Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 33: Advice

This time, the Princess of Pingyang displayed remarkable prudence.

In just over ten days, she dispatched the entire Wei household to the residence of the Marquess of Tangyi without even seeking an excuse—an act that could be deemed a gesture of genuine sincerity.

When the grand princess spoke with her daughter, her attitude softened, and her resentment toward the Princess of Pingyang diminished, “Where a woman’s home is, her heart resides. Lady Wei has already garnered A’ Che’s occasional favor at a young age, and she may prove to be a valuable ally. When the time comes to train her, do not hold back. The Jia family has long regarded themselves as masters ever since they learned of their daughter’s pregnancy.”

Chen Jiao never anticipated that her mother would be the first to advocate for promoting Wei Zifu.

Though she maintained her composure, a delicate smile softly surfaced, blossoming like a flower in full bloom. Within her heart, a voice echoed—both amused and tinged with bitter self-awareness—faintly amused by the paradox of her own feelings.

This layered expression of joy and irony caused two subtle smiles to emerge, captivating even the grand princess, her biological mother, who paused momentarily in admiration.

In an era when aristocratic children were often married young and indulged excessively, Chen Jiao’s upbringing was markedly different; by the time they reached their twenties or thirties, most had long since been weathered by life’s hardships. Yet, over the past year or two, her allure had gradually deepened, and upon turning eighteen, she radiated even greater beauty—calm, poised, and elegant.

The nobility in her gaze was effortless, not overbearing, but imbued with the quiet majesty of someone who had long borne responsibility—a regal presence that needed only a single glance to be fully understood.

The most captivating aspect of her was the sudden emergence of a radiant smile from the most reserved corner of her being. This smile, like a delicate fracture in her composure, revealed the innocence and shyness befitting a maiden.

While she still lacked the commanding presence expected of an empress of the Han Dynasty, her smile alone possessed a charm that was undeniable.

The grand princess mused privately, ”Jiaojiao conceals many thoughts beneath that quiet exterior—her introversion explains why A’ Che grows ever more inseparable from her.“

Meanwhile, as these thoughts crossed her mind, Liu Che had already advanced confidently into Jiaofang Hall.

He and Chen Jiao shared a similar demeanor. During their leisure moments, both appeared remarkably unadorned.

Chen Jiao, in particular, often neglected to wear her elaborate robes properly. In the height of summer, she favored a simple single layer of clothing, draped casually over a plain gauze robe. Barefoot, with her hair flowing freely and devoid of makeup, she exuded a natural, romantic charm. Her cheeks, smooth and flawless like eggs, needed no embellishment—they captivated the eye and beckoned one to linger.

Liu Che, too, was unpretentious, though less flamboyant than her. He eschewed formal attire and crowns, rolling his sleeves to his elbows and walking barefoot. A subtle scent of sweat mingled with the fragrance of bath beans as he moved—a hint of vitality and freshness.

The allure of youthful beauty was undeniable; both women and men possessed an intoxicating charm, capable of stirring hearts and awakening passions with nothing more than their presence and subtle fragrances.

When Liu Che saw his wife and mother, he was a little stunned.

The smile disappeared from his face, and he greeted politely, “Auntie!”

As soon as he entered the hall, his eyes landed on Chen Jiao, who was smiling. He almost blurted out his own words—but when she raised her eyes, she turned and saw himself…

The grand princess felt more at ease than if she had just drunk a cup of iced drink.

She stood up with a smile, “I was about to leave, no need to see me off, no need to see me off.”

Liu Che didn’t actually see her off, but sat next to Chen Jiao and hugged her, “Aunt, take your time. The sun is so strong, be careful of heatstroke.”

Summer came in the blink of an eye. Jia Ji’s belly hadn’t shown yet, but Chang’an was already unbearably hot. Jiaofang Hall and the Qingliang Hall were fine, but several palace maids in the Yongxiang Hall had fallen ill recently.

Chen Jiao was afraid that Jia Ji would have a miscarriage due to heatstroke, so she sent ice cubes every day so that she didn’t have to come over to say hello every day.

So as soon as the grand princess left, Liu Che asked, “What did you say to mother just now? Is Jia Ji’s belly okay?”

Even she didn’t see Jia Ji every day, and Liu Che hadn’t seen her for ten days or half a month.

He was a lively young man, and he was relieved that Chen Jiao could take such good care of such a pregnant beauty, so he was too lazy to visit her. It was enough for him to ask her when he remembered.

“It’s okay, she just wants to eat sour things all the time. It’s the green plum season, and she can eat two kilograms a day!”

Chen Jiao was even more concerned than him, and spoke with a smile, as if she were talking about a fussy cat, “Her belly is gradually getting bigger, but you can’t see it when she’s dressed… Oh my, what are you doing!”

As Liu Che listened, his hand slipped into her clothes. Even when she playfully scolded him, he remained unmoved. His fingers gradually rose, teasing her body, making her silence like spring ice, so thin that only a layer of translucent crust remained.

It seemed crystal clear, but in fact, undercurrents were already surging underneath.

Only Liu Che, who was standing next to her, could carefully observe the subtleties. He looked at her with pleasure and satisfaction, as if it was the first time he was with her.

He greedily caught every drop of Chen Jiao’s reaction with his eyes. Her cheeks suddenly turned red, her body slightly tensed up, and her lips seemed to invite yet reject the quiet voice…

He pressed his entire body against Chen Jiao and whispered in her ear, “I haven’t been back for a long time. Do you miss me?”

Though she remained the sole favorite of the emperor, she and Liu Che occasionally found themselves apart for a few days at a time.

With the season ripe for hunting, Liu Che’s passion for the art of archery grew increasingly intense; he would often venture into the mountains with his companions, camping amidst nature for several days, returning laden with both grand and modest trophies.

It was her who subtly conveyed this to the empress dowager, prompting her to commission the renovation of a tranquil enclave within Shanglin Garden—an area designated for the repose of young nobles. This time, Liu Che extended his sojourn to five days before finally returning to Weiyang Palace, embodying his burgeoning ardor for the chase.

Chen Jiao didn’t have time to reply. Her usual calm and collected nature was now shaken and confused.

She could only close her legs and blame him with a look of helplessness, “Your Majesty…”

The end of the long, drawn-out sentence was somehow charming, mixed with a rare hint of pleading. Liu Che couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

He casually pulled aside the curtains, letting the thin gauze sway in the breeze as he stroked Chen Jiao’s bare back.

It was a long time before the clouds cleared and the rain stopped.

“It’s only early afternoon, you’re already in a hurry after coming back…” Chen Jiao’s face was still flushed, and she whispered in his ear, half complaining, half fawning. “Your Majesty, that’s not fair!”

The melting snow and ice transformed into spring water, an irresistible allure for any man.

A profound sense of achievement welled up within Liu Che’s heart, reminiscent of countless such moments before.

He half-closed his eyes, a gentle smile playing upon his lips, as he lazily remarked, “You know me well enough. I can go three days without eating, but I simply cannot bear to be apart from Jiaojiao for a single day.”

She rolled her eyes, inwardly noting that with Han Yan, Han Yue, and other handsome companions at his side this time, she couldn’t help but smile faintly. Yet, she also sensed, from Liu Che’s eager demeanor, that he hadn’t truly enjoyed himself over the past few days, and had endured until he could return to the Jiaofang Hall.

Her period was about to come, and the time was right for her to conceive. Liu Che didn’t say anything, but perhaps he still had some hope…

Not saying it out loud was out of consideration for her, but also added some volatility, and the word ‘perhaps’ was added before his kindness.

Chen Jiao didn’t ask about it directly, but said a few more words to him. Then she sat up, letting the thin linen clothes pile up around her waist, revealing her delicate and toned upper body like white porcelain.

She reached out and took out the jade comb, slowly combing her sweat-drenched hair, and mentioned to Liu Che the grand princess’ visit, “…Elder sister simply sent the Wei family away, perhaps because she was afraid I would think too much.”

The Princess of Pingyang naturally thought that she had fainted when she saw the girl from the Wei family.

He hummed with satisfaction, “My elder sister is really considerate.”

“Isn’t it because you ignored her that she is panicking?” Chen Jiao smiled and glanced at him.

Seeing that he was looking at her with a smile, and there seemed to be movement in his crotch, she quickly put on her clothes, “You pervert… My waist is still sore!”

The two young couples were in love, and Liu Che had long since forgotten about Wei Zifu. He hadn’t asked Chen Jiao about her actions with the Wei family.

He was very happy recounting to her the interesting events that had happened during the hunt, “Sang Hongyang really doesn’t understand rules. When he saw a wild boar, he pulled out his arrow to shoot it. I stopped him. Later, he apologized to me, saying he didn’t know he should avoid my old name.”

Chen Jiao couldn’t help but laugh, “This Sang Hongyang is so clever when he’s smart, and so stupid when he’s stupid.”

“Dongfang Xu wrote a poem on the spot to make fun of him.” Liu Che recited a long poem to her, then said with a smile, “I don’t know Sang Hongyang’s background. He wanted to shoot an arrow at wild boars. This poem made fun of him, and it wasn’t wrong to make fun of him.”

Dongfang Xu, a courtier who had recently garnered his favor, was renowned for his wit and humor, qualities that endeared him deeply to Liu Che.

In recent months, his preference for lighthearted companionship became even more evident; he increasingly withdrew from his ministers, favoring instead the company of entertainers and jesters who could amuse him.

Within the confines of the harem, his presence was almost exclusively confined to the Jiaofang Hall, with occasional nights spent in the Yongxiang Hall. It had been quite some time since the two main palaces had received his visits.

Chen Jiao perceived his demeanor as akin to a majestic kite—when the wind was strong, he would soar far away, leaving her with a sense of loneliness. Yet, in times of calm, he would draw so close that she feared he might fall into her arms and remain forever tethered, unable to rise again.

He still had numerous remarkable accomplishments awaiting him; how could he possibly squander his boundless ambition and vitality on fleeting amusements?

While he appeared to finally find moments of leisure to become closer to her and nurture a budding affection, Chen Jiao occasionally found herself questioning whether the voice of doubt was justified.

Could this young man, still somewhat inexperienced, truly become the future emperor destined for greatness—one whose name would echo across the centuries and whose strength would drive the hated Huns far beyond the borders?

“You didn’t expect it, did you?” Finally, a hint of pride was present in the voice, “Back then, how could I have expected it?”

Yes, he was a close husband to her, but because of this closeness, she found it difficult to understand his ambition, and even more so to respect his unbridled ambition.

She had never imagined that he was capable of this, and she had never imagined that this little husband, pampered from a young age, would eventually become a great man who would dominate the world, push imperial power to the highest positions, and play the power of the prime minister in the palm of his hand…

“A’ Che,” Chem Jiao couldn’t help but say.

She leaned over Liu Che and whispered, her voice audible only to the two of them, “It’s not good to be so far away from the court.”

His body tensed up greatly—this was the first time Chen Jiao had directly advised him.

But her next sentence made his body tremble slightly, “After all, grandmother is an old woman, and her body is getting weaker by the day… I know you’re being patient and waiting. But if you don’t use the present to pave the way for the future, promote more talents, and make some arrangements that will take a long time, do you have to wait until grandmother dies before you do anything? Don’t let your ambitions and aspirations fade away!”

During their three or four years of marriage, Chen Jiao had seldom lost her temper, and even then, her restraint was evident; she would express her point and then swiftly regain her composure.

This occasion marked a departure from her usual restraint—her words were now unusually direct and forceful. Even in her mere hints on the subject, she struck with precision, cutting to the very core and piercing Liu Che’s heart.

On this occasion, Chen Jiao’s metaphorical sword was fully unsheathed, and his heart, once resilient, now lay as if struck by a mighty blade—wounded and rendered powerless by her unwavering resolve.