Chapter 99: The Empress Likes
Even though Gongsun Lun personally intervened, lowering his head and speaking words of rare softness, he still could not make the Song kingdom become a vassal state of Qi.
Although Gongsun Lun and Han Min often clashed fiercely in court, privately their relationship was quite good.
These days, Han Min had also been helping him, taking him to the academy and other places.
Gongsun Lun joked, “Aren’t you afraid I might steal some of your things?”
Han Min smiled and whispered, “Teacher, to be honest, even if you did take them, no one in the Song kingdom could oversee the overall situation. The emperor wouldn’t dare take the risk, and no minister would step up to lead. Maybe you would, Teacher, but you’d be completely alone.”
Gongsun Lun laughed at this, partly proud of Han Min’s insight, partly saddened by the Song kingdom’s incompetence.
“You’re right. It’s like how lately I’ve been around you constantly, and the emperor might suspect me and have someone watch over me. But your emperor never doubts you.”
Han Min smiled faintly and tentatively asked, “If, Master, you weren’t appreciated by the emperor in Song, why didn’t you…”
Gongsun Lun shook his head with regret, “It’s too late for me.”
Scholars valued reputation above all; much more so for a great scholar like Gongsun Lun. His whole life had been for the Song kingdom.
He had received the favor of several generations of Song rulers. His commentaries and books had been published there; his students were there. To now turn to Qi would be too late.
It would only leave him infamous, tarnishing his final years.
On this day, before parting, Gongsun Lun reached out and stroked the temples of Han Min: “Good child, if I had been born a few decades later, I would have been with you.”
After staying in Yong’an for several months with no other choice, the Song envoy was finally ready to leave.
On the day the Song envoy left Yong’an, Han Min also went to see them off.
Outside the city gate, because of the imperial decree, the Song envoys crowded around Gongsun Lun, not letting him get near Han Min for fear Qi would “take him away.”
Han Min could only stand at a distance and bow to him from afar.
Gongsun Lun gripped his cane, closed his cloudy eyes tightly, and turned to board the carriage.
Dust swirled along the road.
That autumn, several small-scale skirmishes broke out along the northwest border between Qi and Song.
At first, it was just a test. Once they realized that the Song kingdom could not resist, Qi’s iron cavalry surged forward, conquering half of Song.
The commander was none other than Wei Gui and Han Min’s elder brother, Han Shi.
Even while recuperating from illness, Han Shi had not neglected his martial training. Later, when he was sufficiently recovered, Wei Gui recommended him to the army. With each city conquered, his military rank rose steadily.
Within half a year, the same year Song had tried to become a vassal of Qi, Song sent another envoy with a peace request.
But this time it was not Gongsun Lun.
Han Min had someone inquire and learned that after returning home, Gongsun Lun was constantly suspected by the Song emperor and eventually claimed illness to avoid court.
He really was old, and claiming illness, he indeed fell sick.
When the new envoy left Song, the emperor even sent several imperial doctors to check on Gongsun Lun’s residence.
Another piece of news: Princess Rongning’s illness had lingered for a long time, and she finally passed away in early autumn.
Han Min, of course, knew this was not true. Before her “death,” Zhao Yin had secretly sent him a letter. She had merely left, going somewhere no one could scheme against her.
As expected, Fu Xun did not accept the peace offer.
Song continued to retreat. By spring, the Song emperor hastily packed and moved the capital further north.
In their rush, they brought nothing but the imperial guard, leaving behind the palace consorts, aging ministers who could not move, and the city’s populace.
Fu Xun, itching for action, organized his army to personally lead an expedition.
A personal expedition by the emperor was no small matter, and leaving someone to oversee the state required careful planning.
That night, Han Min discussed the matter with Fu Xun.
Han Min sat at his desk, idly sketching with a brush.
“Senior Brother Jiang can oversee the state, with Little Uncle and Royal Uncle added, that should be enough. The academy can be handled by Senior Brother Liu, along with Bian Zhang and Zhuo Shi; that should suffice.”
Fu Xun sat beside him, leaning back slightly, observing his profile. “And you?”
Han Min naturally said, “I’ll go to the Song kingdom with you.”
Fu Xun said lightly, “You will stay.”
Han Min drew out the syllable, “Ah?”
“It’s no big deal. Your body hasn’t fully recovered; you don’t need to go.”
“But…”
“You stay to oversee the state, and we can grant you a title.”
Though everyone knew Han Min was a close imperial aide, his official rank was low, making things inconvenient. Letting him oversee the state and giving him a title would make matters easier, and no one would object.
Fu Xun took the brush from Han Min: “I’ve thought of several titles these past few days; after consideration, this one is best.”
Han Min looked at the paper on the desk as Fu Xun wrote. The characters were large, neat, and dignified, unlike Fu Xun’s usual austere style.
One word: “Ding” (?).
Han Min puckered his lips. “Not this one.”
“Why?”
“The emperor was formerly ‘the Duke of Ding’; this character has been used by you, Sire. If I use it, it would be overstepping.”
Fu Xun smiled, setting down the brush and looping an arm around his waist: “You just don’t want to use it yourself and still talk about ruler-and-minister distinction.”
Han Min said nothing. Fu Xun continued, “If I use it, after I die, they’ll make my posthumous name include ‘Ding’.”
Han Min glared at him. “Just use it already; what nonsense is this?”
He thought a moment and picked up the brush again, adding “Wen” before the “Ding.”
Suddenly, Fu Xun said, “One more thing.”
“Ah?”
“You forgot to record the daily notes; quickly write down what just happened.”
Han Min frowned. “Do I really need to record this?”
Fu Xun replaced the paper: “Of course. Write it quickly.”
Han Min paused but finally complied, beginning to record.
“Future historians will hate me for this Daily Notes. Really, there’s no need—none at all…”
Through his clothes, Fu Xun poked Han Min’s waist precisely. Han Min’s lower back tensed, and he could hardly hold the brush.
Fu Xun continued to poke, asking, “Why stop writing? Why don’t you gain any weight?”
Han Min turned to speak but was pressed against the desk: “Write quickly, or write ‘Two or Three Things.’”
Han Min whispered, “These are things from years ago…”
Fu Xun pinched his waist, leaving no room for negotiation: “Write now.”
Another day when Han Min’s eyes reddened from being bullied.
Before the emperor’s campaign, the court granted ranks to officials.
Qi had never been like Song, obsessed with age and seniority. As new talent appeared, elder ministers rejoiced.
This time, a batch of marquises with the character “Wen” were granted titles—civil officials.
When the army marched out, civil and military officials lined the sides, the marquises standing in front.
Fu Xun, mounted, looked at Han Min: “It’s cold; Marquis Wen Ding, remember to dress warmly.”
Han Min bowed: “Yes.”
“When I see your brother, I’ll send greetings for you.”
Han Shi was still at the northwest front, and hadn’t returned since last year’s festival.
Han Min thanked him. The ministers bowed, shouting long live the emperor as they sent him off.
Taking this moment, Fu Xun brushed Han Min’s fingers with his lips.
He had done this before. When Han Min blushed and withdrew his hand, Fu Xun felt elated, turned his horse, and rode off.
—
Two months later, the cavalry from the northwest met the Qi forces that had crossed the Wei River into the old Song capital.
The city gates collapsed. Fu Xun, mounted, looked solemn.
Only a few garrison troops remained, poorly armed.
Yesterday, they tried to negotiate surrender, but the city refused. Qi forces began their assault that morning.
Smoke rose from gates to the south and west. By midday, they would have lunch in the Song capital.
Soon, news came from the west and north that the gates had fallen.
As the message came, the gates here opened in response.
Flames shot into the sky. Fu Xun rode into the old Song capital, looking at the palace, once filled with song and dance, now shrouded in smoke.
He ordered control of the gates and main roads, counted the injured, and pacified the populace. Two generals in armor arrived at another gate.
Wei Gui and Han Shi dismounted, clasping fists in salute: “Your Majesty.”
“No need for courtesy.” He looked at Han Shi. “Xici sends his regards to his elder brother.”
Black soot covered his face, masking his expression. Han Shi said calmly, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ve been away for so long, often writing to Min-Min. I didn’t expect him to worry like this.”
Fu Xun smiled and turned to Wei Gui: “After entering the city, don’t alarm the citizens. Send a few people to watch over Gongsun’s residence, especially Gongsun Lun.”
Wei Gui wasn’t clear on Gongsun Lun’s relationship with Han Min, only assumed Fu Xun valued talent, and respectfully acknowledged the order.
Fu Xun added, “Gather some scholars, catalog all the books in the Song palace and academy, and transport them back to Yong’an.”
Wei Gui touched his nose: “Yes.”
He didn’t take it seriously, thinking it could be done casually. But Fu Xun added: “Anything the Empress likes must not be damaged.”
Only then did Wei Gui realize the importance. He quickly composed himself: “Yes, I will follow orders.”
He paused a moment, thinking: The Empress? Who is the Empress?
By then, Fu Xun had ridden off. Wei Gui turned to Han Shi: “Brother Han, we’re fighting outside, and even with the emperor marrying an empress, we don’t know who she is. Who is it?”
Han Shi clenched his teeth, jaw tight, raising his fist.
So that’s why the emperor led the campaign himself—it was for the bridal gifts.
Wei Gui, still clueless, kept asking: “Brother Han, who is the empress? The emperor doesn’t seem like one obsessed with beauty. Who does he favor? Why don’t I know?”
Han Shi adjusted his long sword at his waist, mounted, and rode to catch up.
Soldiers had cleared a side hall in the Song palace for temporary quarters.
Fu Xun was not particular about food or lodging; it was sufficient.
He dismounted in front of the hall, removed his helmet, and heard rapid hoofbeats outside.
Han Shi leapt down and hurried inside, unsure how to ask:
“Is it that wild boar of yours that overturned my cabbage?”
He clenched his teeth, refusing to speak.
Fu Xun set the helmet on the table and took a piece of white jade from his pocket: “Brother, look. When I arrived, Min-Min gave this to me. The knotwork was done by his own hands.”
The jade was flawless; the red silk thread was simple and beautiful.
Han Shi recalled that when he went on campaign, Han Min had gotten him a protective talisman from Jianguo Temple.
Why did he get jade?
Fu Xun smiled smugly.
Han Shi clenched his fist, unable to hold back, saying, “I apologize, Your Majesty,” and raised his fist.
Fu Xun stepped back, securing the jade, and blocked the strike.
He said seriously: “Brother, Min-Min will be unhappy if he knows.”
You also call him ‘Min-Min’?
Han Shi felt his temples throb. All formalities forgotten, he struck decisively.
He wished he could, as in the past, have dragged Fu Xun off Han Min’s bed at midnight with a blanket and given him a good beating.
No matter if he was prince, emperor, or grandson of the emperor—he wasn’t allowed!
Fu Xun, perhaps wary of Han Min, barely defended himself to avoid injury, making it less likely that things would go wrong.
After a while, Wei Gui entered: “Your Majesty, everything is…”
Han Shi looked carefully, frightened, and lunged forward, grabbing Han Shi: “I came late to protect you, Your Majesty, let’s go.”
Fu Xun didn’t move, just stood opposite them.
Han Shi looked at him, growing increasingly annoyed: “How old is he? The emperor is not suitable—doesn’t fit.”
