Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 32: Move

Wei Zifu ultimately secured her residence within the esteemed confines of Yongxiang Hall.

Chen Jiao, ever the epitome of virtue and generosity, asserted that she had been unwell for some time and that her condition bore no relation to her.

Given this explanation, Wei Zifu—who had briefly enjoyed the favor of the emperor—naturally transitioned into her new quarters at Yongxiang Hall.

Demonstrating her wisdom and restraint, she rarely left her chamber since her arrival. Whenever she encountered Jia Ji, she would respectfully kneel and address her as “Madam,” a gesture that reflected her continued regard for herself as a singer.

Meanwhile, Liu Che’s concern for her well-being had waned; once Chen Jiao had assured him that her situation was unrelated to her, he had ceased to pay We Zifu any mind.

Considering her young age—merely thirteen or fourteen—and her lack of maturity, it was unlikely she had ever truly captured the emperor’s interest.

The grand empress dowager held supreme authority over the court, while both the prime minister and the grand commandant, devoted followers of Lao-Zhuang, maintained a remarkably stable governance. As a result, the nation was largely free from significant upheaval.

The princes and kings confidently entrusted the venerable lady with the task of maintaining order, and their satisfaction was evident. This mutual confidence discouraged any notions of disturbance, ensuring that the Han Dynasty thrived in both internal harmony and external stability.

Over time, Liu Che’s vigilance in managing state affairs gradually diminished. Though he continued to attend court sessions during the weekdays, his participation became perfunctory; he would merely sit and appear attentive, only to leave promptly afterward to indulge in leisure activities such as visiting the Qingliang Hall or hunting in the outskirts with companions.

As the years passed, his emotional attachment to Chen Jiao gradually waned, freeing her to spend more time with the grand empress dowager and to engage more freely with some of the imperial women.

Despite her advanced age, the grand empress dowager remained in good spirits. Each day, she dedicated an hour to seated discussions with Xu Chang, Zhuang Qingzhai, and other esteemed scholars.

She also intended to include Chen Jiao in these dialogues; however, Chen Jiao respectfully declined, explaining, “There are already numerous affairs to attend to within the harem, and I must also manage court matters. I lack the energy to participate.”

The old lady did not press her, merely remarking, “There is still ample time ahead. You will come to understand when the moment arrives.”

This exchange clarified matters somewhat, yet what was spoken within Changshou Hall was not comparable to the conversations held in the Jiaofang Hall, Changxin Hall, or the Yongxiang Hall—discussions that could easily be overheard or spread among those with curiosity.

Having presided over the world for over forty years, the grand empress dowager had, through decades of careful stewardship, rendered her Changshou Hall virtually impregnable—so much so that even a drop of water could not penetrate its defenses.

“A’ Che is still young,” Chen Jiao said with a smile. “Don’t say you don’t know anything yet. I don’t know if Jia Ji’s baby will be born safely. We’ll talk about the future later.”

Even if the grand empress dowager had the ability, she wouldn’t be able to get Chen Jiao to give birth to two seventeen- or eighteen-year-old children at once. Besides, Liu Che, despite his flaws and insubordination, was a talented and bold strategist, worthy of being emperor.

Considering that she was about to turn seventy, it was only natural that she would feel sentimental, “Before I close my eyes, I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet your and Liu Che’s child, and whether I’ll be able to hold my great-grandchild.”

It might be difficult.

In the past, there were also beauties favored by the emperor at this time. Chen Jiao never thought that she could restrain Liu Che’s favor.

That was only a good thing in the era when the emperor was young, the empress dowager and her relatives were in power, and the country was about to fall. But she would still make a fuss, at least to express her wish to give birth to the first son, and Liu Che and the empress dowager also chose to fulfill her insistence.

Now her tone changed, “Don’t worry, Jia Ji’s child is my child, isn’t it?”

Seeing the old lady’s displeasure, she had to quietly interrupt, “Hold him on your knees first, and wait until the legitimate son is born.”

This postponement proved sufficient to address the grand empress dowager’s initial displeasure. Her stern expression softened gradually, transforming into a subtle, familiar reproach.

With gentle affection, the old lady reached out to pat her on the shoulder and softly remarked, “You truly are mischievous, indeed.”

After a brief exchange of words between the grandmother and granddaughter, the grand princess accompanied by Princess of Longlu proceeded to pay their respects to the grand empress dowager. Soon thereafter, the esteemed Princess of Pingyang, the Princess of Nangong, and the Princess of Huainan arrived in succession, each adding their presence to the gathering with grace and reverence.

As the gathering grew larger, the atmosphere blossomed with vibrancy, naturally lifting the spirits of the old lady. Once the singers concluded their performance, she graciously invited the acrobats to entertain the assembly.

Her mood was buoyant, and she requested the grand princess to recount the spectacle for her. The crowd’s exuberant cheers nearly shook the very rafters of Changshou Hall.

With genuine warmth, the grand empress dowager remarked, “It is truly a delight to have multiple generations of my family present.” She sighed softly, adding, “It’s a shame that I have no kin from my own lineage to converse with; the scene is still somewhat lacking in liveliness.”

Despite having been married for over fifty years and having lost her two brothers one after the other, her steadfast protection of the Dou family remained evident, reflecting her enduring dedication and filial devotion.

Chen Jiao finally saw the right moment, “Grandmother, Marquis of Wei Qi is from your mother’s family. His birthday is next month, and now he’s dismissed and has lost his imperial status, so he’s naturally feeling down. Grandmother, you’re so kind-hearted. Why don’t you give him a generous gift for his birthday this year?”

The grand empress dowager’s expression changed slightly, but she didn’t comment.

“Don’t mention him on such a happy occasion. He has never done anything good in his life. He’s only good at spoiling things.”

Everyone laughed.

Princess of Huainan glanced at Chen Jiao and said with a smile, “Grandmother, you’re too modest. His military exploits during the Seven Kingdoms Rebellion were real, and Marquis of Wei Qi is the most outstanding member of the Dou family. You control him so strictly, and it makes us Liu family members uneasy.”

She had always been gracious, and though she seldom appeared to serve, she still maintained a modest presence in Changshou Hall. Her response to the grand empress dowager, though tinged with a hint of audacity, was nonetheless measured and respectful.

The old lady hummed thoughtfully, as if pondering something deeply, while Chen Jiao’s gaze involuntarily shifted to her.

When she saw Liu Ling’s gentle smile in return, she responded with a subtle smile of her own.

Indeed, she was a clever woman. She had skillfully managed her relations with both Changshou Hall and Changxin Hall, and now she had gained a favor from Jiaofang Hall. Whether she would extend her influence to Yongxiang Hall remained to be seen, but her subtle maneuvering suggested she was a woman of keen insight and strategic grace.

With Dou Ying involved, the princesses remained silent, constrained by their reverence for the grand empress dowager and their inability to speak ill of the Marquis of Wei Qi in her presence.

Meanwhile, the empress dowager spared no effort in endorsing the Marquis of Wu An. Though he had been dismissed from his official post and was residing in retirement, his conduct over the past few months had been exemplary.

He frequently entered and exited the palace, engaging in discussions with Liu Che, maintaining his popularity and favor among the court.

There was concern that, upon Liu Che’s ascension to greater power, the position of prime minister might ultimately fall to Tian Fen. Nonetheless, even if some welcomed his rise, Dou Ying was unlikely to hinder the princesses, who, as members of the imperial family and nobility, found little difference in who held the office.

Given that Liu Che had only been emperor for two years, the court was still in the early stages of planning for the future, and such considerations remained in flux.

The grand empress rowager remained silent for a moment, her demeanor poised and contemplative.

Then, the grand princess chuckled softly, “Indeed, Jiaojiao is truly exceptional; your grandmother knows precisely how to handle such matters. We set aside serious concerns when we are in good spirits.”

Her words stirred a recollection in the grand empress dowager, who then inquired of Princess of Pingyang, “I understand you have presented a talented singer to the palace. She must be both beautiful and gifted. Would you honor us with her singing today?”

Upon hearing the name Lady Wei, Princess of Pingyang’s expression grew uneasy, revealing her discomfort.

On the day of the incident, Chen Jiao collapsed beside her, leaving her naturally flustered and suspicious. Once she regained her composure, an unsettling sense of dread washed over her—she seemed to be shrouded in a terrible shadow of suspicion.

Although Chen Jiao herself did not dwell on it excessively, even her younger brother failed to perceive the ominous undercurrents, and he proceeded to bring Wei Zifu into Yongxiang Hall without hesitation. Yet, as she reflected on these events, she could not help but feel profoundly unlucky.

The Princess of Pingyang had made no deliberate attempt to offer her beauty, merely arranging some musicians to entertain her younger brother in a casual manner. The presence of Wei Zifu not only offended Chen Jiao once more but also subtly cast a dark omen—a foreboding hint of future control and manipulation by others.

Chen Jiao’s fainting was undoubtedly genuine, not something easily feigned. Given the past tensions and unpleasant incidents between the sisters-in-law, any speculation about witchcraft would inevitably cast a heavy shadow of suspicion upon the eldest princess herself.

“She’s just a little girl who hasn’t grown up yet,” she said, losing interest. “Her singing isn’t much, and she’s living in Yongxiang Hall now…”

Seeing the grand empress dowager’s shocked expression, Chen Jiao hurriedly tried to lighten the mood, “If grandmother wants to hear it, let her sing. Someone call Lady Wei and have her serve.”

The Princess of Pingyang realized that her tone was extremely rude and she hurriedly apologized, “This granddaughter is speechless.”

Before the gathered multitude, the grand empress dowager merely offered a gentle, faint smile, saying little in response.

Princess of Pingyang, well acquainted with her temperament, could not help but feel a twinge of regret, which only fueled her growing ire toward Wei Zifu.

Chen Jiao, observing her expression, could not discern her thoughts directly, yet a faint hint of satisfaction played upon her face—evidently pleased by Princess of Pingyang’s demeanor, her mood lifted considerably.

She took a delicate sip of honey wine before leaning softly against the grand empress dowager, confiding in her with her deepest reflections.

Not long thereafter, Wei Zifu made her entrance into the Changshou Hall.

Still youthful, she appeared like a tender bud yet to blossom, her delicate features—exquisite eyebrows and eyes—highlighting her gentle, modest demeanor. Aside from her flowing black hair, she lacked any striking attributes; in truth, even adorned in brocade, she did not possess an aura of command or mastery.

For the first time, the grand princess laid eyes upon her. Her initially furrowed brow eased immediately, and a gentle smile blossomed on her face as she turned to Chen Jiao.

Her words conveyed their meaning effortlessly, “No wonder you can bear with her—such a young girl.”

The Princess of Pingyang, feeling some discomfort, cast a sharp glance at Wei Zifu but refrained from intervening, recognizing her kinship to her—albeit of limited utility, she was still partly her own.

The assembled nobles, meanwhile, paid her little mind.

As Wei Zifu gracefully took up the pipa and rendered “You Suo Si,” whispers and muffled laughter rippled among the onlookers.

The grand princess and the grand empress dowager exchanged a few soft words, and the latter hummed softly, a faint smile touching her lips—an elegant affirmation of the moment.

Liu Ling engaged in a refined discussion with the Princess of Longlu and the Princess of Pingyang, contemplating the most suitable destination for their summer retreat this year.

Throughout the conversation, only Chen Jiao paid close attention to Wei Zifu as she sang, her focus unwavering. Though her voice was not notably beautiful—her tone was round and smooth—she was still young, and her singing lacked technical perfection and emotional depth.

In essence, the girl’s youth explained her modest performance; such endeavors often serve their own purpose. Naturally, no one paid much heed to such an unremarkable singer, and even Wei Zifu likely did not regard herself highly.

Chen Jiao, devoid of any mysterious intuition about the future, found this quite intriguing. She had been momentarily stunned by her performance, yet Wei Zifu showed no sign of realizing her own limitations. Did she not perceive her own misstep?

Sensing her keen interest, Wei Zifu cast a gentle glance in her direction while softly singing. Her eyes, pure and innocent, shimmered like a fawn’s—large, luminous, and seemingly unaware of the world’s complexity.

If Chen Jiao’s depths were a vast, unfathomable pool, Wei Zifu appeared as a delicate stream, its bottom easily visible. Who, then, could truly take her seriously?

She wondered whether Wei Zifu’s apparent obliviousness stemmed from a failure to recognize her own significance, or simply from the realization that, over the years, even if she understood, she lacked the means to counteract it. Thus, she chose to feign ignorance and silence.

After all, the disparity in strength was glaring—within Chen Jiao’s grasp lay the power to shatter her family with nothing more than a turn of her hand.

She offered a gentle smile to Wei Zifu and lavished praise upon her, “Lady Wei’s singing is truly splendid.”

Her hands trembled faintly, instantly feeling a surge of flattery. Her song, held softly on her lips, was slightly slowed.

The Princess of Pingyang observed this with a knowing smile and remarked, “If Jiaojiao enjoys it, let her sing for you every day.”

She, waving her hand dismissively, replied with a light laugh, “I’m not particularly fond of music, but my mother often finds herself bored at home. Lady Wei sings so beautifully—does she perhaps have sisters? If she does, I dare say they must sing just as well.”

At this moment, a subtle shimmer of emotion finally appeared in Wei Zifu’s tearful eyes. She cast a glance at Chen Jiao, who merely returned a nonchalant smile.

The humble origins of hers remained her most poignant vulnerability, a weakness that lingered beneath her delicate exterior.