For Emperor Hongwu, when it came to the father-son pair Mu Ying and Mu Chun, whether in terms of emotion or timing and interests, Mu Ying definitely outweighed Mu Chun.
Emperor Hongwu had adopted over twenty foster sons in those days. According to their individual talents, each had different cultivation directions. For example, Mao Qiang was raised as a death warrior, bodyguard, and scout, excelling in single combat; Mu Ying was trained along the path of a famous general, learning military strategy and tactics, commanding troops and deploying forces, with even stricter requirements.
Setting aside the other foster sons, only Mao Qiang and Mu Ying were still alive today. This behavior of adopting foster sons and daughters was especially common in chaotic times—orphaned boys and girls sought protection, while ambitious heroes sought reliable talent. Just like Empress Xiaoci and Noble Consort Chengmu Sun Shi, they were both adopted as foster daughters to win over subordinates back then.
It’s just that in chaotic times, the victor becomes king, and most foster sons and daughters weren’t worthy of having their names recorded, disappearing into the dust of history.
By the time it came to Mu Chun, the Great Ming realm had just stabilized. Due to Emperor Hongwu’s guilt over his matchmaking blunder, he raised Mu Chun almost like a pet. On the surface, it seemed Emperor Hongwu always suppressed Mu Ying while spoiling Mu Chun, but in reality, Emperor Hongwu loved Mu Ying more—the one he had personally cultivated and who gave him rich rewards in return.
This was the difference between a pet and an assistant. While Mu Chun was an outstanding general among the younger generation, his achievements and contributions to the Great Ming couldn’t even match a fraction of his father Mu Ying’s.
Mu Chun had always received Emperor Hongwu’s favor because no matter how much he detested his father, he still gave Mu Ying face in public. Just like his first rise to fame in that martial arts competition, when he competed with Mu Ying in archery—despite being inferior in archery skills, he used cunning to shoot down the arrow Mu Ying had left on the target and won. But he didn’t shoot down all of his father’s arrows, only winning by a narrow margin over his father before stopping appropriately.
Under the strong pressure of feudal ethics, no one could challenge the bottom line of filial piety—not Mu Chun, not even Emperor Hongwu and Empress Xiaoci. Guo Zixing had adopted Empress Xiaoci, which was merely adoptive grace, but no matter how much Emperor Hongwu feared the Guo family, he still had to confer the title of Noble Consort Hui on Madam Guo, erect a monument for Guo Zixing, and send Prince Shu Zhu Chun to Xuzhou every year to pay respects to this maternal grandfather.
The day Mu Chun dared openly defy Mu Ying would be the day he lost Emperor Hongwu’s favor. Mu Chun was very clear about this, which is why he’d rather draw his blade to cut himself than lose his reason and stab Mu Ying.
Emperor Hongwu also wanted Mu Ying to step back because of Mu Chun’s action—not to push too hard. Compared to Prince Qi and Prince Tan, who dared attack the Xiaoling Mausoleum in such great unfilial conduct, Mu Chun was simply a little angel.
Mu Ying was far away in the Southwest and didn’t know about this royal scandal. He only felt that Emperor Hongwu had aged considerably since his return, assuming it was due to Empress Xiaoci’s death.
Mu Ying felt compelled to comfort Emperor Hongwu: “Your Majesty handles countless affairs daily and still worries about your subject’s household matters. It’s all because your subject is incompetent at managing his family. In the future, your subject will try to control his temper and not let Mu Chun anger him into losing his reason. Constantly arguing back and forth yields no results and only adds unnecessary trouble.”
Their father-son reconciliation was one of Empress Xiaoci’s dying wishes. Seeing Mu Ying soften, Emperor Hongwu felt quite gratified: “He is the heir and will inherit the title in the future. The Mu family’s prestige also depends on him to carry forward and expand. Just like the Crown Prince in the Eastern Palace—I have many dissatisfactions with him, have beaten him, scolded him, and starved him, but my realm was conquered for him, so I still give him face in public.”
Mu Ying cupped his hands: “What Your Majesty says is correct. Your subject will remember this.”
Two fathers who had both failed quite miserably at parenting had very limited child-rearing experience to exchange. Even mutual flattery felt hollow, so they quickly changed the topic to national affairs.
Mu Ying said: “The Southwest is rich in resources with vast land and sparse population. The local indigenous people speak many different languages, making communication difficult. They have fierce customs, each fighting their own battles. At the slightest disagreement, they take up weapons for clan-wide blood feuds. They can feud and kill each other for hundreds of years over a single river, completely unaware that government mediation exists to uphold justice—people are always dying. With young adults dying in meaningless vendettas and conflicts, your subject has roughly counted the population using the Great Ming household registration system these past few years. Yunnan, such a vast place, has only two million people.”
“Your subject has established military farms locally, testing Central Plains crops, which can basically guarantee military provisions and self-sufficiency, showing how suitable the local soil and climate are.”
“They say it takes ten years to grow trees and a hundred years to cultivate people. To civilize the local indigenous people and make them understand civilization requires several generations of effort. Moreover, there are many local chieftains, and some stubborn, power-hungry ones always want to establish their own kingdoms, rebelling year-round, refusing to submit to Great Ming rule. Your subject keeps suppressing one rebellion only to have another pop up elsewhere, while also having to protect the borders simultaneously. Running around exhausted all year, he’s still insufficient to the task.”
“Your subject has an idea: the Central Plains has many people but little land, with many farmers being tenant farmers without their own land. Meanwhile, the Southwest has few people but much land. The two complement each other perfectly—this solves the food problem while immigration promotes cultural integration and Southwest frontier stability. After all, these Central Plains immigrants speak the same language and submit to court jurisdiction. Like nails planted everywhere, they can effectively deter indigenous rebellions.”
Having garrisoned the Southwest for five years, Mu Ying understood the local actual conditions best, and his suggestions were practical and feasible.
Emperor Hongwu nodded in approval: “Temporary peace is useless—long-term stability is the hard truth. Lady She Xiang and Lady Ming De building roads to open the Longchang Nine Relay Stations also aimed to let local indigenous people go out while Central Plains people could come in. If everyone eats well and makes money, tasting the benefits of peace and civilization, we’ll win their hearts, and this Southwest treasure land will truly belong to the Great Ming. I approve. How many immigrants do you need?”
Mu Ying held up one finger.
Emperor Hongwu: “Ten thousand people?”
Mu Ying shook his head.
Emperor Hongwu: “One hundred thousand?”
Mu Ying still shook his head: “Your Majesty, Yunnan’s indigenous population is two million. We need at least one million Central Plains immigrants to control this treasure land. The local customs are fierce—if immigration numbers are sparse, it’s like sending people to their deaths, to be robbed, plundered, and enslaved. If immigrants cannot survive and multiply, changing the local population structure, we’ll have worked in vain, losing both the lady and the soldiers.”
Emperor Hongwu hesitated: “The Great Ming’s total population is only about fifty million now. Moving one million people there requires settlement fees and provisions. Yunnan’s roads are distant and difficult—immigrants need at least two years before they can produce grain, meaning the state must support one million people for two full years. Calculate how much silver that requires—you’ll drive the Minister of Revenue to suicide.”
Minister of Revenue Ru Taisu: Demanding money like a madman.
Mu Ying said: “Immigration costs money, but doesn’t warfare cost money? Don’t family pensions cost money? Moreover, these two only involve expenditure with no return. But immigration is different—Your Majesty supports them for two years, they stabilize the local situation, and future tax revenues will flow back to the treasury. Your Majesty should treat immigrants like planting trees—tighten your belt and work hard for two years, then sit back and enjoy the benefits afterward.”
Emperor Hongwu calculated in his mind, feeling Mu Ying made sense. Military force alone could not conquer the Southwest frontier—they needed to switch to human wave tactics. From a long-term perspective, human wave tactics were the cheapest and most secure approach.
Emperor Hongwu said: “I agree.” Then he sighed: “If you used the eloquence that convinced me on Mu Chun, last night wouldn’t have ended so badly.”
Mu Ying spoke frankly: “Your subject doesn’t know why, but as soon as Mu Chun opens his mouth, all your subject’s blood rushes to his head and he can’t stay calm. Sometimes your subject feels he’ll eventually be angered into a stroke by him.”
Emperor Hongwu shared the sentiment: “Children are debts.”
Mu Ying said: “Besides this one million people, your subject boldly requests one more person from Your Majesty.”
Emperor Hongwu: “Who?”
“My dog of a son, Mu Chun.”
Emperor Hongwu remained silent. Mu Chun was the Marquis Xiping’s heir, and according to old rules, when generals were campaigning or garrisoning outside, wives and children must remain in the capital, especially the successor.
While speaking, Mu Ying began removing his clothes, baring his upper body covered in scars. Scars were a warrior’s medals. Emperor Hongwu saw a terrifying new centipede-like scar on his foster son’s waist. Though Mu Ying’s body was strong, his eight-pack abs seemed somewhat asymmetrical around the chest bone.
Mu Ying said: “Your subject is missing a rib on the left side. When fighting the Burmese army, a war elephant stepped on your subject’s rib, breaking it. The fractured rib nearly punctured your subject’s kidney. The military doctor said your subject was very lucky—just a little more and he’d have died. They simply sawed off the entire rib and sutured the wound. Since then, your subject’s waist aches every time it rains. Your subject doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. The situation in Yunnan is complex—it’s time for Mu Chun to prepare to take over the responsibility of garrisoning Yunnan. This massive immigration of one million people will be the first test of his abilities.”
“Mu Chun is like a sheepdog. If he can protect and settle one million people well, then in the future, these one million immigrants will all serve him and follow his commands. Otherwise, he’s young with a dissolute character, refusing to marry noble daughters, lacking powerful in-law support, and having limited experience—how can he command respect in the future? Yunnan would inevitably fall into great chaos again. But if he wins the hearts of one million people, everything will be different.”
Having spent the first half of his life campaigning east and west, fighting everywhere, Mu Ying had never stayed in one place for so long. The more he understood the preciousness of this Yunnan land, the more he wanted to firmly secure it for the Great Ming. Having developed feelings for Yunnan like caring for a newborn baby, he freely exercised his imagination, envisioning her future.
How to develop, how to prosper, how to maintain peace—Mu Ying had calculated every step.
Emperor Hongwu stepped down from the dragon throne and personally helped his foster son dress: “I approve. Don’t talk nonsense—you’re still young. In two years, it will be my sixtieth birthday. When Mu Chun fulfills his duty as a sheepdog and settles the one million immigrants, you father and son can return to the capital together to be rewarded for your merits. I will enfeoff you as Duke Qianguo with hereditary succession—your Mu family will forever garrison Yunnan. I’ll enfeoff Mu Chun as heir to Duke Qianguo. No matter whom he wants to marry, I will fulfill his wish. If this troublemaker looks down on marriages you arrange, let him earn his own bride price.”
Mu Ying cupped his hands: “Thank you for Your Majesty’s grace. Your subject brought his youngest son Mu Xin home this time. Geng Shi is foolish, and your subject fears she’ll spoil the child. Tomorrow your subject will send him to the palace to be a study companion for the young princes.”
Mu Ying had prepared early. Taking away the heir Mu Chun was irregular—the Mu family couldn’t be special, or other military families would gossip secretly. In exchange, he had to leave his youngest son here for balance.
Emperor Hongwu understood his foster son’s deeper meaning and felt even more sorry for Mu Ying. This child failed as a father but truly thought wholeheartedly for the Great Ming without any selfishness.
After Emperor Hongwu and Mu Ying settled both national affairs and personal matters large and small, the injured Mu Chun was seeking comfort and affection from Hu Shanwei.
Mu Chun rambled on all morning, pouring out his grievances like endless Yangtze River water, seemingly inexhaustible. Finally, he concluded with that old familiar line: “Tell me, what evil did I do in my past life to end up with such a father?”
Before Hu Shanwei could respond, Mu Chun answered himself: “I must have murdered and burned, committing every evil.”
Filial piety was an unsolvable problem. At this time, Mu Chun just needed a listener. Hu Shanwei faced similar issues, but she could isolate her father and marriage pressure behind palace walls by taking the female official examination.
Not until noon did Mu Chun finish pouring out his grievances. Hu Shanwei sympathized and wanted to comfort him: “Your name is Mu Chun with the courtesy name Jingchun, granted by Empress Xiaoci. Do you know where ‘Jingchun’ comes from?”
In military matters and folk songs, Mu Chun might be a natural king, but in poetry and literature, he was a sheepdog-level semi-illiterate.
Mu Chun felt wronged: “Sister Shanwei, even you’re bullying me.”
Hu Shanwei said: “It comes from an essay by Fan Zhongyan: ‘When spring arrives with bright scenery, waves are calm without alarm, heaven’s light above and below, stretching green for ten thousand acres’—all describing beautiful earthly scenes. Empress Xiaoci granted the courtesy name ‘Jingchun’ hoping your life would be happy and beautiful. The corresponding passage also has the line: ‘When continuous rain falls drearily for months without clearing, gloomy winds howl angrily, turbid waves surge to the sky, sun and stars hide their light, mountains conceal their forms’—all describing desolate earthly scenes.”
“A person, in one lifetime, has times of spring brightness and times of continuous dreariness. You are like this, and so am I. You were born unfortunate, disliked by your father and unloved by your uncle, but you had Empress Xiaoci’s protection. Since joining the army, you’ve also gained loyal and talented officers like Captain Shi and Chen Xuan. I lost my mother young, lived as a maiden keeping widow’s watch, fell out of favor with my father, and was mistreated by my stepmother, but I also met Empress Xiaoci, who taught me palace survival hand-by-hand, and excellent women like Pharmacist Ru and Instructor Shen to serve in court together, broadening my knowledge.”
“And you.” Hu Shanwei stopped walking. “Meeting you has been a joy for me.”
Mu Chun was quite moved and said: “I also—”
“Lord Mu!” Captain Shi rode up on horseback, interrupting Mu Chun again. “His Majesty summons Lord Mu to the palace.”
The next day at morning court, Emperor Hongwu announced the one million immigration plan, with Marquis Xiping’s heir Mu Chun responsible for settling the immigrants. The entire court was shocked, but no one could shake Emperor Hongwu’s determination.
Three years together, parting at the Xiaoling Mausoleum.
At this time, Hu Shanwei no longer had the sorrowful parting feelings of years past, the tender sentiments: “You serve in the Imperial Guards, ultimately just a gatekeeper. Your talents far exceed this. Previously as a hostage, there was no choice—you couldn’t leave. Now a great opportunity lies before you, concerning Yunnan’s plans for hundreds of years, benefiting one region. You’ve already left your name in my heart—next you should leave your name in history. Grow a strong shell, and you won’t fear others’ slander and defamation, even if that person is your father.”
Mu Chun also knew the gap between himself and his father. To surpass his father, he had to achieve something his father couldn’t ignore. Otherwise, cutting his arm a hundred times would be useless—harming himself a thousand while inflicting zero damage on the enemy (father).
Mu Chun swore before Empress Xiaoci’s memorial tablet: “Within two years, I will definitely settle the one million immigrants well, then return to the capital to find you. I swear this life will fail neither country nor you.”