Leaving the palace, Hu Shanwei deliberately had the driver take a detour through Chengxian Street in the northern Yingling Quarter. Hu Family Bookshop stood at the southwest end of Chengxian Street.

Twelve years had passed. The golden shop sign of Hu Family Bookshop had aged from dazzling gold to dull bronze. An old cat dozed by the entrance.

Yesterday Emperor Hongwu had threatened to kill her entire family. Hu Shanwei still felt lingering fear and couldn’t rest easy, so she detoured to check on her father.

“Stop,” Hu Shanwei said to Haitang. “Go in and buy a book.”

Haitang asked, “What book should I buy?”

Hu Shanwei replied, “Whatever catches your eye. Buy what you like.”

Haitang got off the carriage and entered the bookshop. Pulling back the carriage curtain, Hu Shanwei saw the second floor window was open for air and light. A young boy was copying books at a desk by the window – presumably her half-brother from a different mother. It seemed he was following in his father’s footsteps and would make his living this way in the future.

A man in a somewhat worn blue robe walked to the desk, apparently instructing the boy, who nodded frequently. It was her father Hu Rong. At forty-eight years old, he had a beard on his chin and wore a hair net, looking clean and neat. His appearance and figure seemed unchanged – living comfortably without gaining weight. At this age, Hu Rong could be called a handsome middle-aged gentleman.

Finally, Hu Rong picked up a watering pot to water several flower pots on the windowsill. Hu Shanwei quickly lowered the curtain.

By then Haitang had returned with a new book: “A new poetry collection by Master Dao Yan. Court Lady Hu will surely like it.”

Hu Shanwei opened it – “Continued Collection from the Solitary Hermitage.”

The driver cracked his whip to continue, when a voice called from behind: “Miss! The miss who just bought the book!”

It was Hu Rong’s voice.

The driver stopped. Haitang stuck her head out the window: “What is it? Did we miscalculate the payment?”

Hu Rong ran over breathlessly, offering something: “Our bookshop has a promotion this year – buy a book, get a free pack of duck oil sesame cakes. The clerk forgot to give it to you.”

Haitang was skeptical: “I only bought one book. Giving away all this won’t earn your shop any profit?”

Hu Rong chuckled: “Even one book makes you a customer. We merchants are honest with everyone, young and old.”

Haitang smiled: “I’m neither young nor old, so I don’t need these cakes.”

Hu Rong insisted on handing them over: “Miss, I’ve already brought them – if you don’t like them yourself, share them with others.”

Haitang accepted the cakes: “Oh, they’re still warm? Is the cake seller right next to your bookshop?”

Hu Rong said: “You came at the perfect time – they just delivered a basket of fresh-baked ones.”

Inside the carriage, Hu Shanwei touched Haitang’s sleeve. Understanding, Haitang accepted the duck oil cakes: “Since the boss is so hospitable, I won’t be polite. Thank you, boss. May your bookshop prosper.”

Hu Rong bowed: “I borrow your auspicious words, miss. Safe travels.”

The carriage started moving again. Hu Rong watched it disappear into the bustling street, staying for a long time.

Haitang unwrapped the oil paper and ate the duck oil cakes, forgetting she had just been declining them from Hu Rong: “These cakes are really fragrant.”

Hu Shanwei sighed: “My father saw through you.”

Haitang choked and drank some water to swallow: “How did Court Lady Hu figure that out?”

Hu Shanwei said: “Bookshops commonly give brushes and paper as gifts – who gives cakes with book purchases? Father probably guessed the person in the carriage was me.”

“Oh,” Haitang understood. “So Court Lady Hu likes duck oil cakes.”

Hu Shanwei pointed at the crumbs in the oil paper: “I like licking the crispy crumb residue left in the paper after eating cakes – fragrant and crispy. I also like the skin that forms on top of soy milk, cow milk, and rice porridge… Before I turned eighteen, Father would always pick these things out specially for me.”

Ever since she remained a widow and resisted marriage, everything changed. The close father-daughter relationship gradually wore away. She sent half her salary home yearly and wrote nearly identical letters. The father and daughter appeared distant.

But this didn’t mean Hu Shanwei would let her father fend for himself or watch him be executed. Family bonds couldn’t be explained in a few words.

Seeing her father healthy and living well gave her some peace of mind.

They ended up sharing the duck oil cakes – Haitang and the driver ate the cakes while Hu Shanwei ate the crumbs.

At Xiaoling, Mu Chun waited early, bringing a pair of green peacocks from Yunnan. The previous pair of peacocks had reached the end of their lives and died, leaving two male offspring. Mu Chun was playing the old father’s role again, carefully selecting wives for these two.

Unlike previous meetings that resulted in peacock feathers scattered everywhere from fighting, perhaps due to spring mating season, the two pairs of green peacocks quickly paired off on their own, occupying opposite sides of the pond and grooming each other’s feathers.

When Hu Shanwei reached the pond, one male peacock was already impatiently displaying his plumage, circling the female, about to engage in indescribable activities. Hu Shanwei deliberately made her footsteps heavier.

Mu Chun turned around, his mouth unconsciously lifting at the corners: “Sister Shanwei, I’m back.”

This simple sentence made Hu Shanwei burst into tears. Long-accumulated depression and pressure left her completely defenseless. She wasn’t made of iron – she couldn’t remain composed forever.

Mu Chun ran over and hugged her tightly: “I’m sorry I returned so late. Before leaving, I vowed not to fail the country or you, but I didn’t expect it to be so difficult. After three years came another three years – there were always so many matters surrounding me.”

“It’s not because of you,” Hu Shanwei choked out. “Two and a half million people aren’t two and a half million trees. Taking root in Yunnan far from home – how could that be easy? You did very well. I’m upset not because of you, but because of palace matters—”

Hu Shanwei stopped herself – she couldn’t tell Mu Chun about this, or her entire clan would face execution and it would bring trouble to Mu Chun too.

Hu Shanwei said: “It’s because of many palace matters. No matter what I do, I can’t change the outcomes. I feel… tired of it all.”

Mu Chun didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or “worry about Sister Shanwei’s worries.” His facial expression was quite dramatic, alternating between joy and concern like he’d lost control of his facial muscles.

This Mu Chun was no longer the naive youth from Wu. Having created two highly popular songs during the funeral procession to promote his successor status, Mu Chun spoke with careful consideration: “If you’re… tired, you could rest and do things you enjoy. Like coming with me to Yunnan… to tour around and see how vast the world is.”

With Mu Ying’s death, as the legitimate eldest son inheriting the ancestral shrine, Mu Chun had to observe twenty-seven months of deepest mourning during which marriage discussions were forbidden.

Seeing Hu Shanwei didn’t object, Mu Chun thought this meant agreement and continued: “Once my mourning period ends, I’ll immediately transfer my title to second brother Mu Sheng, let him guard Yunnan, then we’ll marry and go wherever we want.”

This statement struck like lightning, shocking Hu Shanwei from her sadness and disappointment: “What did you say? You want to transfer your title?”

“Yes,” Mu Chun said. “Our Mu family has guarded Yunnan for generations, but important family women and children must remain in the capital. Only insignificant concubines can accompany Mu men to Yunnan to serve them and bear children. My stepmother Geng Shi and second sister-in-law Cheng Shi can never set foot in Kunming. Once we marry, you’ll be the Duchess of Qian. From then on, you’d have to live as a grass widow in the duke’s mansion with women like Geng Shi and Cheng Shi, slowly withering away. We finally have a chance to be together – how could I bear to let you follow their path?”

Hu Shanwei looked at Mu Chun in amazement. After six years apart, Mu Chun actually considered things more thoroughly and in greater detail than she did!

Who would have thought you were this kind of Chun Chun!

Generals guarding borders while families remained in the capital was a balancing mechanism used throughout dynasties. The Mu family was no exception.

Mid and lower-level officers could bring families for frontier farming, but high-level commanders were like bricks – deployed wherever needed, unable to drag along children while fighting wars.

High-ranking military officers’ families enjoyed wealth and honor but had to endure longing and separation. Some couples found distance created beauty – no matter how far or long they traveled, they remained loving spouses upon return. But for most couples, distance only created estrangement. Officers could take concubines to address loneliness, physical needs, and reproduction, but women couldn’t take “husbands.”

Geng Shi had long seen through romantic love, treating being a titled lady like a job – fulfilling her duties as mistress while enjoying the honor and status of duchess. She let husband Mu Ying take concubines and father children since she had already borne son Mu Sheng as her future support.

Pitiful was second young mistress Cheng Shi – married into the Mu family for four years without ever seeing her husband’s face. As a virgin, she “happily became a mother” with two sons already under her name.

Seeing Hu Shanwei’s surprised yet delighted expression, Mu Chun knew he’d said the right thing: “I swore this life would not fail the country or you. To settle two and a half million immigrants well, I haven’t seen you for six years, busy year-round without a single day’s rest. With Father’s death, Yunnan will inevitably face some turbulence initially. Some forces will test whether the Mu family has successors, so during the twenty-seven month mourning period, I’ll use strength to make those with ill intentions abandon their schemes and protect Yunnan’s stability. My second brother has always remained in Yunnan and has gained some local prestige. These twenty-seven months will be the transition period for our handover. Once mourning ends, I’ll request to transfer my title and return to farming. Then, will you marry me?”

Not failing the country or you wasn’t just empty talk. Loyalty and filial piety, loyalty and love often couldn’t be achieved together – one had to be sacrificed for the other.

Fifteen years ago, Hu Shanwei was the one sacrificed. Now she met this man who solved the dilemma.

He wouldn’t sacrifice, wouldn’t choose – he wanted both, failing neither.

Hu Shanwei wiped away tears and forced a smile: “Yes, I’ll marry you. Who would have thought the poem I wrote for you would accidentally come true: ‘The heartless gentleman should be charming, wearing armor and wielding weapons like jade flutes at Jade Gate. After eight thousand li of frontier campaigns, seeing cooking fires, he removes armor to visit chrysanthemums.'”

“I’ve always carried it with me.” Mu Chun took out a fan from inside his robes, pulled out a gold-threaded fan from its silk cover, and snapped it open with a pop. The poem “Eating Crabs and Drinking Chrysanthemum Wine at a Hangzhou Wine Tower with Jingchun on July 20th” lay contentedly on the fan surface, ink still fresh.

After struggling, fighting, becoming weary and tired, having someone to withdraw from the arena of fame and fortune together – sleeping and rising together, picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence and leisurely seeing southern mountains – this life would be worthwhile no matter how much pain, betrayal, scheming, and disappointment it contained.

Because without these experiences, the two wouldn’t have met, much less come to know, love, and stay with each other.

Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun sat by the pond watching green peacocks display and court, envisioning their future:

Hu Shanwei said: “We must visit many places – everywhere Court Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan have been, we’ll visit them all. Every time I received Court Physician Ru’s letters, I was green with envy. Now it’s our turn – when we reach certain places, we’ll also write to Court Physician Ru to make her envious for once.”

Mu Chun rarely saw Sister Shanwei’s little-girl side. She was completely different from her earlier dejection and fatigue – reinvigorated with eyes sparkling like stars.

Sister Shanwei was thirty-two years old. How many more thirty-seconds would she have in this life?

Mu Chun became even more determined to transfer his title. He believed he had contributed much to Yunnan, not failing the honor and responsibility brought by both Mu and Feng family bloodlines. He hadn’t failed the title and rank the country gave him. After twenty-seven months of mourning, he would also be thirty-two. In his remaining years, he wanted to fulfill his promise to this woman and embrace happiness.

Mu Chun asked her: “Where shall we go first?”

Hu Shanwei thought and said: “We’ll spread out a map of the Ming Dynasty, close our eyes, and throw a dart. Wherever it lands, that’s where we’ll go.”

“What if it hits a forest?”

“Then we’ll become monkeys.”

“What if it hits the ocean?”

“We’ll get a boat.”

…

While Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun planned their future at Xiaoling, spending the day intimately together, as night fell at Zhongcui Palace in the Eastern Six Palaces, Noble Consort Guo arranged a vegetarian banquet and sent an invitation for the Crown Prince to dine.

Noble Consort Guo’s eyes were slightly red as if she’d been crying recently. She said: “For my son’s funeral, Your Highness traveled thousands of li to distant Yanzhou, doing everything with heart and effort, handling matters personally. Court Lady Hu accompanied you throughout and saw everything, telling me every detail afterward. I’m very grateful.”

The Crown Prince quickly demurred: “It was what I as elder brother should do. Hearing of tenth brother’s sudden death – he was so young, with a baby barely a month old – sigh, I was very saddened. If only I had cared for him more when he was still in the palace, advised him more, perhaps this tragedy could have been avoided. But what’s done is done. I regret it’s too late – all I could do was arrange his funeral well and choose an auspicious burial site for a grand funeral.”

Noble Consort Guo raised her wine cup: “Today I use tea instead of wine to toast Your Highness.”

During mourning periods, alcohol was forbidden, so tea replaced wine. Noble Consort Guo drained her cup, and the Crown Prince also drank.

After one cup, Noble Consort Guo gestured to the table of vegetarian dishes: “Since my tenth son’s passing, I’ve vowed to eat vegetarian for a year. Today I must trouble Your Highness to eat vegetarian with me.”

Noble Consort Guo was about to become Empress. Facing the future Empress Mother, the Crown Prince was respectful – different from other step-mothers. He said: “If so, I’ll also eat vegetarian for a month and release a thousand fish tomorrow to accumulate merit and pray for tenth brother.”

Noble Consort Guo raised her cup again: “Your Highness is benevolent and loves your brothers. I toast you again.”

They drank tea instead of wine, each consuming a pot. Though Noble Consort Guo was sad, her appetite remained good. She ate a bowl of rice and served the Crown Prince two chopstick-loads of mock crab made from wheat gluten:

“Your Highness worked hard on the journey – eat more. I’ve come to terms with things now. Though Prince Lu Huang left early, Prince Lu’s mansion still has Little Guo. Court Lady Hu says he’s plump, fair, and handsome. Your Highness gave him his pet name. Unfortunately, Little Guo didn’t come from Princess Lu’s womb. Legitimate and illegitimate sons are different – getting a princely title for an illegitimate eldest son is harder than for legitimate sons, but there’s no choice. Prince Lu Huang only left this one bloodline. I must maintain my health well to arrange his inheritance in the future.”

Noble Consort Guo’s words, especially about differences between legitimate and illegitimate sons and arranging titles for illegitimate eldest sons, really struck the Crown Prince’s heart – he was an illegitimate eldest son who gained his heir position through age advantage.

The Crown Prince was thoughtful, unconsciously eating the mock crab Noble Consort Guo had served him. He enjoyed river and seafood – this wheat gluten fake meat tasted as delicious as real crab. The palace chefs were incredible.

Actually, in martial prowess and strategy, the Crown Prince wasn’t as good as Prince Yan or Prince Jin, or even border-guarding princes like Prince Qin.

In literary talent, the Crown Prince couldn’t match brothers like Prince Chu, Prince Xiang, Prince Ning and other literarily gifted princes. Even some of Prince Lu Huang’s poetry surpassed the Crown Prince’s.

In “unorthodox paths,” the Crown Prince also couldn’t match Prince Zhou Zhu Su – who while neither literary nor martial, devoted himself to medical research.

Besides being born early, the Crown Prince truly had no other unique advantages. So he played to his strengths and avoided weaknesses, working hard on persona creation to craft positive images as “good student,” “good brother,” “good husband,” and “good father.”

With Noble Consort Guo expressing intention to seek princely titles for illegitimate eldest grandson Little Guo, the Crown Prince deeply empathized. After finishing the mock crab, he said:

“Your Highness speaks truly. Illegitimate eldest sons face more difficulties than legitimate sons. In the future, I’ll certainly help Little Guo. We can’t let Prince Lu’s lineage inherit a reduced title and become mere princes of commanderies – then Prince Lu’s mansion would have to shrink and become a commandery prince’s mansion, losing its current magnificent grandeur.”

Without seeing Prince Lu’s mansion personally, it was hard to believe it was just a prince’s residence.

Noble Consort Guo showed gratitude, raising her cup: “Your Highness’s brotherly feeling toward Prince Lu Huang can be witnessed by sun and moon. I toast you again.”

After drinking tea, seeing the Crown Prince enjoyed the “crab meat,” Noble Consort Guo used serving chopsticks to give him another portion. When elders bestow gifts, they cannot be refused – especially from the future Empress. The Crown Prince ate everything Noble Consort Guo gave him.

Noble Consort Guo later had seconds, her appetite excellent, eating much. The Crown Prince was somewhat surprised – Noble Consort Guo hadn’t been such a big eater before.

Noble Consort Guo smiled while holding her rice bowl: “I’m eating vegetarian now without much oil, so I work hard to eat more to nourish my body well. Only then can I be Little Guo’s support in the future.”

Noble Consort Guo ate without restraint, savoring every dish with several chopstick-loads each. Since the elder ate so heartily, the Crown Prince couldn’t act refined without seeming affected, so he also had seconds, eating until his belly was round without leaving a single grain of rice before putting down his chopsticks.

This vegetarian banquet pleased both host and guest – everyone ate well.

But at night, the Eastern Palace began to stir. Court Physician Liu from the Palace Kitchen Bureau was about to sleep when summoned to the Eastern Palace for diagnosis. The Crown Prince felt uncomfortable all over at night – first his eyes stung painfully, even finding lantern light too bright, inexplicably tearing up, then beginning to cough. Each cough caused chest pain.

When Court Physician Liu arrived, the Crown Prince also complained of throat pain. Examining the Crown Prince’s mouth, Liu immediately smelled rust-like bad breath, and the throat was completely red and swollen.

Additionally, the Crown Prince’s body showed multiple rashes.

Initially, Court Physician Liu thought it was irritation from catkins, pollen or similar substances – after all, it was spring when many palace people sensitive to pollen and catkins began showing similar symptoms.

Crown Princess Lu Shi, attending the Crown Prince, said: “But the Crown Prince rarely showed such symptoms in spring before.”

Court Physician Liu, timid and unwilling to take responsibility, said: “If so, please have the Crown Prince move to Qianqing Palace for joint consultation with the imperial physicians.”

The Crown Prince treasured his life. Feeling very uncomfortable in an indescribable way – even breathing seemed somewhat difficult now, plus dizziness – he said: “Then go to Qianqing Palace and summon the imperial physicians.”

Just arriving at Qianqing Palace, the Crown Prince’s face turned pale: “Quick, I need to relieve myself.”

After sitting on the chamber pot with severe diarrhea, he immediately became completely weak. Four strong eunuchs had to help him to bed. Court Physician Liu looked at the waste in the chamber pot and was shocked: Oh no, the Crown Prince has bloody stool!

When the imperial physicians arrived, the Crown Prince’s condition had already deteriorated at visible speed – throat swelling and pain, so swollen he could barely speak, both eyes bloodshot with capillaries so red they seemed ready to burst, like he’d stayed awake for ten nights straight, plus continuous diarrhea with no time to use the chamber pot, requiring repeated changes of soiled clothes and bedding.

The Crown Prince began coughing violently. Each cough was like a knife stabbing his throat and chest. Finally, the Crown Prince coughed up blood.

Court Physician Liu’s face went white with fear, tremblingly recording details of the Crown Prince’s onset in the medical case, writing: “Symptoms extremely similar to arsenic poisoning.”

At midnight, someone knocked on Zhongcui Palace’s gates – it was Jinyiwei Commander Mao Qiang, who burst directly into Noble Consort Guo’s sleeping chamber before anyone could stop him.

Noble Consort Guo heard the commotion and seemed to have expected it, ordering palace doors opened one by one and waiting calmly with candles lit.

Mao Qiang bowed: “His Majesty summons Your Highness to Qianqing Palace.”

Noble Consort Guo said nothing and followed Mao Qiang.

At Qianqing Palace.

Before entering the palace gates, two old nannies searched Noble Consort Guo’s body, even removing slightly sharp wooden hairpins from her hair. Receiving such treatment, Noble Consort Guo said nothing.

Mao Qiang watched and sighed inwardly.

Entering Qianqing Palace’s eastern side hall, lights blazed brightly with faint sounds of crying. Hearing this, Noble Consort Guo laughed lightly as if hearing celestial music.