Xiaoling was a gas station, a power bank, the Snickers bar that provided Hu Shanwei with confidence and wisdom.

Hu Shanwei first took A’Lei to the sacrificial hall, burning incense before the spirit tablets of Emperor Gaozhu and Empress Xiaoci, rolling up her sleeves to personally clean the thin dust from the offering table and spirit tablets.

“Sister spent a year here cleaning and washing, mourning for Empress Xiaoci.” Hu Shanwei looked around, sighing: “Twenty years have passed now, this place seems unchanged, but people have aged.”

And brought along a troublesome daughter.

A’Lei dusted with a feather duster: “Sister isn’t old at all, clearly very young. Besides, the sacrificial hall has obvious changes—”

A’Lei pointed at Emperor Gaozhu’s spirit tablet with the feather duster: “Isn’t there an extra wooden plaque?”

True, when Hu Shanwei served as tomb guardian, Emperor Gaozhu was still alive.

Hu Shanwei said: “The capital is different from Kunming. You can’t speak so casually here.”

“I know, I know.” A’Lei pleaded repeatedly: “Please don’t say more, sister—you’ve reminded me countless times along the way. Only you and I are here, so I spoke this way. I’m not casual—though I’m a country girl from Kunming, I know some characters, studied at Prince Zhou’s mansion, and understand imperial etiquette.”

Seeing A’Lei’s inexperienced appearance, Hu Shanwei knew she was too anxious—some things couldn’t be understood through preaching alone.

After cleaning the sacrificial hall and resting briefly, Hu Shanwei went to the nearby imperial consort cemetery, burning incense one by one for Noble Consort Chengmu née Sun, Noble Consort Duanjing née Guo, and others.

While burning incense at the consort tombs, Hu Shanwei noticed that Consort Shuo’s spirit tablet was missing. After Emperor Yongle’s enthronement, he changed records so the first five princes, including Prince Yiwen, were all born to Empress Xiaoci. Even the spirit tablet was gone—apparently all traces of Consort Shuo had been thoroughly erased.

Nearly Dragon Boat Festival, the weather was hot. After visiting Xiaoling and the consort tombs, both Hu Shanwei and A’Lei’s light garments were soaked with sweat. They went to a side hall to bathe and change clothes. A’Lei insisted on sharing a bathtub with Hu Shanwei.

Hu Shanwei scrubbed A’Lei’s back while A’Lei made comfortable pig-like grunting sounds: “Sister, can I say whatever I want now?”

Hu Shanwei chuckled: “Speak up, don’t hold it in.”

This moment felt blissful to Hu Shanwei. Four years ago when she first returned home, A’Lei refused to let her bathe or dress her. Now it was different—A’Lei was both sister and daughter. Their relationship was more harmonious and intimate than typical mothers and daughters, mainly because Hu Shanwei rarely asserted elder authority.

A’Lei rubbed her sore calves, half-joking, half-serious: “Why did we have to burn incense and sweep tombs everywhere as soon as we came to the capital? Sister, wake up—Qingming Festival passed three months ago.”

Hu Shanwei grasped A’Lei’s shoulders, making her face her, speaking seriously: “Loyalty and filial piety always occupy moral high ground and are easiest to demonstrate. Whether someone has ability requires long-term testing for others’ recognition. Moreover, tastes differ—sometimes no matter how well you do, many will find faults.”

“But loyalty and filial piety are easily formalized. You only need to suffer some physical hardship, put on a show, and gain recognition. So loyalty and filial piety are the most useful tools for building momentum. Similarly, using loyalty and filial piety as weapons to control others and suppress opponents has immediate effects.”

A’Lei was confused: “So sister burned incense all day, kneeling until your knees hurt, was for momentum?”

Hu Shanwei said: “Half for momentum, half to commemorate those who helped me in the past. Without them, there’d be no me today.”

A’Lei made an “oh” sound, half-understanding. Hu Shanwei pinched her tender chin: “Why are your gums swollen?”

A’Lei pressed her small front tooth with her tongue tip: “Losing teeth, some inflammation. This tooth is already loose.”

The small front tooth swayed in the gum, precarious, with a new tooth emerging to push out the old one.

Hu Shanwei said: “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have arranged soft, mild food for you.”

A’Lei shook her head repeatedly: “I don’t want those foods only old ladies like—that’s why I deliberately hid it from sister. I don’t like bland food. I want meat, fried crispy twisted doughnuts, sizzling lamb skewers from the grill…”

Amid A’Lei’s “menu recitation” BGM, Hu Shanwei finished bathing her, thinking this was truly Mu Chun’s biological child—identically “uniquely gifted.”

Only when Hu Shanwei lifted A’Lei from the tub and wrapped her in a bathrobe did A’Lei end her “menu recitation.”

They rested in Hu Shanwei’s former tomb guardian cottage. A’Lei listened to sister’s past stories like lullabies and quickly fell asleep.

Next morning, taking advantage of cool weather, Hu Shanwei took A’Lei to see Xiaoling’s deer herd.

Seeing deer after deer burst from pine forests, making the ground tremble, Hu Shanwei’s blood vessels seemed filled with gasoline, suddenly igniting with boiling blood, instantly returning to her ambitious youth when she climbed upward, determined to find Empress Xiaoci’s assassin’s true identity.

After four years’ absence, these deer still recognized Hu Shanwei, surrounding her and stretching their necks for food. A’Lei’s eyes sparkled with excitement: “Sister, let me feed them!”

Hu Shanwei handed her a basket of bean cakes: “Don’t hold them—ride on horseback, run while throwing food, make these deer run. They’re all spoiled and fat.”

Children are energetic and active. A’Lei spurred her horse and ran, leading the deer herd in relentless pursuit of food. Hu Shanwei sat in tree shade, watching A’Lei feed deer like walking dogs, thinking about her secret conversation with Eunuch Sanbao.

When Eunuch Sanbao brought her back to the capital, fearing her resistance to imperial orders, he explained reasons—all state secrets:

“…Empress Xu is critically ill. His Majesty won’t establish a new empress. The rear palace consorts have complex backgrounds—he’s uneasy entrusting management to anyone. His Majesty requests Palace Lady Hu’s return to control the rear palace—that’s reason one.”

“Second, His Majesty will move the capital to Beiping—”

At the time, Hu Shanwei didn’t take the capital move seriously. The Ming imperial palace, especially the rear palace, had serious ground subsidence, pits and holes requiring constant repair—quite unseemly. But from Hongwu through Jianwen reigns, almost yearly talk of moving capitals never succeeded. New three years, old three years, patching and mending for over thirty years—just make do.

Too many cries of wolf—nobody believed anymore.

Eunuch Sanbao said: “…Third, His Majesty awaits the Annan campaign’s end and national recovery, then will personally campaign against Mongolia, offense as defense. When His Majesty wars abroad, the emperor guards the frontier. Crown Prince handles regency while His Majesty spends most time at former Beiping residence. The new capital will be in Beiping, rebuilding the Ming imperial palace. With His Majesty and Crown Prince’s north-south dual rule, His Majesty especially needs trustworthy people guarding the rear palace without incidents.”

Hearing the third reason, Hu Shanwei grew serious: Emperor Yongle was serious.

When Emperor Yongle was still Prince Yan, he constantly led troops guarding borders—no one understood national defense’s importance better than the emperor. Moving the capital to Beiping, having the emperor guard frontiers, benefited defense.

Eunuch Sanbao read expressions, flattering imperceptibly: “With His Majesty campaigning and stationed in Beiping, Crown Prince as regent, the rear palace will have neither empress nor emperor. Palace Lady Hu must oversee everything, cooperating with and supervising the Crown Prince. Surveying the rear palace, only Palace Lady Hu can bear this responsibility. His Majesty specially ordered this servant to request Palace Lady Hu’s return.”

Hu Shanwei was clearheaded: “Eunuch Sanbao enjoys His Majesty’s trust, granted the name Zheng He—why not have Eunuch Sanbao manage the palace?”

Eunuch Sanbao held up four fingers: “This is the fourth secret. Honestly, this servant will build ships for western ocean voyages. This servant lacks ability for rear palace matters.”

What? Western ocean voyages! Hu Shanwei’s mind buzzed like wild bees: What’s happening? Has my substitution at Kunning Palace been exposed—using three corpses to replace Empress Little Ma and two little princes, having them board Shen family ships to sail away forever?

If exposed, this would be a clan-exterminating crime!

Hu Shanwei maintained surface calm, asking: “Eunuch Sanbao’s western voyage… for what purpose?”

Eunuch Sanbao showed no emotional fluctuation: “His Majesty has ruled five years, firmly established domestically, but when Emperor Jianwen designated the heir apparent and ascended the throne, all nations came to court with overseas envoys witnessing.”

“Now with His Majesty’s succession, many small countries’ Ming knowledge remains from Jianwen’s reign, unaware of Yongle. So this servant will voyage west to promote Ming’s national prestige, informing them of the new emperor’s succession and Jianwen’s death, requiring tribute missions, credentials, and tribute gifts, submitting to the new emperor, establishing Yongle’s legitimate status.”

Hu Shanwei felt relieved but remained cautious.

Though Eunuch Sanbao’s voyage was only to announce succession, the great ships carrying Haitang, Empress Little Ma, and her three children certainly passed through overseas cities along the route. Many probably settled overseas—what if they accidentally encountered each other?

This shocking secret couldn’t be contained.

Hu Shanwei dared not rely on imperial mercy—many past facts proved this idea unrealistic.

No, she must contact Shen Qionglian, have Shen family members go to sea warning overseas exiles to hide well, absolutely avoiding encounters with Eunuch Sanbao.

Now without Eunuch Sanbao’s invitation, Hu Shanwei herself wanted to visit the capital, personally arranging this matter.

But… Hu Shanwei asked: “If I re-enter palace service, when can I leave?”

Eunuch Sanbao said: “Isn’t this servant shamelessly requesting Palace Lady Hu’s return because of capital relocation, personal campaigns, and Crown Prince regency? Once capital relocation is complete, the imperial palace moved from Nanjing to Beiping, with His Majesty guarding the capital and Crown Prince no longer regent, Palace Lady Hu will have achieved great merit and naturally can leave the palace.”

Building new imperial palace, new capital, relocating—when would these three projects finish?

At least ten years.

But this gave hope—not “life imprisonment” but fixed-term sentence.

Hu Shanwei weighed pros and cons: “I understand His Majesty’s sincerity and reasons. The court controls female officials’ lifetimes. I still receive court salary and enjoy fifth-rank status. If Ming has need, I shouldn’t decline, but…”

“I’m now married with children, no longer unattached as before. Once entering palace gates, deep as the sea. If I undertake this responsibility, His Majesty must agree to several conditions—a three-point agreement. Otherwise, even present in the palace, I’d lack heart for duty, disappointing His Majesty’s trust.”

Seeing Hu Shanwei finally relent, Eunuch Sanbao also relaxed: “If Palace Lady Hu agrees to emerge from retirement, everything’s negotiable. This servant will report to His Majesty, trying to satisfy Palace Lady Hu’s requests.”

Thus Hu Shanwei brought A’Lei to the capital with Eunuch Sanbao.

Hu Shanwei was troubled, thinking about Empress Little Ma’s overseas escape aftermath and future work. A’Lei was extremely excited, finally seeing the true face of the most wealthy and prosperous place described by Little Ji and Brother Puddle.

Under Xiaoling’s tree shade, Hu Shanwei saw a procession down the mountain with bright yellow canopies, knowing Emperor Yongle was coming to Xiaoling.

Hu Shanwei quickly told A’Lei to stop feeding deer, wiped away sweat, re-combed disheveled hair, changed clothes, and both stood roadside welcoming Emperor Yongle.

Sovereign and subject exchanged greetings. Hu Shanwei introduced A’Lei to Emperor Yongle: “This is this subject’s sister, Hu Shanxiang.”

In formal settings, use full names.

Seeing A’Lei’s round face with thick eyebrows and big eyes, cheeks rosy as ripe peaches—very cute and auspicious—Emperor Yongle gave meeting gifts: “My two grandsons often mention you. Your name is as thunderous as your nickname.”

A’Lei remained composed with natural familiarity: “In Kunming, we often caught shrimp in rivers and hunted in mountains. Coming to the capital with sister, I brought them many Kunming specialties. I also brought gifts for His Majesty…”

A’Lei had two large cages brought: “These are flying green peacocks. I heard they’re called phoenixes in the capital.”

Xiaoling’s former green peacocks died during an abnormally cold year. Afterward, frequent regime changes left no time for peacocks—Xiaoling’s peacock nests were gone.

Seeing this “phoenix” pair, Emperor Yongle thought of critically ill Empress Xu: “Beautiful, each feather like wearing halos. The empress will surely love them. Bring these phoenixes to the palace to cheer the empress.”

Hu Shanwei knew A’Lei’s gift was perfect.

After brief pleasantries, they began serious talk. Emperor Yongle ordered young eunuchs and palace maids to accompany A’Lei playing.

Emperor Yongle sipped heat-reducing lotus leaf tea, setting down the cup: “Eunuch Sanbao said you want a three-point agreement with me?”

Hu Shanwei quickly said: “Dare not put on airs before His Majesty. This subject receives salary—serving the court is natural. But current palace female official rules greatly differ from this subject’s actual situation. This subject has family burdens. Re-entering palace service requires His Majesty’s special accommodations for this subject’s peace of mind serving His Majesty.”

Emperor Yongle said: “What conditions? Palace Lady Hu, speak freely.”

Hu Shanwei said: “First, don’t let this subject’s sister Hu Shanxiang enter the palace or receive princess titles. First, sister grew up in rural areas—palace has many rules unsuiting her. Second, sister is a child with no national merit—undeserved rewards. Third, sister’s nominal father Hu Rong only held sinecure rank of Supernumerary—how could sister’s status exceed father’s? This might harm her.”

Emperor Yongle pondered, saying: “This I can do. But with you in the palace and Hu Shanxiang outside, mother-daughter separated, and no Hu family relatives in the capital for support—what to do?”

Hu Shanwei bowed: “This is the second condition. This subject has a husband and young daughter. Please allow this subject to have a home outside the palace like court ministers—attending duty when scheduled, returning home to family after work, with monthly rest days.”

Hu Shanwei would never let her daughter live depending on others—palace life was also a form of dependence, reading others’ expressions.

Only in one’s own home, as master, could there be true freedom and relaxation. Imperial palaces were magnificent with everything luxurious, but ultimately not home.

Like an office with a gold-and-diamond bed—would you sleep more comfortably at home or on this bed?

Moreover, there was husband Mu Chun… Seven emotions and six desires, marital love—she was married with children, both spouses well-maintained physically. Should she become a living widow?

Even if she could endure, Mu Chun couldn’t.

A house, going to and from work, rest days—wouldn’t force her husband into “widower-style” child-rearing or daughter into “motherless” growth, balancing family and career.

Hu Shanwei’s request was merely the most basic living conditions of a ninth-rank minor official, yet as a fifth-rank palace female official, these minimal conditions required special imperial permission.

Emperor Yongle was silent briefly: “Human family bonds—your request isn’t excessive. But the palace differs from ordinary offices. My Inner Cabinet Grand Secretaries entering Wenyuan Pavilion beside Qianqing Palace must also register and report each time—no casual entry.”

“However, you may lodge at home under the pretext of caring for your sister, like ministers returning daily when palace gates open at fourth watch. But each time requires advance reporting to Court Bureau of Rites, with female officials from Court Bureau, accompanying eunuchs from Ceremonial Directorate, and Embroidered Uniform Guard escorts for palace and residence entry.”

Court Bureau of Rites, Ceremonial Directorate, Embroidered Uniform Guard—three-way supervision.

Hu Shanwei knew her position was special—this was Emperor Yongle’s maximum concession: “Thank Your Majesty’s grace.”

Emperor Yongle waved grandly: “There’s a third point—speak together.”