Let’s talk about how Shen Qionglian and her father and brothers relocated their ancestor Shen Xiu’s grave. Just searching everywhere in the southwest for Shen Xiu’s tomb took over two years. Hard work pays off—Shen Qionglian finally found Shen Xiu’s tomb and retrieved his remains.

The former Yuan Dynasty’s richest man would return to his roots in Zhouzhuang, Kunshan County, Jiangsu—the place where he made his fortune and earned his first pot of gold.

Shen Qionglian was unconventional and decided to bury Shen Xiu underwater, building an underwater tomb.

The biggest characteristic of underwater tombs was that they cost money.

Shen Qionglian felt the biggest advantage of underwater tombs was theft prevention, so grave robbers wouldn’t covet the burial goods and disturb Shen Xiu’s remains.

The process of building an underwater tomb was similar to Mu Chun’s previous infrastructure work in Yunnan building dams.

First, they needed to block the interconnected rivers, artificially drain the water, turn the great river into mulberry fields, then continue digging down—the deeper the better. Unless grave robbers had fish gills, they would drown before even touching the tomb entrance.

Zhouzhuang was surrounded by water everywhere. People’s livelihoods and agriculture all needed water. If the Shen family cut off the water supply to downstream households, would those families let them be? The upstream families wouldn’t sit idle either. If the waterways were blocked and heavy rains came, upstream people would be displaced, their houses and fields flooded.

So while blocking the great river, they needed to open another temporary waterway to divert the water.

Building an underwater tomb required the same amount of work as building a dam. Dams were built with national resources; underwater tombs were paid for by the Shen family’s own silver, showing the Shen family’s enormous wealth.

Ancient people choosing burial sites all emphasized feng shui. “Feng shui” literally means avoiding wind and water. Shen Qionglian insisted on going against this principle, burying her ancestor underwater. Many Shen family members disapproved and caused quite a commotion for a while.

Unfortunately, Shen Qionglian had been a female official for many years and “had people above”—the Shen family members couldn’t touch her. Moreover, Shen Qionglian held the fifth rank; currently no one in the Shen clan had higher official status than her, so they could only submit to Shen Qionglian’s “tyranny.”

In any era, power combined with money could indeed allow one to do whatever they wanted, regardless of gender.

Economic foundation determines superstructure. Whether on the scale of nations or families, the status of men and women in families ultimately depends on how much power and money they control.

Even in today’s society, though people loudly proclaim gender equality on the surface, male superiority and female inferiority still persist. Only by maintaining a clear mind, adhering to the Marxist values that “economic foundation determines superstructure,” and striving to master absolute strength can one break these rules.

Love and family affection cannot achieve gender equality—you can’t generate electricity with love. So-called “returning to the family” is even more regressive. Don’t be fooled by so-called successful people. Rather than dating a domineering CEO, become one yourself.

Shen Qionglian didn’t care how others whispered behind her back. As long as she felt good about it, that was enough. She even told her father and brothers, “After I die, I also want to be buried underwater. What a peaceful place. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to.”

When construction actually began, Shen Qionglian discovered it was too expensive. After burying Shen Xiu, there would be no money left to bury herself. She deeply understood the difficulties the court faced with infrastructure projects.

They opened temporary waterways, drained the riverbed, and continued digging down, ensuring living people couldn’t swim to this place. Then they built a stone tomb on site, chose an auspicious day for the reburial, closed the tomb entrance, and everyone retreated.

Then they blasted open the temporary dams blocking the water flow, letting the river water return to its normal course, filling the dried riverbed and concealing the underwater tomb.

Finally, they filled in the temporary waterway and built the Shen family ancestral hall above it, along with tomb keepers’ houses and fields, restoring everything to its original state. A generation of wealthy merchants now rested eternally underwater.

Such a massive project took four years, employed thousands of workers, and the Shen family spent money like water, letting Shen Qionglian do as she pleased.

In any era, those doing business need backing from the court, otherwise no matter how large their family fortune, once targeted by officials for harvesting, they can only stretch out their necks to be slaughtered. Of the money the Shen family earned, at least half was due to Shen Qionglian’s contributions.

During these four years, besides tomb construction, Shen Qionglian’s spiritual world was also quite fulfilling. She discovered that the local drama of Kunshan sounded clear, melodious, and quite elegant—completely different from the northern tunes popular in the Ming court. It formed its own school called Kunqu, a branch of southern tunes.

When Shen Qionglian had nothing to do, she went everywhere collecting Kunqu manuscripts and artists who passed down the art orally. While listening, she recorded everything into books. She even maintained two Kunqu troupes, deleting vulgar parts from scripts and rewriting lyrics and music for the troupes to perform.

Collecting antiques and maintaining opera troupes were the two most money-burning hobbies, truly bottomless pits. Even underwater tombs eventually get filled, but maintaining opera troupes was like wealthy people in later generations investing in films—truly a crematorium for money.

The perfectionist Shen Qionglian revised her scripts three times. Just as she was preparing for performances, the Embroidered Uniform Guard came to fetch her. The Shen family father and brothers breathed sighs of relief—if this continued, even ten golden mountains wouldn’t be enough for Shen Qionglian to spend.

Thus Shen Qionglian ended her long vacation and returned to the Ming court.

She had been on leave for seven years. During this time, the court’s mistress had changed three times: Empress Renxiao, Noble Consort Zhang, and Noble Consort Quan.

Shen Qionglian was aloof and proud, the type of leader who grasped the big picture and let small details go. Noble Consort Quan was meticulous about everything, with caution and following precedent as her primary principles.

Shen Qionglian had previously assisted strong, imposing rear palace mistresses like Empress Renxiao. If it were the well-born Noble Consort Zhang, they should have cooperated harmoniously. Now with Noble Consort Quan, Shen Qionglian always felt this new mistress was petty and not straightforward enough.

Noble Consort Quan also felt Shen Qionglian was too aloof, not as understanding, patient, and easy to work with as Hu Shanwei. But Noble Consort Quan had no backing and no confidence, so she didn’t dare suggest a replacement. She kept Shen Qionglian at a respectful distance, creating deep estrangement between them. Both hoped Hu Shanwei would return quickly.

Shen Qionglian and Noble Consort Quan: Let’s just make do. What else can we do?

Hu Shanwei publicly claimed she had dreamed of her deceased father, who said he missed her and her sister. So Hu Shanwei requested leave, recalled Shen Qionglian, and took her sister to Yunnan to pay respects at their father’s grave.

Filial piety was a good cover, second only to loyalty. Hu Shanwei and A’Lei traveled day and night, reaching the Mu residence in Kunming in half a month.

By then it was midsummer and the weather was hot. Hu Shanwei and A’Lei, dusty from travel, arrived at a quiet courtyard. As they approached the gate, they smelled a strong medicinal odor. When Hu Shanwei caught this scent, like smelling onions, tears rolled down drop by drop.

Knowing his wife and daughter were coming, Mu Chun had dressed himself up properly—washed his hair, bathed, shaved his beard. Looking at himself in the mirror, his cheeks were gaunt, his skin had whitened somewhat during recovery. He had lost about forty-plus pounds. “My belt grows loose, yet I feel no regret”—his belly fat was completely gone, his eight-pack abs more prominent. It would be even better if the abs didn’t have several centipede-like surgical scars.

At the time, an elephant frightened by cannon fire had charged over. Half his body was trampled by the elephant, breaking two ribs that pierced his internal organs like daggers, stabbing himself from within.

Imperial Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan had both joined the rebellion-quelling army as military doctors. The husband and wife, bold with their high skills, simply made two cuts in his abdomen, extracted the two broken ribs from his belly, stuffed the intestines that had spilled out back in, and sewed him back up.

This desperate, last-resort method dragged Mu Chun back from death’s door.

The moment Mu Chun regained consciousness, both Mu Sheng and Mu Ang nearly knelt before the physician couple.

Mu Chun had a good foundation and was physically strong as livestock. Under Imperial Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan’s careful treatment, after intermittent fevers for a month, his condition finally stabilized.

Mu Chun scored his own appearance and physique in the mirror. Regardless, the weight loss was successful. He had several scars on his face but not severe enough to be disfiguring. His abdominal wounds were hidden by clothes and invisible. His only dissatisfaction was his right arm—the bone hadn’t healed yet and was bound tightly, immobile, forcing him to learn eating with his left hand.

Two large vats in the room were piled with ice like small mountains to dispel the heat. Mu Chun had multiple wounds and couldn’t tolerate heat—this most primitive air conditioning saved his life.

He wanted to go out to meet his wife and daughter, but the Tan-Ru couple strictly forbade vigorous activity or exposure to sunlight, otherwise the wounds meeting sweat and other dirty substances would become dangerously inflamed and swollen.

From a sustainable development perspective, staying home with air conditioning was right. Mu Chun was confined to his “boudoir,” eagerly anticipating his wife and daughter’s arrival until his neck stretched long.

With a creak, the door opened. Hu Shanwei and A’Lei rushed in with a wave of summer heat.

Hu Shanwei rushed over first, tightly hugging Mu Chun’s waist. His previous waist circumference had been hard to embrace; now she easily encircled it. She pressed her left ear against his chest, hearing the strong heartbeat, and only then did her heart, suspended throughout the journey, finally settle.

After listening to his heartbeat, Hu Shanwei released her hands, stepped back two paces, and carefully examined Mu Chun. Mu Chun spun in place. “Look, I’m fine—not missing arms or legs.”

Hu Shanwei stroked his right arm bound and fixed with wooden boards. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore.” Mu Chun put on a brave face. “Fortunately I reacted quickly and rolled out from under the elephant’s legs. My right arm was only trampled and broken. If I’d been a step slower and the bones were crushed to powder, they could only have amputated the arm to save my life.”

Hu Shanwei spat. “Nonsense.”

Mu Chun looked at A’Lei, who was tearfully looking down, and extended his freely moving left hand. “After a year apart, my A’Lei has become a young lady. Come here, let brother-in-law have a good look.”

A’Lei wiped away her tears, forcing a smile. “As long as brother-in-law is fine. Good people have heavenly protection.”

Mu Chun’s arms were long—his left hand pulled both Shanwei and A’Lei into his embrace. He sighed, “I’ve been worried about you two constantly. How could I bear to die? Even if I had to fight the Black and White Impermanence in the underworld, I’d run back to reunite with you.”

The three embraced, crying and laughing alternately. Between life and death, everything seemed lighter. Seeing Mu Chun, who had just recovered from serious illness and was thin as a reed, Hu Shanwei decided to stay in Kunming to care for him, setting aside everything until he recovered.

Hu Shanwei visited the Tan-Ru couple, bringing generous gifts to thank them for saving his life—a ship clock made by A’Lei’s own hands.

Initially A’Lei refused, insisting on giving it to Mu Chun as a birthday gift. Hu Shanwei said, “Giving a clock sounds like ‘seeing someone off to death’—how unlucky! You coming to Kunming to accompany him already makes him very satisfied. This clock is more suitable for Imperial Physician Ru and Imperial Physician Tan. They are the lifesavers of our family of three. They lack nothing in terms of money and such things, but they’ll definitely like this ship clock. I really can’t think of any more precious gift to express my gratitude.”

A’Lei felt her sister made sense and reluctantly gave the ship clock to her sister, though her mind had a question. “Sister, they saved brother-in-law, that’s true, but when did they save you and me?”

“This…” Hu Shanwei was suddenly speechless. Back then, as an elderly mother, with A’Lei being larger than normal babies in the womb, without Imperial Physician Ru’s assistance in delivery, both mother and child might have died.

Hu Shanwei deflected randomly, “Imperial Physician Ru saved us. You were very young then and don’t remember.”

A’Lei asked again, “What happened to me and sister that required such an expert as Imperial Physician Ru to save us?”

Hu Shanwei said off the cuff, “The house we used to live in was too remote. You and I were playing in the chrysanthemum fields when we were bitten by a poisonous snake. Imperial Physician Ru removed the snake venom and saved us.”

“Oh.” A’Lei nodded.

Hu Shanwei put the ship clock in a box and went to visit the Tan family, instructing A’Lei, “Watch your brother-in-law carefully. Don’t let him go out.”

As soon as Hu Shanwei left, A’Lei brought a plate of iced grapes to the study, where Mu Chun was holding a sword in his left hand, trying to practice sword movements.

A’Lei peeled the grape skins, used a toothpick to remove the seeds cleanly, and fed the fruit to Mu Chun. Previously at home, Mu Chun had been this careful feeding her; now it was her turn to repay him.

A’Lei chatted casually with Mu Chun, “Brother-in-law, I remember when we lived in that house on Kunming’s outskirts, it was always very safe and we lived carefree. How could a poisonous snake have gotten into the chrysanthemum fields?”

Mu Chun laughed, “How could that be possible? With me there, could I let such things get to our house? The courtyard perimeter was regularly sprinkled with insect and snake repellent. You were young and remembered wrong—maybe it was just a caterpillar.”

Why were sister and brother-in-law saying different things? A’Lei felt suspicious. In matters of life and death, brother-in-law wouldn’t lie. Why would sister deceive me?