As brothers, they naturally had to stab each other twice. Zhu Zhanhe reminded him: “What you want, Sister A’Lei might not want. Sister A’Lei might not even like you.”
Zhu Zhanji was currently fired up with enthusiasm. For the first time in his life, he put himself at the center, facing his inner heart directly. Regarding matters of the heart, he was quite confident: “A’Lei certainly likes me.”
Zhu Zhanhe: “Oh? How can you tell?”
Zhu Zhanji: “I always say stupid things to her and do stupid things, yet she forgives me every time and never holds grudges. If that’s not liking, what is?”
Zhu Zhanhe disagreed: “Sister A’Lei treats me the same way.”
Zhu Zhanji shook his head: “A’Lei treats us two brothers differently.”
Zhu Zhanhe: “What’s different?”
Zhu Zhanji was too lazy to argue with his foolish cousin: “Anyway, it’s different. Go to sleep quickly. Tomorrow you continue training troops while I return to the palace to persuade Imperial Grandfather to agree to let the Youth Army fight the Japanese pirates. The task is arduous.”
Zhu Zhanhe lost all sleepiness and pulled his big cousin up: “Explain clearly! How can I sleep like this?”
Zhu Zhanji’s thin, tall frame was stretched out like a noodle by Zhu Zhanhe, who instantly became like a noodle-pulling master at Haidilao, swinging his big cousin back and forth. Unable to fall asleep after being tormented, Zhu Zhanji simply got up and began planning for the war against the Japanese pirates.
Meanwhile, at the Hu residence.
At dawn, A’Lei finally put down her blueprints, removed her glasses, stretched, blew out several candles, then removed the cloth curtains covering the doors and windows. From outside, her bedroom appeared pitch black, showing no sign she’d been burning the midnight oil.
Emperor Yongle hadn’t pressured her, but after learning about the selection from Hu Shanwei, she decided to quickly complete Emperor Yongle’s custom clock, and then…
In the morning, A’Lei was to accompany Hu Shanwei to the palace for work. After washing and grooming, she looked in the mirror and saw dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. A’Lei took cosmetics from her dressing box to cover the dark circles. Since the powder was somewhat white, for facial harmony, she simply applied full makeup.
After applying makeup, her face immediately shed its childish appearance, revealing a beauty somewhere between girl and woman.
Because of applying makeup, A’Lei missed having breakfast with Mu Chun and Hu Shanwei. Mu Chun put breakfast in a food box for her to eat on the road, telling her not to go hungry.
In the carriage, A’Lei looked radiant, though her tired expression couldn’t be completely hidden as she drank a bowl of red bean sweet dumplings.
Hu Shanwei noticed her daughter’s difference. Remembering these symptoms had started yesterday after hearing about the selection, Hu Shanwei, being an experienced veteran of romance with second-time luck in love, realized A’Lei had always been protected by them and rarely interacted with outside men. The only two she frequently associated with were the two childhood friends from the old Zhu family.
Hu Shanwei had a vague guess and probed: “What’s wrong? You look tired. And you specially applied makeup today.”
A’Lei replied calmly: “The clock hit a bottleneck and made no progress. I was very anxious and kept thinking about how to overcome the bottleneck last night. Thinking and thinking, I lost sleep and only fell asleep near dawn. When I woke up this morning with dark circles, fearing it would be unseemly before His Majesty, I applied makeup to cover it up.”
Hu Shanwei didn’t believe A’Lei and pressed: “Is that all? Nothing to do with the selection?”
“Nothing to do with the selection.” A’Lei finished the red bean sweet dumplings and picked up clear tea to rinse her mouth: “I won’t participate in any selection—I’ll never participate in selections in this lifetime.”
Hu Shanwei pursued relentlessly: “You are free, but the Zhu brothers aren’t. They must marry and have children. You should understand propriety and in the future—”
“Sister.” A’Lei interrupted Hu Shanwei: “Sister, do you trust me?”
Not really. Hu Shanwei felt guilty but still had to act as a tolerant mother on the surface, saying against her heart: “I naturally trust you.”
Little goose, please don’t get entangled with the Zhu brothers—our family of three must return to Yunnan together intact.
A’Lei bowed her head: “I know what Sister worries about, but I know even better what I want. Since childhood, Sister and Brother-in-law have given me freedom that others don’t have, allowing me to pursue my interests and hobbies, isolating me from worldly prejudices and constraints against women, always letting me make my own choices. I know that to gain something, you must lose something—you can’t have both fish and bear’s paw. Life is about constantly making various choices and sacrifices.”
“Sister, you must trust me.”
Her daughter had grown up.
Hu Shanwei stared intently at A’Lei. Having served three dynasties as Palace Director and seen all splendor, even emperors couldn’t have everything and had to make choices.
Between choices lay a lifetime—and others’ lifetimes too. Years ago, her former fiancé Wang Ning chose to sacrifice his small self for the nation, changing his own life and Hu Shanwei’s as well.
Now it was A’Lei’s turn to choose.
Hu Shanwei stopped pressing and said: “I trust you.”
This time it was the truth.
Only children demanded endlessly; adults understood that to gain something, you had to exchange something else for it—everything required a price.
Between choices, sometimes it didn’t hurt much, sometimes it was heart-wrenching.
A’Lei had already made her decision.
Arriving at the palace’s Clock Manufacturing Bureau, A’Lei handed the blueprints she’d revised all night to the craftsman polishing gears, then went to the Ceremonial Directorate to find the highest-ranking Seal-Holding Eunuch, Zheng He.
Zheng He had returned from his voyage to the Western Oceans last year, bringing back the auspicious beast Qilin (giraffe) that shocked the Ming Dynasty. Along with his fleet came envoys from over twenty countries including Java and Ceylon, who had spent a year in the Ming Dynasty being well fed and entertained. Emperor Yongle had bestowed gifts and various investiture edicts, establishing diplomacy, and wanted Eunuch Zheng He to voyage west again, incidentally escorting the foreign envoys home.
The fleet was ready, but it was summer now when the seas had many storms, and the prevailing southeast monsoons and currents weren’t favorable for westward voyages. They had to wait until the end of the year when northwest winds would blow at sea before setting sail. Therefore, Zheng He’s western voyages typically departed in autumn and winter, returning in summer.
Waiting for the monsoons and currents to change for favorable sailing conditions, Eunuch Zheng He rarely had a few days to stay at the Ceremonial Directorate.
Since age eight, A’Lei had disguised herself as a little eunuch to assist Zheng He. Hu Shanwei and Zheng He had known each other since the Prince Qin’s mansion incident—they were life-and-death friends. Both Zheng He and A’Lei revered natural science and loved exploring the unknown, hitting it off immediately as friends despite their age difference.
Seeing A’Lei arrive at the Ceremonial Directorate, Zheng He put down his navigation charts: “Oh, Miss Hu graces us with her presence—the Ceremonial Directorate is honored!”
A’Lei got straight to the point: “Sanbao Eunuch, for this autumn and winter’s fifth voyage west, could I get a ship ticket?”
Zheng He was startled, then immediately closed the doors and windows, asking: “What happened? Even Palace Director Hu can’t protect you? Whatever I can help with, just ask—running away won’t solve problems.”
Why did A’Lei look like she was planning to flee?
A’Lei said: “The world is so vast, I want to see it. But I fear Sister and Brother-in-law would worry—what could be safer than Sanbao Eunuch’s fleet? So I’ve come to ask for a ship ticket. I won’t freeload on your ship—I can measure, calculate, understand ship construction, and having worked with those Western missionaries on clocks this past year, I have basic knowledge of Dutch and English. I’d be useful.”
A’Lei was talented.
The daughter Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun had protected in their palms—together they’d shielded her from worldly constraints on women, allowing her to develop her intelligence and grow wildly to her current dazzling state.
This era forced women to treat marriage as their lifelong career. To break this iron rule, Hu Shanwei had stolen household registration documents to take the female official examination, making court service her profession to support herself—she was among the extremely few fortunate ones in the Ming Dynasty.
And A’Lei was the most fortunate among the fortunate. Her talents proved women weren’t limited to just the female official path, that women weren’t weak. Given a tolerant environment, women could do things traditionally thought only men could do—like science.
Eunuch Zheng He cherished talent and nodded: “I’ll give you a ship ticket.”
A’Lei was overjoyed: “Sanbao Eunuch doesn’t mind that I’m a woman?”
Zheng He laughed: “I’m a eunuch—eunuchs have bad reputations, considered even lower than women. Whether in worldly opinion or historical records, people think eunuchs are rootless men who must be psychologically twisted, only knowing how to flatter and curry favor. Whenever there’s a foolish emperor, there must be a beautiful disaster who seduced the ruler and a bad eunuch stirring up trouble—all women and eunuchs blinding the emperor’s eyes while the emperor remains innocent. Heh, I naturally ignore such prejudices. Eunuchs are also human, with good and bad—how can you make such sweeping generalizations?”
How could one judge a person’s character based on the presence or absence of an organ three inches below the navel?
Zheng He’s efforts and talents in breaking through prejudices weren’t less than Hu Shanwei’s and A’Lei’s, creating mutual understanding.
A’Lei said: “The clock I’m making for His Majesty is nearly finished. After presenting the clock, I’ll depart for Liujiagang Port in Jiangsu to participate in ship repairs, waiting quietly for you to depart with the foreign envoys when winter comes.”
Nanjing wasn’t by the sea, so every voyage departed from seaside ports, mostly gathering at Liujiagang in autumn. The massive fleet would sail southeast to dock at Quanzhou, wait for monsoons and currents to change, then immediately begin ocean voyages.
Zheng He wrote an order and sealed it with his private seal: “This is your ship ticket—keep it safe.”
A’Lei solemnly received it: “Thank you, Sanbao Eunuch.”
With assurance in her heart, A’Lei almost worked without rest or food to advance the clock’s progress. Having given A’Lei a ship ticket, Zheng He thought he should inform her parents—he couldn’t let them think he’d abducted their precious daughter.
So Zheng He told Hu Shanwei, who was busy with the selection.
Upon hearing this, Hu Shanwei felt like being struck by lightning. She guessed her daughter’s reasons for doing this but didn’t show it, saying: “Thank you for Sanbao’s help. This is A’Lei’s long-held wish. Besides, she earned the ticket through her abilities and can help the Ming fleet—she won’t trouble Sanbao Eunuch. I support her.”
Zheng He nodded and asked: “What about Lord Mu?”
“He…” Hu Shanwei thought Mu Chun would definitely be reluctant, but she would convince him. Her daughter’s decision wasn’t as simple as “the world is so vast, I want to see it”—making this choice involved difficult sacrifices, giving up something precious.
“He’ll agree too,” Hu Shanwei said. Mu Chun was an open-minded father—he’d struggle and worry, but he’d also give their daughter freedom.
Zheng He said: “That’s good then.”
How enviable that A’Lei had such parents.
Knowing A’Lei must be racing against time on the clock, Hu Shanwei suppressed her turbulent emotions and didn’t disturb A’Lei’s focus. Only when they finished work and rode home together at dusk did she ask in the carriage: “Your morning talk about choices—was it about giving up the Zhu brothers and following Eunuch Zheng He west to avoid the awkwardness of selection and marriage?”
No need to guess—Eunuch Zheng He must have mentioned the ship ticket.
However, with ticket in hand and food in storage making her heart calm, A’Lei no longer needed to hide her plans from Sister: “Yes. We childhood friends grew up together. They’re imperial family members—their future paths were planned long ago. We’ve walked together for over ten years, but the selection is our fork in the road. From here, we become strangers.”
Hu Shanwei asked: “Who do you actually… like? The Imperial Grand Prince or the Heir Apparent of Prince Han?”
Having made her decision, Hu Shanwei wanted to know her daughter’s true feelings.
A’Lei must have feelings for someone, otherwise she wouldn’t need to leave the capital and follow Zheng He west, waiting for everything to settle.
Zheng He’s western voyages typically took two to three years round-trip. When A’Lei returned, she might arrive just as the Ming capital moved to Beijing, when Hu Shanwei would officially retire and the whole family would move back to Yunnan.
By then, both Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Zhanhe would be fathers. Childhood sweethearts would all be memories.
A’Lei smiled reluctantly: “Only children make choices—I’m an adult now. I don’t… want either.”
“Don’t want” didn’t equal “don’t like.”
A’Lei didn’t want to say it aloud. She wasn’t a spoiled, willful young lady who made everything revolve around herself. A’Lei knew her mother pitied her for giving up budding love. Besides pursuing freedom, she was considerate of Hu Shanwei, not wanting to put her mother in a difficult position.
If there was nothing, there’d be no pain, sparing her mother heartache and guilt.
In Hu Shanwei’s view, both Zhu brothers were excellent men worthy of A’Lei, but men at the center of political storms were definitely not good matches.
As Palace Director of three dynasties, Hu Shanwei had seen too many palace marriages ending in tragedy.
There were couples who built careers together from scratch, like Emperor Gaozhu and Empress Xiaoci Ma. But Empress Xiaoci ultimately treated being empress just as work.
There was love at first sight with lifelong devotion, loving young couples like Emperor Jianwen and young Empress Ma. But after becoming emperor and empress, this couple gradually grew apart, their vows forgotten.
There were childhood sweethearts, united couples who rebelled and seized power together—men campaigning, women defending cities, cooperating perfectly with lifelong love, like Empress Ren Xiao and Emperor Yongle. But Empress Ren Xiao died in middle age from battle injuries, and Emperor Yongle spent his remaining years reminiscing about his heart’s white moonlight, lonely and solitary.
Not to mention Prince An and Princess An, Prince Dai and Princess Dai—former couples turned bitter enemies. They too had once been loving young couples.
It was best for A’Lei to end her budding feelings herself. She was only sixteen—she’d meet suitable people on her life journey and marry for love.
Regarding love, Hu Shanwei didn’t believe women or men had to remain faithful to one person forever. From Wang Ning to Mu Chun, she’d deeply loved both, giving her all to love them without regret.
Understanding her daughter best, Hu Shanwei knew A’Lei’s concerns: “Say it—you might feel better. Liking someone isn’t shameful. Besides, you’ll meet better people in the future too.”
A’Lei caught the loophole in Hu Shanwei’s words: “What do you mean ‘too’? Has Sister liked someone else before?”
Well… Hu Shanwei hesitated briefly, then nodded silently. She had to set an example for her daughter—don’t get trapped in one relationship, learn to move on.
A’Lei’s eyes lit up like a cat’s in the dark: “Who? Does Brother-in-law know?”
It was a long story—Hu Shanwei didn’t know where to begin.
A’Lei wouldn’t let it go, offering a tempting condition: “If Sister tells, I’ll tell. If Sister won’t speak, I won’t say anything.”
Trading person for person seemed fair.
Hu Shanwei asked: “Have you heard of the famous young talent Wang Zhenliang in the capital?”
A’Lei nodded: “Princess Huaiqing’s son. He often composes poetry at court banquets—His Majesty likes this nephew very much.”
A’Lei’s expression suddenly changed: “Sister, you… you two have a fifteen-year age difference, right?”
Hu Shanwei sharply poked A’Lei’s forehead: “What are you thinking? Not him, but his father—Prince Consort Wang Ning. Wang Ning was once my fiancé. At thirteen, we were betrothed. If he hadn’t participated in the Second Northern Expedition, we would have married long ago.”
A’Lei: …
Too shocking. A’Lei sat like a wooden chicken, speechless all the way, frantically imagining the complicated, dramatic past involving Hu Shanwei, Wang Ning, Princess Huaiqing, and Mu Chun.
Hu Shanwei shook her dumbstruck daughter: “Hey, your turn. Who do you actually like?”
To comfort her daughter, Hu Shanwei had sacrificed her dignity and revealed her romantic history.
A’Lei had originally been quite melancholy—budding love withering just as it sprouted—but facing Hu Shanwei’s complex romantic history, she felt like looking up at towering mountains. Her troubles seemed tiny as ants.
How had Sister endured those years!
A’Lei felt no need to hide anymore and said frankly: “It’s Little Chicken Brother. We grew up together—since I can remember, he’s been by my side. Initially, I didn’t know if what I felt was familial love, friendship, or romantic feelings—the three were mixed together so I couldn’t distinguish which was strongest. But yesterday when Sister mentioned the selection and that he’d marry and have children, I…”
A’Lei lowered her head: “I never expected my first reaction would be jealousy of his future wife. If I only saw him as family or friend, my first reaction should have been blessing him.”
“On the way home, I recalled the past. When I came from Kunming with Sister to the capital, the next day we were to enter the palace for an audience. I happened to be losing a tooth, which fell out. I was very upset because I knew entering the palace meant a long-awaited reunion with Little Chicken Brother, and I wanted to look beautiful—how ugly to speak with a gap tooth. If it were meeting Zhu Zhanhe, I wouldn’t have cared about losing a tooth.”
Since last night, A’Lei had confirmed what her feelings really were.
That’s why she wanted to escape using Eunuch Zheng He’s fleet.
Two years later, returning from the voyage, Little Chicken Brother would probably have had children—little chicks. Those unspoken budding feelings would naturally die, which was the best solution.
Fortunately, I have the ability to earn myself a ship ticket.
Hu Shanwei hugged her daughter comfortingly, thinking both mother and daughter had their first loves die young—was this so-called fate?
Hearts unsettled, minds in turmoil—living in this mortal world, how many could avoid entanglements?
To cut off inappropriate infatuation required decisive departure.
“Sister, I’m fine.” A’Lei escaped Hu Shanwei’s embrace: “I’m hungry, and Brother-in-law is still waiting for us to have dinner together.”
A’Lei had ulterior motives. After dinner while cooling off and eating watermelon in the courtyard pavilion, A’Lei asked Mu Chun: “Brother-in-law, did Sister really get engaged to Prince Consort Wang Ning?”
Hu Shanwei buried her head in eating watermelon. She was contemplating how to discuss A’Lei’s voyage with Mu Chun, never expecting her daughter to betray her first!
This girl! And I was just sympathizing with her!
Wang Ning had been gone over ten years, but Mu Chun’s jealousy remained: “Who told you that?”
A’Lei pointed at Hu Shanwei: “Sister.”
Mu Chun looked at his wife incredulously.
Hu Shanwei pointed at A’Lei: “She likes the Imperial Grand Prince and is going on Eunuch Zheng He’s fleet to the Western Oceans this year!”
The mother-daughter pair mutually exposed each other, revealing each other’s bombshells—truly no filial piety under gossip, stabbing each other in the back.
“You—you two!”
Mu Chun looked at A’Lei, then at Hu Shanwei. These two troublesome sprites, big and small—he didn’t know who to scold first.
Yet he loved both deeply and couldn’t bear to beat or scold them.
Mu Chun spun around angrily: “Ah! I used to be called the Demon King but wasn’t as troublesome as you two! You, you, you—”
Mu Chun’s finger wavered between Hu Shanwei and A’Lei, unable to decide who to address first.
Hu Shanwei confessed frankly: “I only like you now—only love you alone.”
Hearing this, A’Lei nearly got her teeth soured, as if what she’d just swallowed wasn’t watermelon but a bowl of vinegar.
Old ginger is spiciest—Hu Shanwei’s words were sour but effective.
Hearing this, Mu Chun beamed and stopped dwelling on his wife’s past, his finger settling on A’Lei: “Your turn. What’s this about the Imperial Grand Prince and going west?”
A’Lei had a forthright personality and confessed everything: “…That’s how it is. I’m going to avoid the limelight and will return. I don’t want to watch him marry and have children—I want to close my eyes, out of sight, out of mind.”
Mu Chun indeed couldn’t bear parting with his daughter: “Why go west? Couldn’t you just go to the old house in Kunming?”
A’Lei shook Mu Chun’s arm coquettishly: “Brother-in-law, the world is so big, I want to see it. I’ll be safe on Eunuch Zheng He’s great ships. I’ll bring you back a qilin to play with from this western journey.”
Mu Chun had raised his daughter like a father, and as a “filial son,” his first thought was meeting his daughter-father’s needs.
But thinking of his daughter being at sea for two years, he really couldn’t bear it.
Hu Shanwei said: “Let her go. Try thinking from her perspective—if back then you’d watched me marry Wang Ning and reconcile with him, wouldn’t you have felt terrible and wanted to leave this place—”
“In your dreams!” Mu Chun interrupted: “I wouldn’t leave. Even if you got on a wedding sedan, I’d kidnap the bride and snatch you from the sedan chair.”
A’Lei’s eyes widened: I never knew you were like this, Brother-in-law!
“Don’t corrupt the child,” Hu Shanwei handed A’Lei, who was already bursting from gossip, another piece of watermelon: “You can’t imagine how badly your brother-in-law behaved when he was young—ignore him.”
Having been provoked into letting himself go tonight, Mu Chun said: “Hmph, if I hadn’t been somewhat bad, how could I have married you and had A’Lei?”
Hu Shanwei covered A’Lei’s ears, worried about corrupting her daughter, and shouted at Mu Chun: “Shut up! That’s enough!”
How A’Lei came to be, don’t you know in your heart? Because sheep intestines and fish bladders don’t work!
With her ears covered, A’Lei only heard buzzing sounds, thinking: Weren’t we supposed to discuss my going west tonight? How did you two end up fighting…