Did Hu Rong love his daughter?

Yes. He wasn’t some perfect, peerless father, but in that era, he was more competent and reliable than the vast majority of fathers.

When Hu Rong was widowed, he was barely in his twenties. Born into a prominent family, handsome, refined, with modest wealth and business acumen, matchmakers seeking to arrange his remarriage nearly trampled down the threshold of the Hu family bookshop.

With too many examples of stepmothers mistreating their predecessors’ children, Hu Rong was reluctant to entrust his young daughter to someone else’s care. He simply refused all matchmakers and lived alone with his daughter. His plan was to wait until she came of age, prepare a generous dowry for her, carefully select a good family for her to marry into, fulfill his paternal duty, then consider his own life – marry a second wife, have a son, and continue the Hu family bloodline.

In a feudal era where “of the three forms of unfilial conduct, having no descendants is the worst” was mainstream thinking, Hu Rong’s refusal to remarry and have sons during his prime years, not even taking a concubine, meant enduring considerable social pressure and gossip. Acting as both father and mother while running a business, Hu Rong shouldered all the pressure alone.

Initially everything went smoothly, until his carefully chosen son-in-law Wang Ning died in battle and his daughter refused to remarry, insisting on staying home as a widow, even resorting to the extreme behavior of wielding a paper knife to drive away matchmakers. Under all this pressure, Hu Rong broke down.

He began reflecting on himself – had his education of his daughter been too much of a failure? He thought teaching her to read more would make her reasonable, but instead she developed a solitary and fierce temperament. Had he been too good to her, making her feel that marriage was far inferior to the comfort and freedom of home?

In haste, Hu Rong married his second wife, Chen Shi. Coming from common origins, Chen was practical and good at managing household affairs. Hu Rong hoped Chen could influence his daughter, breaking her unrealistic fantasies about love and chastity, so she would marry a man, have children, and live a stable, ordinary life.

But reality struck him again – things didn’t develop as he controlled, but spiraled out of control repeatedly, until now when his daughter held a paper knife to herself, forcing him to completely abandon the idea of marrying her off.

Hu Shanwei sat on the arhat bed in a resistant posture, turning her back to Hu Rong as tears fell, choking out: “Father, please don’t kneel anymore – your daughter doesn’t deserve it.”

Hu Rong stood up. After not seeing her for a year, his daughter seemed to have grown taller, her body appeared more robust, no longer as frail as before. He couldn’t see her full face, only catching a glimpse of natural rosiness on her cheek – not rouge, but natural radiance.

Hu Rong said, “I’m leaving now. Take good care of yourself in the palace.”

Hu Shanwei still faced away from her father: “In your letter, Father said you’d purchased property and farmland for me – this is completely unnecessary. I have everything I need in the palace, plus my salary. The palace takes care of female officials for life – even after retirement from the palace, the annual salary continues, enough for old age support. Besides the salary, there are various rewards, though palace items shouldn’t be taken out to avoid bringing trouble to the family. I’ll send half my annual salary home each year.”

Hu Shanwei placed a packet of silver on the table. “This is from last year – Father, please keep it and use it for tea and opera.”

Hu Rong refused to take it: “Since you became a female official in the palace, our family is exempt from taxes and corvée labor – our circumstances are vastly better than ordinary families. That’s enough.”

Hu Shanwei said, “Now that the family has new members, having more money on hand is better.”

The father and daughter who once depended on each other intimately could now only discuss money – how sad was this?

After a moment’s hesitation, Hu Rong took the silver and turned to leave.

If he didn’t take the silver, his daughter would be upset.

If he took it, he would be upset.

Hu Rong ultimately forgot all his daughter’s faults, only caring that she be well, and took the silver.

Only when she could no longer hear her father’s footsteps did Hu Shanwei suddenly stand, turn around, and chase outside. Standing under the corridor, she watched her father’s retreating figure until he completely disappeared.

Mu Chun and his father Mu Ying had long confirmed through eye contact that they must have been enemies in their previous life. So he couldn’t understand the suppressed reluctance and conflict Hu Shanwei felt under the corridor.

Mu Chun said, “Sister Shanwei, if you want to talk more with your father, I can drag him back.”

Hu Shanwei: “…”

Often, a silent Mu Chun was the best Mu Chun.

The fourteenth year of Hongwu, the fifth month, Dragon Boat Festival.

The Dragon Boat Festival polo and willow shooting were customs left by the Yuan dynasty’s nomadic peoples. The Hongwu Emperor believed they had “the meaning of military generals displaying martial prowess” and thus preserved them. Every Dragon Boat Festival, polo, willow shooting, and dragon boat racing were all essential. This time he especially wanted to use this opportunity to select a prince consort – it was the perfect excuse.

To let these young talents compete freely and display their abilities, the Hongwu Emperor specifically divided them into two groups: one for civil and military officials, another for imperial relatives. Each group competed separately, so the candidates wouldn’t be constrained by concerns for the Crown Prince, princes’ dignity and safety.

In early Ming, prince consorts could wield military power and become important court ministers, unlike previous dynasties where they only held idle positions. So everyone competed with full effort.

As an adopted grandson, Mu Chun wasn’t considered imperial blood and was placed in the civil and military officials’ group.

This was the one competition Mu Chun didn’t want to win, but he couldn’t deliberately lose and embarrass Princess Huaiqing either. So even if he lost, he had to lose gracefully, with style and skill.

This was very difficult – harder than simply winning.

Similarly, Da Ming’s youngest earl, Earl Yongchun Wang Ning, felt the same way – neither wanting to win nor wanting to lose obviously.

The first event was polo. Wang Ning and Mu Chun drew lots – Wang Ning was on the blue team, Mu Chun on red, each with colored cloth tied around their foreheads to distinguish friend from foe.

When enemies meet, their eyes blaze red.

Both Wang Ning and Mu Chun gripped their mallets tightly – they didn’t want to hit the ball, only each other.

Their stares sparked with killing intent.

As they faced off, the Emperor and Empress arrived. Only then did Wang Ning and Mu Chun withdraw their gazes, dismount, and respectfully welcome the imperial presence.

After the imperial couple took their seats, several pairs of female officials stood beside Empress Ma, including Director Hu Shanwei, and beside her stood a female official who was actually the disguised Princess Huaiqing!

Having grown up in the palace, Mu Chun naturally recognized Princess Huaiqing. He winked at her and made a face. Huaiqing responded with a smile – she should have sat behind pearl curtains with her mother Noble Consort Sun to watch the competition, but feeling she couldn’t see clearly through the curtains, she insisted on changing into female official robes to stand outside and personally select her future consort.

Seeing red-ribboned Mu Chun and blue-ribboned Wang Ning, Hu Shanwei immediately averted her gaze, eyes on nose, nose on heart.

Though she knew both men were just here as extras for appearances, she still felt uncomfortable.

Like many unmarried maidens, Huaiqing had beautiful hopes and expectations for her future marriage. She nudged Hu Shanwei’s elbow: “Director Hu, which one do you find pleasing to the eye?”

Hu Shanwei gave an official response: “Those carefully selected by the Ministry of Rites and Imperial Clan Court each have their merits – in this minister’s view, all are good.”

For prince consorts, the best among the good was chosen based on what most benefited Da Ming’s imperial family. Not just a mere Hu Shanwei, even Princess Huaiqing herself couldn’t decide.

Huaiqing understood this clearly, having been instilled with this concept since childhood. She was a Da Ming princess – everything served Da Ming’s interests first. Besides, her father emperor loved his daughters. Just the fact that Da Ming princesses didn’t need to marry for diplomatic alliances to pacify frontiers was already groundbreaking – throughout history, only Da Ming princesses weren’t married off to distant lands.

Like when Northern Yuan and Da Ming negotiated peace and proposed a marriage alliance, the Hongwu Emperor creatively issued an edict for his second son Prince Qin to marry the sister of Northern Yuan’s chancellor Wang Baobao, but refused to marry off a princess to Northern Yuan.

So Huaiqing was already very satisfied – regardless of who was chosen, it wouldn’t affect her lifelong wealth and honor.

Huaiqing observed these candidates with a critical eye, like carrying a basket to the vegetable market – only able to buy one thing, naturally being very picky. This one too short, that one too tall, this one too dark, that one too pale as if deficient somehow, that one’s riding posture ugly like a monkey, that one cheating at polo, too cunning…

There was also Duke Weiguo Xu Da’s precious youngest son Xu Zengshou, the capital’s most famous wastrel, wearing a red ribbon and on Mu Chun’s team, but seemingly sleepwalking throughout – while others played polo, he played “dodgeball,” hiding whenever he saw the ball, afraid it would hit his face and ruin his looks.

Perhaps sensing Princess Huaiqing’s gaze, Xu Zengshou, who was yawning lazily on horseback, turned to look over. His mouth happened to be gaping widest, as if he could swallow an entire meat sandwich.

As the capital’s foremost wastrel, Xu Zengshou was even more shameless than Mu Chun. With his mouth wide open meeting Princess Huaiqing’s gaze, he felt no embarrassment and even smiled foolishly at the princess.

Princess Huaiqing nearly vomited last night’s dinner, thinking thankfully the Xu family had produced three princess consorts, enough to secure Duke Weiguo Xu Da’s loyalty. Her father emperor couldn’t possibly waste such a valuable bargaining chip as a princess on making Xu Zengshou a prince consort.

Not cost-effective.

While pondering this, a goose-egg-sized polo ball was struck flying directly toward Xu Zengshou’s gaping mouth. Xu Zengshou was too busy staring at the princess to remember to close his mouth. Just as he was about to perform “live ball swallowing,” teammate Mu Chun rode over, swinging his mallet to strike the ball away – a “hero saving the bear.”

Xu Zengshou belatedly realized what happened and broke into a cold sweat, shrieking on horseback: “Thanks, Chun-chun!”

Mu Chun hated when people called him by his childhood nickname. Cupping his hands in return, he responded in kind: “You’re welcome, Shou-shou.”

Mu Chun’s help for Xu Zengshou absolutely wasn’t based on their paper-thin friendship – wastrels had no real friendship. Rather, the drunkard’s intention wasn’t the wine – Mu Chun wanted to repay a debt! Xu Zengshou was worthless, but he had a peerless father – Duke Weiguo Xu Da. During this Northern Expedition, without Xu Da’s constant support and cultivation, Mu Chun absolutely wouldn’t have had such good opportunities to achieve merit and receive rewards.

When his father Mu Ying went to war, he’d rather bring second son Mu Sheng than eldest son Mu Chun, never giving Mu Chun opportunities, ultimately even disdaining him for having “no achievements.”

So for Mu Chun, Xu Da was like a second father.

For Xu Da’s sake, Mu Chun had to help Xu Zengshou.

In the stands, Duke Weiguo Xu Da looked at Mu Chun with appreciation. Mu Ying’s western army in the fourth Northern Expedition had also achieved victory, but they were still returning to the capital and hadn’t yet appeared in the stands.

The first round ended – temporary rest.

Xu Zengshou ran to the stands and shamelessly asked his father Xu Da: “Dad, how did I perform?”

He’d been sleepwalking the whole time – when had he performed? Did yawning count?

Peerless father Xu Da affirmed his youngest son: “Not bad. In the second round, remember to protect yourself – don’t zone out again.”

Meaning: if you’re going to hide, hide farther away.

May was already hot. After intense exercise, Mu Chun grabbed a pot of tea and gulped it down, feeling the cool tea leaves turn into aged vinegar, deeply envying Xu Zengshou: Why was there such a huge difference between fathers? Other people’s fathers were always better.

Then from the corner of his eye he glimpsed Hu Shanwei watching him, instantly improving his mood. He deliberately acted heroic, dramatically tilting the teapot, drinking only a small portion while most of the tea flowed down from his lips with a splash, soaking his entire front. For convenient polo playing, everyone wore single-layer narrow-sleeved round-collar robes. His front was now soaked through, clinging tightly to his undulating muscles, clearly outlining his eight-pack abs.

Mu Chun’s move was too provocative. Nearby contestants immediately imitated him, each trying to outdo the others in heroic tea-drinking, splashing water on themselves under the pretense of drinking. Those who knew understood it was Dragon Boat Festival; those who didn’t might think it was a water festival.

Watching competitors about to burst their single-layer robes, Mu Chun tasted what “lifting a rock to drop on one’s own foot” meant: You scoundrels! Won’t this pollute Sister Shanwei’s eyes later!

Regretting his actions, Mu Chun’s gaze fell on Wang Ning, who hadn’t splashed water and sat quietly resting.

Mu Chun silently cursed Wang Ning: You’re so cunning! Everyone else splashes water but you don’t, making yourself stand out as different – Sister Shanwei will spot you immediately.

Splashing was base, not splashing was cunning.

This was human nature distorted and morality corrupted – the jealousy-consumed Mu Chun saw no one as good.

After a brief rest, the second round began.

Like a mad dog, Mu Chun forgot about hitting balls and forgot the red-blue team divisions, specifically targeting those “scoundrels” with large wet areas for indiscriminate attacks, especially contestants wet down to their crotches. He blocked their horses, made various collisions, constantly made small moves on the edge of fouling, pulling these “scoundrels” down from horseback. Being unhorsed meant failure and automatic elimination from competition, disappearing from Sister Shanwei’s sight.

Mu Chun’s wild disruption provoked the originally polite, mutually probing contestants into real anger, displaying their true skills and fighting polo with wartime intensity.

Mu Chun was careful not to touch Wang Ning – this person could be beaten privately, but in front of Sister Shanwei, Wang Ning was off-limits.

The situation intensified, making the match exciting.

In the phoenix chair, Empress Ma praised: “Mu Chun is quite fierce today.”

The Hongwu Emperor was very pleased: “Like father, like son – Mu Ying truly takes after his father!”

Hearing this, Hu Shanwei thought fortunately Mu Chun was too far away to hear these words. After feeling relieved, her gaze uncontrollably observed Princess Huaiqing beside her.

Fortunately, the princess’s attention wasn’t on Mu Chun.

But imperial consort selection prioritized Da Ming’s interests over the princess’s personal preferences.

Having been in the palace over a year, after brief emotional turmoil, Hu Shanwei began calmly analyzing the situation: Mu Ying wasn’t just the emperor and empress’s adopted son, but their most outstanding adopted son. Beyond interests like noble titles, Mu Ying shared deep emotional bonds with the imperial couple, comparable to biological children. This genius general was already firmly bound by both familial affection and noble title interests.

The Hongwu Emperor had no need to waste a princess tying down Mu Ying, just as Xu Zengshou was destined never to be a prince consort – the Xu family already had three princess consorts, sufficient for interest binding.

Moreover, Mu Ying fundamentally disliked his eldest son Mu Chun – having Mu Chun marry a princess might not please Mu Ying…

It must be so, Hu Shanwei thought.

While pondering, the polo situation changed again – Mu Chun was “invited” off the field for his outrageous number of fouls and banned from play.

Fortunately his father Marquis Xiping Mu Ying wasn’t present, or he’d have vomited blood on the spot.

In this round Mu Chun scored no goals but had great fun hitting people while cleverly avoiding consort selection – he happily accepted the penalty. This both demonstrated ability without offending Princess Huaiqing while cleverly avoiding selection – perfect on all counts.

Mu Chun temporarily escaped “danger.” Wang Ning and other competitors remained on field. Wang Ning’s blue team had scored seven goals, the red team also seven. Due to Mu Chun’s mad dog indiscriminate attacks, the blue team currently had five players, the red team three – yes, Mu Chun had “bitten” his own teammates most.

With the hourglass nearly empty, the final goal would decide victory. Everyone’s “moves” grew increasingly dirty, only Wang Ning consistently followed rules without fouling. A blue team player swung his mallet at Wang Ning’s horse’s legs. Wang Ning manipulated the reins, commanding his horse to rear and jump back, avoiding attack.

Wang Ning was furious – this was his beloved horse, his closest battlefield companion who had saved his life. Someone dared harm his beloved horse!

Wang Ning decided to teach his opponent a lesson. He swung his mallet, striking the ball precisely toward his opponent’s topknot.

Wang Ning calculated carefully – the wooden ball would only knock off his opponent’s topknot, embarrassing but not killing him.

Indeed, the ball knocked off the wooden hairpin from his opponent’s topknot. As his hair scattered loose, a horsehair fake hair piece rolled out from the center of his topknot.

This person was handsome indeed, but bald.

The heroic Wang Ning rode past this man – one a fairy flower from Langyuan, the other bald without hair. If there’s no strange fate, why meet him again in this life? Ah… ah… ah!