A’Lei and Little Ji buried their heads in their dinner. Little Ji was satisfied with one bowl of rice, while A’Lei finished one bowl and wanted more. Little Ji ate slowly, A’Lei ate fast as a whirlwind, so they finished almost simultaneously, then each grabbed a gauze bag and ran to the chrysanthemum field to catch fireflies.
Mu Chun only ate half full. He was perceptive, knowing the father and daughter had many private matters to discuss, so he put down his chopsticks, claiming to be full, and went to the chrysanthemum field to follow behind his daughter.
After twenty years apart, father and daughter sitting at the same table found they had nothing to talk about except A’Lei. To cover the awkwardness, Hu Shanwei brewed a pot of tea for her father.
Hu Rong received the teacup as if deeply honored, took a sip, and repeatedly praised it as good tea. Hu Shanwei casually said, “This is the tea the Emperor and Empress drink in the palace. Since father likes it, take a pound home.”
Hu Rong felt awkward, as if his praise was just to ask his daughter for things, which really wasn’t his intention. To ask would be embarrassing; to refuse would not give his daughter face.
Hu Shanwei had long become shrewd in the palace, but facing her father, she felt helpless. Seeing her father’s embarrassed expression, she immediately realized she had said the wrong thing, but when father praised the tea, could she have no response?
Hu Shanwei didn’t know what to say or do that would be the right answer. Compared to other relationships, family relationships were truly the hardest to repair, because it was hardest to say who was right or wrong, and when they broke, it was often silent, like cancer – by the time you realized the problem and felt uncomfortable, it was already serious.
Twenty years of estrangement, even though both sides wanted to eliminate it and draw closer, haste makes waste – it had to be gradual.
Judging others by herself, Hu Shanwei had left her daughter for four years, and her daughter felt strange and distrustful toward her – whatever she felt now, her father had felt the same, and moreover, her father had endured this for twenty years.
Hu Shanwei silently poured tea for her father, also accompanying him in drinking tea, quietly watching the chrysanthemum field where two small figures and one large figure played catching fireflies.
After catching half a bag of fireflies, Mu Chun lifted the two children, one in each hand, onto his broad shoulders, returning to the gauze tent to change out of their sweat-soaked undershirts to prevent coughing from catching cold.
Stripping off wet clothes and changing into dry ones, the contrast between fat and thin was obvious. Little Ji’s ribs were clearly visible, combined with his just-filled round belly, looking exactly like a pipa. A’Lei had a big head with double chin and no visible neck, round head and round body, composed of two tea eggs of different sizes.
A servant brought watermelon. Hu Shanwei picked up a knife to cut it, but the tea egg jumped around, insisting “brother-in-law must smash it.”
Mu Chun indulged his daughter completely, rolling up his sleeves and punching down with a bang. Red juice splattered everywhere. The tea egg expressed great satisfaction: “Like fireworks, cold fireworks.”
Mu Chun was quite proud: “A’Lei’s imagination is extraordinary.” After all, his own child – even her farts would smell sweet.
Mu Chun skillfully scooped out watermelon balls with a spoon, removing seeds for the two children to eat. Hu Shanwei also helped remove seeds, but A’Lei only ate what Mu Chun personally prepared.
Even eating watermelon tasted sour to Hu Shanwei. She thought there would be many days ahead – staying with her daughter longer would surely make her accept her biological mother.
After eating melon, the pipa and tea egg continued running in the chrysanthemum field catching fireflies. Hu Rong took his leave, needing to return to the bookshop. Hu Shanwei asked her father to stay overnight: “It’s already late, and there are plenty of rooms here.”
Hu Rong felt warmth inside but still refused: “If I stay here, Xiang’er will definitely cling to me day and night, and you’ll have no chance to interact with her. Don’t be anxious. When Mu Chun first brought her back, she rejected him too, crying all day wanting to find me. I had no choice but to stay here for a while. Later, Mu Chun took careful care of her, played with her, and there was Little Ji as a playmate of the same age. Gradually she settled down and got along with Mu Chun, though she never could change from calling him ‘daddy.’ When she grows up and understands, she’ll realize her parents’ hardships – changing from daughter to sister was to protect her.”
Who understood Hu Shanwei’s pain at being rejected by her daughter better than Hu Rong? Back then, to force Hu Shanwei to remarry, the once inseparable father and daughter became estranged. Hu Shanwei was strong-willed – she simply stole the household registration and took the female official exam. Palace walls separated father and daughter, making them people of two different worlds.
For twenty years, the only emotional connection between Hu Rong and Hu Shanwei was the southern opera “The Lute Song.” Their only contact was Hu Shanwei sending half her annual salary to Hu Rong for his old age support and filial duties.
Hu Rong had thought this was how his life would be, never expecting that in his old age, a granddaughter and son-in-law would suddenly appear, becoming a turning point in the father-daughter relationship.
Disharmonious parent-child relationships had almost become a hereditary disease in the Hu family. Hu Shanwei carried her pregnancy for ten months as an elderly mother with a large fetus, suffering terribly during childbirth. Without skilled female physicians like Ru Siyao, it would have been one corpse, two lives. Afterward, she woke at least three times each night for feeding. Only then did Hu Shanwei understand how precious a full night’s sleep was.
Hu Shanwei had given her daughter everything she possibly could, even her life. Thanks to that broken fish bladder that night, she never regretted becoming a mother, but now…
Hu Shanwei sighed, looking at the rolling tea egg in the chrysanthemum field: “Will there really be such a day? She won’t even eat watermelon I picked.”
Hu Rong was experienced and consoled: “There will be. Look, didn’t I wait for you to come home too?”
Hu Shanwei: Ah? Wait that long?
Having spoken, Hu Rong immediately regretted it and quickly added: “I don’t mean that. I mean Xiang’er is still small, children are easier to coax, when girls grow up they—”
The more he spoke, the worse it sounded. Hu Rong simply shut up. Logically, a small merchant who dealt with people daily shouldn’t be so tongue-tied, but facing his returned daughter, his tongue immediately became clumsy, always saying the wrong things.
Fellow sufferers under heaven’s vault, both rejected by daughters, Hu Shanwei understood Hu Rong’s embarrassment: “I’ll see father off.”
Hu Rong quickly declined: “You should stay with Xiang’er.”
Hu Shanwei looked at the chrysanthemum field where the trio of one large and two small were playing in perfect harmony, almost impenetrable. She smiled bitterly: “She’s not familiar with me now. Always hovering in front of her would only be annoying. There’s plenty of time ahead, no rush. Father and I haven’t had a proper conversation in twenty years. Let’s chat as we walk.”
Hu Shanwei and her father got in the carriage. Inside, father and daughter still made stilted conversation. People from two different worlds had limited common topics and often unconsciously stepped on each other’s landmines, falling silent from time to time, listening to Kunming city’s bustle outside.
This seemed… not bad? At least there was no arguing anymore.
Hu Shanwei’s identity and whereabouts couldn’t be exposed, so she didn’t escort him to Ancient Moon Bookshop’s entrance. Hu Rong got off at the street corner, saying: “Tomorrow morning I’m taking the two children to see ‘Journey to the West.’ I already promised today and can’t break my word. Tomorrow is ‘Great Havoc at Flaming Mountain,’ though they most love watching ‘Great Havoc in Heaven.’ When that scene is performed, bring them to watch. Feelings develop slowly through companionship – don’t get discouraged.”
Hu Shanwei nodded in agreement.
On the way home, she glimpsed little white rabbits for sale at the night market. Thinking children would like them, she caught a pair and brought them back.
By then A’Lei and Little Ji had caught a whole bag of fireflies and released them all at once. For an instant, it was as if the Milky Way had fallen into the chrysanthemum field, dotted with stars.
Listening to insect songs and children’s laughter, Hu Shanwei felt inexplicably at peace. She shook the rabbit cage in her hand: “Two little rabbit babies are hungry. Who will feed them?”
“Me!” A’Lei and Little Ji’s eyes shone brighter than stars overhead. They casually plucked chrysanthemums from the field to feed the rabbits. The rabbits naturally wouldn’t eat them, so Mu Chun pulled some vegetable leaves, and the two little ones competed to feed them.
The little white rabbit bribe had immediate effect. That night during bath time, A’Lei allowed Hu Shanwei to splash water on her, though still wouldn’t let her scrub.
A’Lei and Little Ji slept in separate bedrooms in the west wing, both exhausted and falling asleep upon touching pillows. After Mu Chun blew out the candles, Hu Shanwei sneaked to her daughter’s room: “What age did she start sleeping alone? What about getting up at night? What if she kicks off blankets and catches cold? What if she has nightmares?”
Mu Chun wickedly touched his wife’s hand, saying: “Well, you’re back now, so we only started training them to sleep alone this month. They usually sleep till dawn. We sleep next door and get up to check if we hear anything.”
As it happened, that night brought thunderstorms with lightning and thunder. Hu Shanwei jolted awake. Beside her, Mu Chun slept soundly, purring like a cat. Where was his sworn promise to “get up to check if we hear anything”?
Hu Shanwei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She got up to see if her daughter had awakened. Fortunately, A’Lei’s sleep was exactly like Mu Chun’s – nothing could wake them.
After checking A’Lei, she went to see Little Ji. Little Ji was already awake, arms around his knees, curled up against the wall at the head of the bed. Being so thin, he looked like a little shrimp.
Hu Shanwei felt some pity, setting down her lantern: “Since you’re scared, why not call someone to accompany you?”
Seeing Hu Shanwei arrive, Little Ji visibly relaxed, no longer curled up, lying back on the bed: “I’m a man, I must be brave and not afraid.”
Hu Shanwei sat by his pillow, gently stroking his thin back: “Everyone has things they fear – men, women, generals, even emperors. Everyone has moments of fear, just that the more capable people are, the better they are at pretending.”
Like your grandfather, truly a genius performer.
Little Ji patted his pipa-like thin chest: “I’m not pretending, I’m truly brave.”
Such a sensitive child. Hu Shanwei smiled: “What is cowardice? What is bravery? Cowardice is retreating because of fear. Bravery is being clearly afraid, clearly knowing you’re weak against the strong, yet still doing what must be done despite knowing it’s impossible – that is bravery.”
Little Ji seemed to understand but not quite, being still young. As thunder gradually lessened, he fell asleep again.
Thus, Hu Shanwei began living the life of a retired old cadre, rising early each day, drinking a cup of warm water, walking around the chrysanthemum field for exercise. Returning home just as Mu Chun was helping newly awakened A’Lei dress and wash.
A’Lei had no hair, eliminating the need for combing. Hu Shanwei practiced braiding with Little Ji’s hair.
Tying on red silk hair ribbons, Little Ji politely said “thank you,” making Hu Shanwei feel quite guilty. At breakfast, she kept putting food in Little Ji’s bowl.
While serving Little Ji food, Hu Shanwei secretly observed A’Lei’s reaction, but A’Lei showed no signs of jealousy.
After eating, the two children reviewed previously learned characters in the gauze tent for less than half an hour before Mu Chun led out two small Sichuan ponies from the stable. These horses were very gentle. A’Lei and Little Ji rode while Mu Chun and Hu Shanwei each led one – A’Lei only letting Mu Chun lead hers – for a circuit on tree-lined paths to see small animals at the little farm.
Here they grew vegetables, raised chickens, ducks, and fish, even keeping a milk cow, completely self-sufficient. The children watched farm women milk cows, got a full bowl, and fed it to two just-born puppies brought over to raise.
The black one was A’Lei’s, Little Ji’s was a small spotted dog. Mu Chun said: “They’ll raise them themselves. Once they bond with the dogs, I’ll train them as hunting dogs and take the children hunting.”
Looking at Little Ji, Hu Shanwei said: “Prince Yan has already ascended the throne with the reign name Yongle, which will be used starting next year. He also abolished Jianwen’s reign name – this year is Hongwu thirty-five. He’s also made Princess Yan the Empress and the Prince Heir as Crown Prince. This child is the only grandchild in the palace. Probably in a few days, court people will come to fetch him. Little Ji won’t wait for the puppy to grow up before leaving Kunming.”
Seeing no one around except two innocent children focused on feeding dogs and rabbits, Mu Chun said: “It’s not that simple. Though new Empress and Crown Prince are proclaimed to the world, Beijing isn’t peaceful recently – bloody and stormy. My brother Mu Sheng’s maternal grandfather’s Geng family has been executed entirely. Fang Xiaoru, Huang Zicheng, Qi Tai and other Jianwen old ministers refuse to acknowledge the new emperor, cursing Emperor Yongle as a usurper, all exterminated. There’s also Prince Consort Mei Yin, who attempted to assassinate the new emperor but was exposed by Ji Gang’s agents, fell into an ambush and drowned. Thus, Gaozhu Emperor’s sons-in-law, from the first to ninth prince consorts, are all dead.”
Nine prince consorts, none survived.
Either killed during Gaozhu Emperor’s family exterminations, or killed for choosing sides during the Jingnan Campaign. Sixth Prince Consort Wang Ning was killed by Emperor Jianwen, Seventh Prince Consort Li Jian fell from his horse and was severely injured while following Li Jinglong’s attack on Beijing, dying before reaching Beijing for treatment.
Finally leaving Second Prince Consort Mei Yin, who refused to acknowledge Emperor Yongle and ended up a drowning ghost. Thus, the Hongwu Dynasty princesses, from eldest to ninth, all became widows.
Hu Shanwei, accustomed to imperial power transitions’ cruelty, wasn’t surprised by Prince Consort Mei Yin’s death. But hearing “from first to ninth prince consorts, all dead,” her heart suddenly ached. She fell silent, not responding to Mu Chun.
Only then did Mu Chun realize he’d misspoken and hurried to salvage their precarious marital relationship: “Wang Ning died before dawn appeared, in darkness before daybreak. I’m very sorry. In my life I’ve only respected a few people – Wang Ning was one. He could endure humiliation and achieve great deeds, could also take blame for his wife and protect family. Truly a man.”
Hu Shanwei made a sound of agreement: “People do change. In youth, full of passion, protecting country and home, family and fiancée come second. In middle age, successful in career, living stable lives, with noble wives who understand hot and cold, clever sensible sons, plus beloved fat grandsons, family takes precedence in the heart, worth risking life to protect.”
Hu Shanwei had burned down Kunning Palace, also avenging Wang Ning, but the dead couldn’t return. Her girlhood’s first and only love, the person she once entrusted her life to, died in palace struggles and could never return.
Why can’t I control this mouth, saying anything bad, having to mention prince consorts, clearly knowing she once loved Wang Ning deeply, even giving up remarriage to take the female official exam and avoid people’s gossip. Mu Chun’s intestines turned green with regret. He could only continue salvaging: “I won’t change toward you.”
“I know.” Hu Shanwei took Mu Chun’s hand: “I won’t change toward you either.”