No matter where you are, observing filial piety and paying taxes are unavoidable. Though Little Ji was “hidden in Yunnan where none knew him,” proper protocols still had to be followed. Little Ji must observe formal mourning for grandfather Zhang Lin for a full year, unable to eat meat for three months, and for the entire year couldn’t engage in entertainment like watching opera or wear luxurious clothing like fur and silk.

Fortunately, Kunming winters weren’t cold, so Little Ji could manage wearing thick coarse cotton-padded jackets. Unable to eat meat, feeder Mu Chun nourished him with milk and eggs. When he really craved meat, Mu Chun hired restaurant masters specializing in vegetarian dishes to make various mock meats from wheat gluten and tofu that closely resembled real meat in texture and taste.

As the eldest grandson, there could be no flaws in observing filial piety, especially for the imperial eldest grandson.

Though Mu Chun had been a rebellious child who dared explode excrement in ancestral shrines and smear walls with filth, for the imperial grandson, he had to fulfill his godfather responsibilities.

After all, he wasn’t the one eating vegetarian food. He couldn’t endure even one day of vegetarian diet.

A’Lei hid meat cakes in her skirt, secretly passing them to Little Ji: “Brother Ji, eat this. They don’t know.”

Little Ji shook his head: “I won’t eat it.”

“The kitchen just baked these – they’re delicious.” A’Lei produced round meat cakes, taking a bite. The round moon immediately showed a gap, meat filling breaking free from the pastry’s complete enclosure, meat fragrance wafting everywhere, launching fierce assault on Little Ji’s taste buds.

Very simple yet classic filling – seven parts lean, three parts fat pork with scallions. The pig was a black free-range pig raised on their own small farm with delicious meat. The scallions were emerald wild scallions dug from riverbanks. Mixed together, they were made for each other, a divine couple.

Little Ji looked mature, but was still a child after all. Smelling the long-missed meat fragrance, saliva immediately flooded his mouth. He was completely defeated by the meat aroma – mock meat ultimately couldn’t compare to real meat. At least this fragrance couldn’t deceive anyone.

Little Ji gulped down saliva: “I must observe mourning for grandfather and cannot eat meat.”

A’Lei, truly Mu Chun’s daughter, had unconventional thinking: “Do you know him? Are you very familiar with him?”

“I don’t know him, not familiar.”

Not only unfamiliar with grandfather, even birth parents were strangers. Little Ji sighed like a little adult: “But he is my maternal grandfather. The guards said my grandfather was injured protecting Beijing – meaning the battle when godfather carried me fleeing by sea. He fell ill from injuries sustained then. He was an outstanding general. I should properly observe mourning for him.”

Zhang Lin’s Marquis Pengcheng title was earned through fighting, definitely not ordinary relatives relying on connections for enfeoffment, earning respect from Prince Yan’s mansion warriors.

A’Lei said: “Sister told me stories about Zhuangzi, saying Zhuangzi drummed on tubs and sang after his wife died. True sorrow cannot be judged by appearance alone. I asked sister, if she died, could I eat meat? Sister said I could eat if I wanted, didn’t matter, just don’t let outsiders see.”

A’Lei again offered the meat cake to Little Ji: “No outsiders here now, eat it.”

Little Ji refused while drooling: “Your sister agreed, but my grandfather didn’t have time to agree. Can’t eat.”

A’Lei grew impatient, taking the meat cake and walking away. After three steps, she thought about it, stopped, turned back and said: “Not eating meat during mourning is to avoid killing and create merit. How about this – starting today, you eat meat one day, I eat vegetarian one day, we take turns. You eat this meat cake, I’ll eat vegetarian today. This way no killing happens, you can eat meat, and we still accumulate merit.”

This was possible? Little Ji thought about it – seemed reasonable, but felt somehow improper: “But this way you can only eat meat every other day.”

A’Lei couldn’t understand Little Ji’s thinking: “But both of us can eat meat every other day – clearly a good thing, yet you make it sound tragic.”

Little Ji bore pressure even adults could hardly handle. Though appearing positive, he was naturally pessimistic, preparing for the worst while making maximum effort, always showing his best side to others. This was brave but exhausting, why he never gained weight – a five-year-old child carrying a fifty-year-old soul, moving forward under burden.

A’Lei was naturally optimistic, and this optimism was contagious. The same situation seemed like a win-win good thing to her.

Little Ji finally ate that meat cake, even licking clean the crumbs that fell on his cotton robe.

A’Lei unprecedentedly didn’t touch meat that day, and to keep the secret, refused to explain to her sister and brother-in-law.

Hu Shanwei thought her daughter had poor appetite and brewed hawthorn water to stimulate it.

To repay A’Lei’s meat cake, Little Ji immediately “betrayed” godfather Mu Chun, revealing the nightly cheese snacks: “I’ll save you half. After lights out, pretend to sleep first, I’ll secretly bring it to you. This is a secret that can’t be told.”

Such good fortune? A’Lei naturally agreed.

However, this couldn’t escape Hu Shanwei’s sharp eyes – she was an expert at solving cases, discovering clues from A’Lei and Little Ji taking turns eating meat, plus suspicious milk fragrance when dressing A’Lei mornings.

Hu Shanwei didn’t expose the children’s little secret, just estimated when A’Lei finished her night snack each evening, then went to “wake” her for another tooth brushing.

Winter wasn’t as scorching as summer, so A’Lei gradually became fairer. Though eating vegetarian every other day, after three months of night snacks, her figure remained plump, transforming from a dark tea egg into a tender white hard-boiled egg.

By spring, both were a year older. A’Lei’s bald head grew hair, barely enough to tie with red ribbon into a small topknot like a firecracker. Hu Shanwei delightedly arranged her daughter’s few yellow hairs each morning.

With basic needs met came entertainment desires. Previously Hu Rong took the two children to teahouses every few days to watch lively, amusing “Journey to the West,” but due to mourning, this entertainment was forbidden. Little Ji longingly watched A’Lei go to shows while he could only stay home practicing calligraphy.

This day, A’Lei returned from theater with a colorfully painted Monkey King mask. She secretly rummaged through boxes, finding the tiger skin bedding used in winter, cutting a piece with scissors to wrap around her waist as Monkey King’s signature costume – the tiger skin skirt.

Breaking willow branches and weaving them into a headband, she inserted two pale yellow small daisies, instantly creating Monkey King’s golden headband.

A’Lei called Little Ji under tree shade, casually breaking a branch as the golden staff, wearing mask and “golden band,” tying on tiger skin skirt: “You can’t watch shows, so I’ll perform for you.”

Little Ji: …

A’Lei stood on one leg in golden rooster stance, right hand shading her forehead in Monkey King’s signature move – hand shading eyes while gazing ahead, pinching her voice: “Master! There’s demon aura!”

Little Ji: …

A’Lei dragged the stick, drawing a circle and enclosing Little Ji inside, instructing: “Master, stay here, don’t move. I’ll go beg for alms to eat.”

“Don’t leave this circle – if you do, demons will catch you, wash you clean, and steam you to eat.”

Little Ji was still a child after all. After brief shock, he obediently crouched in the circle, immediately entering character as Tang Monk: “This monk won’t leave. This monk is hungry and will wait here for your alms.”

A’Lei nodded, shouting loudly: “Somersault cloud!”

A’Lei pretended to ride clouds, running quickly to the kitchen to grab two meat cakes, sharing one with Little Ji. Both sat in the circle eating pork and scallion meat cakes – three months had passed, Little Ji could eat meat normally again.

To play Monkey King well, A’Lei asked Mu Chun to teach her staff techniques and somersaults. Mu Chun gladly taught his daughter. A’Lei was an agile little fatty, and children’s bones being soft, after a month she could do ten consecutive somersaults and still stand steady.

Seeing how cute this was, Mu Chun simply hired an opera martial actor to teach her. A’Lei’s Monkey King performance became increasingly masterful. Hu Shanwei didn’t stop this – whether her daughter became a little monkey or refined young lady didn’t matter. It was rare that A’Lei treated people sincerely, thoughtfully solving Little Ji’s mourning period problems. As long as she was happy, parents capable of sheltering her could allow free growth.

Moreover, learning Monkey King had unexpected benefits. By early summer, A’Lei visibly lost weight at observable speed, no longer a fat girl. When giggling, she had quite a pretty little appearance.

A’Lei heard something somewhere and asked Hu Shanwei: “Sister, is Brother Ji leaving?”

Hu Shanwei nodded: “Yes, he’s a guest in our home. He has his own family. His family misses him too, but for various reasons, they temporarily can’t bring him home.”

A’Lei thought and asked: “Like the reasons sister couldn’t come home for four years?”

Hearing this, Hu Shanwei nearly burst into tears on the spot: “Yes, no one in this world can do exactly as they please. Except for Zhuangzi whom sister told you about, but such sage-like figures – there’s only been one Zhuangzi in thousands of years.”

Hearing this, knowing Little Ji’s departure was inevitable, A’Lei’s face showed melancholy inappropriate for her age: “If Brother Ji must leave, why did he come to our family? I’ve gotten used to playing with him. He’s been in our house since I can remember. Just like raising Little Black…”

A’Lei whistled, and hunting dog Little Black came running. A’Lei rubbed Little Black’s ears: “I’ve raised him until he’s tame. If Little Black leaves, I’ll be very sad. But if neighbor’s Big Yellow left, I wouldn’t care.”

Hu Shanwei asked back: “Would you want Brother Ji to be a guest in someone else’s home?”

A’Lei opened her mouth to answer, but her brain temporarily froze. Her mouth remained open and motionless, very conflicted. After a long while, she puffed her cheeks and stamped her foot: “Aiya, sister’s words are so boring. I won’t talk to you anymore.”

A’Lei also encountered unsolvable dilemmas, immediately becoming enlightened and growing up. From this summer onward, she no longer needed Mu Chun to bathe her. The fat rabbits raised like piglets matured and birthed four babies. She generously gave Little Ji half: “Take them to raise when you go home.”

In Kunming, everyone prepared for Little Ji’s return to the capital. Little Ji practiced calligraphy daily, selecting the best pieces to pack in boxes, waiting to show parents he never slacked off. He memorized Confucian classics, though not understanding their content, he forced them into memory. Reportedly grandmother Empress liked reading and was called “female scholar” – presumably she’d test his learning after returning home.

Besides studying, Little Ji practiced riding and archery. From a hundred guards’ earnest gazes, he set standards far above his age. He didn’t want to disappoint those unfamiliar family members – he must do everything perfectly.

He intuitively understood his return to palace differed from godmother Hu Shanwei’s homecoming. Godmother only needed to be herself, while he had too many rules and standards. If he couldn’t meet them, he had no right to go home.

Especially waiting from spring to summer, summer to autumn, his calligraphy filling an entire trunk until the lid barely closed, yet those coming to fetch him still hadn’t appeared.

Little Ji began self-doubt: Was it because I wasn’t good enough, so they don’t want me?

Thus Little Ji demanded near-harsh perfection from himself, the few ounces of meat he’d finally gained disappearing again. Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun repeatedly counseled him. Little Ji superficially agreed “yes, yes, yes,” then… secretly practiced, secretly memorized books.

This only made things more exhausting, worse than before. Imperial children were destined to give more than others.

No help for it – the couple could only let him be, telling him not to study secretly and carefully guard his health.

Only when with A’Lei, especially watching her self-performed Monkey King shows, would Little Ji relax, showing innocent childish smiles, occasionally learning somersaults with A’Lei. Being thin gave him advantages playing Monkey King, making A’Lei quite jealous.

After the last autumn leaf fell and another year passed, still no one came for Little Ji.

In Yongle’s second year, when spring opened, Little Ji and A’Lei were both seven years old.

Little Ji saw the new court bulletin: Eastern Palace concubine Li bore a son named Zhu Zhanshu – the imperial family’s second grandson. From then on, Little Ji was no longer unique.

Seeing this, Little Ji felt inexplicably relaxed. His studying, calligraphy, and archery became less focused than before. In spare time he either led Little Flower following Mu Chun hunting or wandered Kunming city with A’Lei, eating throughout the entire city.

Seeing his godson enlightened and improved, no longer nerve-wracked, Mu Chun breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, Little Ji had been too desperate – he truly feared someday his godson’s nerves would stretch to the breaking point and snap, unthinkable.

Just when Little Ji felt the imperial family had forgotten him and planned to spend his life in Kunming with A’Lei’s family, the turning point came.

Mu Chun returned from hunting with Little Ji and A’Lei, harvest full. Returning home, they saw from afar a group of horsemen surrounding their house tightly.

The leader was so beautiful it was impossible to look away. A’Lei stared at that person, stunned into forgetting to eat the string of fried glutinous rice balls in her hand.

Seeing that person, Mu Chun immediately restrained his smile, emanating killing aura: “Acting so conspicuously at my doorstep – do you want the whole world to know the secrets here?”

That person wasn’t annoyed but even winked at A’Lei who stood open-mouthed forgetting her glutinous balls: “I came to fetch someone. Taking away the biggest secret will make things easier for you afterward.”

The visitor was precisely Imperial Guard Commander Ji Gang. After Emperor Yongle’s ascension, learning from Emperor Jianwen’s lesson of being blind and deaf, deceived by incompetent ministers, he immediately restored the Imperial Guard’s authority and organization. Secret agents spread throughout the realm – now Ji Gang was his confidant, eyes and ears.

“Lord Mu, His Majesty sent this servant and Lord Ji to fetch the Imperial Eldest Grandson. Coming hastily, we didn’t inform you in advance. Please forgive us, Lord Mu.” Behind Ji Gang emerged another person – fair and handsome, steady temperament, eyes brilliant as stars. This was Emperor Yongle’s most trusted eunuch Ma Sanbao.

Ma Sanbao had good relations with Hu Shanwei, their connection beginning with Liu Siyan’s murder case at Prince Qin’s mansion. Later following Dao Yan Chan Master to Beijing, he thus connected with Prince Yan’s mansion, becoming Prince Yan’s confidant.

Toward Ma Sanbao, Mu Chun’s attitude was clearly different: “Eunuch Ma please enter. Having coarse tea before leaving won’t delay you.”

Ji Gang laughed: “Lord Mu must change how you address him. His Majesty bestowed names on the master and disciple. Dao Yan Chan Master received the secular name Yao Guangxiao, while Ma Sanbao was granted the name Zheng He. Everyone calls him Eunuch Sanbao.”