Chapter 96: Gentle Tone
The Wei River was wide, stretching north to south.
By now, three days had passed since Zhao Yin returned to Song and the Song emperor received the news of Qi’s troop deployment along the Wei River. Soldiers sent to scout could ride fast horses back and forth, but the elderly Master Gongsun could not endure such weariness.
Inside the carriage granted by the Song emperor were layers of soft bedding. The old man, with white hair and beard, sat upright, leaning on his cane, brow furrowed.
The soldiers driving the carriage were in a dilemma: on one hand, the king urged them to hurry to prevent Qi from deploying troops; on the other hand, he warned them to consider the old man’s health and not shake him about.
Master Gongsun himself didn’t mind, and instead urged them to go faster.
Riding day and night, by the third night the carriage arrived at a small town on the banks of the Wei River.
It was late autumn, and as night fell, a lingering white mist hung over the river.
The water appeared calm but was in fact full of hidden currents and dangerously swift. Without decades of experience, no ordinary boatman could cross safely.
Without time to rest, Master Gongsun quickly changed into plain clothes, found an old boatman of roughly his own age, and the two of them crossed the river that night, with no one following.
Their small boat moved quickly and soon vanished into the thick mist.
No one knew how long had passed before the boat finally reached shore.
Under unclear moonlight, as Master Gongsun was stepping off, he slipped and nearly fell into the cold water.
Though he steadied himself with his cane, half of his garments were soaked.
He sighed lightly, retrieved his clothes from the water, wrung them out, and continued forward.
The old boatman said, “I’ll wait here for you, sir.”
Perhaps lost in thought, Master Gongsun did not respond and walked ahead without looking back.
The Qi military camp was arranged according to tactical formations, exuding a killing intent. As he proceeded, he was intercepted by patrolling guards.
Dressed in thin rough cloth, he came alone to make a humble appeal and offer apology, hoping to persuade the Qi army to retreat.
He politely explained his purpose and stood in the cold wind waiting.
The chill of his soaked clothing numbed his veins.
Inside the camp, Prince Fu Rang was holding the small booklet Han Min had given him, reciting it carefully.
A soldier outside reported: “Your Highness, Song has sent an elderly gentleman.”
Fu Rang closed the booklet, raising his eyebrows: “Did he give his name?”
“Gongsun Lun, Master Gongsun.”
Fu Rang’s eyes widened in surprise. Han Min was incredible—he had truly predicted this.
Now it remained to see whether this little booklet would work.
He said, “Please, Master Gongsun, enter the deputy commander’s tent.”
Two soldiers escorted Master Gongsun inside. The old man turned and saw the corpse of Zhao Cun hanging above him, and felt a chill run through his limbs.
Steeling his mind and prepared to die, he entered the tent.
Far away, in Yong’an City, in Fu Xun’s study, a few scholars had just finished a small meeting and were packing to leave.
Han Min tidied up the scattered papers on the desk and, as he was about to roll up the brush curtain, realized one of his pens was missing.
Chu Yu, gathering his sleeves, urged: “Hurry, hurry, or we’ll miss leaving the palace.”
Han Min searched the desk thoroughly: “Wait, I can’t find my pen.”
“You were carrying papers and pens everywhere just now. You probably left it on someone else’s desk. They’ll find it tomorrow when cleaning. Let’s go, let’s go.”
Before Han Min could respond, Fu Xun said: “Stay behind and look. I’ll send you back afterward.”
He then turned to Chu Yu and the others: “You go ahead.”
They bowed and departed, walking in silence along the steps.
Chu Yu tossed a small stone into the calm pool: “I think the emperor and Han Xici have been acting strangely. Every meeting, the emperor keeps him behind alone.”
The stone created huge ripples. Wen Yan and Liu Ting exchanged glances, each showing some helplessness.
What could they do?
Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Chu Yu half-joked: “The emperor isn’t secretly giving him a raise, is he?”
No one spoke. Embarrassed, he scratched his nose: “Probably not.”
Back in the study, Han Min was still looking for his missing pen.
Fu Xun casually noticed it lying on his own desk—on top of Han Min’s school organizational chart.
He held the pen in his hand and asked, “Why do you insist on this one? I can get you another.”
Han Min leaned on the mat: “That pen was the one you gave me when I first donned my official cap.”
Hearing Fu Xun laugh, he added: “Stop laughing, help me find it quickly.”
Fu Xun approached him, apparently placing something on the desk. Han Min sat up and saw—it was the missing pen.
He picked it up and carefully cleaned it: “Where did you find it?”
“On the desk. You left it when you came to draw the chart.”
As they spoke, Fu Xun slowly sat behind him, wrapped his arms around Han Min’s waist, and rested his head on Han Min’s shoulder.
Tilting slightly, his breath brushed Han Min’s earlobe, leaving a faint blush in its wake.
After their long separation, Fu Xun loved to hold and kiss him whenever they were alone. Han Min, shy and tender, always flushed in response.
Feeling awkward, he tried to squirm away, but Fu Xun held him tighter.
“The door’s open. What if Lord Chu and the others…”
Fu Xun squeezed his fingers: “They’ve left.”
Han Min had nothing to say and let him be.
After a while, he remembered: “If you’re sending me home lately, it’s better at the alley entrance, not the front door.”
“Why?”
“Grandpa seems suspicious,” Han Min muttered softly, “and it’s all your fault.”
The last time, Fu Xun kissed him at the front door, and Grandpa Han came out.
Thinking quickly, Han Min said, with teary eyes, that some sand had gotten in them and Fu Xun was helping him blow it out.
A flimsy excuse, no wonder Grandpa Han was suspicious.
He sometimes felt Fu Xun was like a dog—no, a wolf—always hot and pressing against him.
This never happened before their relationship was confirmed.
Just as he thought this, Fu Xun leaned over to kiss him again.
Han Min felt ticklish and tried to dodge, his gaze catching the map hanging in the study. He examined it closely and smiled: “Wow, you’ve already replaced the old map?”
He pushed Fu Xun’s hand away and stepped closer to look.
On the map, the fifteen key towns in northwest Song had already been incorporated into Qi’s territory.
Clearly, he really liked these fifteen towns.
Han Min touched the parchment map with his fingertip: “Has the Fifth Prince sent a message back? What about Song?”
Fu Xun came beside him: “Gongsun Lun is on the way. Should arrive in a few days.”
“Really Master Gongsun,” Han Min sighed, “and he’s already quite elderly.”
“You handed over the instructions for dealing with Gongsun Rang to Fu Rang, and now he’s here, and you’re unhappy?”
Han Min remained silent, frowning in regret.
Fu Xun asked again: “He’s never left Song. When did you meet him?”
“I’ve never seen him, only read his books and heard the teachers and Chu Yu speak of him.”
Old Scholar Liu and Chu Yu were originally from Song, and Gongsun Lun was nearly two generations older.
When Old Scholar Liu studied in Song, he apprenticed under Gongsun Lun. Later, Han Min studied with Old Scholar Liu, reading many books annotated by Gongsun Lun.
Strictly speaking, Gongsun Lun was Han Min’s ancestral teacher.
All Han Min’s knowledge came from his writings and from Old Scholar Liu and Chu Yu.
The booklet for Fu Rang was compiled in the same way.
Naturally, Han Min worked for Qi’s benefit in conflicts between the two nations. Yet scholarly respect transcended age, rank, and nationality—it remained private.
—
Night fell. In the deputy commander’s tent, firelight flickered, casting the slightly hunched figure of the old man on the canvas.
Fu Rang sat in the main seat, hands hidden in his sleeves, unconsciously tracing the outline of the booklet with his fingertips.
“Master Gongsun is deeply concerned for his country, which I understand. But Zhao Cun was indeed Song’s envoy. We have already shown restraint by not pursuing who instructed him. Pursuing further risks involving more people. Could the Song emperor endure to come personally and apologize?”
“As for what you said earlier, that Qi is a vassal of Song, and that Song’s lack of courtesy justifies us, is nonsense. Can a vassal ever be stronger than the Emperor? If that were the case, Song should be Qi’s vassal.”
“Song claims legitimacy in the Central Plains, yet a Song prince rebels abroad. Song does not consider the rules, yet accuses Qi of disorder. Are rules to be changed at will?”
Gongsun Lun, old and fatigued, had little spirit. Song’s claim lacked reason to begin with; now, cornered, he could only lower his gaze.
Fu Rang raised a hand, instructing an attendant to place a sealed document before him: “This is from His Majesty for the Song emperor, to be delivered by you, Master Gongsun.”
The seal was tight; as it was meant for the Song emperor, Gongsun could not open it.
But he heard Fu Rang say: “His Majesty, when leading troops in the northwest, often told me that the fifteen towns south of Pei were rich in water and grass, a natural barrier. Song merely uses them for smuggling. What a pity.”
Only then did Gongsun realize the document’s content.
With no better option, he clenched his hand hidden in his sleeve.
After a long pause, he finally took the document, tucking it into his sleeve.
Fu Rang waved: “Send Master Gongsun out of the tent.”
Gongsun Lun looked back once: “Youth are to be feared, youth are to be feared.”
Fu Rang said nothing—he had done nothing.
Every word and step had been written for him in the booklet by Han Min.
Speaking those words, Gongsun Lun, leaning on his cane, left unsteadily.
The crescent moon hung high, and a waterbird cried from the Wei River.
—
In Yong’an City, the carriage departed the palace, heading steadily toward the Han residence.
At the alley entrance, Han Min lifted the curtain: “Stop right here.”
He jumped down. Fu Xun carried his pen pouch and followed, letting the carriage wait ahead.
Standing at the corner, Han Min peeked out to ensure his family was inside.
Once assured, he turned, stepped forward, and buried his face in Fu Xun’s embrace.
“I’m going back soon.”
Fu Xun stroked his hair: “You’re always so anxious. Once those fifteen towns are ours, merit and title will be granted—you’ll be made marquis and, by extension, empress, announced to the world. No need to hide it from your grandfather.”
Han Min rubbed against his chest: “Let’s wait a little longer. Let the new laws advance and yield a major breakthrough first.”
Using the gentlest tone to speak the firmest words.
Fu Xun furrowed his brow deeply. Compared to him, Han Min seemed more like the emperor.
