Poor Mu Chun—he had fought desperately against elephants on the battlefield, killing one man every ten steps, traveling a thousand li without leaving traces, brushing off his clothes when the deed was done, deeply hiding his merit and fame. He returned home to find his wife, only to discover she had returned to work…
Fortunately, his wife wasn’t an ordinary retired cadre returning to work. His wife was a mature veteran cadre who knew how to fight for rest, vacation, and various benefits, even managing to secure a luxury residence within the first ring road, solving the problem of the couple living apart.
Mu Chun, like a lazy snake about to hibernate, swayed leisurely and pillowed his head on Hu Shanwei’s thighs, even nuzzling into her embrace coquettishly. “Give me a massage.”
Having not seen him for so long, Hu Shanwei decided to pamper him for a few days first. His ideas about digging tunnels to steal from the silver treasury could wait until autumn for settling accounts. She asked, “Massage where?”
Mu Chun pushed his luck: “My whole body aches—massage everywhere, and pinch my feet too.”
After speaking, Mu Chun spread out his ten toes. He could freely control each toe like two five-tentacled octopi. Hu Shanwei could at most wiggle her big toes, but A’Lei and Mu Chun both had octopus-like nimble toes that could extend and contract at will.
However, being an old married couple, though Mu Chun’s toes were cute, Hu Shanwei had no intention of touching them. She stroked Mu Chun’s face. For secrecy during the war, Mu Chun had kept a beard that grew wildly, hanging down to his chest. If his fair face were painted red, he could directly cosplay Guan Yu.
Knowing this appearance would frighten his wife and daughter upon returning home, Mu Chun had shaved his beard. His freshly shaved face felt like sandpaper, slowly rubbing in her palms. Mu Chun hummed comfortably like a little pig. The pavilion was covered with mosquito netting, cool outside, sleeping on a beauty’s lap—exhausted from travel, Mu Chun quickly fell asleep.
Hu Shanwei still wanted to chat with her husband, but before she could speak, she heard gentle snoring from her embrace. Through his thin sleeveless vest, she could see several new scars on Mu Chun’s body—undoubtedly left from this Annan campaign.
Hu Shanwei picked up the golden Sichuan fan Mu Chun had been using, still bearing her personal inscription from years ago: “On July 20th, Drinking with Jingchun at a Hangzhou Wine Tower While Eating Crabs and Chrysanthemum Wine”:
“The gutless gentleman should be most charming, donning armor and dancing halberds like jade gate flutes. Eight thousand li of frontier campaigns, seeing smoke signals, removing armor to visit chrysanthemums.”
She had thought “seeing smoke signals, removing armor to visit chrysanthemums” and retreating with him to mountain forests would be the ending, never imagining it was just the beginning. Ah, fate.
Hu Shanwei carefully stored away the golden Sichuan fan—it had become their family heirloom—and switched to a round fan to fan Mu Chun. The leg his heavy head was pillowing ached, but she couldn’t bear to push his head away, fearing to disturb him. Only when he was deeply asleep did she gently move away, substituting a pillow.
Hu Shanwei’s right thigh had suffered prolonged insufficient blood supply (Mu Chun, just how heavy is your head?), feeling as if it were broken. She massaged it for quite a while before she could walk, then went to the bedroom to fetch a thin blanket to cover Mu Chun. Truly, in ancient times Emperor Ai of Han cut his sleeve for Dong Xian, and now Hu Shanwei lost feeling in her leg for Mu Chun.
Speaking of which, where was A’Lei?
A’Lei was already ten years old—she was a mature A’Lei now. With her brother-in-law waiting for her sister to return from work in the courtyard pavilion, could she be so tactless as to disturb the atmosphere? Considerate as she was, she had washed and gone to sleep early.
Having been tired too long and sleeping too deeply, it felt like he had just closed his eyes before opening them again, only refreshed and clear-headed, all aches and pains vanished.
When Mu Chun opened his eyes, he was covered with a thin blanket, breakfast was set in the pavilion, and A’Lei was biting into a small steamed bun. Seeing him awake, she quickly put down her chopsticks. “Good morning, brother-in-law.”
Mu Chun didn’t bother washing his face and ran over to pinch A’Lei’s chin. “Second round of losing teeth? Your speech is whistling through the gaps.”
A’Lei said, “Little Brother Zhanji is also losing teeth and whistling. With Empress Ren Xiao’s death, he has to hold funeral rites and wail at the coffin—he’s probably lost more weight these past days.”
Mu Chun looked around. “Where’s your sister?”
A’Lei said, “Sister gets up before the fourth watch every day to enter the palace for duty. Originally she had one rest day every fifteen days, but with the national mourning, the palace is very busy, so there are no rest days anymore. She often doesn’t come home at night either.”
A’Lei had become a left-behind child. Mu Chun felt sorry for her, patting her head. “Eat well. Brother-in-law will take you somewhere shortly.”
Mu Chun took A’Lei to the Mu family ancestral graves at Guanyin Mountain in Jiangning County, carrying incense, candles, offerings, and other items to pay respects to his parents—mainly to pay respects to his mother, Madam Feng. This was the joint burial tomb of Mu Ying and Madam Feng, a forced buy-one-get-one-free situation.
Mu Chun said, “A’Lei, kneel down and kowtow three times with brother-in-law.”
A’Lei looked at the characters on the tombstone. “Isn’t this the ancestral grave of our neighbor, the Mu residence? Why kowtow to strangers?”
Mu Chun fabricated a lie: “Prince Zhaojing’s Consort Feng buried here gave brother-in-law this life. Without her, there would be no brother-in-law.”
Actually, it wasn’t really deception—Madam Feng had given birth to him, giving him life.
A’Lei thought Mu Chun meant Madam Feng had saved his life and was his life-saving benefactor, so she kowtowed together with Mu Chun.
Mu Chun prayed silently: Mother, I’ve brought my daughter to see you. She’s nothing like the heartless and ungrateful Mu family people. She’s beautiful, kind, brave, caring, adorable… Mu Chun applied every positive adjective to his daughter.
Mother, she is the most perfect child.
Father, only after becoming a father myself did I understand how good a father can be to his child. Whether a person loves their own child actually has nothing to do with whether the child is well-behaved or troublesome. Some people simply don’t love their own children—this isn’t the child’s fault.
Accepting this fact is a very difficult process. Lucky people are healed by their childhood their whole lives; unlucky people spend their whole lives healing their childhood. I am such a person. I found someone willing to accept all my strengths and weaknesses as my life partner, and I have a daughter.
I love A’Lei and will do my utmost to give her a perfect childhood. By extension, I’m also very good to the juniors Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Zhanhe. I hope there can be one less unfortunate person like me, and that they can be as happy as possible in childhood.
Childhood is so brief—they’ll grow up soon. My daughter has already lost her second set of teeth.
Mu Chun sighed inwardly, taking A’Lei’s hand down Guanyin Mountain. “Your sister won’t have time to accompany you until after Empress Ren Xiao’s forty-nine days are over and the funeral is finished. During the national mourning period, drums and music aren’t permitted in the capital anyway. How about brother-in-law takes you to Hangzhou to watch the Qiantang River tidal bore? Reading ten thousand books isn’t as good as traveling ten thousand li.”
“To see ‘the spring river’s tidal waters connect with the sea level, on the sea a bright moon rises with the tide’?” A’Lei clapped excitedly. “Great! Brother-in-law treats me the best!”
Just like that, Mu Chun took A’Lei on a trip where they left as soon as they decided to go.
That morning, someone had given the tomb guardian at Guanyin Mountain a jug of good wine. The guardian drank heartily and while staggering around on patrol, discovered new incense, candles, and offerings at Prince Zhaojing and his wife’s joint burial tomb.
The guardian couldn’t remember letting anyone in, and fearing that drinking on duty would be discovered by his employers, he kept quiet about it.
However, Madam Cheng of the Duke of Qianguo residence, seeing that her mother-in-law was provided sedan chair transport and ice basins daily—ostensibly granted by Consort Zhang but actually arranged by their neighbor Noble Lady Hu—felt grateful.
“Give peach and plum in return for mulberry and elm.” Madam Cheng didn’t want to owe Hu Shanwei favors. Knowing Hu Shanwei was busy in the palace with a ten-year-old sister at home, and that during the national mourning the Mu family’s lotus-viewing gathering was canceled so the girls couldn’t play together, she thought of the Mu family’s mountain retreat for escaping the heat. Why not invite Miss Hu to stay at the retreat together? The young ladies could fish and chat to pass time pleasantly.
Madam Cheng sent the steward nanny with gifts to the Hu residence to thank Noble Lady Hu for caring for the dowager and to invite Miss Hu. The steward nanny returned saying, “The Hu family said Miss Hu went to Hangzhou and will probably return by the Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Madam Cheng found this puzzling: who had taken Miss Hu out? It must be someone Hu Shanwei trusted greatly. The current Hu residence was staffed with imperial slaves who definitely weren’t in that category.
Madam Cheng asked, “Did some relative come to the Hu family?”
She had heard that Noble Lady Hu’s mother died early, her father also passed away in recent years, and she only had a half-brother with whom relations weren’t close. Reportedly, when Hu Shanwei entered the palace, she went barefoot, mistreated by her stepmother, wearing simple hairpins and cloth clothes without even shoes, her hands covered in chilblains, less presentable than the family’s servants.
Now this half-sister, with both birth mother and father deceased, was practically raised by Hu Shanwei, so they were close, like mother and daughter.
The steward nanny said, “The Hu family wouldn’t say, and this servant didn’t dare ask further. This servant will go inquire.”
But Madam Cheng raised her hand to stop her. “No need. Don’t interfere with others’ private affairs. We’ve already sent the thank-you gifts—as long as we’re not impolite, that’s sufficient.”
Madam Cheng felt something odd about the Hu family. Logically, with Noble Lady Hu and her brother’s family estranged and not communicating, there shouldn’t be any “visiting relatives.” Yet Noble Lady Hu confidently entrusted her sister to someone to take on a distant journey, and the Hu family was evasive—who exactly was this person?
With one elderly person and six children at home, Madam Cheng had no one to discuss this with and had to consult her fourth brother-in-law, Prince Consort Mu Xin.
Mu Xin also didn’t know what divine person had taken Miss Hu away, saying, “I heard that after leaving the palace, Noble Lady Hu settled in Yunnan, established a female household, and raised her younger sister. Who understands that place better than Second Brother? Second Sister-in-law should write to ask Second Brother.”
That’s right—she still had a husband! Madam Cheng had lived widowed-style for so long she almost forgot her husband was still alive. She took up her brush to write a family letter asking about Noble Lady Hu’s family affairs.
Madam Cheng’s intention wasn’t to pry into neighbors’ privacy; she just felt that knowing more would prevent saying wrong things or offending people when interacting with neighbors later. In this capital, you couldn’t afford to make enemies with anyone, especially Noble Lady Hu.
Madam Cheng never expected her husband’s reply to arrive by eight-hundred-li express delivery to the Mu residence. Opening the letter, she was stunned to see written prominently: “Don’t investigate! Don’t investigate! Don’t investigate!”
Four characters repeated three times, each repetition like a slap to Madam Cheng’s face. Shocked out of her wits, she quickly called Prince Consort Mu Xin over. Mu Xin immediately burned the letter. “If even Big Brother dares not speak of it, it must involve some shocking palace secret. As a palace lady serving three reigns who has experienced so many events, this is quite normal. If anyone asks Second Sister-in-law about it, just shake your head and claim to know nothing.”
Mu Xin was the Mu residence’s backbone. Madam Cheng followed his words completely, suppressing her curiosity and investigating no further.
After Empress Ren Xiao’s forty-nine days, the funeral was finished and the palace returned to calm. Because Empress Ren Xiao died in her prime without selecting a burial site in advance, Emperor Hongwu dispatched the Ministry of Rites, Ministry of Works, Imperial Astronomical Bureau, and feng shui masters into several teams to separately search for auspicious sites. Besides around Nanjing, some went to Mount Wudang and other distant places. Of course, one team headed north toward Beiping.
Hu Shanwei knew the first several cave-searching teams were smoke screens deployed by Emperor Yongle. Since Emperor Yongle had decided to move the capital to Beiping, Empress Ren Xiao’s eternal resting place would definitely be in Beiping.
However, with the nation newly stabilized and many major undertakings unaccomplished, Emperor Yongle didn’t dare openly declare capital relocation, which would inevitably provoke strong opposition from ministers and affect governance. So he simply released smoke bombs to make ministers lower their guard. After other groups’ proposed burial sites were rejected one by one and Beiping was confirmed, he would then raise the matter of capital relocation.
Therefore, after the funeral, Empress Ren Xiao’s coffin remained in Rouyi Hall at the southeastern corner outside the Eastern Six Palaces, staying there for six years…
Of course, this was all future events.
Let’s say after Empress Ren Xiao’s forty-nine days, just as the Mid-Autumn Festival on August 15th approached, all celebrations were simplified during the national mourning period. Hu Shanwei finally had leisure time. The day before Mid-Autumn Festival, she entrusted affairs to the steady Seal-Keeper Lady Official Huang Weide and left the palace to go home for the holiday.
Whenever Hu Shanwei wasn’t in the palace, Huang Weide would temporarily assume the Palace Lady’s duties—this was approved by Emperor Yongle.
Huang Weide had been Seal-Keeper Lady Official since the Hongwu reign, serving through Jianwen and Yongle. All twenty-four jade seals of each emperor were under her management, demonstrating her capabilities.
This was Consort Zhang’s first time hosting the imperial Mid-Autumn family banquet. The princes and princesses were all born to Empress Ren Xiao, and she knew everyone was too grief-stricken to celebrate. Mid-Autumn Festival was like Empress Ren Xiao’s mourning day—no music or entertainment activities were permitted. She could only put effort into the dishes, encouraging the emperor, crown prince, princes, and princesses to eat more and take care of their health.
Consort Zhang ordered the Imperial Kitchen Bureau to report all menus, providing different dishes for each table according to imperial family members’ individual tastes.
Currently, Chen Er’mei from Guangdong served as Palace Lady of the Imperial Kitchen Bureau. She and Hu Shanwei had entered the palace the same year and were close friends, viewed by palace people as Noble Lady Hu’s “number one lackey.”
Truly, “one mouth above means broken legs below.” Previously, Mid-Autumn family banquets used one-pot cooking, portioned out and placed in food boxes for serving. Now Consort Zhang wanted personalization—everyone had vastly different tastes and favorite dishes. With emperors, consorts, princes, princesses, and imperial grandsons, how could the Imperial Kitchen Bureau manage so many people?
The imperial kitchen’s workload would increase at least tenfold. How was this “keeping everything simple”?
Chen Er’mei said, “Consort, the Mid-Autumn banquet follows established precedent every year. The palace sends people to purchase and transport ingredients in advance based on lists. Some dishes require several days of advance preparation and marinating to develop flavor—everything is already prepared. If changes are too extensive, we can’t even gather ingredients for some dishes. Even a clever wife can’t cook without rice—the chefs simply can’t manage it.”
Hearing this, Consort Zhang raised her long eyebrows. “Palace Lady Chen means it can’t be done?”
Chen Er’mei had survived three reigns and wouldn’t be easily trapped, saying, “The imperial Mid-Autumn banquet naturally provides everything edible. It’s just that suddenly changing menus—if this subject were informed three days in advance, everything could be arranged. With tomorrow being Mid-Autumn Festival, it’s really too rushed.”
Consort Zhang wrote a new “personally customized” menu accommodating everyone, handing the list to Chen Er’mei. “Palace Lady Chen, take this down to discuss with the kitchen. See what’s readily available for tomorrow, what requires immediate procurement, and if something truly can’t be managed in time, substitute similar dishes. When we have problems, we solve them. If we really can’t solve them, we’ll think of other solutions.”