Three years later, the thirty-first year of Hongwu.
Early spring, the small daisies had already formed green buds, though in the shadows they were merely tiny black dots. Outside raged violent winds and rain accompanied by lightning.
Two horn lanterns hung under the corridor. Mu Chun stood pacing anxiously beneath the eaves as his wife’s cries of pain came from the room. He knew his wife was extremely strong-willed—she would never moan unless the pain was unbearable.
But there was nothing he could do to help—except secretly dispatch people a thousand li away to Prince Zhou’s mansion in Kaifeng, Henan, to bring Imperial Physician Ru to Kunming to deliver the child for the elderly expectant mother Hu Shanwei.
Hu Shanwei was thirty-eight this year. Many women at this age had already become grandmothers and begun their sunset years. Mu Chun watched her belly grow day by day, feeling joy mixed with increasing terror.
As soon as Imperial Physician Ru arrived in Kunming and saw Hu Shanwei’s big belly, she immediately cursed at Mu Chun: “I already wrote telling you two to be careful not to get pregnant—childbirth at this age is very dangerous. How did you still manage to get her belly big? Are the fish bladders no good, or are the sheep intestines useless? At your age, still indulging in pleasure!”
After giving birth to her second son, Imperial Physician Ru resolutely refused to have more children and had always warned Hu Shanwei to be careful with contraception. Pregnancy at this age posed risks to both child and mother, easily causing difficult labor and sickly infants.
Mu Chun listened with a red face, “I always used them, but… once I discovered it had torn, thought it would be fine, never imagined…”
One shot hit the mark. Hu Shanwei had always been healthy, exercising daily with martial arts, yet she became pregnant. As the little seed sprouted and grew, gradually establishing emotional connection with the little being, Hu Shanwei increasingly anticipated her role as mother and instead comforted the increasingly anxious Mu Chun, “We took every precaution, yet encountered this nearly impossible coincidence. Consider it a surprise gift from heaven—don’t be so nervous.”
Mu Chun remained deeply worried, “It’s not a surprise, it’s a shock. I’m not prepared to be a father because I had a terrible father. They say children resemble their fathers—I fear I’ll become like him someday, becoming a shadow in our child’s heart. I only want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want to harm others.”
The more Mu Chun spoke this way, the more Hu Shanwei’s heart ached for him. She consoled, “Children resembling fathers only applies to ordinary people. Are you ordinary? You’ve always walked unconventional paths, breaking from accepted customs—like secretly marrying me. You don’t know how to be a father, I don’t know how to be a mother—we can learn. Think carefully, in your lifetime, who was the best father you’ve seen?”
Mu Chun scratched his head thoughtfully, “Duke Zhongshan Xu Da—truly a peerless good father, especially toward my brother-in-law Xu Zengshou. That doting and spoiling—that’s how you treat your own son. I’ve envied Xu Zengshou since childhood, wishing I could steal his father.”
Hu Shanwei nodded repeatedly, “Duke Zhongshan is the Ming’s greatest hero and knows how to raise children. His family produced three princess consorts, eldest son Xu Zuhui inherited the Duke Weiguo title and is brave in battle, Xu Zengshou has the reputation as the capital’s number one wastrel but has never brought trouble to his family. When Mao Qiang was universally condemned, he rarely joined the mob pushing the wall. With such excellent children, Xu Da deserves the title of peerless good father. You chose an excellent role model. You didn’t have a peerless good father, but you can become someone else’s peerless good father.”
With a goal, like a lighthouse lighting up ahead in darkness—though the path remained unclear and required feeling stones to cross the river—there was at least direction. Mu Chun began considering himself a peerless good father.
When the first spring thunder began, Hu Shanwei went into labor.
Mu Chun began the most difficult day of his life, listening to Hu Shanwei’s increasingly urgent and louder cries from the birthing room.
Initially Mu Chun stayed nearby, feeding Hu Shanwei noodle soup and brown sugar eggs. Later, when the cervix dilated, Imperial Physician Ru found him obstructive and drove him out.
Mu Chun had to wait in the corridor pavilion. By lamp-lighting time, two ox-horn lanterns were lit in the pavilion, but Hu Shanwei still hadn’t given birth when violent winds and rain arrived.
Crack!
Lightning formed in the distance—not a streak but a ball, because this lightning was spherical, seeming to form right in front of the chrysanthemum field rather than in the sky. This was what folk called “ground-rolling thunder,” officially known as ball lightning.
The bright yellow ground-rolling thunder instantly illuminated the chrysanthemum field, making even the fine fuzz on the small daisies’ green buds clearly visible. Moreover, after forming in the chrysanthemum field, the ball lightning rolled toward the pavilion!
Ground-rolling thunder had the destructive power of a small cannon. Mu Chun quickly leaped from the pavilion, rolling into the chrysanthemum field. The ground-rolling thunder collided with the pavilion, instantly shooting electrical sparks everywhere like fireworks, even exploding the two suspended horn lanterns. Transparent fragments scattered like heavenly maidens scattering flowers, pattering down on Mu Chun’s head.
Horn lanterns were a type of crude glass made by melting ram horns into semi-transparent gel-like substance. Craftsmen used molds dipped in the gel to blow transparent containers, used to cover lamp candles during windy rainy weather—essentially storm-proof lanterns.
Horn lanterns were elastic gel material, not sharp glass, so the exploded fragments didn’t injure Mu Chun. He stood up, shaking off the lamp debris like a dog, when he heard an infant’s cry.
Initially Mu Chun thought it was auditory hallucination—he’d experienced no fewer than ten false alarms today. This cry was sharp and crisp, like their house cat’s most intense mating calls.
So Mu Chun didn’t enter the birthing room, continuing to wait in the pavilion.
Commander Shi reminded him, “She’s born! Duke, go look quickly!”
Having entered the birthing room multiple times due to false alarms and been thoroughly scolded by Imperial Physician Ru, with his wife and child’s lives in her hands, Mu Chun absolutely didn’t dare this time, saying, “This is an illusion—it’s our house cat calling. After all, spring has arrived.”
Commander Shi urged anxiously, “This subordinate is father to eight children—can’t I distinguish between cat calls and baby cries?”
Hearing this, Mu Chun finally ran toward the birthing room. Just as he pushed the door, he encountered Imperial Physician Ru head-on. Mu Chun quickly pointed at Commander Shi behind him, “It was him! He told me to come!”
Imperial Physician Ru waved her still blood-scented hands, “She’s born—a girl, a full nine jin, Hu Shanwei suffered greatly birthing her. Fat as a ball, born with pursed lips looking for food. Now drinking mother’s colostrum, immediately stopped crying.”
Imperial Physician Ru went to change into clean clothes. Mu Chun darted into the room like a released rabbit. Imperial Physician Ru reminded from behind, “Newborns are delicate—wash your hands before holding her.”
Mu Chun acknowledged, washed his hands, removed his rain-soaked outer robe and boots, and approached the bedside wearing cloth socks.
Hu Shanwei lay on her side, hair completely damp. Hearing Mu Chun enter, she didn’t even look at her husband, only staring at the small infant vigorously nursing at her breast.
As greedily as the baby nursed, so greedily did Hu Shanwei gaze.
The daughter was wrapped in swaddling, lying sideways like a candle while nursing, only revealing a moist little head. Her birth hair was excellent, already reaching her neck.
Mu Chun reached to touch his daughter’s head but was swatted away by Hu Shanwei like shooing flies, “Shh, don’t frighten her. Wait until she finishes eating before holding her. Imperial Physician Ru says colostrum is like gold, good for her body.”
Mu Chun crouched bedside, cheering his daughter on, “Work harder, harder—did you get it?”
The daughter nursed until her little face turned red before satisfyingly stopping and sleeping. Mu Chun carefully lifted his daughter, finally seeing her face. A nine-jin girl was indeed round everywhere—round face, round eyes, little hands tightly clenched into fists also like balls, and looking at the little feet in the swaddling, they were like steamed buns.
Mu Chun was so delighted he wouldn’t let go, telling Hu Shanwei about encountering ball lightning earlier, “…that ground-rolling thunder came gurgling toward me. Fortunately I ran fast, jumping into the chrysanthemum field. The ground-rolling thunder crashed into the pavilion, both horn lanterns exploded on the spot like fireworks—it’s an auspicious omen. She happens to be perfectly round, very much like ground-rolling thunder.”
Riding his excitement, Mu Chun immediately gave his daughter a pet name, “Let’s call her Lightning—what a distinctive name, much better than flowers, grass, spring, or beauty.”
If not for being exhausted from childbirth, Hu Shanwei would have gotten up to beat her husband, “You actually think calling her ‘Spring’ is vulgar? Have you forgotten your own name? Whether boy or girl, who gives a pet name like Lightning?”
Mu Chun said, “If Lightning won’t work, then Sparkle? Electric?”
Hu Shanwei fell silent. Since marriage, she wanted to beat him every few days but was always moved by his tenderness in the end: already married, right…
Mu Chun’s literary thoughts flowed like spring water, not detecting approaching danger, continuing, “Rolling? Thunder? Let’s call her A’Lei—there’s a line in the Book of Songs: ‘Spring thunder rumbles, summer snow falls, heaven and earth unite, then dare I part from you.’ See how poetic—and spring thunder contains both our father-daughter names.”
Hu Shanwei wanted to cover her daughter’s ears, fearing the unlearned father would mislead her, “It’s ‘Winter thunder rumbles, summer snow falls.'”
Mu Chun said, “I don’t read much, don’t try to deceive me—when does winter have thunder?”
Hu Shanwei was so angry she wanted to “part from you,” “Precisely because winter doesn’t thunder and summer doesn’t snow, when these phenomena appear marks when lovers separate!”
Mu Chun acted coquettishly before his wife, “I don’t care about all that—I just like spring thunder. If you think A’Lei doesn’t sound good, you choose a pet name.” If you can do better, you try.
Hu Shanwei thought for three days. Perhaps due to first impressions, she thought of many names but none better than A’Lei. Moreover, their daughter’s cries were thunderous, truly like thunder. Plus Commander Shi and Imperial Physician Ru said children with humble names were easier to raise. She finally accepted reality and called her daughter A’Lei.
Imperial Physician Ru left Kunming only after Hu Shanwei completed her month of confinement and both mother and daughter were healthy. Before departing, she repeatedly warned the couple about contraception, “…if necessary, wear two layers—can’t let them tear again.”
Even Mu Chun’s city-wall-thick skin felt shame, “Understood, Imperial Physician Ru, don’t worry.”
When A’Lei was one hundred days old, their acre of chrysanthemums bloomed. Mu Chun carried his daughter walking in the flower field, discussing her appearance with his wife, “Looking at this chubby appearance, she doesn’t resemble me or you—could she be Marshal Tianpeng reincarnated?”
Marshal Tianpeng Zhu Bajie had long spread to Yunnan through Yang Jingxian’s northern opera “Journey to the West,” becoming a household name, known to virtually everyone whether indigenous people or new immigrants.
Hu Shanwei couldn’t bear it and swung her small fists at him.
Commander Shi, walking their big yellow dog nearby, observed clearly as an outsider, “In this subordinate’s view, the young lady resembles Steward Hu somewhat, especially these grape-like round eyes, very similar to Steward Hu.”
Steward Hu was Hu Shanwei’s father Hu Rong.
Three years ago after Mao Qiang’s execution and the Jinyiwei’s dissolution, surveillance disappeared overnight. Mu Chun took the opportunity to have Chen Xuan secretly extract his father-in-law’s entire family from the capital, bringing them to Yunnan and settling them in Kunming. Hu Rong also opened a bookshop in Kunming but didn’t dare use the old “Hu Family Bookshop” sign, fearing trouble for his daughter. He split the “Hu” surname, calling it “Guyue Bookshop.”
Six years ago, Mu Chun secured autonomous examinations for Yunnan, encouraging local education and conducting imperial examinations based on local conditions. Yunnan flourished culturally and martially, producing scholars and provincial graduates. These provincial graduates performed adequately locally but predictably were “completely annihilated” when competing nationally at metropolitan examinations.
However, achieving officially recognized degrees like scholar or provincial graduate allowed them to serve as officials anywhere in Yunnan except their hometown—timely rain for talent-thirsty greater Yunnan. Mu Chun arranged the first batch of Yunnan “homegrown” officials to take office. Locals better understood Yunnan’s actual conditions, getting up to speed faster than outsiders.
Moreover, last year’s metropolitan examination exploded with the North-South Ranking Case: fifty-one jinshi were selected, all southerners—naturally not including Yunnan.
Northern candidates couldn’t accept this result and caused disturbances. Emperor Hongwu was furious, severely punished the chief examiner, and announced re-examination—later selecting sixty-one people, all northerners.
Subsequently, Emperor Hongwu ordered imperial examination reform, pioneering the system of separate North-South quotas, allocating jinshi quotas by region to prevent some areas from drought while others flooded.
With inside information, Mu Chun immediately memorialized pleading poverty, requesting Yunnan receive some jinshi quotas.
To encourage Yunnan’s educational development, Emperor Hongwu agreed.
News of Mu Chun securing quotas immediately spread throughout Yunnan. Scholars wept with joy, grateful for Mu Chun’s achievement. Study enthusiasm greatly increased because they no longer needed to surpass the unreachably distant goal of other culturally strong provinces—they only needed to outperform their own people.
Thus Yunnan’s scholarly atmosphere flourished greatly. Seeing neighbors and peers transform from commoners into grain-fed government officials provided more practical stimulus than anything else. Increasingly more people emphasized children’s education, creating scholarly atmosphere and boosting related industries like bookshops and writing materials. Guyue Bookshop’s business gradually improved from having no customers.
Hu Rong’s second wife Chen Shi fell ill during travel and died shortly after reaching Kunming. Hu Rong and his son Hu An depended on each other. After Hu An’s twenty-seven-month mourning period ended at age seventeen, Hu Rong arranged his son’s marriage to a local Bai ethnic woman. The family of three lived comfortably and prosperously in Kunming.
To preserve the secret marriage, Hu Shanwei dared not appear before family members, only having Commander Shi secretly protect them while annually sending half her salary for her father’s support. Since her formerly abusive stepmother Chen Shi had died and her half-brother Hu An was simple and kind, very filial to their father.
Therefore, when Hu An married, Hu Shanwei sent the bride a set of gold and jeweled headdress as congratulatory gift.
Commander Shi coordinated everything, so he was familiar with Hu Rong’s appearance. Hu Rong had round tiger eyes, maintaining handsome elegance into old age, those eyes still unclouded and bright.
Commander Shi’s interruption prevented Hu Shanwei from beating her nonsense-speaking husband. She and Mu Chun together observed A’Lei, who was trying hard to stuff her entire steamed-bun-like fist into her mouth.
After A’Lei’s hundredth day, having just had her head shaved, she was incredibly white as lightning, with thick eyebrows, tiger eyes, straight nose bridge, and slightly upturned nose tip—features indeed resembling Hu Rong.
Mu Chun mischievously teased his daughter, saying to A’Lei, “Receive this son-in-law’s bow to father-in-law.”
Of course he didn’t actually bow, instead receiving two punches from Hu Shanwei.
Hu Shanwei glared coldly, “I wanted you to be a peerless good father, not treat your daughter as father.”
A’Lei seemed to find her mother’s sudden expression change amusing, giggling loudly. Mu Chun loved his daughter’s laughter most, quickly telling his wife, “Quick, hit me twice more, harder, make her laugh.”