A’Lei was now fourteen years old. Last winter, while Hu Shanwei shared a bed with her to protect her eyes, one winter night she woke up feeling uncomfortable, with dull pain in her lower abdomen and dampness in her sleeping pants. She thought she had wet herself and reached down to touch…
A’Lei screamed, waking up Hu Shanwei.
A’Lei’s face turned pale with fright, looking in panic at the bloodstains on the bedding. “I’m going to die! I’m going to die!”
Hu Shanwei was both surprised and delighted. Time had passed so quickly—her A’Lei had grown into a young woman so fast. She hurriedly comforted A’Lei, “It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Every woman experiences this when they grow up. Don’t eat cold things for the next few days, and don’t touch cold water.”
A’Lei couldn’t accept it. “A few more days? I can’t stand it now.”
Hu Shanwei called for the night-duty maid to bring hot water and handed A’Lei a stack of unused “Aunt Chen” cloths, teaching her how to use them, saying, “From now on, you’ll have a few days like this every month.”
A’Lei was thunderstruck and fell back onto the bed. “When will this end?”
Hu Shanwei said, “Not until a woman grows old. I still have it monthly.”
A’Lei felt this suffering would truly be endless. “Besides getting old, isn’t there any other way?”
Hu Shanwei thought for a moment. “It temporarily stops when a woman is pregnant or nursing a baby.”
After hearing this, A’Lei felt like she’d been sentenced to life imprisonment and sat up straight with a whoosh. “I… I object!”
The objection was invalid.
From then on, A’Lei had to use the detested yet indispensable “Aunt Chen” for several days each month. Moreover, this was just the beginning of changes. Her chest began to ache and swell as if someone were blowing air under her skin, puffing up like lotus pods in a summer pond.
Hu Shanwei had someone measure and tailor a chest binding for her—the front piece was fabric cut and sewn to fit snugly against her chest three-dimensionally, while the back had two straps that crisscrossed several times and tied tightly at the ribs. This way, when walking, her chest wouldn’t embarrassingly bounce like two restless little birds trying to burst free.
A’Lei was bound until she had no temper left. “It’s uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable than wearing brother-in-law’s armor. Will this ever end? How big will they grow before they stop?”
Hu Shanwei coughed and said, “Hard to say, it varies by individual constitution. Some are like fried eggs, some like lotus pods, fists, steamed buns, melons, papayas, and some even grow to small watermelons.”
After hearing this, A’Lei sighed deeply. “No wonder the eldest sister from the neighboring Mu residence always says girls don’t have many happy days, telling us younger sisters to treasure our boudoir time, play happily, and not ‘force new sorrows into poetry’—there will be plenty to worry about later. Turns out Sister Mu was speaking from the heart.”
The eldest Miss Mu was Mu Sheng’s eldest daughter, who had just turned fourteen last year when she married the thirty-year-old Prince Zhao Zhu Gaosui, who had divorced his first wife. She became pregnant less than two months after the wedding. Regarding this political marriage, Mu Shi, now Princess Zhao, had no say. A budding flower hadn’t even bloomed before it withered and bore fruit.
Hu Shanwei embraced A’Lei. “Don’t worry. The physical discomfort you’re experiencing is decided by Heaven—I can’t change that. But other things, like marriage—whether you marry or not in the future, or who you choose to marry—you’ll be free to decide. With me and your brother-in-law protecting you, you don’t need to care about worldly opinions.”
The suffering Hu Shanwei endured in her youth when forced to remarry was still hard to forget. What a desperate, helpless period that was—as if she alone was fighting the entire world. Even her loving father became a stranger, constantly finding matchmakers to arrange marriages for her, like shopkeepers eager to sell off old merchandise, grateful if anyone would take it. This pain of being devalued and objectified made her feel as humble as dust, with everyone able to trample and despise her simply because she refused to marry.
Her kindness, intelligence, and the wealth she created by copying books for the shop were all negated by her refusal to marry. Not marrying was like committing major crimes such as murder and arson—unforgivable.
Now that she had become strong, her A’Lei wouldn’t have to suffer these hardships. A’Lei could choose her own life.
In her sister’s warm embrace and solemn promise, A’Lei’s physical discomfort from the changes immediately disappeared. Compared to other noble girls and the still childish-faced Princess Zhao, A’Lei felt she was already fortunate.
During the year Mu Chun was away at war again, A’Lei accepted the changes in her body. But when the now-teenage A’Lei returned to Kunming and saw brother-in-law Mu Chun again, the moment she pushed open the door, her sister flew over like a bird and tightly embraced brother-in-law.
A’Lei was only a step behind. She instinctively rushed over like her sister, wanting to hug brother-in-law as before to see how his injuries had healed.
But seeing sister and brother-in-law embracing tightly, the now-grown A’Lei stopped in her tracks: she had grown up, and there were distinctions between men and women. She couldn’t throw herself into brother-in-law’s arms to act spoiled as before.
But… I really want to go over and hug brother-in-law properly.
While A’Lei was conflicted, Mu Chun extended his good left hand, beckoning to her, “After a year apart, my A’Lei has become a young lady. Come here, let brother-in-law have a good look.”
Seeing the drastically thinned brother-in-law smiling at her, A’Lei instantly forgot about propriety between men and women. Her mind buzzed as infinite sorrow and gratitude surged over her. The three of them embraced together, and only then did she feel at peace—this was her home.
Brother-in-law was truly the one who had accompanied her as she grew up. Sister had spent far less time with her than brother-in-law. In A’Lei’s heart, sister was like a mother and brother-in-law like a father—her most intimate people. Before these two, she was completely unguarded.
Looking at brother-in-law who had narrowly escaped death, A’Lei decided to ignore worldly opinions and be as close as usual. She thought: brother-in-law almost died and was saved with great difficulty. If I distance myself from him due to worldly concerns, wouldn’t that disappoint him?
We are pure and innocent—let the world slander us.
Having thought this through, A’Lei became natural in her interactions with Mu Chun, laughing and joking as usual, uninhibited, and even complained about Hu Shanwei’s “crimes” before him, “…she won’t let me read at night and insists on sharing a bed with me. Only then did I learn sister sleeps terribly, like a crab with her arms and legs everywhere, sleeping all askew. That big canopy bed, and I was nearly squeezed off by sister!”
Mu Chun chuckled, “I thought you came to see me, but you’re actually shifting trouble eastward—you can’t stand sister, so you’re bringing the trouble to harm me.”
Hu Shanwei glared at A’Lei, “You have the nerve to talk about me. When you were little, you slept like you were practicing boxing, rolling all over the bed. You punched me in the eye socket once, turning it black. Your brother-in-law woke up several mornings with your stinky feet on his mouth…”
Recalling A’Lei’s childhood embarrassments, Mu Chun and Hu Shanwei had endless stories to tell, turning their long-awaited reunion into a “criticism session” about A’Lei.
A’Lei smiled awkwardly and impolitely, covering both sister’s and brother-in-law’s mouths with her hands, “Don’t say anymore! How bored are you that you remember all the stupid things I did as a child and never forget them for life?”
Mu Chun laughed, “Alright, alright, no more. My A’Lei has grown up and knows shame now.”
A’Lei withdrew her hands. Whether hugging brother-in-law or touching his face, she felt nothing unusual. Everything happened so naturally, like he was her blood relative, without barriers.
To her, brother-in-law was her father, just with a different title. Like steamed buns—in Yunnan they called steamed dumplings with meat filling “baozi,” while in Nanjing they called the same thing “meat mantou.” Same content, different names.
However, paper can’t wrap fire. Hu Shanwei’s statement “they are the lifesavers of our family of three” revealed the flaw, contradicting Mu Chun’s response and successfully catching the attention of the adolescent A’Lei.
Sister was a shrewd person, too cunning to approach directly—she might expose herself the moment she opened her mouth. No, no, one must pick the soft persimmons to squeeze.
A’Lei peeled grape skins and removed seeds, looking at the “soft persimmon” Mu Chun practicing left-handed swordwork, and decided to squeeze brother-in-law first.
“Brother-in-law, catch!” A’Lei threw the cleaned grape flesh over. Mu Chun performed an aerial catch like a dog, opening his mouth wide, adjusting his steps, extending his tongue like a frog, and slurped up the grape flesh with a “whoosh.” “So sweet.”
Mu Chun raising a daughter was like raising a father—a model of filial piety. After eating the grapes his daughter peeled, he worried about tiring her out, “I’m not so particular. I can eat the skin and seeds together.”
A’Lei shook her head, continuing to peel grapes. “When I was little, brother-in-law peeled the skin and removed the seeds just like this before putting them in my mouth.”
“More than that.” Mu Chun was quite emotional. “I was also afraid you’d eat too fast and choke, so I cut the grape flesh into small pieces with a silver knife.”
“Brother-in-law is so good to me.” A’Lei asked, “Brother-in-law, you and sister have such good feelings for each other, even faking death and retiring for her sake, giving up your title. Why don’t you two have children? Brother-in-law has been so good to me since childhood—you’d definitely be a good father.”
“Who says we don’t want children?” Mu Chun blurted out, then realizing something was wrong, quickly tried to recover, “Your sister wasn’t young then, and childbirth would have been too risky. I couldn’t bear for her to take that risk. Besides, liking children doesn’t mean you must have your own. You happened to be born, and with father-in-law elderly and in poor health, your sister and I brought you over to raise as our own daughter. You really could cry as a baby, like thunder, so we called you A’Lei…”
Once Mu Chun started talking about A’Lei’s childhood, he couldn’t control himself, chattering like an old father with three days and nights of stories.
A’Lei watched Mu Chun’s lips moving up and down. The thought that had appeared countless times in her mind from childhood to now buzzed like bees, with wild bees flying everywhere.
A’Lei stood up, placed grape flesh in Mu Chun’s mouth, and while he was busy chewing and couldn’t speak, she softly called out, “Dad.”
Freeze!
Mu Chun choked. The slippery grape flesh went down the wrong way, blocking his windpipe. The soft persimmon was choked by grape flesh.
As if someone was strangling his neck, Mu Chun wheezed and couldn’t breathe, bending over and coughing violently. A’Lei quickly patted his back to help him breathe.
Ptui!
Mu Chun coughed up the grape flesh, gasping loudly, “You… what did you just call me?”
“Dad.” A’Lei brought up tea water. Having told a lie, she decided to squeeze this soft persimmon further, “Ever since receiving news that brother-in-law… Dad was seriously injured, sister appeared calm on the surface, arranging palace affairs before coming to find Dad, but internally she was panicked. I share a bed with sister every night and often hear her talking in her sleep.”
A’Lei inherited Mu Chun’s ability to make things up on the spot, “‘Chun, you can’t die, you haven’t seen our daughter grow up yet,’ ‘You haven’t heard her call you Dad once,’ and so forth.”
Mu Chun stared at A’Lei, silent for a while, then laughed heartily, “Nonsense! Your sister is my bedmate—I understand her. Her sleeping posture is somewhat poor, but talking in her sleep, especially such clear sleep talk, has never happened. What rumors have you been hearing lately that you’d come to trick your brother-in-law? After a year apart, you’ve learned bad habits.”
A’Lei slammed the grape bowl heavily on the table, “At this point, you still won’t admit you’re my dad? When I was little and didn’t understand, speaking without thinking, you were afraid I’d let something slip and reveal secrets that would bring trouble, so you conspired to deceive me.”
A’Lei’s tears burst like a flood breaking through a dam, “Though you deceived me, you still loved me. I’m not stupid—I could feel it. Which brother-in-law would raise his sister-in-law like his life’s treasure? Now that I’m grown, you shouldn’t still treat me like a child. Why can’t you trust me? I’m fourteen years old—don’t I deserve to know my own origins?”
A’Lei cried so hard she began hiccupping between sobs.
For any father, the most fearsome weapon is his daughter’s tears. Each drop was like cannon fire from Frankish guns, bombarding his reason. Mu Chun was transported back to the nights during A’Lei’s first three months after birth—truly a demon baby who had to wail every night before being satisfied.
Back then, Mu Chun would have given anything to coax A’Lei to sleep, holding her and gently rocking her at night. For three months, he never got a full night’s sleep.
A fourteen-year-old is still a baby. Mu Chun set down his sword and extended his good left hand to wipe away her tears, “Don’t cry anymore. I stopped caring about titles long ago. Just because you don’t call me Dad doesn’t mean I’m not your father.”
This soft persimmon Mu Chun was finally squeezed open by A’Lei, revealing his tender, sweet heart.