Emperor Yongle’s second personal campaign – the Crown Prince again supervised the state, the harem was temporarily managed by Consort Quan, with Hu Shanwei assisting.
Just as Emperor Yongle and the Crown Grandson left the capital and headed north, Prince Han and his son returned to the capital from the funeral escort. Prince Han was responsible for the capital’s defense as usual, including supervising the Crown Prince.
Familiar with the routine from the first time, having gained experience, the Crown Prince’s state supervision became increasingly skilled and effortless. From the heavy obstacles of the first supervision to getting whatever he wanted in the second, the Crown Prince discovered that after the second state supervision, ministers who listened to him and went along with his wishes had clearly increased.
For this reason, the Crown Prince deeply felt the power of “legitimacy.” The Eastern Palace plus the Crown Grandson’s Palace, two palaces combined, stabilized the Eastern Palace faction’s heir position.
Although the emperor’s body was still strong, he aged day by day. Since sending Empress Renxiao’s coffin to be buried at Tianshou Mountain in Beijing, Emperor Yongle’s temples had turned white as snow overnight, making the parting tragically beautiful. No one could defeat the passage of time.
The Yangtze River’s back waves push the front waves – the front waves surge powerfully, crashing against shores and rolling up thousands of piles of snow, but ultimately will shatter on the beach. The back waves were different – however small their momentum, they visibly developed and grew stronger. Court officials weren’t blind – their attitude toward the Crown Prince shifted from unanimous “depose the Crown Prince” to current “making do.” Even the Crown Prince’s ridiculous penguin-like gait that damaged national dignity was now tolerated.
Moreover, there was the “good imperial grandson” Crown Grandson as backup. Even if someday the Crown Prince, that old tire, blew out, the Crown Grandson could be changed in one second for seamless succession.
Learning from failure, having learned from the lesson of his first unsuccessful tattletaling, Prince Han was much more cautious than before. For the Crown Prince’s harmless minor matters – like holding literary gatherings or sleeping with women – Prince Han no longer reported them.
This time Prince Han changed tactics, not making a big fuss over small matters. Like a hunter, he patiently waited, prepared to catch the Crown Prince’s major mistakes for a decisive strike.
The Crown Prince felt that Prince Han had almost become a different person since returning from the funeral escort last time, no longer as aggressive as before, no longer constantly wearing the expression “Has the Crown Prince been deposed today?”
Perhaps the mother’s funeral stirred Prince Han’s brotherly feelings, or perhaps Xiaoji’s appointment as Crown Grandson had crushed Prince Han’s delusions.
Either way, the Crown Prince was happy about Prince Han’s transformation. Though my brother torments me a thousand times, I treat him like first love.
The Crown Prince often summoned Prince Han to the palace, where the two brothers would drink and celebrate, sharing brotherly affection.
The Hu Residence
Brother Shuikeng had returned, bringing many northern specialties to the Hu family. He complained to Hu Shanwei: “I wanted to stay in Beijing and follow His Majesty’s campaign against the Oirat, but His Majesty insisted I was too young and wouldn’t agree, driving me back. Where am I small? The Crown Grandson was this age when he first followed His Majesty on campaign – why is it unsuitable when it comes to me?”
Because he’s the Crown Grandson and you’re Prince Han’s heir – His Majesty has long arranged your positions.
Hu Shanwei thought this but said: “Staying to guard Nanjing is also important. Besides, when His Majesty campaigns, the Crown Grandson usually stays stationed in Beijing and doesn’t go fight. You’re just impatient, always eager to grow up. When you really do grow up, you’ll probably want to go back.”
Zhu Zhanhe glanced toward the Hu residence’s back courtyard. “I’ve come – why doesn’t Sister A’Lei come out to see me?”
“She’s busy. I’ll take you over.” Hu Shanwei rose, sighing: “Don’t mention you – even I rarely see her. All day long banging around in the back courtyard, I don’t know what she’s tinkering with. Even meals need people urging her to eat.”
The two went to the inner residence, where there was a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides. For convenient lighting, half the roof used transparent glass tiles instead of regular blue tiles, making it bright even in winter’s continuous rainy weather.
The room’s connected large desks were covered with various gears, bearings, and other mechanical parts – all components A’Lei had dismantled from the seven grand clocks the Crown Grandson had given.
In the room’s center sat a large water tank filled with water, with a small wooden boat floating on top. A’Lei sat on a folding stool beside the tank, holding a pocket watch, somewhat anxiously staring at the small boat.
Seeing the pile of remains, Zhu Zhanhe couldn’t help asking: “Sister A’Lei, aren’t you at the shipyard? How did you change careers to… clock repair?”
Zhu Zhanhe had wanted to say “clock dismantling” but his survival instinct made him change his words.
A’Lei didn’t turn to look at Zhu Zhanhe, extending her palm: “Don’t talk – it’s almost time.”
Zhu Zhanhe closed his mouth and moved closer. A’Lei stared at the pocket watch hands, and when it reached exactly ten o’clock, the wooden boat floating in the water actually began moving by itself!
The small boat spun madly in circles in the water tank. When the second hand completed sixty seconds, the boat stopped rotating.
Zhu Zhanhe was amazed: “Is this a water clock? Ship clock? Water-ship clock? When it glides in the water, it draws rounder circles than I can.”
A’Lei didn’t respond, recording this timed “voyage” in a small booklet. Zhu Zhanhe craned his neck like a turtle and saw that every even-numbered hour – every two hours at 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, and 12 o’clock – the small boat would sail for one minute.
A’Lei wrote under today’s date at ten o’clock: “Normal sailing for one minute, no abnormalities observed.”
After recording, A’Lei finally spoke: “Just finished making it, still in testing. Sometimes it runs inaccurately, sometimes it’s paralyzed and motionless.”
Zhu Zhanhe noticed another identical thread-bound booklet on the desk. Flipping through it casually, he found densely recorded data, with the earliest entries from a month ago.
Zhu Zhanhe was quite impressed: “Recording every two hours – daytime is fine, but don’t you sleep at night?”
A’Lei rubbed her temples: “I sleep – I’m not made of iron. At night I have two maids take turns on night duty, waking me every two hours.”
Zhu Zhanhe asked: “So you haven’t slept through a whole night this entire month?”
A’Lei nodded, whispering instructions: “Don’t tell my sister. I made the maids promise not to tell anyone – we must hide it from sister.”
Zhu Zhanhe fell silent, then frantically winked at A’Lei.
A’Lei laughed: “Why are your features twitching and eyes rolling? Are you having facial paralysis at such a young age?”
Hu Shanwei, who had remained silent to avoid startling A’Lei, said: “Of course I’m keeping secrets for you.”
It’s over.
A’Lei’s smile gradually stiffened. She mustered courage to turn around: “Sister… actually adding it all up, I definitely sleep four hours total each day.”
Hu Shanwei was so angry she laughed, saying coldly: “Getting up once every two hours at night? Even training hawks isn’t this hard. You’re more capable than hawks – do you still want your eyes?”
Hu Shanwei feared A’Lei’s vision would weaken, so she had the house extensively renovated. Each transparent glass roof tile was valuable – firing such pure glass was extremely difficult, often producing not even one piece per kiln.
The sliding floor-to-ceiling windows around the room were specially custom-made by Japanese carpenters, ensuring sufficient light when A’Lei looked at things, not straining her eyes.
But no amount of prevention could withstand staying up late – that was most damaging to eyes.
A’Lei lowered her head, knowing the truth couldn’t be hidden. From experience, arguing back now would only make sister angrier.
Hu Shanwei picked up the ship clock from the water tank: “Whatever you like doing, I support you. I’ve never forced worldly requirements for women on you. You don’t like needlework or social interactions – I let you be. But you cannot abuse your own body. You’re still so young, yet need glasses to read at night. What about when you’re old? I’m over thirty years older than you – can I manage you for life?”
A’Lei panicked: “Sister, I was wrong! I’ll never stay up late again. Please give me back the ship clock. After a month of adjustments, it’s getting more and more accurate. From 2 AM last night until 10 AM now, there haven’t been any errors – it starts sailing on time. It might succeed this time.”
Zhu Zhanhe mediated: “Hu Shanggong, A’Lei knows she was wrong. Knowing mistakes and correcting them – nothing is better. From now on, have literate maids help record at night, noting good and bad results. When A’Lei wakes up during the day, she can handle it then. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
Hu Shanwei hesitated. If she let it go lightly this time, what if A’Lei didn’t learn her lesson? She was only thirteen – if her eyes were damaged, what about the future?
A’Lei shook Hu Shanwei’s arm coquettishly: “If sister doesn’t trust me, lock me in the bedroom at night and keep the key yourself – how about that?”
Hu Shanwei said: “You have so many clever tricks – can one lock contain you? If the door won’t open, won’t you climb through windows? If windows are nailed shut, you’d probably dig tunnels.”
Trust between sisters was completely gone.
A’Lei’s eyes rolled as an idea struck: “Sister, this ship clock is a birthday gift I’m preparing for brother-in-law. I was afraid I couldn’t finish it before his birthday, so I stayed up nights to rush it. Now the ship clock’s most difficult part is complete. If I stop halfway, it’s like cooking a pot of half-done rice – adding more fire won’t cook it through. All previous efforts would be wasted, and brother-in-law’s birthday gift would be ruined. Brother-in-law would be sad.”
Hearing it was for Mu Chun, Hu Shanwei’s gaze immediately warmed. This daughter wasn’t raised in vain.
Hu Shanwei returned the ship clock to A’Lei: “Since your brother-in-law isn’t home anyway, from today you’ll sleep with me.”
Hu Shanwei didn’t trust one lock – she trusted herself.
A’Lei quickly put the ship clock back in the water and continued recording.
Hu Shanwei said: “I’m resting at home today – I’ll record for you. You haven’t slept through one whole night in a month. Go to the bedroom to catch up on sleep and rest your eyes.”
Angry as Hu Shanwei was, most of it was heartache for A’Lei and self-blame. Waking up every two hours – how did she endure this past month?
Sigh, I’m her mother yet didn’t notice my daughter’s abnormal behavior, turning herself into a hawk, tormenting herself.
A’Lei was reluctant to leave her ship: “I can’t sleep in broad daylight.”
Hu Shanwei’s face was stern: “Even if you don’t sleep, closing your eyes is good.”
Zhu Zhanhe mediated again: “If she can’t sleep, let’s not force it. Let’s go watch a play. Today the Imperial Music Bureau is performing the complete Journey to the West, singing from morning till evening – very lively.”
Zhu Zhanhe offered a compromise. A’Lei thought it acceptable, and Hu Shanwei felt watching plays was also relaxing, so she agreed.
A’Lei looked back every few steps, reluctantly leaving her workshop. At the doorway, she suddenly turned and ran back.
Hu Shanwei picked up the ship clock to confiscate it, but A’Lei took cloth-wrapped glasses from a drawer, waved them at Hu Shanwei, and left with Zhu Zhanhe.
Empty-nest middle-aged Hu Shanwei waited boredly for the next hour. The steward came to report that Commander Ji of the Embroidered Uniform Guard had arrived.
“Quick, invite him in!” Hu Shanwei was delighted – undoubtedly Ji Gang was delivering Mu Chun’s letter.
Postman Ji Gang presented the letter for Hu Shanwei to sign for, personally delivering it each time. This time, Ji Gang brought additional news: “Mu family’s fourth son, Prince Consort Mu Xin, has begun suspecting A’Lei’s origins. He even wrote to Mu Sheng, saying he saw a man resembling Mu Chun with A’Lei. Mu Sheng told Mu Chun and sent Mu Xin’s letter intact to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, asking my opinion on how to explain to Mu Xin. I wanted your opinion, since he’s your fourth brother-in-law.”
Hu Shanwei buried her head reading Mu Chun’s letter – always “everything’s fine,” then complaining about mosquitoes, insects, and snakes in Jiaozhi, finally complaining about Mu Xin being troublesome, wanting her to listen to the Embroidered Uniform Guard and His Majesty’s decisions.
Hu Shanwei greedily read it twice before closing the letter: “It can’t be hidden anymore. You wouldn’t dare silence a Prince Consort, would you? Though Mu Xin is a Mu family member, his status is Prince Consort, His Majesty’s son-in-law. Better ask His Majesty’s opinion. My only requirement is that Mu Xin stop harassing and following my A’Lei. She’s mine and Mu Chun’s daughter, taking my surname Hu, not some Mu family young lady. Past, present, and future, she’s my sister. Don’t let him have designs on her or do that ancestor-recognition nonsense.”