Chapter 336: A Letter from Home

In the eighteenth year of Hongwu, the ninth day of the third month.

Outside the city of the Timur Estate, the spring snow had just begun to melt.

Most of the snow on the Gobi had thawed, revealing the gray-brown sandy soil beneath.

In the distance, the Tianshan Mountains still wore white caps, shimmering with silver light under the sun.

Zhu Yong sat on his horse, reins in hand, with a half-grown camel by his side.

On the camel's back sat Zhu Qiongjiong, the nine-year-old lad tanned as black as charcoal, his back ramrod straight, clutching a small wooden mallet.

"Dad, there's a rabbit up ahead!" Zhu Qiongjiong, sharp-eyed, pointed at a patch of withered grass in front.

Zhu Yong squinted and looked; sure enough, a wild hare crouched by the grass, ears pricked, motionless.

"Shoot an arrow or chase it?" he asked.

"Chase!" Zhu Qiongjiong leaped down from the camel's back and dashed off, legs flying.

A nine-year-old kid, running like the wind.

The hare, startled, turned and fled.

Zhu Qiongjiong chased after it, the big and the small kicking up two trails of dust across the Gobi.

Guanyin Nu rode on another horse, watching her son's back, and shook her head with a smile. "This child, exactly like you when you were little."

Zhu Yong glanced at his wife and said, "I wasn't this wild when I was little."

"The village head said so—said when you were little in Fengyang, you'd chase rabbits all the way to the other side of the mountain."

Zhu Yong laughed despite himself.

That old village head, his mouth blabbed everything.

Zhu Huanhuan rode beside her mother, a travelogue in her hands, occasionally lifting her head to look at her younger brother in the distance.

The little girl was now a young lady, growing up graceful and elegant, with features like Guanyin Nu's, but a temperament like Zhu Yong's—calm and reserved.

"Huan Huan, not going to chase rabbits with your brother?" Zhu Yong asked.

Zhu Huanhuan shook her head and said softly, "Let him run; when he's tired, he'll settle down."

Zhu Yong smiled and said no more.

In the distance, Zhu Qiongjiong had already chased half a li out.

That hare was cunning, darting left and right, slipping straight into crevices between stones.

Zhu Qiongjiong wasn't stupid either; he circled around to block it, and finally pounced, grabbing it by its two long ears and lifting it up.

"Dad, look, I caught it!" He ran back holding the hare, his face full of pride.

Zhu Yong looked at the hare—it was plump, at least five or six jin.

"Extra dish for dinner." He hung the hare on his saddle.

Zhu Qiongjiong climbed back onto the camel, his little face flushed from running, but full of energy. "Dad, there are Mongolian gazelles up ahead—I saw them, a whole herd!"

Zhu Yong followed his son's pointing direction and saw a herd of Mongolian gazelles grazing in the distance, at least thirty or forty of them.

"Lucky day today." He spurred his horse forward a few steps, then suddenly reined in.

In the distance, a troop of cavalry was galloping toward them. The lead rider held a banner—red background with a golden dragon, the flag of the Great Ming.

Zhu Yong narrowed his eyes.

The cavalry drew closer, and the leader dismounted, strode over, and knelt on one knee.

"Prince Wu, the Crown Prince has sent an urgent letter."

Zhu Yong took the letter and opened it.

The letter was very short, just a few lines.

"Second Brother, Imperial Mother has been thinking of you day and night lately, often weeping in Kunning Palace. Imperial Father says if you don't come back, he'll have to come to the Timur Estate to fetch you himself.

The seventh month is Imperial Mother's birthday. If you can return, it will be the best birthday gift. Your brother, Biao."

After reading the letter, Zhu Yong was silent for a long time.

Guanyin Nu rode over and said softly, "What's wrong?"

He handed her the letter. After reading it, Guanyin Nu's eyes reddened too.

"Mother misses us."

Zhu Yong nodded and put the letter away.

"Let's go. Head back." He turned his horse around.

Zhu Qiongjiong was unhappy. "Dad, we haven't hunted yet!"

"No hunting. We're going home to pack up and return to Yingtian."

Zhu Qiongjiong was stunned for a moment, then cheered, "Back to Yingtian, back to Yingtian to see Imperial Grandmother!"

Zhu Huanhuan put down her book, a smile spreading across her face.

Though she didn't say it, she too was homesick.

She missed Imperial Grandmother in Kunning Palace, missed little sister Wenwen in the Eastern Palace, missed all the siblings she'd grown up with.

The group spurred their horses back to the city.

Along the way, Zhu Yong was lost in thought.

Two years.

From leaving Yingtian in the third month of the sixteenth year of Hongwu until now, a full two years.

In these two years, he had conquered the Timur Empire, incorporating this land larger than the Great Ming into his domain.

Built new cities, constructed roads, divided land, relocated people.

Those Persians, Turks, and Mongols—from their initial fear to their current submission.

Everything was on track.

But Mother misses him.

Empress Ma misses him.

He remembered that on the day of the recognition ceremony in Hongwu Third Year, Mother held him and cried all night long, saying, "Mother has wronged you."

Later, every time they met, Mother would take his hand, look him up and down for a long while, and say, "You've lost weight, you've gotten darker."

These past two years, he hadn't even had time to write a single letter.

"It's time to go back," he said softly.

Guanyin Nu heard this, spurred her horse closer, and said in a low voice, "Prince, about Tie Mu Er's estate..."

"Leave it to Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng. They've followed me for so many years and can manage it well. Besides, Big Brother has sent fifty thousand troops over; things are stable here." Zhu Yong paused before speaking.

Guanyin Nu nodded and asked no further.

Back at the Wang Fu, Zhu Yong immediately summoned all the generals.

Zhang Wuhe, Chen Heng, Wang Gui, and several civil officials from Great Ming all arrived.

Zhu Yong explained the matter and finally said, "I am returning to Great Ming. Short term, half a year; long term, a year. Tie Mu Er's estate is left to Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng.

As for administrative affairs, you gentlemen will deliberate and handle them."

Zhang Wuhe cupped his fists and said, "Rest assured, Prince. I will surely guard this foundation well."

Chen Heng also said, "Prince, just go. We have things covered here."

Zhu Yong nodded, then looked at the civil officials and said, "The migration work cannot stop. This year's land must be distributed on time. Taxes cannot be increased. The people's affairs cannot be delayed."

The civil officials nodded repeatedly.

After finishing the official business, Zhu Yong returned to the rear courtyard.

Guanyin Nu had already ordered the luggage to be packed.

Large and small boxes piled up all over the floor. There were gifts for Empress Ma: a fine piece of Hetian jade, a Persian carpet, and several gold vessels inlaid with gems.

There were gifts for Zhu Yuanzhang: a Damascus steel blade and several Arabian steeds.

There were gifts for Zhu Biao: a set of Persian miniature albums and several volumes of ancient Arabic texts.

There were also various gifts for his younger brothers, nephews, and nieces.

Zhu Qiongjiong ran in and out, stuffing his treasures—a small curved knife, a few gems, and a talking parrot—into the luggage.

Zhu Huanhuan was helping her mother organize clothes, occasionally glancing up at her younger brother with a smile on her lips.

Zhu Yong stood under the eaves, watching this scene, and a strange, indescribable emotion suddenly welled up in his heart.

Homesick.

Truly homesick.

On the tenth day of the third month, before dawn, the convoy set out.

Ten large carts, loaded with luggage and gifts.

Fifty Longxiang Army cavalrymen served as guards, led by Zhao Hu, a veteran who had followed Zhu Yong all the way from Yingtian Prefecture to Tie Mu Er's estate.

Zhu Yong rode at the very front on horseback, Guanyin Nu rode beside him, and Zhu Huanhuan and Zhu Qiongjiong sat in the carriage behind.

The convoy left Samarkand city and traveled east along the official road.

He had traveled this road two years ago. Back then, he was going to war—three thousand Longxiang Army, heading west, not knowing what lay ahead.

Now, going back was going home.

His heart felt much more at ease.

After two days of travel, the convoy reached the Fergana Valley. This was the richest area east of the Timur Empire—vast fertile fields and a dense population.

Zhu Yong stopped for a day in the city of Osh and met with several local tribal chieftains.

When those people heard that Prince Wu was returning to Great Ming, they all came to see him off.

The gifts they sent filled a cart: sheepskins, woolen blankets, dried fruits, and kumiss.

"Prince, when will you return?" asked a white-haired Turkic elder.

Zhu Yong thought for a moment and then said, "Autumn, at the latest winter."

The elder nodded and then asked, "Prince, after you leave, won't things get chaotic here?"

Zhu Yong looked at him and said calmly, "No. With the Longxiang Army here, who dares to cause chaos?"

The elder nodded repeatedly, not daring to ask further.

On the fifteenth day of the fourth month, the convoy crossed the Tianshan Mountains.

The snow hadn't completely melted yet, and the mountain roads were rugged and difficult to traverse.

The Longxiang Army soldiers got down to push the carts. Zhu Qiongjiong also joined in to help. This child had more strength than an adult and could push a cart all by himself.

Zhao Hu clicked his tongue in amazement and said, "The Little Prince's strength is exactly like the Prince's when he was young."

Zhu Yong smiled but said nothing.

After crossing the Tianshan Mountains, they entered the territory of the Western Regions.

On the twentieth day of the fourth month, the convoy arrived at Hami.

This was the eastern gateway of the Western Regions and also Great Ming's most western stronghold in the region.

Three thousand troops were stationed there. The defending general was a Colonel surnamed Ma. When he heard that Prince Wu had arrived, he led his men thirty li out of the city to welcome him.

"Your subordinate pays respects to Prince Wu!" Colonel Ma knelt on the ground, his voice trembling.

Zhu Yong waved his hand and said, "Rise! No need for such formalities."

Colonel Ma stood up and asked cautiously, "Your Highness, are you returning to the capital?"

Zhu Yong nodded. "Returning to the capital to offer birthday congratulations to the Imperial Mother."

Colonel Ma quickly said, "Your Highness has worked hard. Your subordinate has already prepared lodgings. Please rest, Your Highness."

Zhu Yong waved his hand. "No rest. We'll travel through the night."

The Maqan General dared not speak further and hurriedly ordered someone to clear a path ahead.

When the convoy passed through Hami City, night had already fallen.

The streets were nearly empty, save for a few night‑patrol soldiers; upon seeing the Wu Wang's great banner, they all stopped to pay their respects.

Zhu Yong rode his horse through the street and suddenly recalled how, a few years earlier, he had first come to the Western Regions.

At that time he had followed Xu Da to fight the remnants of the Northern Yuan, still wielding cold weapons, and a battle cost many lives.

Now the Western Regions have become the hinterland of Great Ming.

Merchant caravans come and go, the common folk live peacefully, and there is no longer any war.

The convoy stopped for a night at a Post Station outside Hami City.