It was naptime in the Prince's mansion. The gilded bronze clock ticked in the corner of the warm room, slicing the afternoon's stillness into fragments of silver. The new wet nurse, Nanny Zhang, dozed on the carved couch. Her sparse hair, like faded hemp thread, lay scattered across the moon-white pillow. A few strands of gray trembled at her temples, gently swaying with her steady snores. Henkeng tiptoed in, his lotus-root-like arms clutching a scarlet silk cord. The deep smile on his chubby face mirrored Shen Weiwan's, and the upturned corners of his eyes made him look like a miniature "expert in trickery."

"Sister Chuntao," he tugged at the maid's lake blue skirt, his knuckles still stained with mud, "look at Mammy's hair, doesn't it look like a mop hung out to dry in the backyard?"

Chuntao lowered her head to suppress her laughter, her shoulders shaking as she covered her mouth with Juanzi: "Young prince, keep your voice down. If Nanny wakes up, she will hit you with the broom." Before she finished speaking, Kenkeng had crawled to the edge of the couch like a nimble little animal. The red silk rope flew up and down in his hands. In a few seconds, he tied Nanny Zhang's hair into a bundle, and took out a ball of wet mud from his sleeve pocket and pressed it on the top of the hair.

"Hehe, mop!" Kenkeng clapped his hands and laughed, splashing mud on the tassels of the soft couch, startling a few dormant dust mites that danced wildly in the light beam.

Nanny Zhang was awakened by an itch on her forehead. She touched her head with her rough palm, feeling a sticky, damp, and cold sensation. It was clear that her tangled hair was caked with mud. She sat up abruptly, her long black hair a tangle of red silk ropes and mud, a distorted mop-like shape reflected in the mirror. Mud dripped onto the brocade quilt, creating dark spots. "Damn you little ancestor!" She leaped off the bed, her wooden clogs clattering against the blue bricks as she chased after the pit. Mud clumps from her bun fell like meteors.

Kengkeng stumbled with laughter and hid behind Shen Weiwan at the threshold, his chubby hands tightly grasping the hem of her skirt: "Mom! The nanny has turned into a mop spirit!"

Chen Weiwan had just returned from the garden, a maple leaf still clinging to her temples. Seeing this, she clapped her thigh in laughter, her armor jingling against the doorframe: "Oh my, which skilled craftsman made this hairstyle? I'll ask him to do one for me tomorrow." She reached out and poked at the mud, then twirled a strand of hair. "It's just that there aren't enough mud spots. The newly turned black soil in the garden yesterday was strong enough to create the shape of a peony flower."

Nanny Zhang's lips turned purple with anger, and her hand trembled as she pointed at the pit. "Madam! You must stop pampering the young prince! If he keeps up this, he'll braid this old slave's hair into a broom!"

"Weaving a broom?" Chen Weiwan raised an eyebrow, the jade hairpin on her temples shone with tiny silver glints. "I think this mop is quite useful. The backyard toilet needs to be cleaned. Mammy, how about using this 'natural mop' to clean the pit as a good deed?"

Nanny Zhang stumbled half a step and nearly fell over: "Madam! I am the young prince's wet nurse, not a toilet cleaner!"

"Oh?" Chen Weiwan feigned surprise, then turned to Chuntao and winked, "Did you hear that? Mammy thinks our palace's toilet isn't worthy of her 'precious mop'. Go, bring the mop from the east wing and show Mammy what 'professionalism' means."

Chuntao suppressed her laughter and soon brought back a newly tied mop. The brown-red twine was neatly tied, and it bore a striking resemblance to the red rope wrapped around Nanny Zhang's hair, covered in mud. The maids sweeping nearby lowered their heads, pinching their thighs beneath their aprons to stifle their laughter. The parrots in the corridor were so startled by the spectacle that they forgot to imitate.

"Look at the similarity," Shen Weiwan pointed at the mop and gestured at Nanny Zhang's head, "Nanny, don't be modest. Go mop the toilet twice and demonstrate to His Highness that 'labor is the most glorious'. If you mop it clean, I'll give you a spicy..." She glanced at the pit and changed the subject, "I'll give you a piece of the Queen Mother's newly made osmanthus cake."

Nanny Zhang stared at the mop, then looked at the smug look on Kenken's face with his hands on his hips. She sat down on the ground and cried, "This is not a royal palace! It's clearly the backstage of a troupe playing clowns! I, this old slave, quit!"

Just then, Xiao Yu walked in, his dark brocade robe stained with fallen leaves. Seeing this scene, his temples throbbed. "What's going on? The guards in the front yard said they heard chaos in the backyard."

"Daddy!" Kengkeng rushed over and hugged his legs, looking up with his muddy face, "Nanny's hair is like a mop, Mommy asked her to mop the toilet!"

Xiao Yu looked at the shaky mud on Nanny Zhang's head, trying to put on a serious face but couldn't help but curl his lips: "Weiwei, it's almost done. Nanny is..."

"Your Highness doesn't understand this," Chen Weiwan interrupted him, her fingertips entwining the tassel of the jade pendant at her waist. "This is called recycling. Look at Ma'am's hair, it's stronger than twine. It's guaranteed to be clean if you mop the floor with it." She turned to the still-wailing Ma'am Zhang, "Are you going or not? If not, I'll deduct three months' salary from you and paint your 'mop-hairstyle' into a portrait and hang it in the palace gatehouse as a door god."

When Aunt Zhang heard about the money being deducted, her crying stopped abruptly, like a duck with its neck pinched. She took the mop from Chuntao listlessly, the mud and water on her hair dripping onto the blue bricks, leaving a smudged trail. "Old slave, go..."

Watching Nanny Zhang disappear through the moonlit gate with her "mop of hair," Shen Weiwan laughed so hard she fell backward, leaning on Xiao Yu's shoulder and unable to straighten her back. Xiao Yu pinched her cheek helplessly: "You're the one with so many ideas. When the Queen Mother finds out, she'll have to reward you with another ten pounds of gold."

"Reward me if you want," Shen Weiwan raised her eyebrows, the ruby ​​hairpin in her hair gleaming red, "Last time, the Queen Mother said she wanted to make a pure gold mop for the pit, saying it was dirtier than jade."

Before she finished her words, the empress dowager's voice came from the corridor, accompanied by the sound of a dragon-headed cane knocking on the ground: "Who said I wanted to make a golden mop? I had someone make one made of Hetian jade!" She was wearing a lilac-colored cloak with a longevity pattern, and her pearl necklaces trembled with her steps. Behind her, a palace maid held a bright yellow brocade box. When she opened it, she found a jade mop the size of a palm. The mop head carved from mutton-fat jade was smooth and warm, and even the wooden handle was engraved with a lotus pattern.

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