
Feeling nervous, Han Min cautiously approached.
Suddenly, a white figure darted from his feet, circling him.
It was the white cat inhabited by the system.
He picked up the cat, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him.
“Godfather?”
Eunuch Yang had shelled a plate of walnut kernels. “Come eat something.”
Han Min nodded, nervously taking a seat.
After a while, Yang put down his small pliers and gently asked: “Jiao Jiao, just now at the door, what were you and His Majesty doing?”
Han Min kept his head down, focused on the walnuts, picking up crumbs from the plate, pretending not to hear.
Eunuch Yang grasped his chin, raising his head: “Your grandpa can’t tell, but I can. I saw it immediately.”
Shocking news: he and Fu Xun had only spent an afternoon and evening together, and the elder already found out.
Han Min steadied himself, blinking: “Godfather, what are you saying?”
“Trying to fool me, huh? I’ve seen plenty of things like this.”
“Could it be… Grandfather Dezong in his youth…?”
“None of that nonsense. Not him.” Eunuch Yang pinched his mouth. “In the palace, there are many young eunuchs and maidservants who like each other. Over the years, I caught several pairs. When we stepped outside, His Majesty’s gaze on you was different. You even talked outside for quite a while. Something was off.”
“Wow, Godfather, you’re like Sun Wukong reborn, with the fiery eyes.”
“Don’t try to hide it. Tell me—are you and His Majesty…?”
“Yes.”
The admission was surprisingly smooth.
Yang wanted to confirm: “Really?”
Han Min nodded earnestly: “Really.”
Yet between them lay an unchangeable power gap.
Fu Xun was emperor; unless he abdicated, their statuses could never be equal.
Always Emperor and subject. The gap would always exist. Fu Xun would always have the upper hand—today he restrained himself, but who knew about the future.
As Elder Liu often said: an emperor’s heart is changeable, dangerous up close, but distant it’s safe.
This was what Eunuch Yang worried about, and what the system had long been anxious about.
Han Min, seemingly understanding, hugged the cat and sat beside him.
“Godfather, is it impossible?”
“Not impossible… just think carefully about what happens in the future if…”
Now wasn’t the time for such words.
So Eunuch Yang stopped and instead asked: “You two used to fight fiercely, right? Why the sudden change?”
Han Min stroked the cat: “I was too mischievous as a kid. But I think I fell first, so it’s my fault. Godfather, don’t blame him.”
Yang looked down at him—this little fool still cared about covering for His Majesty. He could tell that Fu Xun had noticed Han Min first.
He asked again: “When will you tell your grandpa?”
“For now, I’ll tell no one.”
“Why?”
Han Min’s expression was clear: “At least wait until the realm is unified, government stable, people safe. I don’t covet the position of male empress; I should earn my titles. Even if he’s emperor, what of it?”
Hearing this, the system raised its head, seeing his eyes glitter with candlelight. Finally reassured, he was still the spirited young Han Min on the Ciming Palace stage.
Yet Eunuch Yang still worried—even if the land was at peace, it didn’t concern the two of them.
After a long pause, he asked finally: “It has to be His Majesty?”
Han Min nodded firmly: “Yes. It must be Fu Xun.”
He rested his head on Eunuch Yang’s shoulder, pressing his cheek against the fabric: “Godfather, if not him, I’ll never be happy.”
Eunuch Yang held his shoulder.
Han Min wasn’t sure if Eunuch Yang would oppose, and if he did, it might be a long struggle.
He whispered: “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll cry every day until my tears dry, then turn into a butterfly and fly away.”
“Utter nonsense.”
After a while, Eunuch Yang sighed: “As long as you like him. In a few years, I’ll be gone; no matter how much trouble you cause, I won’t see it.”
Han Min’s worry turned to joy. “No, no, Godfather will live a long life.”
The next day, Han Min went to the palace as usual.
After finishing reviewing memorials, he told Fu Xun about what happened.
“I didn’t expect to be discovered so quickly. That was close,” Han Min said, lying on the table, patting his chest. “I thought that Godfather wouldn’t agree so easily.”
Fu Xun massaged his left hand, pinching his fingers lightly. “He couldn’t bear to see you cry.”
Han Min smiled, sat up, and looked into his eyes: “What about you?”
Fu Xun said, “I like seeing you cry.”
What kind of words were those? Han Min was crying, and he enjoyed watching?
Han Min pouted unhappily, leaning back. Then he realized Fu Xun meant the kind of crying with red eyes, sobbing.
After a long silence, he finally muttered: “Beast in official robes.”
Fu Xun’s fingers slipped between his, intertwining.
Han Min continued: “And I even defended you in front of Godfather.”
Fu Xun chuckled: “How did you defend me?”
“I said I fell first, so he shouldn’t blame you. I’m truly the world’s best person.”
“You fell first?”
“Yes.”
Fu Xun asked again: “How did you fall first?”
Han Min objected: “How not? It was clearly me. Yesterday too, I was the first to make a move.”
“When?”
“Since I returned from Tongzhou.”
Fu Xun smiled lightly: “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Han Min touched a tiny scar at the end of Fu Xun’s left eyebrow. “The night I helped you finish your eyebrows, the night before I tied my cap. Good timing—once I fell, I could do what adults do.”
Fu Xun said nothing. Han Min thought he was speechless and smugly lifted his foot.
After a while, Han Min propped himself up: “Rested enough, let’s continue reviewing memorials.”
Earlier, Fu Xun’s hand was unwell, so Han Min had helped review memorials. Now that Fu Xun’s hand was fine, they were used to reviewing together.
Han Min sat at the desk, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up a memorial.
“Xie Yan’s—must be about advancing the new law.”
He opened the memorial; Fu Xun didn’t look, only watching him.
Han Min turned: “What’s wrong?”
Fu Xun said erratically: “The winter I started practicing martial arts…”
“Ah?”
Han Min thought—he had known Fu Xun since childhood. Fu Xun had been lazy and chubby as a kid.
One winter, Han Min was busy buying snacks and New Year’s goods. By the holiday, he noticed Fu Xun had grown taller, slimmer, with sharper facial lines.
He asked Fu Rang and learned that Fu Xun had been practicing martial arts with the Crown Prince.
Could he mean that winter?
What special significance did it hold?
Han Min looked into his eyes, seeing the deep, unshakable affection.
Suddenly he realized: “Could it be? No way. Fu Dog, did you want an early romance from the start?”
He counted on his fingers. That year he was only…
Before he could finish calculating, Fu Xun’s hands were on his waist.
Warmth pressed against him, through the fabric, scorching his skin.
He endured the heat, continued calculating—he was only thirteen that year.
“Seven years! You’ve been a…”
Fu Xun pulled him close, kissed him. No words, just action on the last two words.
Seven years of unconscious emotion had already surged like a mighty wave, surrounding Han Min, leaving only a small space.
Now the lone boat is flooded, engulfing Han Min entirely.
Author’s Note:
Ever since childhood, Old Fu never wanted to study, always thinking about early romance. Martial arts? Also for early romance.
