Little A’Lei has been living somewhat “difficult” days recently.
First, her childhood playmate Little Ji returned home and could never come back.
When her sister Hu Shanwei steeled her heart and told her this cruel truth, A’Lei said, “Can’t come back… means parting forever?”
“It’s not as… serious as parting forever.” Hu Shanwei thought about it and reluctantly admitted, “But it’s about the same.”
“That’s not true! Sister Shanwei is lying!” A’Lei cried as she went to find Mu Chun, wanting her brother-in-law to uphold justice.
Mu Chun took A’Lei’s hand to reason with Hu Shanwei… The outcome was predictable—both father and daughter were forced to accept a lesson in realism.
A’Lei cried for a while, but from then on, she learned to face reality and no longer harbored fantasies about Little Ji suddenly returning.
Hu Shanwei felt sorry for her daughter but was helpless. She cruelly severed A’Lei’s hopes—short pain was better than long pain.
A’Lei accepted reality and became quieter than before, but she was undoubtedly lonely. She began making friends with imaginary playmates, talking to herself and acting things out alone, frightening the Chunwei couple into thinking they had encountered ghosts.
Adults can stay home and live in seclusion. Couples can spend their lives together without outside interference, viewing socializing as a burden and trouble. But children have social needs—no matter how well adults accompany them, they still want to play with peers their own age.
This was something the Chunwei couple hadn’t anticipated. They were battle-hardened veterans, but as parents they were novices, still fumbling around in the beginner’s village.
Hu Shanwei said, “Go find out where in Kunming there are schools for girls. We’ll choose an enlightened school and send her to study. She’ll make new friends.”
Mu Chun acted according to plan. Kunming had an open-minded culture, and there were quite a few girls’ schools. But both were picky, facing the school selection problem that has always been most troublesome for parents throughout history. Just as they had narrowed it down to the top three through comprehensive evaluation, A’Lei’s grandfather Hu Rong, who had been ill for a long time, passed away.
The couple suspended all activities to focus entirely on funeral arrangements. Both adults had been mentally prepared for Hu Rong’s death. They were experienced in worldly affairs, battle-tested, and spiritually strong adults who could grieve without being overwhelmed when facing a relative’s death.
But A’Lei could not. For her, compared to Little Ji, “father” Hu Rong was truly a permanent farewell, and she couldn’t bear this double blow.
Suffering consecutive setbacks, little A’Lei couldn’t digest these harsh realities in such a short time at her young age. Children aren’t like adults who have various ways to divert attention, heal themselves, and channel emotions. Children have no other recourse but crying, often showing sorrowful expressions inappropriate for her age.
Fortunately, Prince Zhou’s relocation to Kunming by Emperor Yongle brought a turning point to A’Lei’s situation.
When Prince Zhou was falsely accused of rebellion and later imprisoned at Xiaoling, it was Hu Shanwei who secretly rescued him. The Zhou family was very grateful. After Prince Zhou came to establish his domain in Kunming, he and Princess Zhou specifically went to Hu Rong’s mourning hall to pay respects.
They didn’t know what to expect until they went, and were shocked when they did.
The two saw a familiar person standing at the door as a family member, receiving condolences, as if seeing a ghost in broad daylight.
Mu Chun went over to greet them: “Great Uncle, Great Aunt. His Majesty said that since Prince Zhou permanently guards Yunnan, my secret marriage with Palace Lady Hu should no longer be concealed from you two. Now I’ve changed my name and surname, becoming the live-in son-in-law of the Hu family, also taking the surname Hu, called Hu Tianguang.”
Mu Chun’s courtesy name was Jingchun, both name and courtesy name personally bestowed by Empress Xiaoci. They came from the famous line in “The Yueyang Tower Record”: “When spring is harmonious and the scenery bright, waves are calm and still, above and below, heaven’s light shines, stretching azure for thousands of miles.” After Hu Shanwei retired, she established a female household in Yunnan where she was the head. Mu Chun took his wife’s surname, using Tianguang as his name—also a kind of alternative continuation. Only someone as unconventional as Mu Chun could think of this.
Princess Zhou was stunned and tears rolled down her face. “Great nephew, I never expected you were still alive. The Feng family… the entire Feng family is dead.”
Princess Zhou, née Feng, was the eldest daughter of Duke Songguo Feng Sheng and Mu Chun’s legitimate great aunt. Prince Zhou was naturally his great uncle.
Feng Sheng’s entire family died in Emperor Hongwu’s great purge in his later years. Only the married daughter Princess Zhou was spared. The second daughter, Little Feng, was also a married daughter, but she had married into the Chang family of Duke Zhengguo’s mansion and was the mother of Madam Chang, Prince Yiwen’s consort. The Chang family was also completely destroyed, so Little Feng, as a Chang family woman, couldn’t be spared like her sister—she could escape the monk but not the temple.
The Chang family’s only survivor, Chang Jizu, was kept as “precious goods” by Mu Chun, hidden in Yunnan. When Emperor Yongle ascended the throne, Chang Jizu “timely” appeared in the capital, causing a sensation. Emperor Yongle took the opportunity to bestow favor on this only surviving descendant of old nobility, granting him hereditary position as Thousand-Household of Yunnan Lin’an Guard, with salary and treatment hereditary and irreplaceable, supporting the Chang family descendants for generations.
This move by Emperor Yongle won praise and support from many old soldiers. Chang Jizu served as important political capital, playing a pacifying role in Yunnan Lin’an Guard.
Through generations of effort, the Chang family rose from annihilation to prominence. By the fifth generation, Chang Fu finally left Yunnan and was granted hereditary position as Commander of Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard by Emperor Hongzhi, returning to the ranks of great families. By the eighth generation, Chang Xuanzhen was granted hereditary and irreplaceable title of Marquis Huaiyuan by Emperor Jiajing, returning the family to the top tier of great families.
A family’s journey from birth to peak prosperity, decline, near extinction, restart, recovery, and revival, restoring family glory, took a hundred years. Of course, this is all a story for later.
Since the Chang family had withdrawn from the capital’s competition for fame and profit, this text’s storyline about the Chang family ends here and won’t be elaborated further.
Princess Zhou née Feng survived when her natal Feng family was exterminated, then immediately suffered hardship along with Prince Zhou when they were demoted to commoner status. With life’s ups and downs, though only in her early forties, her temples had turned completely white.
When Hu Shanwei twice saved Prince Zhou, part of the reason was that Princess Zhou was Mu Chun’s great aunt.
Now, seeing her great nephew Mu Chun again, Princess Zhou truly felt like it was from another lifetime.
Mu Chun comforted his great aunt: “The Feng family didn’t all die. Uncle Feng Cheng and his family are hiding in Yunnan under assumed names, changing to the surname Ma. If Great Aunt wants to see them, I can arrange it. But this matter must be kept secret like my faked death—it cannot be spread. Besides you and Great Uncle, no third person must know.”
“I understand this—better to avoid trouble than seek it.” Princess Zhou wiped away her tears. “Half of the character ‘Feng’ is ‘Ma’—a good change. Over these years, I’ve seen through everything and no longer pursue empty fame. As long as we’re safe, that’s enough. Let them stay surnamed Ma—no need to change back. We’re wealthy and noble now, but who knows what will happen in the future?”
In one day, Princess Zhou experienced great sorrow and great joy. Mu Chun introduced the confused A’Lei. Princess Zhou was very fond of her, knowing that nominally she was Hu Rong’s daughter but actually her own great grand-niece, carrying one quarter Feng family bloodline. Learning that Mu Chun was worried about his daughter’s education, she invited A’Lei to attend the affiliated school at Prince Zhou’s mansion.
Princess Zhou said, “The mansion has many princesses and county ladies her age. They can study and play together, so she won’t be lonely.”
Prince Zhou, who was only interested in medicine, shared just one thing in common with his father Emperor Gaozhu—he was exceptionally fertile.
Excluding those who died young, Prince Zhou’s mansion had fifteen surviving sons and ten daughters. Sons begot more sons—Prince Zhou’s mansion was flourishing with descendants. Including children plus grandchildren and great-grandchildren, this branch of Prince Zhou’s family already exceeded fifty people.
When your brother becomes emperor, he won’t be stingy with benefits for his brother. Whether legitimate or illegitimate, all sons were granted princely titles, all daughters were granted princess titles, and the prince’s daughters were all granted county lady titles. Three generations all secured their golden rice bowls.
Prince Zhou was in good health, and the mansion hadn’t divided the family—everyone lived together. So Prince Zhou’s mansion had over ten princesses and county ladies A’Lei’s age, with famous teachers hired for education.
A’Lei got along fairly well with the princesses and county ladies at the mansion. With so many people, legitimate and illegitimate children, and complex relationships between different branches, she gradually learned some social skills and was no longer as purely innocent as before.
The stories of Prince Zhou’s mansion were so melodramatically complex they could fill a separate million-word novel about palace intrigue and court struggles. A’Lei went to Prince Zhou’s mansion for school daily. After classes, Hu Shanwei used the mansion as a starting point to explain the complex and melodramatic relationships among relatives and society in the capital. A’Lei listened with great interest, finding her sister’s stories more engaging than tea house storytellers.
Storytellers told fictional tales, but sister’s stories were real history, yet more twisting and bizarre than fiction.
During the Jianwen reign’s campaign to reduce feudal power, Prince Zhou’s mansion faced crisis when the legitimate second son Zhu Youxun, born to Princess Zhou née Feng, became jealous of his elder brother Prince Zhou’s heir Zhu Youdun’s position. Under Li Jinglong’s inducement, he falsely accused his father and elder brother of treason. Prince Zhou’s mansion was stripped of titles, demoted to commoner status, and confined in Fengyang. Zhu Youxun got his wish and obtained Prince Zhou’s title.
Fortune turns in cycles. Zhu Youxun’s triumph lasted only a few years before Emperor Yongle captured the capital, rescued his brother’s family, and restored their reputation and titles. Originally planning to imprison this unfilial rebellious son, strip him of royal status, and demote him to commoner, Prince Zhou and his wife as parents ultimately couldn’t bear to see their second son meet such an end, so they petitioned Emperor Yongle for forgiveness, claiming Zhu Youxun was young and ignorant, induced by Li Jinglong to commit the evil act of falsely accusing father and brother.
Emperor Yongle had only Prince Zhou as a brother. Their mother died early, and in his youth he was a “brother-doting fanatic” who wouldn’t refuse his brother’s requests. Helplessly, he spared Zhu Youxun, but fearing he’d cause more trouble and sadden his brother, he enfeoffed him in Dali, Yunnan—out of sight, out of mind.
Since Prince Zhou and his wife were both alive, the entire Prince Zhou’s mansion, except for Prince Runan Zhu Youxun who moved to Dali, had all fourteen other branches of sons living in the mansion with their wives and children without dividing the family. Plus several unmarried princesses, Prince Zhou’s mansion was prosperous and lively—truly a model of extended family living.
A’Lei had previously lived in simple environments where daily life was uneventful, each day repeating the last with little difference between yesterday and today. Entering Prince Zhou’s mansion for school truly opened the door to a new world, finally understanding what “different rice feeds different people” meant.
So many new faces—just figuring out who was who and which branch they came from took considerable time, not to mention each face concealed multiple personas that could switch at any time. A’Lei found it complex yet novel, like solving puzzles. Each school day was full of anticipation. This novelty quickly diluted her sadness from losing playmate Zhu Zhanji and father Hu Rong. She recovered her vitality and learned to look forward.
Regarding this, Hu Shanwei felt both happy and puzzled.
Happy that her daughter lived fulfillingly each day, always asking questions when she came home from school, with high curiosity (gossip) desires, no longer immersed in sorrow, making mother-daughter communication more smooth.
Puzzled because she and Mu Chun had spent their first half of life trying to escape fame and fortune, seeking leisurely quiet lives where today you’d know what tomorrow would bring, comfortably passing time, pursuing unchanging life as the ideal state. But their daughter didn’t think so—she was completely opposite to them.
A’Lei wanted novelty, excitement, liked challenges. She’d rather fall down and get back up than stop exploring unknown territories. She was full of curiosity. What she pursued was often what Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun had fled from.
Initially, the Chunwei couple escorted their daughter to Prince Zhou’s mansion for school daily. After about a month, A’Lei grew impatient, wanting to ride to school herself without sister and brother-in-law escorting her, at most allowing guards to follow from a distance.
Kunming gathered various ethnic groups with bold customs. Daughters of native officials or scholarly ladies of court-appointed officials could also show their faces in public.
Once A’Lei left, “empty nest middle-aged” Mu Chun worried anxiously at home: “Look at this sky—seems like rain. Sigh, perfectly good carriage available but she dislikes it as too stuffy, insisting on riding. What if she gets soaked?”
“The city is so noisy—what if some shop opens with firecrackers and startles A’Lei’s horse…”
Hu Shanwei initially could pretend to be calm, but later became increasingly anxious from Mu Chun’s imagination, slapping the table and rising: “Can you shut up? You panic, so you panic, but making me panic too—what’s the point of us staring at each other with big eyes at home?”
In her urgency, Hu Shanwei even used profanity. Mu Chun accepted the criticism with a slap to his forehead: “You’re right to criticize. We’ll disguise ourselves and follow from afar—better than worrying uselessly at home.”
The couple immediately agreed, disguising themselves as Naxi couple entering Kunming city, waiting outside Prince Zhou’s mansion for their daughter’s school dismissal.
The two waited in a tea house, looking at each other with bitter smiles: “Never thought we’d have this day.”
A two-reign Palace Lady and a already-legendary Duke, once they became parents, immediately returned to ordinary status. The anxieties and worries of common couples—they had them all.
Mu Chun felt sorry for his daughter: “I used to think with your and my abilities, we could protect A’Lei’s innocence forever. Now I realize this was actually our selfishness. Children must grow up—we can’t accompany her for life, and no one can remain innocent forever.”
Hu Shanwei also felt something: “Father probably felt the same as I do now. Father’s solution was to arrange a good marriage for me, entrusting me to another man’s protection. I don’t want to follow father’s old path. Teaching someone to fish is better than giving them fish—she must learn to make her own living.”
The Chunwei couple became “study companions.” Less than a month later, somehow their whereabouts were exposed. A’Lei flew into a rage, ordering them never to follow again. They had no choice but to give up.
Thus, two ordinary but not dull years passed. By the fourth year of Yongle, their life trajectory changed.