Chapter 90: Zhuge the Half-Immortal
That afternoon, after moving into Jianguo Temple, Madam Yuan, upon hearing that the Empress Dowager’s imperial carriage was present, brought Madam Yun and Pei’er to pay their respects.
As expected, they would all be staying in the temple for over half a month. It would have been improper not to greet her.
Han Min could not go himself, so he pushed his older brother for a stroll around the temple grounds.
Han Shi’s leg had not fully healed yet. Occasionally, he could stand and move a little, but most of the time he still relied on his wheelchair.
The white cat, System, followed closely, tail held high.
Outside the main hall at the center of the temple, Han Min stopped beneath the eaves and pointed toward a distant side room. “That’s the room of Xie Yan, the eminent official of two dynasties. I’ve been there before. His room is full of Buddhist scriptures—there’s not even a place to set your feet.”
Han Shi looked toward it but hadn’t yet spoken when suddenly, a small figure zipped out from the steps beside them.
Han Min was startled and quickly backed his brother away in the wheelchair.
It was just a cat—a rather ordinary tabby. Han Min had seen it in Xie Yan’s room before; it belonged to the monks of Jianguo Temple.
Han Min paused, staring closely, and realized the cat was heading straight for the system.
He grinned: “System, looks like someone’s interested in you—seize the opportunity!”
The system screamed: “Get away!”
It clung to Han Min’s clothes, scrambled up, and grabbed his waistband.
Meanwhile, the little tabby stayed at Han Min’s feet, looking up at the system with wide, expectant eyes.
Han Min smiled, holding the system securely, and bent down to scoop up the little tabby as well.
One in each arm, he alternated petting and patting them, feeling that his life was complete.
Han Shi could only helplessly go along with it.
The main hall of the temple was built higher than the other rooms, directly facing the main entrance.
Han Shi looked up and saw Fu Xun riding quickly toward them, two rows of guards behind him.
Another glance at Han Min—still bent over, playing with the cats. One in his arms, he held a long strip (apparently pretending it was a weapon) and sang aloud.
The little tabby seemed cooperative, but the white system-cat looked thoroughly disdainful, furrowing its brows.
Han Shi withdrew his gaze. My little brother is a silly boy.
Fu Xun dismounted in front of the hall, tossing the reins to his guards.
At the same moment, Han Min stood outside the elevated hall, holding the “long strip” cat, aiming at him.
Archer ready.
Archer hesitates.
Yet he somehow struck the target’s heart with precision.
Fu Xun smiled faintly. Though still far away, Han Min seemed to hear a soft laugh.
He froze, awkwardly smiling, and set the cat down.
Fu Xun then calmly walked up the hall steps. “Settled in?”
Han Min, still holding the cats, nodded. Fu Xun looked at the other cat, and Han Min laughed, stroking its back: “It’s a temple cat. Seems to have taken a liking to System and won’t leave.”
At that moment, Han Shi suddenly stood up.
Han Min was startled: “Brother?”
Han Shi’s expression was the same: “Sitting too long, time to stretch my legs.”
Han Min quickly put down the cat, grabbed his crutches from behind the wheelchair, and handed them to him.
Supporting himself with the crutches, Han Shi looked at Fu Xun. “So late, Your Majesty, come to Jianguo Temple—do you have business?”
Fu Xun replied simply: “I came to see Mother.”
A legitimate reason, indeed.
Han Shi said: “I won’t take up Your Majesty’s time. Please proceed.”
“Alright.”
Fu Xun glanced at Han Min, considering touching him, but refrained.
Han Min bowed, saying, “See off Your Majesty,” and discreetly waved at him where his brother couldn’t see.
When Fu Xun arrived, the Empress Dowager knelt before the white jade Guanyin statue, hands clasped, softly reciting sutras, just as she had many times before.
Soon it was time; she rose, and palace attendants brought food boxes, quickly setting dishes on the table.
Other attendants brought hot water and towels. The Empress Dowager dipped her hands, casually saying: “While walking outside today, I saw Min’er.”
Fu Xun remained expressionless.
She continued: “He is very close to his mother.”
Fu Xun: “Yes. He is always likable, and enjoys acting spoiled in front of elders.”
“I remember, even as a child, the Emperor liked to be with him.”
“Yes.”
Attendants silently arranged the dishes and left.
The meditation room was modest, with just a small table.
The Empress Dowager sat, and Fu Xun did not move closer.
She sighed, pressing bamboo chopsticks on the table. “Today Madam Yuan came to pay respects. I casually mentioned adopting Min’er as my godson, granting him the title of Prince. Madam Yuan quickly declined. She fears that the higher he stands, the harder he might fall. Parents’ love is always far-sighted. I feel the same for Lin’er and for the Emperor.”
Fu Xun showed no strong reaction.
Finally, she asked: “So regarding the Xu family’s youngest daughter, what has the Emperor decided?”
“I have instructed Liu Ting to advise Madam Liu to take care of Miss Xu.”
The Empress Dowager paused, then smiled: “Good. And the prince title for Han Min? Should I adopt him?”
Fu Xun: “No need. He will eventually be Your Mother’s child anyway.”
The Empress Dowager had already noticed—everything from past affairs to entrusting her with the Han family.
She vaguely knew Fu Xun seemed to care for Han Min, just hadn’t expected him to be so direct.
Fu Xun continued: “Once we conquer Song and unify the realm, when his position at court is secure and no one dares comment, I will grant him the title.”
The Empress Dowager immediately asked: “Have you decided for sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall say no more.”
After years at court and in the palace, both knew some things are best left unspoken.
Fu Xun, a strong-willed young emperor, unlike the previous crown prince, did not need the Empress Dowager’s support. He only required her silence.
Thus, he could continue bestowing her supreme honor.
The Empress Dowager would not think that influencing Han Min could sway Fu Xun. Her cleverness might disrupt the balance.
Better to maintain the current state indefinitely.
With nothing more to say, Fu Xun rose: “Your son takes leave.”
“Not stay for dinner?”
“No need. I did not notify them in advance. They probably have no extra food prepared.”
“Then let them cook now. Pork trotters soup can still be made.”
Fu Xun smiled: “Mother forgets—this is Jianguo Temple.”
“True. Then…”
He continued: “Mother also forgets. When Han Min and I were children, we drank pig’s trotters soup often. Not because we liked it, but due to injuries from fights. Mother will still send vegetables to Funing Palace—better to vary them.”
The Empress Dowager had no idea.
In childhood, Madam Yuan often delivered soup to Han Min. She assumed Fu Xun liked it and instructed the kitchen accordingly, and then never thought further over the years.
Fu Xun finally said: “Parents’ love is far-sighted. Mother still focuses more on the eldest brother.”
The Empress Dowager opened her mouth but said nothing further.
As soon as Fu Xun stepped out, someone peeked from behind the distant wall, mysteriously waving.
Han Min clung to the corner, almond-shaped eyes fixed on him.
Fu Xun smiled, dismissed the guards, and walked toward him.
“Why wait here? Didn’t you say the fourth corner gate?”
“You saw me?”
“Yes.”
Fu Xun held his wrist, raised his hand, and pressed back the thumb.
Earlier, Han Min had waved from behind Han Shi—meaning: meet at the fourth corner gate after dinner.
“I thought you didn’t see me, so I came early after finishing dinner.”
Walking side by side along the wall path, Han Min sighed: “My brother’s leg isn’t fully healed yet. When it is…”
He patted Fu Xun’s back gently, the same way he petted the cats.
Fu Xun said: “I can beat him now.”
Han Min glared: “You dare!”
Fu Xun laughed and tried to pinch his face, but Han Min dodged.
“This is a sacred place. No misbehavior.”
Fu Xun stepped closer, held his hand, and when they reached the temple gate, he tried to hold Han Min’s waist—Han Min restrained him.
“Sacred ground.”
Fu Xun led him out: “Now we’re out.”
Finally, kissing and hugging could commence—right at the entrance of Jianguo Temple.
A few days later, Mr. Ge finished handing over affairs of Baishi Bookstore and was leaving Yong’an.
The bookstore, fearing unnecessary trouble, temporarily delayed the announcement about Pine Smoke Ink Guest ceasing writing.
On the day Mr. Ge left, Han Min and his friends went to see him off.
Though he had known, Han Min still felt reluctant.
“Must you go, Mr. Ge?”
Mr. Ge, wearing a Taoist robe and carrying the banner “Zhuge the Half-Immortal,” said: “How many times have I said? Call me ‘Mr. Zhuge’ outside.”
Han Min lowered his eyes, looking pitiful.
“You’ve endured hardships, now the world of scholars awaits you. I am but one talent scout. Shoulder the world’s literati, and I’ll introduce new literary friends when you have time.” He patted Han Min’s shoulder.
Reluctantly, Han Min nodded: “Mm.”
After a few words with Chu Yu and Wen Yan, Mr. Ge swung the banner, turned, and a gust of wind followed as he waved to them and walked away.
Though not a scholar himself, without him, Han Min and Xie Yan—especially Xie Yan—might have languished in obscurity.
The debt of recognition is hard to repay, but countless talented individuals never find their soulmate and waste their lives.
Chu Yu put an arm around Han Min: “It’s fine. He’ll return.”
Han Min stood for a while, watching Mr. Ge disappear down the dusty road, then realized something:
“I never asked his real name.”
Chu Yu exclaimed: “Not possible? You’ve known him for two years and don’t know?”
“I kept asking. He wouldn’t tell me, just said he was ‘Sir.’”
Han Min thought for a moment, wanting to chase him to ask, but Chu Yu stopped him: “He was the richest man in Song before, with a taste for refinement. The Chu family did business with him. When Xie Yan was expelled, he spent everything to pursue him to Qi, just to help Xie Yan.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ge Mi—‘Mi’ as in seeking a soulmate in lofty music and mountains.”
Author’s note:
Ge Mi, not the ‘honey’ of sweet scholars (not really).
