Hu Shanwei worried about A’Lei being controlled by the Mu family, becoming the Mu family’s “wealth.”
In this era, both women and men were the “private property” of their families. Neither marriage nor wealth could be decided autonomously—they became tools of their clans.
To break free from family shackles, one had to be strong enough that the family wouldn’t dare make moves against them. Both Mu Chun and Hu Shanwei had relied on their abilities to escape their families’ arrangements.
Hu Shanwei’s worry wasn’t unfounded.
The Mu family recently had two particularly meaningful marriages.
The eldest son of the Mu residence, heir to Duke Qianguo Mu Bin, had just turned sixteen when he became betrothed to the eldest legitimate daughter of Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu—Zhang Shi. This was a typical alliance of the strong, a perfectly matched union.
It was said that Duke Qianguo Mu Sheng and Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu had partnered twice to quell rebellions in Jiaozhi, establishing a deep revolutionary friendship. Since their families had unmarried sons and daughters respectively, the two men hit it off immediately and arranged the betrothal for their children, planning to hold the wedding upon their triumphant return to court.
The marriage alliance between the Mu residence and Duke Yingguo’s mansion represented a fusion of the Ming Dynasty’s old-guard founding nobility and the new nobility from the Jingnan campaign, with Emperor Yongle’s tacit approval—a typical political marriage.
Among the aristocratic class, marriage affairs from beginning to end had nothing to do with the bride and groom themselves; it was a redistribution of political resources between two families.
The second marriage involved the eldest Miss Mu of the Mu residence—Duke Qianguo Mu Sheng’s daughter, who at only fourteen years old, had caught the eye of Prince Zhao Zhu Gaosui.
Prince Zhao had basically been stationed in Beijing, responsible for northern defenses. Brave and skilled in battle, he shared a lineage with his second brother Prince Han Zhu Gaoxu, and the two brothers had an intimate relationship.
Prince Zhao was the youngest son of Emperor Yongle and Empress Renxiao, now thirty years old. He had a principal wife, Princess Zhao, but faced extraordinary difficulties with offspring—to this day, he had neither sons nor even daughters.
Prince Zhao and Princess Zhao were childhood sweethearts who had once shared intimate times. But love had an expiration date. In their teens and twenties, they both felt young and thought they could take their time with children—when fate arrived, pregnancy would naturally follow.
But having reached the age of thirty and established himself, love had been worn away by reality and anxiety. Prince Zhao couldn’t wait any longer. His crown prince elder brother was a fat, lame man who had produced nine sons and one daughter, while his own knees remained empty.
So Prince Zhao divorced Princess Zhao on grounds of “having no sons.”
According to Ming law, though “having no sons” was among the “Seven Grounds for Divorce,” there were also “Three Prohibitions Against Divorce” to restrain the “Seven Grounds.” First was “having somewhere to go but nowhere to return”—meaning having no maternal family to depend on, facing a dead end if divorced. Second was “sharing three years of mourning”—meaning serving mourning for parents-in-law or husband’s younger sisters and brothers; in feudal society, filial piety was paramount. Third was “from poverty to wealth”—meaning not abandoning one’s wife who shared hardships.
Princess Zhao Xu Shi had observed mourning for her mother-in-law Empress Renxiao and sister-in-law Princess Changning. Her virtue and filial conduct were beyond question, placing her in the “Three Prohibitions” category.
But Princess Zhao Xu Shi was also a court lady selected by Hu Shanwei during the Hongwu reign’s “selecting beauties from the fields, marrying commoners” program, coming from the common class with no power or influence. When Prince Zhao divorced her citing the “Seven Grounds,” the Xu family didn’t dare utter a word.
Actually, Prince Zhao could have taken numerous concubines to solve the succession problem without necessarily reaching the point of divorce. For example, at the Mu residence, Duke Qianguo’s wife Madam Cheng had no children—all the offspring were born to concubines. She had observed three years of mourning for her father-in-law and one year for her elder brother-in-law Mu Chun, raised the children, and managed household affairs, yet still sat firmly as the respected matriarch of the Mu residence.
But Prince Zhao, being the legitimate youngest son of an empress, held prejudices against those born to concubines and couldn’t accept having a son born to a concubine inherit the princely title in the future. Moreover, his elder brother the Crown Prince and second brother Prince Han both had two or more legitimate sons. Prince Zhao felt indignant—he only wanted legitimate sons, or at least a legitimate eldest son to inherit the title.
To have legitimate sons, he had to divorce his wife.
Prince Zhao divorced Princess Zhao without hesitation. The Xu family quietly came to the prince’s mansion to collect Xu Shi, not daring to cause trouble or even breathe loudly.
The Imperial Clan Court confiscated the jade seal and golden册 that symbolized her status as princess consort. Starting as a commoner, Xu Shi had soared through the selection process to become a Ming prince’s consort, later gaining honor through her husband’s elevation to become a Ming prince’s principal wife. Now she had fallen from the branch, returning to common status at the place where her dreams began.
Xu Shi was personally selected by Hu Shanwei. Back then, she had fought her way through the Chuxiu Palace, crossing a single-log bridge with thousands of troops and horses. The difficulty was no less than scoring admission to Beijing or Tsinghua University in later generations. For a common woman to break through strict class barriers through court selection—how difficult this was could probably only be understood by Hu Shanwei, who also came from common origins.
Hu Shanwei sympathized with Xu Shi, but as a court female official, she was helpless and could only seek out Noble Consort Zhang, who still held power over the rear palace at the time.
Hu Shanwei said, “Prince Zhao divorced Xu Shi on grounds of ‘having no sons’ for the sake of succession. By rights, since Xu Shi observed mourning for both Empress Renxiao and Princess Changning, she falls under the ‘Three Prohibitions’ category. Though the Imperial Clan Court approved the divorce, the imperial family is ultimately in the wrong, and many among the people sympathize with Xu Shi’s innocence. Your Ladyship is a stepmother; if you could do something for Xu Shi to restore some face for the imperial family, it would also be performing good deeds and accumulating virtue.”
The words “no sons” struck at Noble Consort Zhang’s sore point. She too had no children and yearned for a child. Though Noble Consort Zhang came from a distinguished family, she could understand Xu Shi’s despair and helplessness.
Moreover, there were many folk tales about performing good deeds accumulating merit and blessed rewards, beneficial for offspring. Noble Consort Zhang then petitioned Emperor Yongle, saying that though Xu Shi was divorced for having no sons and lost Prince Zhao’s favor, considering that she had observed three years of great mourning for Empress Renxiao, they should arrange Xu Shi’s remaining years well.
Just as “having no sons” was Noble Consort Zhang’s fatal weakness, “Empress Renxiao” was also Emperor Yongle’s fatal weakness—one touch and it hit the mark.
Sure enough, Emperor Yongle showed signs of being moved.
Noble Consort Zhang struck while the iron was hot: “Moreover, Xu Shi was once a prince’s consort. Divorced and returned home, no one would dare marry her as a wife. Living at her natal family, parents wouldn’t despise their daughter, but as days stretch long, how do we know the brothers and sisters-in-law won’t become disdainful? Your subject believes the imperial family should arrange Xu Shi’s remaining years well, not letting her have a desolate old age.”
Emperor Yongle said, “Supporting one more person is merely a small matter. You arrange it, and don’t let anyone look down on Xu Shi.”
Noble Consort Zhang issued an imperial edict: except for lacking the title of prince’s consort, Xu Shi would receive the same material treatment as a princess consort, and was granted a large residence, imperial estates, plus eunuchs and servants to support her.
This way, Xu Shi could live respectably with generous divorce support without having to watch her natal family’s expressions.
Noble Consort Zhang’s action actually somewhat contradicted Prince Zhao’s face. However, Zhang Shi had her good brother Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu as backing, with a powerful maternal family background—unlike Xu Shi who had no foundation and was weak and easily bullied. Prince Zhao said nothing.
Moreover, Zhang Fu had a good relationship with Prince Han, and Prince Zhao was a supporter of Prince Han. With this connection, Prince Zhao couldn’t very well criticize Noble Consort Zhang.
Noble Consort Zhang’s compassion for Xu Shi, taking initiative to speak up and secure a respectable remaining life for her, had considerable influence in the imperial rear palace. Though people didn’t dare discuss it openly due to Prince Zhao’s dignity, privately Noble Consort Zhang’s reputation was quite good, changing the previous impression of her as stern and rigid.
In any era, people revere the quality of kindness, especially in the ruthless imperial family where it becomes even more precious.
Noble Consort Zhang came from good birth, was capable, worked seriously and responsibly, and gained a reputation for virtue and kindness by helping the divorced Princess Zhao Xu Shi. Unfortunately, at her most brilliant moment, she chose to confront Emperor Yongle with an ultimatum: either give her children or give her the empress position, resulting in her losing power over the rear palace and being confined to Yanxi Palace under the pretext of recuperating from illness.
Now Noble Consort Quan had replaced her in managing the rear palace. Noble Consort Quan was rootless duckweed with no foundation or background, lacking confidence. People in the rear palace secretly discussed: Xu Shi was so lucky to receive treatment equivalent to a princess consort before Noble Consort Zhang fell from favor. If Noble Consort Quan had encountered such a matter, she probably wouldn’t have dared make a sound, not daring to contradict Prince Zhao’s face.
People are strange creatures. When in power, they disliked Noble Consort Zhang for being too strict. When Noble Consort Zhang stepped down and was replaced by the soft Noble Consort Quan, people began to remember Noble Consort Zhang’s good points.
After Prince Zhao divorced his commoner princess consort, he hoped his second wife’s status would be as high as possible, so that the legitimate son born in the future would also be respectable.
After Xu Shi left the mansion, Prince Zhao immediately proposed marriage to the Mu family. Looking around the capital, who else had qualifications as long-standing and status as high as the Mu residence among the nobility?
The maternal grandfather of Mu Sheng, the Mu family head, was from the clan of Marquis Changxing Geng Shi. Because Geng Bingwen insisted on recognizing only Emperor Jianwen as emperor, the entire family was exterminated by Emperor Yongle. Having his daughter marry Prince Zhao as his second wife was an excellent opportunity to demonstrate loyalty, so Mu Sheng agreed to Prince Zhao’s marriage proposal.
Therefore, whether it was the marriage between Duke Qianguo’s heir Mu Bin and Duke Yingguo’s eldest legitimate daughter Zhang Shi, or Miss Mu marrying Prince Zhao as his second principal wife, both were unquestionably political marriages.
Emperor Yongle nodded his approval for the marriage grants. Thus, the fourteen-year-old Miss Mu, with her ten-li red dowry, traveled thousands of li to Beijing’s Prince Zhao mansion to become the new Princess Zhao.
Prince Zhao was thirty years old—old enough to be Princess Zhao’s father. Three months later, good news came from Beijing’s Prince Zhao mansion: Princess Zhao was pregnant.
Prince Zhao, gaining a son in middle age, increasingly treasured his young princess consort, feeling that divorcing his wife had been correct—after the divorce, his luck with offspring had arrived.
In this era, a fourteen-year-old woman becoming pregnant was normal—Empress Renxiao had married Emperor Yongle at fourteen, became pregnant that same year, and gave birth to eldest daughter Princess Yong’an the following year. But when Empress Renxiao was fourteen, Emperor Yongle was only sixteen! Now Prince Zhao was already thirty…
Hearing this so-called “joyous news,” Hu Shanwei felt a chill of revulsion: if Mu Chun were still Duke Qianguo, A’Lei would be Miss Mu, and it would be A’Lei becoming Princess Zhao…
The two political marriages of the Mu family’s children sounded alarm bells in Hu Shanwei’s heart. Children’s marriages were excellent political resources. When Mu Xin questioned A’Lei’s identity at this time, Hu Shanwei couldn’t help but think the worst—if Mu Xin dared reach out toward A’Lei, she would have to sever that hand preemptively to prevent A’Lei from falling under Mu clan control.
“Understood. Mu Xin doesn’t have such audacity,” Ji Gang nodded. Just then it struck twelve o’clock, and the ship clock in the water tank began its performance. Hu Shanwei picked up her brush to record for A’Lei.
Ji Gang, with his extensive experience, was also quite surprised seeing the ship clock automatically glide in circles to tell time. “Your A’Lei actually created such an ingenious contraption. With her craftsmanship, she can support herself in the future. This ship clock is wonderful. Next year for His Majesty’s birthday, if you present this at the Longevity Festival, it will surely bring great imperial joy.”
Ji Gang was obsessed with scheming, always thinking about how to please the emperor—already a completely different person from his previous naive, decorative role.
After finishing her recording, Hu Shanwei set down her brush. “This is something A’Lei prepared as a birthday gift for Mu Chun. Besides, this device isn’t very accurate and needs multiple adjustments. If we presented this to His Majesty and it ran inaccurately or stopped working on his birthday, that would be the capital crime of deceiving the sovereign.”
Ji Gang chuckled, “You’re right. Palace Supervisor Hu is indeed thorough in her considerations.”
It was getting late, and Hu Shanwei was somewhat hungry. She asked Ji Gang, “Besides delivering the family letter, do you have other business this visit?”
The implication was: why haven’t you left yet? I need to eat.
Ji Gang’s face was thicker than the clock’s iron skin. He smiled, “I timed my arrival for mealtime. Besides delivering the family letter, of course I wanted to freeload a lunch.”
Since Ji Gang was so frank, Hu Shanwei felt embarrassed to drive him away. She had the kitchen add dishes and invited Ji Gang to eat.
Ji Gang was not polite. After eating and drinking his fill, he took food with him, saying the Hu family’s braised duck heads were delicious, and packed a box to take back.
Ji Gang had Mu Xin come over for tea and explained the matter. Mu Xin was both surprised and delighted. “So Miss Hu is my eldest niece and Palace Supervisor Hu is my elder sister-in-law? These two women really can keep their composure, hiding this from me for so long.”
Ji Gang warned, “Miss Hu doesn’t know her own background. Keep this rotting in your stomach and don’t disturb the young lady’s life.”
Ji Gang thought to himself: Someone who can create such a precise device as the ship clock should be a calm, focused young lady. A’Lei doesn’t resemble Shanwei in appearance, but her mind and personality are similar to Shanwei in some ways—she just doesn’t resemble the unschooled Mu Chun. This young lady really grew up well, inheriting only the good traits.
Mu Xin showed regret. “Should have been a first-rank duke’s wife, yet became a fifth-rank female official; should have been the eldest daughter of a ducal family’s main branch, now she’s the daughter of an obscure, nearly commoner family. They’ve truly been wronged.”
The basic rule of this society was that unmarried women followed their fathers, married women followed their husbands. A father’s and husband’s status determined a woman’s position.
A’Lei was nominally Hu Rong’s daughter. Hu Rong was a merchant who had bought a hollow position as Junior Secretary with money—his status was purchased with cash. So even though A’Lei had Hu Shanwei, a fifth-rank female official, as her sister, and lived surrounded by imperial relatives and high officials, none of this related to her. Her status was actually so humble it couldn’t bear looking at. The neighboring Mu residence’s several Miss Mus associated with her as a close friend entirely out of respect for Hu Shanwei’s position as a three-reign Palace Supervisor.
Ji Gang said, “It’s not Prince Consort’s place to pity them. The mother and daughter are doing quite well. Mu Chun and Palace Supervisor Hu decided to retire together—this was approved by Emperor Gaozhu himself. It’s just that during the Jingnan campaign, for certain reasons, Palace Supervisor Hu chose to emerge from retirement and return to the palace to continue as Palace Supervisor, serving as an inside agent to coordinate with His Majesty in eliminating treacherous officials and helping His Majesty ascend the dragon throne.”
Ji Gang deliberately said half while leaving half unsaid, intimidating Mu Xin to prevent him from coming up with bad ideas to harass the Hu family mother and daughter.
Mu Xin sighed, “Palace Supervisor Hu is capable. I didn’t know such secrets. No wonder elder brother was willing to give up the Duke Qianguo position to retreat to the mountains and forests for her, becoming the man behind her, not even able to acknowledge his only flesh and blood.”
Clearly his daughter, yet she became his sister-in-law.
Ji Gang sneered, “Acknowledgment is not as important as companionship. Are titles that important? Everyone makes different choices.”
Anyway, this old man has all kinds of envy, jealousy and hatred toward Mu Chun.
This old man has been a scandalous lover for over twenty years. Having a title doesn’t help much.
Ji Gang came to convey His Majesty’s meaning. Mu Xin didn’t dare disobey the imperial edict, but felt unwilling, thinking that when A’Lei discussed marriage in the future, he as her uncle should help his eldest niece choose a good match. “Following the husband after marriage”—if her current status was low, it didn’t matter. Once married to the right person, she could still soar, and see who would dare look down on his elder brother’s daughter.
Having resolved the big trouble that was Mu Xin, the Ming Dynasty entered the cold winter months. Hu Shanwei went in and out of the palace daily, assisting Noble Consort Quan. In the evenings she returned home to sleep in the same bed with A’Lei, mother and daughter together, supervising A’Lei’s eye protection.
Time passed this way into the twelfth year of Yongle. Soon came spring, and good news arrived from Jiaozhi: Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu and Duke Qianguo Mu Sheng, this imperial double wall, had achieved great victory, capturing alive the Jiaozhi rebel leader Chen Jikuo. They would soon return to court in triumph.
Hu Shanwei was overjoyed. Mu Chun was finally coming back, and A’Lei’s ship clock was gradually becoming stable—it could be given as a gift.
In April, Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu returned to court in triumph. Hu Shanwei couldn’t wait to finish work and asked Noble Consort Quan for leave to go welcome Mu Chun at the city gate.
Hu Shanwei and A’Lei rented a room in a teahouse near Jinchuan Gate. The two took turns watching for the Ming army’s entry into the city. As soon as Mu Chun appeared, they would run downstairs.
But they waited and waited, drinking belly-fulls of tea, running to the toilet twice each, until the last soldier walked through Jinchuan Gate—still no sign of Mu Chun.
Hu Shanwei immediately became anxious, her mind uncontrollably filled with various bad thoughts. Then Ji Gang entered, carrying a family letter. “This is from Duke Yingguo. Though the Jiaozhi rebellion is quelled, Chen Jikuo still has remnants that haven’t been eliminated. Mu Chun stayed in Jiaozhi with Mu Sheng to guard there. Once the situation stabilizes, he’ll return, so he didn’t come back to the capital with Duke Yingguo.”
Hu Shanwei opened the letter. The handwriting was Mu Chun’s, and the content matched Ji Gang’s account. He still complained about Jiaozhi’s hot, humid climate. But Hu Shanwei felt something was wrong.
Hu Shanwei threw down the family letter. “Fake. Someone imitated Mu Chun’s handwriting.”
Ji Gang opened the family letter, swearing earnestly, “It’s clearly identical to Mu Chun’s chicken scratch. Who could imitate such writing?”
The handwriting indeed had no problems, and the letter’s tone was also fine—it was Mu Chun’s customary roguish, bantering writing style. The problem was with the logic—the letter’s content was too logical, while Mu Chun always wrote whatever came to mind. Sometimes when recounting something, he would interject sentences like “I just killed a mosquito, it hurt so much, I slapped my own face, the mosquito got squashed flat, it died quite painlessly while I felt pain, this isn’t fair!”
Mu Chun wrote letters without logic. When an illogical person suddenly became logical, it could only mean the letter writer had changed.
Hu Shanwei said, “I don’t believe a single word you say. My husband’s family letters—others can imitate the skin but not the bones. I’ve known him for many years. Don’t try to deceive me!”
Hu Shanwei was angry, anxious and frightened. She grabbed a cup and smashed it hard on the ground.
A’Lei had never seen Hu Shanwei so angry. Something must have happened to brother-in-law!
A’Lei said, “Sister, don’t panic. Minister Ji is unreliable. I’ll make a trip to Jiaozhi to find brother-in-law.”
A’Lei was ready to leave immediately. Ji Gang blocked the doorway and sighed, “Fine, I deceived you. Mu Chun was injured in the final battle and is currently recovering at the Mu residence in Kunming. Now that the weather is getting hot and the journey is long, wounds easily rot and stink, making it difficult to move patients. The Mu residence cellar has stored ice blocks, so Mu Chun is quite comfortable there, with his brothers Mu Sheng and Mu Ang caring for him.”
“Prince Zhou’s mansion is also in Kunming. Imperial Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan are both at the prince’s mansion compiling medical texts. There are the best doctors there, and precious medicines are used freely. Mu Chun will recover quickly. Once he’s well, he’ll return.”
Hu Shanwei felt thunderstruck, her head buzzing. “Mu Chun… where is he injured?”
Mu Chun was rough-skinned and thick-fleshed. This time he must have been seriously injured in vital areas!
Ji Gang said, “An elephant trampled and broke two of his ribs. He was lucky—the broken ribs were a copper coin’s width away from his kidneys, so he escaped disaster. Also, his right arm was broken in two places. Imperial Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan set the bones for him, binding him tightly so he can’t move. He can’t write letters until the bones heal and the bindings are loosened.”
Hu Shanwei curled up her body as if feeling these pains herself. Suddenly, she stood up, taking A’Lei’s hand. “I don’t believe you. I want to go to the Kunming Mu residence. Seeing is believing. I want to see him with my own eyes and be with him.”
Ji Gang said, “You’re crazy. If you leave, what about the rear palace? His Majesty entrusted the rear palace to you. Do you dare disobey the imperial edict?”
Hu Shanwei said, “I didn’t enter the palace to become a widow. If something happens to Mu Chun, I’ll be sad for the rest of my life. Shen Qionglian has already completed the reburial of her ancestor Shen Xiu and has been traveling for two years. You can invite her back to take charge. Before I return to the palace, she already served as Palace Supervisor for five years. Now it’s her turn to replace me.”