The summer night family meeting in the gauze pavilion seriously went off-topic, from whether their daughter should sail abroad to heal from her failed first love to the plastic couple mutually exposing each other’s shortcomings and past scandals.

Fortunately, Hu Shanwei covered A’Lei’s ears in time, otherwise if she learned that her birth was actually due to an accidental contraceptive failure—quality problems with fish bladders and sheep intestines sold by unscrupulous merchants—it would probably damage her recently matured psyche.

During the couple’s quarrel, Hu Shanwei angrily left the table: “Don’t come back to the room to sleep tonight. Sleep in the gauze pavilion—I think it’s quite cool here, so you can stay here.”

A’Lei hurriedly chased after her: “Sister, don’t leave! You haven’t convinced Brother-in-law to agree yet.”

Hu Shanwei slammed the door shut: “Handle your own affairs yourself!”

She actually washed her hands of it.

A’Lei knocked on the door: “Sister, you clearly promised me.”

Hu Shanwei opened the door.

A’Lei was delighted.

Hu Shanwei put a pillow and blanket in A’Lei’s hands: “These are your brother-in-law’s bedding. Take them to him.”

A’Lei had no choice but to carry the bedding back to the gauze pavilion. Mu Chun skillfully laid out the bedding and beckoned to her: “Girl, come here and explain clearly—what methods did Zhu Zhanji use to bewitch you into actually liking a skinny noodle?”

A’Lei had never feared this paper tiger father and changed the subject, asking instead: “I’m curious too—Brother-in-law was so badly behaved when young, yet Sister is such a particular person. How could she like you? What did Brother-in-law use to defeat Prince Consort Wang Ning and marry Sister?”

Mu Chun looked quite proud: “Naturally it began with looks, fell for talent, and remained loyal to character.”

A’Lei laughed: “Stop bragging, I don’t believe it. Tell the truth.”

Mu Chun told the truth: “Shameless persistence.”

Of course it was through tireless, persistent attraction (seduction), using any means necessary to rekindle Hu Shanwei’s heart that had died to love.

A’Lei fought poison with poison: “Even Sister could fall for Brother-in-law whom she initially thought badly behaved—what’s impossible about me liking Zhu Zhanji? Zhu Zhanji is the ‘good sacred grandson’ everyone praises!”

Mu Chun was stumped: That seems very logical! But something seems wrong!

A’Lei said: “It’s settled then. I’ll go west, return in two years, and if Zhu Zhanji is quick about it, he might have two children by then. Naturally I won’t like him anymore. I’m going to sleep.”

A’Lei swept back to her room like a whirlwind, leaving Mu Chun alone camping in the courtyard. Due to tonight’s shocking mother-daughter mutual revelation event, his brain suffered from indigestion and couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. He tossed and turned like a pancake on both sides, making the bamboo cooling couch squeak like a nest of mice, only falling asleep at dawn.

The next day, Hu Shanwei and A’Lei had to enter the palace early. Mu Chun, who’d had a semi-sleepless night, was still snoring loudly in the courtyard pavilion, missing their usual family breakfast.

The morning mist was heavy, and even in summer it was somewhat cold. Mu Chun was wrapped tightly in a thin blanket, curled up on the cooling couch like a silkworm about to emerge from its cocoon.

When couples fight at the head of the bed, they make up at the foot. Hu Shanwei immediately forgot about exposing Mu Chun’s endless dark history the night before, feeling only tenderness. She brought a quilt and gently covered him, tucking in the corners before leaving.

A’Lei watched her parents’ loving relationship with envy. They were life companions who had made so many efforts and endured so much hardship to achieve today’s imperfect secret marriage.

Being able to have a secret marriage was already their limit. It showed that on life’s path, there was no perfection or completeness—all had regrets and helplessness.

My unfulfilled first love isn’t much in comparison.

A’Lei comforted herself.

A’Lei followed Hu Shanwei onto the carriage. Since learning that Sister had been engaged to Prince Consort Wang Ning, A’Lei looked at her with admiration: “Sister, how did you manage to succeed in love, marriage, and career all at once?”

Hu Shanwei was startled and said: “Actually, I haven’t always been successful. Among the five roles of daughter, lover, wife, mother, and Palace Director, I often make difficult choices. Even now, no one can play every role perfectly—all have regrets. When you were five months old, I had already retired to the mountains with your brother-in-law, but because—”

Because Director Fan died tragically, her body sunk in the Yangtze River, I had to force weaning, leaving you still in swaddling clothes to return to the world, seeking the real culprit to avenge Director Fan.

This couldn’t be told to A’Lei. Hu Shanwei glossed over it: “Because of something I had to do that only I could accomplish, I left you in Yunnan and came alone to the capital, re-entering the palace as Palace Director. The cost was that when I returned five years later, I mistook Zhu Zhanji sleeping in bed for you, while you had tanned into a preserved egg and smiled at me asking ‘Where does this guest come from?'”

Hu Shanwei sighed: “No one can do everything well, no one can truly balance all roles—time, energy, and ability are all limited. What we must do is reconcile with ourselves and our shortcomings. If these five roles have a perfect score of ten, then…”

Hu Shanwei held up seven fingers: “Achieving seven points in each role is already quite difficult. Life is only a few short decades—don’t be too harsh on yourself. Besides achieving seven points in each role, you need to reserve some energy to enjoy life.”

Hu Shanwei patted the thoughtful A’Lei’s hand: “For you, I’m a seven-point mother. You only need to be a seven-point daughter to me—no need to be a perfectly filial daughter. Being a perfect person is tiring for you, and actually more tiring for the other person. You don’t need to consider me in everything, and I’m the same. We give each other a break, show mutual tolerance, have our own lives, and are independent people. This way we’re both comfortable—understand?”

This was Hu Shanwei’s life wisdom from most of her lifetime. A’Lei, inexperienced in the world, nodded vaguely: “I think I understand.”

Hu Shanwei pinched A’Lei’s face: “It’s fine if you don’t understand. Life’s road is long—you’ll gradually comprehend. Just remember, in any relationship—mother-daughter, father-daughter, husband-wife, friends, etc.—first you must be yourself, then be a daughter, wife, mother, friend. Never ‘forget yourself’—’forgetting yourself’ means losing yourself.”

Hu Shanwei rarely lectured her daughter like this, but with Zheng He’s fleet departing at year’s end and time pressing, with mother and daughter separating for two years, Hu Shanwei wished she could cram all her life experience into A’Lei like force-feeding a duck, regardless of whether she understood.

While Hu Shanwei imparted life wisdom, Zhu Zhanji had also convinced Emperor Yongle to agree to let the Youth Army suppress the Japanese pirates.

The Youth Army was originally military force Emperor Yongle specially arranged for his eldest grandson. Having won the world through military might, Emperor Yongle deeply understood that the Youth Army’s training results were just show—without battlefield tempering, they couldn’t develop military spirit.

Emperor Yongle said: “Neither you nor Zhanhe have experience fighting Japanese pirates. I’ll send Ji Gang to assist you. Ji Gang once followed former Brocade Guard Commander Mao Qiang in suppressing pirate rebellions and achieved merit—he has experience.”

Emperor Yongle had confidence in his two grandsons and the Youth Army, but these two were his most beloved grandsons. To ensure absolute safety, Ji Gang was nominally assisting but actually protecting.

Zhu Zhanji accepted, thinking that going to suppress pirates meant never returning. Facing his loving grandfather, Zhu Zhanji felt reluctance and bowed deeply: “Every northern expedition, Your Majesty brings your grandson along. Your grandson has always followed by Your Majesty’s side. This pacification mission will take at least three months, at most half a year. Your grandson has never been separated from Your Majesty for so long. May Your Majesty take care of your health and await your grandson’s triumphant return.”

Emperor Yongle felt warmth in his heart: “You must also take care, and remember, Zhanhe is your younger brother. Though he’s grown tall, you must look after him.”

How to resolve the conflicts between eldest and second sons depended on the next generation’s performance. Emperor Yongle used Prince Han to check the Eastern Palace, maintaining balance, but he was ultimately a father and grandfather who was happy to see the Imperial Grand Prince and Prince Han’s heir love each other like brothers.

They say the imperial family is heartless, but truly there is emotion within apparent heartlessness. It’s just that imperial family affection is always mixed with undercurrents of struggle and balance—emotion and heartlessness appear alternately like a constantly spinning coin.

Having received Emperor Yongle’s approval, Zhu Zhanji went to the Eastern Palace to bid farewell to his parents.

Both father and son were heir apparents who couldn’t meet privately. Even for simple greetings, they were each accompanied by the complete official entourages of the Eastern Palace and Imperial Grand Prince’s palace.

The Youth Army represented powerful military deterrent force to the Eastern Palace.

Because the Eastern Palace still controlled no armies, though the Eastern Palace had shown remarkable governing ability through several regencies, gaining considerable influence among civil officials.

The father and son—one military, one civilian—checked each other, achieving balance between heirs.

Now with the Youth Army’s expedition to gain real combat experience, the Imperial Grand Prince’s palace’s military strength would advance by leaps and bounds. Regarding his eldest son’s expedition, the Crown Prince’s concern exceeded his worry.

The Crown Prince gave his eldest son a suit of armor: “In this expedition, don’t be greedy for glory or rash—be steady.”

The already thin father-son relationship grew even thinner.

Zhu Zhanji received the armor with thanks, thinking: As a son, I’ve tried my best. I even risked using the cannon explosion to help Father resolve his crisis, forcing Prince Han to request establishment of his princedom in Qingzhou.

Yet Father grows increasingly cold toward me.

So be it—consider it repaying Father’s gift of life.

Zhu Zhanji went to bid farewell to his mother. Crown Princess Zhang didn’t notice her son’s strangeness—she never understood her eldest son anyway. She was immersed in the joy of soon becoming a mother-in-law and holding grandchildren.

The Crown Princess said: “The Youth Army are elite troops, and with Ji Gang assisting, this expedition will surely return triumphantly, just in time for the selection’s completion. You’ll return with military achievements and immediately have a grand wedding, establishing family and career—how dignified!”

Her eldest son was the Crown Princess’s pride, never requiring her worry, growing into such excellence as if effortlessly obtained.

Zhu Zhanji bowed, being a standard filial son: “Thank you for Mother’s concern. May Mother take care.”

Fame and profit belonged to Father, happiness to Mother—all separated from Zhu Zhanji by a transparent, unbreakable membrane, having nothing to do with him.

Zhu Zhanji asked himself: whether as son or heir apparent, he’d tried his best and done excellently—his achievements were unquestionable. If even this couldn’t satisfy his parents, he had nothing to say and felt no guilt.

Having bid farewell to his parents and left the Eastern Palace, Zhu Zhanji felt completely relaxed. After sixteen years, it was time to live for himself once.

Zhu Zhanji went to the Clock Manufacturing Bureau. A’Lei wore glasses, using a magnifying glass to measure newly polished gears. She was so focused that she didn’t notice people around her putting down their work to bow.

Zhu Zhanji gestured for everyone to withdraw.

“Can it be finished this month?” Zhu Zhanji asked.

Hearing the familiar voice, A’Lei’s magnifying glass wavered. Having confirmed her feelings, she didn’t dare turn to look, her heart pounding, afraid of exposing her improper designs on Zhu Zhanji.

Just endure—once the clock is finished, I can leave.

A’Lei controlled herself, not looking at Zhu Zhanji, pretending calm as she picked up her pen to record measurement data: “I’ll do my best. Why ask? His Majesty hasn’t even pressed me.”

Because I’m about to be free—when I leave the imperial family, I’ll have the right to control my own marriage.

Zhu Zhanji was confident A’Lei treated him differently, but before departing, he wanted to test this.

Zhu Zhanji moved closer: “The selection is about to begin. The Crown Princess says this time they’ll choose an Imperial Grand Princess Consort.”

A’Lei had long prepared mentally and left herself an escape route. Strictly managing her expression without even an eyelash flutter, she continued measuring the next gear: “What’s that to me? I didn’t register as a selected woman. I’m very busy and don’t have time for idle chat—you should go.”

If you don’t leave soon, I might not be able to control myself and will give myself away.

Expressions could be controlled, but eyes were harder to manage. Fortunately, eyes are windows to the soul, and glasses are curtains for those windows. Through the lenses, he couldn’t see her pupils contracting violently when she spoke—clearly lying.

Zhu Zhanji’s gaze moved from her profile to the messy worktable, seeing something that made him understand completely, confirming his judgment. He smiled slightly: “Fine, you’re busy. I won’t disturb you.”

Hearing Zhu Zhanji’s footsteps disappear outside the door, A’Lei exhaled deeply. Just now her entire body including her expression had been frozen stiff from controlling her limbs and expressions—so exhausting. A’Lei removed her glasses, rubbing her cheeks and massaging her facial muscles, finally stretching before continuing work.

Zhu Zhanji walked briskly, moving like the wind, laughing inwardly: Just now when A’Lei measured the gears, she held the ruler backward and still pretended to fill in measurement data—clearly distracted and saying one thing while thinking another.

Confirming through her eyes—she likes me.