Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 34: Entering the Room

The silence within Jiaofang Hall was suddenly profound.

Liu Che could almost feel a delicate layer of sweat forming on his skin, only to be quickly replaced by another, more persistent layer. This new moisture was unlike the urgent perspiration of passion just moments before; it seemed to emerge from deep within his core—cold, sticky, and unrelenting.

As he gazed at Chen Jiao, it was as if he was seeing her anew—her quiet grace and inscrutable beauty rendering her entirely beyond comprehension.

Despite their many years of acquaintance, this was the first time she had ever made a direct request of him.

The aspiration to drive out the Xiongnu had been a dream cherished by generations before him, yet that dream remained shrouded in uncertainty. Though Liu Che esteemed himself highly, he never believed that this grand endeavor was solely his to complete.

He was determined to see it through and confident in his ability to succeed—yet these convictions stemmed from fundamentally different mindsets: one rooted in humble resolve, the other in unwavering ambition.

From a young age, his aspirations were carefully nurtured, yet no one in the world entrusted him with overwhelming responsibility.

The people of the Han Dynasty anticipated only modest taxes and levies, while the marquessess—relatives of the emperor—and officials expected to be left undisturbed.

It was deemed preferable for Liu Che to maintain the status quo rather than risk upheaval.

Whether the emperor was truly wise or not, neither the populace nor the officials could readily perceive it. A reign of mediocrity, it was believed, would ensure perpetual stability within the court.

Those with vested interests would always remember Liu Che’s benevolence. As emperor, he had long grown accustomed to the diverse individuals who surrounded him—each bearing a request, whether grand or trivial.

His uncle extolled the virtues of Confucianism and Taoism, expressing hope for reform, for without such change, he believed it would be difficult to win his favor. In turn, his trust and support, coupled with military achievement, were essential for the Marques of Wu’an to ascend to the position of prime minister.

Han Yan placed great importance on border affairs and eagerly anticipated an expedition, as his family had originally come from the Xiongnu and had since aligned themselves with the Han. For him, border affairs represented the most promising path for advancement. The Xiongnu represented his ambition, a route to both success and fame, and a means to shed the label of a mere sycophant.

Liu Che never believed that Han Yan was truly in love with him; he was too astute to be deceived.

Han Yan understood that the many beauties surrounding him were willing to sacrifice their youth, but their true desire was the pursuit of glory, wealth, and prosperity.

His favor was greater than theirs because he was more ambitious and genuinely sought to achieve something meaningful.

Regarding the Confucian scholars such as Kong Anguo and Zhao Wan, they actively promoted Confucianism and Taoism, while also seeking to supplant the followers of Huang-Lao and secure sinecures within the court—strategies they employed in pursuit of their own advancement.

Recognizing the motives driving these individuals, he was able to leverage his understanding to amass a trusted circle of confidants, even at the young age of seventeen or eighteen, using them to serve his own ends.

He was acutely aware that his authority stemmed from the family heirloom entrusted to him by his father, as well as the inherent power vested in him as the Son of Heaven. With this foundation, he had already contemplated how he would wield these powers. Yet, he had not anticipated that Chen Jiao would genuinely concern herself with his ambitions.

Her father and brothers were, alas, men of modest talents and limited ambition. Her father, advanced in years and beset by illness, was scarcely able to contribute meaningfully, nor did he harbor aspirations beyond his immediate needs.

Chen Jiao herself had often remarked of her two brothers, “As long as they refrain from causing trouble and do not tarnish the honor of the Chen family, that is the greatest blessing our ancestors could have bestowed.”

Regardless of Liu Che’s great ambitions and endeavors, the Chen household was incapable of offering meaningful support, leaving no room for the family to ascend politically or make a notable impact.

The women within the imperial harem were of humble origins; even Jia Ji’s family, fortunate enough to gain favor due to her pregnancy, held a modest standing. Yet, in terms of favor and lineage, no woman in the harem—now or in the foreseeable future—could rival Chen Jiao’s stature or influence in the eyes of his.

To her, it didn’t really matter whether Liu Che succeeded or failed in the palace. Her grandmother was not Empress Lü, and she could neither depose nor establish an emperor. All she had to do was live a peaceful life in the harem, comfort Liu Che when he failed, and share in his successes.

That was enough. That was all he had ever expected.

She told him, “I will never be hostile to anyone who helps you.” She expressed her desire, “I wish to help you soar to great heights.” Touched by her words, he remained somewhat skeptical, aware that many could utter kind sentiments, and that she would never openly oppose Han Yan.

Her nature was generous and tranquil, and she would only stand against others when cornered beyond all else. It was precisely because of her gentle disposition that he both loved and pitied this wife, who, like himself, had journeyed arduously along the path to becoming empress, often bearing injustices in silence.

Liu Che had intentionally subdued and distanced himself from his elder sister to bolster Chen Jiao’s authority.

Yet, in this moment, he could not dismiss her words as mere politeness; he understood that she had risked provoking his anger to say something that bore no immediate benefit for herself, and could only have been motivated by concern for him.

She held a profound conviction that his life was meant for greatness: to restore the Hetao region, dispel the Huns, and extend the influence of the Han Dynasty across distant lands. Such a lofty aspiration, long dormant for a century, now seemed within her grasp.

Her spirit was eager, restless, and compassionate—qualities that made her wary of succumbing to fleeting pleasures, yet driven to ignite his ambition and stir his resolve.

Liu Che suddenly perceived that he was still falling short in his devotion to her.

In her presence, he often felt a subtle deficiency; despite his deep and genuine love for her, her affection appeared even more profound, sincere, and unreserved than his own.

At this moment, he thought, “Perhaps even my mother will not be with me completely. She still has to consider the power of my elder sister and my uncles. But Jiaojiao… She has no one in her heart except me. She doesn’t care about the affairs of the previous dynasty at all, she only thinks about me.”

Chen Jiao had never asked for any favors for her family. Even when the grand princess brought this up with him several times, she always changed the subject.

He had not taken it to heart at the time, but now that he thought about it, these two things were confirmed, and his heart pounded even harder.

He leaned over and whispered in Chen Jiao’s ear, “Don’t worry, Jiaojiao, I haven’t forgotten, I won’t forget! I know what I’m doing at court!”

He loved hugging her tightly, clinging to her so tightly that he didn’t want to leave any space.

But for some reason, at that moment, he couldn’t help but hold her hand tightly, as if this was the only way he could calm the waves of emotion.

However, Chen Jiao was so calm, as if she had already reassured her heart, as he didn’t lose his composure.

She only smiled at his gaze, and her sharpness, as irresistible as spring ice, melted easily into a pool of spring water.

Liu Che looked at her, feeling a little afraid.

He wanted to hug her tightly in his arms, even swallow her, to avoid the slightest possibility of them being separated.

But this mood wasn’t befitting of an emperor, and Chen Jiao herself was so calm, he didn’t say a word, but buried his head and face in her shoulders and neck, and said a few words to her from his heart, “There are still very few people who can be used.”

This was the first time he had told her about the affairs of the previous dynasty in such detail.

He had taken her to Qingliang Hall before, but he had never said anything unless she asked.

By taking her along, he had actually brought a pair of eyes for his grandmother.

“Although Han Yan and Kong Anguo are both talented people, I have always felt that they are lacking in something, and they do not have the style of national scholars like Zhou Yafu, Han Xin, and Jia Yi.” Liu Che said quietly, “Even talent needs to be honed. But the Huns are ready for change, and Li Guang is very old…”

Indeed, the world does not require refinement or polishing; it is shaped by rare and extraordinary leaders—those few generals capable of achieving consecutive victories with a single stroke, thereby altering the course of history and asserting dominance over the world. Such individuals are destined to appear only once or twice in a century.

Centuries ago, figures like King Xiang Yu of Chu and King Han Xin of Qi emerged as such luminaries. Over time, the prominence of Han Dynasty generals waned, yet Chief Junchen remained a formidable presence.

Liu Che, however, only developed a desire for remarkable talent after ascending to power and nurturing grand ambitions. It is no surprise that his circle of followers has recently expanded, with repeated summons for talents from across the world to serve at his court. Yet, true talent often resides in the mountains and fields, hidden from view.

Consequently, he must rely on this method—searching far and wide—to discover those rare individuals capable of shaping history.

Chen Jiao couldn’t help but stare off into the distance, humming softly, and sighed in her heart, “He really is a born emperor. And he’s still so young, even I was beginning to think he might have completely forgotten his ambitions. Not to mention what grandmother would think.”

After a while, the voice in her heart finally replied, “I never knew the difference between understanding and not understanding could be so great.”

…

The days once more unfolded with quiet regularity.

As the grand princess re-entered the palace to join the grand empress dowager during the sweltering days of summer, she casually mentioned to Chen Jiao, “Jia Ji’s family wishes to come into the palace to see her.”

In the Changshou Hall, the mother and daughter conversed with effortless ease.

The grand empress dowager reclined gracefully against the bamboo couch, savoring the gentle breeze stirred by the palace servants.

Below, Chen Jiao and the grand princess sat facing each other, their voices low but unrestrained, unmindful of formality.

Jia Ji’s origins trace back to modest beginnings, as she was born to a family of commoners who served as palace servants. Her parents were humble farmers from Baling, whose lives were simple and honest—so much so that, according to the grand princess, they had never ventured beyond their familiar surroundings. Their hearts were pure, and they rejoiced in their newfound fortune, paying homage to their ancestors with daily sacrifices and reverent kowtows.

Among their family was a younger sister, a girl of tender years yet remarkable wit and intelligence. It is said that she bears a striking resemblance to Jia Ji and is only thirteen or fourteen years old this year. Upon hearing of Jia Ji’s pregnancy, some perhaps conceived the ill-advised idea of sending their young daughters to serve the emperor as well.

Though Liu Che had generally shown little interest in girls of such tender years, his accidental intimacy with Wei Zifu had inadvertently ignited the imaginations of many, fueling such reckless notions among those around him.

“How did you answer?” Chen Jiao asked.

A disdainful smile immediately appeared on the grand princess’s lips, “She just appeared, and we don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl, but she already treats herself as a member of the imperial family. I think it’s not too late to let them into the palace to pay their respects when Jia Ji becomes the consort.”

Judging from Jia Ji’s current situation, only if she gives birth to her first child son and it survives will she have the opportunity to obtain the title of consort.

The grand princess is still trying to show off her power and prestige in order to achieve her goal of suppressing Jia Ji.

Chen Jiao smiled casually, “Why bother? Jia Ji must also be very homesick for her family. If the family wants to see her, let her see her.”

The grand princess’ face showed a look of displeasure and she wanted to say something, but the grand empress dowager closed her eyes and spoke, “A’ Piao, although you are not young, you are not as clear-headed as Jiaojiao. This is not the place to show off your strength… It would be good to let them in and see Jia Ji.”

Although her tone was gentle, she had already made the final decision, and the grand princess did not say another word.

Chen Jiao had just started to smile and was about to speak when the grand empress dowager said, “However, Jiaojiao should know that A’ Che has not been to Xuanshi Hall or Qingliang Hall recently. I am too lazy to talk about him, but he should also stay in Jiaofang Hall for a few more days.”

Reluctantly, she found herself compelled to emulate her mother’s lead.

With a composed demeanor and a voice subdued in tone, she responded simply, “Yes.”

The grand empress dowager resembled a slumbering dragon—aged and blind, yet her awareness was keen, and few events within the palace could elude her perception.

The same resilience and subtle power hold true for empires themselves.