Though Mu Chun had retreated to mountain forests, his blood remained hot. Being attacked at his doorstep and nearly losing his daughter—how could he not be furious?
He thus joined his younger brother Mu Sheng’s army, swearing to destroy Annan Kingdom and capture Hu Jili alive.
Four years of peaceful, comfortable seclusion came to an abrupt end. Though Hu Shanwei felt some reluctance, she fully supported Mu Chun’s return to action: “If conflicts continue along Yunnan’s borders, we can’t live peacefully in seclusion here either. A’Lei nearly met disaster—when the great nation is restless, small families cannot be secure.”
Mu Chun sharpened his blade with water in the courtyard, stroking the thin edge: “With war between nations, being close to the border is no longer safe. You and A’Lei should move to the house in the city. That house is quite large too, just not as quiet as here.”
Only remote wilderness allowed growing vast chrysanthemum fields with birds and beasts as neighbors—naturally quiet.
Hu Shanwei said, “We’ll move when you depart with the army.”
Mu Chun shook his head: “No, I must settle you mother and daughter properly before I can march with peace of mind. Pack up—we move tomorrow.”
Mu Chun truly dared not imagine what disaster would befall if scattered troops wandered here. He couldn’t expose his wife and daughter to danger.
Hu Shanwei rarely showed compliance, following her husband’s arrangements. With border tensions, moving early was wise to keep Mu Chun’s mind at ease.
Little A’Lei faced another “permanent farewell.” Though her sister hadn’t explained, she knew Zhu Zhanhe was like Zhu Zhanji before—once leaving Kunming, like a meat bun thrown to a dog, gone forever.
Brother Little Ji, Brother Puddle—both were passersby in her life.
But this time, she no longer cried, calmly accepting reality without tears like before.
She generously treated Zhu Zhanhe to chicken soup rice noodles at the small stall under the bridge: “Eat well—after this meal there’s no next. According to my sister, the capital only has noodles, no rice noodles.”
This was an unlicensed, tax-evading fly restaurant they’d discovered together, but they felt it tasted much better than grand restaurants.
A’Lei magically inherited her father Mu Chun’s palate for eating noodles squatting streetside, seasoned with dust. Such places were absolutely forbidden by Hu Shanwei, so she could only eat secretly. Sneaking around added flavor—eating openly wouldn’t have the same feeling.
Zhu Zhanhe slurped the smooth rice noodles: “No problem. If I want to eat this, the Han Prince mansion’s cooks can always figure out this flavor.”
Zhu Zhanhe seemed carefree, making the already limited parting sorrow vanish completely.
A’Lei laughed, calling to the stall owner: “Give Marshal Tianpeng another bowl.”
After Zhu Zhanhe ate double portions, the stall owner looked at his protruding belly with some concern: “Be careful of indigestion. If you feel unwell, quickly have your family find a doctor.”
Zhu Zhanhe patted his belly, making several dull sounds like an unripe watermelon: “No problem. I’ll walk more to digest. A’Lei, you stuffed me full—you’re responsible to the end. Walk with me to digest these two bowls of rice noodles.”
The two climbed from under the bridge onto Yunjin Bridge. This great bridge was built by her brother-in-law Mu Chun—Yunnan’s first stone arch bridge, Kunming’s central business district, prime CBD location. Transportation convenience brought prosperity here. A poem described:
“Gazing from Yunjin Bridge, ten thousand homes with lights aglow. Nighttime people buy wine, travelers moor boats seeking inns. The city distant, watch drums exhausted, moon round, market voices loud. Dawn breaks leisure wandering ends, sparse bells from Mount Taihua.”
Standing here, if not for passersby wearing various ethnic costumes, one might think oneself along Nanjing’s Qinhuai River.
Atop the bridge, A’Lei gazed at the jade-belt riverbanks: “Only this area of Kunming is most prosperous. My sister says the capital has Yunjin Bridges everywhere—is that true?”
Zhu Zhanhe nodded: “About right. Nanjing is a six-dynasty ancient capital. Kunming just became civilized—of course it can’t compare. You could come to the capital with us, seeing is believing. I’ll show you all of Nanjing.”
A’Lei showed longing but shook her head: “My brother-in-law is campaigning in Annan. I must stay home with sister.”
Zhu Zhanhe said, “Your sister is an adult—does she need your company?”
“You don’t understand,” A’Lei said. “With brother-in-law campaigning, sister will worry about him. If I go to Nanjing, sister would worry about me too. Staying with sister means one less person for her to worry about.”
Zhu Zhanhe was an optimistic child: “Then when your brother-in-law returns victorious, your family of three can go to Nanjing together.”
A’Lei only smiled without responding.
A’Lei accompanied Zhu Zhanhe walking to digest, circling widely. Zhu Zhanhe said his stomach still felt full, needing more walking. They walked until A’Lei couldn’t continue, then Zhu Zhanhe escorted her to the new home in the city.
Next morning, city gates opened wide. The Chunwei couple rose early to see off Eunuch Sanbao, Zhu Zhanhe, and the Ru Siyao-Imperial Physician Tan couple. A’Lei went to Prince Zhou’s school without seeing them off.
Though Zhu Zhanhe looked back repeatedly, nearly breaking his neck, he still didn’t see A’Lei.
The capital, imperial palace.
Empress Xu had just taken pain medicine and dozed off—the situation was grim.
Empress Xu, a tiger daughter of a military family, had always been healthy. Marrying Emperor Yongle at fourteen, she bore a child yearly, becoming mother to four by eighteen. Later establishing domain in Beiping, she assisted her husband in benefiting Yan lands, reviving the declining Beiping—an energetic princess.
Unfortunately, Beiping’s defense battle was too brutal—ten thousand defenders against Li Jinglong’s five hundred thousand southern troops. War destroyed Empress Xu’s health, delaying even her empress coronation by two years.
Before health, money, power, status, and wealth become worthless.
Disease tortured Empress Xu with facial swelling—poke it, leave a shallow pit. Seeing his weak wife, Emperor Yongle remained silent long, then suddenly his gaze turned cold: “Summon Ji Gang.”
Ji Gang held secret discussions with Emperor Yongle until palace gates locked.
Within days, court ministers submitted memorials impeaching Duke Caoguo Li Jinglong.
This legendary figure who conducted large-scale outdoor reality shows “Run, Brother” in the Ming could be called the Jingnan Campaign’s greatest contributor. With unbelievable intelligence and courage, like a human meat grinder, he lost five hundred thousand southern troops, then “reformed,” immediately defected during Jingnan, opening city gates to welcome Prince Yan, earning new merit and kneeling to request early enthronement.
After enthronement, Prince Yan immediately restored Li Jinglong’s Duke Caoguo title, adding Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince and Left Pillar of State, ranking first among military officials. He seemed to forget how Li Jinglong besieged Beiping, causing Empress Xu’s severe injuries.
Li Jinglong receiving such favor from Emperor Yongle made many suspect he’d always been the emperor’s undercover agent, deliberately losing so badly.
Li Jinglong initially denied everything—”I’m not… I didn’t… you’re talking nonsense”—but later simply stayed silent, tacitly accepting it. After all, only fools refuse advantages.
Now politics were stable, autumn had come—time to kill the donkey after grinding was done.
Emperor Yongle originally planned keeping Li Jinglong two more years, but Empress Xu’s old wounds recurring made the emperor seem calm while inwardly wanting to crush Li Jinglong for revenge.
First to strike Li Jinglong was Emperor Yongle’s brother, Prince Zhou Zhu Su.
Prince Zhou had suffered terribly from Li Jinglong—his second son, bewitched, was convinced by Li Jinglong to falsely accuse father and elder brother of rebellion. Suffering such human tragedy, how could Prince Zhou spare Li Jinglong when fortune turned?
Prince Zhou first impeached Li Jinglong, saying he’d demanded bribes from the mansion, moving all imperially-bestowed treasures to his home.
Li Jinglong submitted defense, denying this. Ji Gang led Embroidered Uniform Guards searching Duke Caoguo’s mansion, indeed finding items marked with Prince Zhou’s seal—caught red-handed. Li Jinglong didn’t know how these items flew to his residence, unable to defend himself.
Next, Minister of Justice Zheng Ci impeached Li Jinglong for “harboring evil intentions, sheltering desperadoes, plotting rebellion.” Minister of Rites Li Zhigang also memorialized that “Li Jinglong accepts family members’ kowtowing at home, performing sovereign-subject rituals—utterly treasonous.”
Duke Chengguo Zhu Neng, Minister of Personnel Jian Yi, and Six Offices Secretary Zhang Xin also impeached Li Jinglong’s rebellion plot.
Li Jinglong again defended himself, saying his household’s hundreds of servants were all domestic help without martial skills—how could they be assassins? The only weapon at home was kitchen knives.
Ji Gang again led Embroidered Uniform Guards searching, finding weapons in kitchen furnace ashes, then releasing dogs to attack young, strong male servants. The servants, desperate, suddenly seemed to unlock hidden potential, wielding sticks, knives, spears, and other weapons defensively—in this era, dog bites causing rabies were incurable.
Ji Gang blinked his peach-blossom eyes, clapping: “Li Jinglong, you said they couldn’t fight! Clearly all manner of weapons wielded with skill.”
All servants: I’ve never seen such shamelessness!
Ji Gang’s smile vanished, jade hand waving: “Arrest these assassins!”
Seeing this, Li Jinglong knew everything was Ji Gang’s frame-up—items from Prince Zhou’s mansion, weapons, assassins—all from Ji Gang’s mouth.
No, not Ji Gang. Ji Gang dared point to deer and call them horses because Emperor Yongle authorized it, like when late Hongwu reign ministers impeached Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander Mao Qiang.
Emperor Gaozhu wanted Mao Qiang killed to appease popular anger. Otherwise, ministers wouldn’t dare touch Mao Qiang however brave.
When birds are gone, good bows are stored; when cunning rabbits die, hunting dogs are cooked. Emperor Yongle had now drained my value completely and would kick me aside.
Li Jinglong collapsed, kneeling. The hereditary Duke of the First Rank, Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince, Left Pillar of State, first among ministers, second only to one, above ten thousand—Duke Caoguo thus fell from clouds, stripped of title, office, entire family confined.
Li Jinglong was imprisoned separately. One day, guards brought breakfast but threw the food box at the door, scattering food everywhere, loudly shouting: “Li Jinglong! Eat or don’t—playing hunger strikes to pressure His Majesty into concessions? Dream on!”
Li Jinglong, dizzy with hunger: “I’m not on hunger strike. You’re talking nonsense. Quickly bring the food.”
Guards ignored him. Three meals daily, always the same—throwing food boxes before him, cursing his hunger strikes, only providing water.
Emperor Yongle wouldn’t kill Li Jinglong or his family… so he’d use hunger strike as excuse to starve Li Jinglong. Because besides being a three-reign minister of Hongwu, Jianwen, and Yongle, he was imperial family—the emperor’s nephew. His grandmother, Princess Caoguo, was Emperor Gaozhu’s second sister. The Li family’s “Duke Caoguo” title came from this, benefiting from the princess.
Emperor Yongle learned from Emperor Jianwen’s mistake of suppressing imperial relatives, resulting in enemies on all sides. He deeply understood imperial relatives’ importance—must stabilize them, not break their hearts, or face backlash threatening his throne.
Thus Li Jinglong was “force-starved” to the eighth day, surviving on water. Ji Gang visited, carrying many delicacies. Li Jinglong smelled food’s aroma like knives cutting his stomach.
Li Jinglong could no longer walk, crawling to the door: “Food… give me…”
Ji Gang threw his food box, shouting: “Imperial bestowals, you refuse? Truly treasonous.”
Li Jinglong despaired, weakly saying: “Leave room for others—easier future meetings. Ji Gang, don’t be too absolute. Being a running dog ends badly. How Mao Qiang died—you haven’t forgotten?”
Ji Gang’s pupils suddenly contracted, then returned to normal: “Lord Mao showed me kindness—how could I forget?”
Remembered clearly—those who impeached Mao Qiang, every snowflake, every straw, all recorded in my roster. Kill one, cross off one. Your name Li Jinglong is there too—probably crossed off in two days. I found the best opportunity to eliminate you all.
Two days later, Li Jinglong “hunger struck” to death. The corpse was secretly removed, bones ground and ashes scattered, but guards continued normal meal delivery, still performing solo acts: “That’s right—daily good food and drink service. Your family all live—all imperial grace. Be content.”
When Eunuch Sanbao’s group reached the capital, rumors spread that Li Jinglong’s ten-day hunger strike failed, he resumed normal eating. Though the Li family plotted rebellion, Emperor Yongle pardoned them for Princess Caoguo’s sake. Li family brothers all received official posts, and Li Jinglong’s grandson got hereditary Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander’s sinecure, enjoying generational wealth.
Ru Siyao and Imperial Physician Tan went to Kunning Palace for Empress Xu’s consultation. The empress was terminally ill, her lamp nearly extinguished.
Ru Siyao said: “This subject obtained new medicinal materials in Yunnan unavailable in the Central Plains. Though we tested their properties under Prince Zhou’s guidance, individual constitutions differ—drug reactions might vary.”
Meaning Empress Xu could try new medicine rescue, but risks were extremely high.
Emperor Yongle remained expressionless, only his trembling beard betraying inner thoughts: What use killing Li Jinglong? I still must watch my wife leave me. How can this be? She’s only forty-five.
When Empress Xiaoci died at fifty-one, father Emperor Gaozhu wept that she died too young. But now my empress is only forty-five…
Emperor Yongle suddenly clenched his fist, granting the couple immunity from death: “Treat freely—I won’t punish you.”
The Ru Siyao couple accepted orders to write prescriptions.
Having killed Li Jinglong and appeased imperial relatives, Emperor Yongle heard Eunuch Sanbao’s report about Annan’s ambush destroying the Ming delegation: “…Duke Qianguo Mu Sheng has begun assembling armies. Besides troops guarding Yunnan, currently seventy thousand troops can campaign against Annan. Lord Mu Chun seeks revenge for his daughter, volunteering for the southern campaign, awaiting imperial decree.”
This time Mu Sheng learned his lesson, waiting for clear orders before deploying troops, avoiding more scolding—scolding was minor, losing the new ruler’s trust was major. His grandfather Geng Bingwen’s entire family was killed by Emperor Yongle—he couldn’t be suspected of disloyalty again.
As a vassal state daring to kill the suzerain’s delegation—this wasn’t just deceiving the emperor but blatant rebellion. If word spread, Ming’s suzerain status would be challenged. Would other vassals still acknowledge Ming as master?
With Empress Xu critically ill, Emperor Yongle initially didn’t want to deploy troops, but being slapped by Annan—how could he endure? He appointed Duke Chengguo Zhu Neng as Expedition General and Chief Commander of Ming’s Southern Campaign, Marquis Xincheng Zhang Fu as Right Vice-General, leading troops from Guangxi into Annan. Simultaneously appointing Duke Qianguo Mu Sheng as Left Vice-General, departing from Yunnan.
Fourth year of Yongle, eleventh month—the two armies victoriously met in Annan, jointly concentrating forces for the great battle with Annan troops at Fuliang River.
Emperor Yongle dispatched Zhu Neng and Zhang Fu, both fierce generals from Prince Yan’s mansion during Jingnan, core confidants. This was Emperor Yongle’s first foreign war since enthronement, showing the campaign’s importance.
Emperor Yongle ordered: “Must eliminate rebels and return triumphant by next February.” He felt three months sufficient to flatten Annan.
But by February of Yongle’s fifth year, Annan remained unconquered while Empress Xu’s condition worsened.
New Year’s Day grand court assembly—noble ladies entering for congratulations only bowed through curtains toward the empress’s phoenix chair. Later at court banquets, under Court Bureau Director Shen Qionglian’s arrangement, noble wives sat by rank receiving imperial feast while Empress Xu’s place remained empty—she didn’t appear.
Thus news of Empress Xu’s critical illness could no longer be hidden—court and country all knew.
With the empress critically ill needing quiet recovery, imperial concubines daily paid respects outside Kunning Palace before withdrawing.
Empress Xu was failing, but Emperor Yongle was only forty-seven, in his prime. So young, he’d surely remarry and establish a new empress.
Everyone thought this, discussing which family the new empress would come from. The capital already had several popular candidates.
Only one person thought differently—Emperor Yongle himself. He couldn’t imagine any woman besides his first wife Empress Xu worthy of being his wife, his empress. He didn’t want to remarry.
The southern campaign dragged on without victory, military expenses were shocking, the empress was critically ill, the rear palace was anxious, court and country buzzed with discussion. Emperor Yongle endured pressure from both sides, enormous stress keeping him sleepless.
One night, Emperor Yongle finished reviewing memorials at midnight and went to Kunning Palace to see Empress Xu. Walking along the empty East Long Street, he suddenly stopped, ordering Eunuch Sanbao: “Go to Yunnan again and bring Palace Lady Hu back to the capital.”