The one calling himself “this old man,” considering himself the father figure to two birds, could be none other than Mu Chun.
Father figure Mu Chun had his heart broken worrying about his two bird “sons.” Actually, he was projecting—the wives readily available to the two birds were beyond his own reach.
Mu Chun served as deputy general of the Imperial Guards. The commanding general, Marquis Gongchang Guo Xing, was a veteran who had followed Emperor Hongwu for many years. He understood the emperor’s intentions—wasn’t it because his sister Consort Guo Ning held power over the harem, requiring balance so the Guo family wouldn’t control both palace and military?
Guo Xing was very cooperative, holding nothing back, dividing and delegating authority, gradually transferring imperial city defense to Mu Chun’s hands. Mu Chun was extremely busy, patrolling and inspecting guard posts throughout the imperial city daily.
The two Guo brothers—Guo Xing guarded the imperial city while Guo Ying was stationed in Yunnan with Marquis Xiping Mu Ying. The entire family was utterly loyal. Despite sister Consort Guo Ning’s repeated troubles in the palace disappointing Emperor Hongwu, considering the Guo family’s loyalty, harem authority remained with Consort Guo Ning, whose ability was insufficient but loyalty abundant. At least the Guo and Zhu families were allied—Emperor Hongwu trusted the Guo family, or he couldn’t sleep peacefully.
Though both he and Hu Shanwei were imperial civil servants, they were like lovers in a long-distance relationship, rarely able to meet. On the rare occasions they did meet, with many eyes and ears around, conversation was inconvenient. Each busy with their duties, they could only brush past each other hurriedly.
So when Mu Chun learned Hu Shanwei had left the palace for Xiaoling, he was overjoyed and requested leave from Guo Xing, claiming to visit home.
Guo Xing calculated that since taking office, Mu Chun hadn’t rested a single day, so he granted the request.
Mu Chun hurriedly returned to Marquis Xiping’s mansion, offered recent imperial gifts at the ancestral shrine, burned incense for his ancestors. While the marquis’s wife waited for him to dine, servants reported the heir had ridden to Zhong Mountain to burn paper money for his birth mother Feng Shi.
Feng Shi was buried at Zhong Mountain in the Mu family ancestral grounds near Xiaoling. After burning paper money, Mu Chun went to Xiaoling seeking Hu Shanwei. Seeing her feeding deer with Shen Qionglian, he went to the greenhouse to tend the phoenixes, knowing Hu Shanwei would surely come.
Sure enough, Hu Shanwei, concerned about the green peacocks’ marriage prospects, came to the greenhouse.
Mu Chun was lecturing the male phoenix when he heard footsteps behind. He quickly struck a handsome pose, lightly lifting the corner of his thick fox fur cloak, turning his left profile toward Hu Shanwei: “What a coincidence—you’re here to see birds too.”
Accustomed to seeing Mu Chun in armor patrolling the imperial city, today seeing him in fox fur and jade crown, suddenly transformed into an elegant youth, Hu Shanwei’s eyes lit up. Though she felt she could never see enough, she said: “The greenhouse is warm—aren’t you hot?”
Men dress to please those they love. Upon seeing Hu Shanwei, Mu Chun immediately displayed like a male peacock.
Mu Chun had completed a whirlwind series of actions—requesting leave, burning incense, changing clothes, finding people, feeding birds—all to see the light in Hu Shanwei’s eyes at their reunion, like stars in the night sky.
Hmph, her heart clearly appreciated the sight, though her mouth remained indifferent—but I love this duplicitous Sister Shanwei.
With Sister Shanwei here, why bother with birds?
“Hot,” Mu Chun said. “So let’s walk outside.”
“Let me check the birds first.” Hu Shanwei approached and saw peacock feathers scattered on the ground again…
“Fighting again?” Hu Shanwei asked.
“Mm.” Mu Chun nodded. “I brought their wives over, but when the couples reunited, they met like enemies and fought. I barely managed to separate them.”
Hu Shanwei half-squatted, picking up the beautiful, seemingly luminous peacock feathers one by one: “I’ll take these back for Shen Qionglian and the others—they’re gorgeous in vases.”
Mu Chun helped her collect feathers: “I thought you’d scold these wife-beaters.”
Hu Shanwei said: “Let nature take its course. After all these years, His Majesty may have forgotten about this phoenix pair. Time heals all wounds.”
Emperor Hongwu was truly frightening and inscrutable. The night he learned the truth about Empress Xiaoci’s death, Emperor Hongwu showed no anger, chatting with her all night about his deceased wife.
After confirming Consort Da Ding was the murderer, Emperor Hongwu summoned his wife’s killer to his bed. Before mounting the dragon bed, he personally watched Consort Da Ding drink poisoned wine, then proceeded without hesitation, showing no psychological barriers.
If it were an ordinary man, he probably couldn’t… perform.
Heartless? Or sentimental? Hu Shanwei increasingly understood Empress Xiaoci’s lament about accompanying the emperor being like accompanying a tiger. Today, seeing Consort Da Ding’s sickly appearance after poisoning, she felt no expected satisfaction from revenge—only sadness.
The palace’s splendor appeared oppressive and desolate to her. Knowing Prince Qi would soon return by imperial decree and the palace would face bloody storms, she no longer wanted to remain. She had requested leave from Consort Guo Ning to stay at Xiaoling for several days, returning after events passed.
Mu Chun held a bundle of peacock feathers, looking particularly flamboyant as he strolled with Hu Shanwei through the pine forest. Seeing her heavy thoughts and bloodshot eyes—without palace cosmetics, her light dark circles showed after washing away her makeup—he asked: “Living luxuriously in the palace, why do you look haggard after returning?”
During her time as animal keeper at Xiaoling, life was modest. Every meal was prepared by turns between her and Haitang. Despite poverty, she was content—unlike today’s melancholy.
That Mu Chun noticed the difference showed he had been watching her closely. Warmth filled Hu Shanwei’s heart: “Serving as a female secretary to the harem’s mistress, Consort Guo Ning is ultimately limited by her rank. Without proper status, her words lack authority, and many in the palace are discontented. So after restoration, being a secretary isn’t as easy as before.”
The conspiracy involving Consort Da Ding and Prince Qi’s attempted usurpation was state secret, known only to the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Hu Shanwei dared not leak information—the more Mu Chun knew, the more trouble he’d face.
Mu Chun didn’t believe it. He counted Hu Shanwei’s previous “achievements”: “That’s not right. Were your previous tasks simple? Just traveling thousands of li to Guizhou with the empress’s decree was difficult, but you weren’t this worried then.”
Hu Shanwei discovered that confidants weren’t entirely beneficial—knowing each other too well meant some thoughts couldn’t be hidden.
Since concealment was impossible, using one lie to cover another would only complicate matters. Hu Shanwei said frankly: “Yes, I’m troubled, but I can’t tell you right now. Is that acceptable?”
Mu Chun paused: “As if I could say ‘no.’ But if you need help, just ask.” Having grown up in the palace, he understood palace rules—Sister Shanwei had her difficulties.
Hu Shanwei stopped, looking at Mu Chun holding peacock feathers. Mu Chun, Mu Chun—like bathing in spring breeze, living up to his name. He needed to help with nothing—just standing nearby brought warmth, like a wall shielding her from the palace’s cold conspiracies and calculations.
She wanted to hug him so much, but Hu Shanwei only dared think it.
Understanding her heart, Mu Chun saw the suppressed longing in her eyes. Inwardly ecstatic but outwardly mimicking her indifferent expression, he sighed helplessly: “You’re cold, aren’t you? I’m warm—you can come closer for warmth. Like that time you nearly had your eyes gouged out by His Majesty.”
Hu Shanwei approached, slipping her hands inside his fox fur to embrace his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. For an instant, she wished this moment could become eternal.
But it was only an instant.
Hu Shanwei reluctantly let go, wanting to separate, but Mu Chun released his hands, letting the bundle of peacock feathers fall onto the pine needle-covered ground, embracing her in return.
Hu Shanwei’s body stiffened, instinctively pushing away, but Mu Chun held tighter. She stopped struggling—he couldn’t hold her forever.
Snow fell heavier—winter’s first snow, earlier than last year. The heavy snow gradually buried the gorgeous peacock feathers, yet Mu Chun still didn’t let go.
Not until Shen Qionglian rode past with the deer herd did Mu Chun release Hu Shanwei.
Shen Qionglian fed deer in the morning and painted in the afternoon, carefree and content. Five days later, her pine-deer painting was half finished—the deer herd complete, only the pine forest remaining.
When Hu Shanwei returned, she brought a box of various green mineral powders—malachite, olive green, jasper, chalcanthite: “I didn’t know what shade of green you wanted, so I bought some of everything.”
Shen Qionglian saw her flushed cheeks, slightly perspiring nose, bright eyes—without cosmetics yet with rare good complexion. She removed her thick fur cloak, wearing only a thin jacket and skirt. As she tiptoed to hang the cloak on a yellow rosewood rack, sunset bathed her face, making her entire being seem luminous.
“Don’t move.” Shen Qionglian spread fresh paper. “Hold that pose—I’m painting you.”
Shen Qionglian sketched her outline and clothing details with swift strokes. Eventually Hu Shanwei couldn’t hold the position: “Are you done? My arms ache and feet are numb.”
“Hold on a bit more.” Shen Qionglian finished and set down her brush. “Done. I’ll add color tomorrow.”
Hu Shanwei twisted her stiff neck, leaning over to see the painting—a beautiful ink portrait.
Shen Qionglian curiously touched her face: “Did you get promoted?”
Hu Shanwei found this strange: “Not at all. My next step up would be Court Lady—if Cao Shanggong heard you say that, she’d cause trouble again.”
“People are energetic when happy events occur.” Shen Qionglian looked at Hu Shanwei’s spring-bright eyes. “Where did you wander these past days? You seem like a completely different person from when you arrived.”
Hu Shanwei felt guilty: “Just walking around Xiaoling, occasionally visiting the streets to buy you paper and pigments.”
“Only that?”
“What else could it be?”
Shen Qionglian studied Hu Shanwei: “Your entire aura is like Chang’e after taking immortality pills—ethereal, about to fly to the moon on the wind.”
This immortality pill was called love.
Hu Shanwei tried desperately to conceal it, but Shen Qionglian had no interest in probing others’ hearts. She sat down to mix pigments, seeking the special green of pine needles washed clean under heavy snow.
“You can leave—don’t block my light, or the colors will be off.” So spoke Shen Qionglian.
Hu Shanwei, who was racking her brains for lies: Turns out genius indifference isn’t entirely a flaw.
Hu Shanwei was delighted, going to an adjacent room to copy scriptures for Empress Xiaoci. Picking up her brush, her heart couldn’t calm down. Having just parted from Mu Chun, she missed him again.
Setting down the brush, she opened the window. After heavy snow, the weather cleared, matching her mood. Love was an immortality pill, temporarily making one forget pain and dissolve stress. After their forest embrace, they had no more intimate actions, only occasionally holding hands under cloak cover, gently scratching each other’s palms.
That tingling sensation spread from palm to entire body. Even winter needed no hand warmers—her whole body stayed warm.
Snow piled palm-thick on the windowsill. Unconsciously, Hu Shanwei traced in the snow, looking down to see the character “Chun” (Spring).
This unconscious action revealed her heart. Hu Shanwei’s cheeks burned again. She picked up a bamboo knife from the desk, wanting to scrape away the name carved in snow, but as the knife pierced the snow, she couldn’t bear to.
Abandoning the knife, she gently covered the character “Chun” with her palm, letting palm warmth slowly melt the writing into a pool of spring water.
She couldn’t bear to part with him, even just his name.
Hu Shanwei stood at the window gazing into the distance. Mu Chun lived at the Mu family temple near the ancestral graves on Zhong Mountain.
Suddenly, a group of riders appeared on the mountainside, approaching Xiaoling.
Hu Shanwei went out to ask the tomb guards: “Who’s coming?”
The guard replied: “Prince Lu. Newly recovered from serious illness, he’s come to offer incense to Empress Xiaoci, thanking her for blessing his recovery.”
Hu Shanwei looked at Shen Qionglian concentrating on mixing pigments in the study, thinking: His motives probably aren’t purely religious.
Hu Shanwei said: “Deploy a hundred men to guard here. No one may approach, lest they disturb Teacher Shen’s painting—her work is to be presented to His Majesty.”
After arranging Shen Qionglian’s protection, Hu Shanwei donned her cloak and went to meet Prince Lu, preventing him from doing something foolish. At fourteen, he was capable of many things…
After offering incense, Prince Lu rested briefly in a side hall, producing a poetry collection before seeking Shen Qionglian, only to be intercepted by Hu Shanwei.
It was nearly dusk. Prince Lu brought no attendants. The imperial physicians had carefully nurtured him to glowing health. Prince Lu wasn’t bad-looking, but those eyes looked lecherous to Hu Shanwei no matter how she viewed them.
“Where is Your Highness going?” Hu Shanwei asked.
As his mother Consort Guo Ning’s “strategist,” Hu Shanwei couldn’t be offended. Prince Lu hid the scroll in his sleeve: “Just walking around, viewing Xiaoling’s scenery.”
Hu Shanwei enthusiastically invited: “How coincidental! I was the animal keeper at Xiaoling—no one knows this place better. Let me show you around.”
Prince Lu hastily declined: “Director Hu came to recuperate—how could I trouble you? If Mother Consort knew, she’d scold me.”
Hu Shanwei said: “It’s no trouble. I just ate some snacks and was thinking of walking around anyway.”
Prince Lu naturally refused, but Hu Shanwei insisted on dragging him up the mountain. Being exactly ten years older, she treated him like a child, coaxing him. In their tussling, Prince Lu’s hidden poetry collection couldn’t stay concealed—it fell to the ground with a slap.
“What’s this?” Hu Shanwei asked knowingly, picking it up. Taking an elder’s stance with stern expression, she scolded Prince Lu: “Your old habits again? This is Xiaoling—how can Your Highness bring such filthy things here? I’m telling Consort Ning!”
Prince Lu panicked, repeating: “No, no, no… Director Hu misunderstands. It’s not erotic pictures—it’s poetry I wrote recently.”
As if you’d dare commit crimes against the wind. Hu Shanwei just wanted to ruin Prince Lu’s little schemes: “I don’t believe it.”
Prince Lu had no choice: “Look if you don’t believe me.”
Hu Shanwei feigned anger: “I won’t look at such filthy things—they’d dirty my eyes.”
Prince Lu was more wronged than Dou E: “I truly didn’t lie to Director Hu. If you don’t believe me, find a patrolling tomb guard to verify.”
Hu Shanwei said: “Your Highness is a Ming prince—they’d surely side with you and help you lie.”
Truly at wit’s end, Prince Lu extended his right hand: “I swear, if I’m lying, may heaven strike me with lightning and grant me no good death.”
Only then did Hu Shanwei return the poetry collection: “The weather’s cold and roads slippery—I’m returning. I still need to mix pigments for Teacher Shen.”
More nonsense—Shen Qionglian never needed help with poetry or painting. Hu Shanwei was deliberately frightening Prince Lu away, making him retreat and stop harassing Shen Qionglian.
The East and West Five Quarters search was Hu Shanwei’s handiwork—she was an iron-fisted figure.
Prince Lu wavered between reason and emotion: “Director Hu lives with Teacher Shen?”
Hu Shanwei nodded: “Xiaoling nights are too quiet—we keep each other company.”
Prince Lu returned dejectedly: “Oh, I see.”
Hu Shanwei asked: “Didn’t Your Highness say you wanted to stroll? Why are you leaving?”
Prince Lu lied: “I found the paths too slippery. Having just recovered, I fear lack of strength—falling would be problematic.”
Stopping at this point achieved the goal of protecting Shen Qionglian. Exposing everything would hurt Prince Lu’s face, making future meetings awkward.
Hu Shanwei returned to the side hall. Shen Qionglian had finished mixing colors and continued painting. Once in the zone, she nearly forgot food and sleep. Hu Shanwei quietly placed a food box on the table, returning after half an hour to collect bowls—the dishes remained untouched, only half the osmanthus cakes were gone.
Hu Shanwei silently cleared the bowls, added charcoal to the study, and went to sleep first.
Midnight, deep in spring dreams, Hu Shanwei was awakened by a voice. Shen Qionglian shook her shoulder: “Director Hu? Wake up—something’s wrong at Xiaoling.”
Hu Shanwei sat up abruptly: “What happened?”
Shen Qionglian said: “I was painting through the night and opened the window for fresh air. I saw scattered starpoints down the mountain—patrolling soldiers with torches walking in formation. The firelight was neat and orderly, but suddenly the torches scattered chaotically, some going out, losing formation. After a while, the torches reformed in neat rows, coming up the mountain.”
Hu Shanwei dressed and looked out the window—indeed, a line of firelight approached uphill. “When they scattered, was it during the night guard change?”
“If changing shifts, the numbers should be similar.” Shen Qionglian was a gifted girl with photographic memory. “Before the chaos, there were fifty-six torches. Now there are one hundred and eight—nearly double.”
Having experienced too many crises, Hu Shanwei’s mind raced. Vigilance had become instinct, warning her:
A million guesses, safety first.
Irregular shift changes lead to tears of regret.
Hu Shanwei immediately ran out, telling patrolling soldiers: “Enemies have infiltrated Xiaoling! Fire warning signals immediately, strengthen defenses, set up roadblocks, and protect Prince Lu in Empress Xiaoci’s tomb chamber.”
A signal arrow shot skyward, exploding like green lightning, illuminating the night sky.