Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 36: Leave

Wei Zifu, by nature, could not afford any measure of negligence.

In the brief span it takes to burn a stick of incense, she gracefully entered the Jiaofang Hall, her head lowered and her steps delicate, swaying subtly from side to side. The midsummer sun cast its relentless heat, yet she moved with composed serenity.

In the corridor, crafted from venerable, hard pine wood and adorned with sumptuous brocade carpets, Chen Jiao awaited her.

The empress, having just risen, had yet to adorn herself with cosmetics. Her long hair was casually draped over her shoulder, and her simple gauze robe resembled a gentle, pale yellow mist—whispering of faint, delicate blossoms that peeked through the haze. Her layered skirt revealed her pristine, jade-white feet.

Surrounding her were two or three exquisitely dressed servants, their faces elaborately made-up, yet they bowed with subdued grace, their eyes smooth and low.

Despite Chen Jiao’s unadorned appearance, she effortlessly commanded authority, her presence overshadowing even those dressed in the finest finery, asserting her unwavering dignity amidst the opulence.

Wei Zifu cast only a fleeting glance to ascertain the empress’ whereabouts.

Without hesitation, she then knelt deeply in reverence and bowed before her, “This servant pays my respects to Your Majesty.”

The empress remained silent for a moment, her ears filled with the distant, delicate clinking of cups and saucers, followed by the gentle, measured sipping of tea—an almost imperceptible symphony of quiet refinement.

After a considerable pause of half a day, punctuated by a soft, gentle clatter, she exhaled slowly and spoke with a tender, composed voice, “Lady Wei has arrived. Rise. Why do you humble yourself with your head bowed so low?”

Obediently, Wei Zifu straightened, and guided by the empress’ elegant and noble-looking head servant, she was provided with a humble mat in the courtyard beneath the corridor, serving as her seat upon the cold stone floor.

The empress maintained her composure, yet subtly leaned upon her pillow—an exquisite piece adorned with intricate, costly embroidery. Such craftsmanship remained a distinguished emblem of the imperial family’s opulence during that era.

Crafting a single flower from these fine stitches demanded the dedicated effort of a skilled embroiderer, who would spend three to four days laboring with unwavering focus.

She gazed intently at the pair of pillows, sensing the empress’ gaze lingering upon her face. That gaze carried a prickling, slightly itchy sensation—like a tiny knife repeatedly scraping her skin, as if her face was being gently cleansed and unveiled in advance. Yet, the crude precision of this touch rendered her somewhat uneasy, causing an involuntary discomfort that lingered beneath the surface.

The two were silent for a while, and this corner of the Jiaofang Hall fell silent.

It was the head servant next to the empress who took the initiative, “Your Majesty, singing a cappella is a bit boring. Should we summon the people from the Music Bureau?”

She again looked at Wei Zifu doubtfully, as if she couldn’t believe that a little girl of that age could sing so well.

The empress casually waved her slender fingers, as delicate as spring onions, “Forget it. It’s early in the morning, and there’s so much blowing and beating going on. It’s too troublesome to be so serious. Let Lady Wei sing two songs a cappella, just to dispel the boredom.” She was again undecided, “Should I hear ‘Shang Ling’ or ‘You Suo Si’?”

So she asked Wei Zifu, “You sang well that day. Do you know what story ‘You Suo Si’ tells?”

Wei Zifu cast a surprised glance toward her.

Despite the empress’ noble birth and the adoration she had garnered from many of the most influential individuals from a young age—affections that continued to surround her in her adulthood and were lavishly displayed within the opulence of the empress’ palace—there was a notable disparity.

Beyond her almost ostentatious indulgence in fine foods and drinks, her demeanor and manner of speech bore little resemblance to that of a refined noble lady. Even in her interactions with Wei Zifu, her tone was gentle and seemingly conversational, yet an undercurrent of distance and superiority subtly pervaded her words, as if she regarded herself as inherently above those she addressed.

How could a high-ranking member of the imperial family, so far removed from the common people, bother to talk to an ordinary singer? She trembled for fear that she might make a mistake and offend the noble lady, being sentenced to death and never seeing the sunrise of the next day.

After a brief thought, Wei Zifu had no choice but to whisper, “Your Majesty, I only know how to sing. I know little about the story. The old woman who taught me has never explained it to me.”

After all, the little singer was only a little girl, so how could she possibly understand the story of the song?

Chu Fu smiled faintly, couldn’t help but look at the empress, and said softly, “Your Majesty, or please ask the Music Bureau …”

The empress, however, regarded Wei Zifu’s naivety with quiet disdain.

“You Suo Si” was not an arduous composition; rather, it was a simple folk ballad, composed in straightforward language. If she failed to grasp this, how lacking in wit must she be? An exaggerated performance would only render the act insincere.

“Very well,” she said with a dismissive glance at Chu Fu, who immediately understood and dared not object.

“Add a pot of honey water,” Chu Fu, having cultivated a deep understanding with her, swiftly signaled assent.

She, accompanied by two elegant young servants, retreated gracefully from the corridor in a series of discreet movements.

Soon, the courtyard’s corner was left solely with Chen Jiao and Wei Zifu—one reclining on the corridor, the other kneeling beneath it.

The former rested on her side, knees bent, her head supported by her hand, her flowing hair cascading freely—a display of effortless elegance. The latter, meanwhile, sat with her knees drawn up, her delicate face cast downward in a moment of introspection, only daring to gaze cautiously at the pillow beneath the other’s head.

Unaware, she did not realize that her thick, ebony hair was shimmering with a dewy sheen in the golden light of autumn, causing Chen Jiao’s eyes to sting.

She had always taken pride in her hair, yet when compared to Wei Zifu’s lustrous, jet-black tresses that gleamed like a bolt of satin, even her confidence wavered slightly, prompting her to hum softly within herself.

She was accustomed to momentarily drifting into thought, patiently awaiting the inevitable teasing voice. Yet, after a pause, she recalled that the voice had long since retreated to a hidden refuge—somewhere she herself could not locate—so as to avoid provoking Wei Zifu.

A mere singer, and yet she possessed the power to reduce the empress of the Great Han to such a state of embarrassment?

Chen Jiao cast another glance at her and softly commanded, “Come a little closer.”

With no alternative, Wei Zifu rose gracefully, repositioned her cushion near the stone base, and knelt with composed decorum, her unease subtly evident.

Chen Jiao straightened herself slightly, gazing downward at her, yearning for her to lift her face so that her features could be seen clearly. Yet, she remained indolent, neither speaking nor moving.

Instead, she extended a slender, porcelain-like foot—its flawless whiteness akin to jade—and gently pressed it against Wei Zifu’s neck. With a gentle prod of her big toe, as small as a pebble, Wei Zifu was compelled to lift her delicate countenance, forced to meet the gaze of the empress.

Once their eyes intertwined, she seemed overwhelmed by Chen Jiao’s commanding presence. Her long lashes fluttered faintly before she bowed her head, concealing her innocent, trembling eyes like a frightened deer. Helpless to resist further, she could only allow Chen Jiao to scrutinize her eyebrows and eyes at her leisure, subjected to her quiet, piercing inspection.

Although she was equally graceful, she was not as beautiful.

To be fair, she and Jia Ji were like spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums, each with their own merits.

If Liu Che’s preferences were not taken into consideration, she would not have thought that Wei Zifu was much prettier than Jia Ji.

She pondered for a moment with great interest, and seeing Wei Zifu’s face full of gentleness and humility, as if the words “at your mercy” were written on her face, she could not help but sigh, “How pitiful.”

She retracted her foot, “What’s your name?”

“Who are your family members?”

“How old are you this year?”

“What songs can you sing?”

After Wei Zifu answered, she said, “Can you sing “Xiang Feng Xing”? I don’t want to hear you sing, I want to hear you recite it. Read it to me.”

She had no choice but to read a poem titled “Xiang Feng Xing” to Chen Jiao in a faint voice, and she felt anxious.

“The gate is made of gold for you, the hall is made of white jade for you… Osmanthus tree grows in the courtyard, and the lanterns are so bright…”

Chen Jiao listened very carefully, and after Wei Zifu finished, she asked, “Do you know its meaning?”

She was afraid that Wei Zifu would say she didn’t understand again, so she had to explain it to her in detail, “A wealthy family whose three sons held official positions. The second son served as a minister. Filled with luxurious elements like jade halls, golden horses, osmanthus trees, and bright lanterns—an overwhelming display of wealth and opulence.”

Wei Zifu blinked, and finally, a new emotion appeared in her eyes, a genuine sense of panic that made this pure girl look like a little deer, as if she were truly wandering in the forest, unable to find her way back to the nest.

The empress was not only so kind to a little singer, but even spoke folk songs with her…

Indeed, anyone would be confused and unsettled.

Her lips moved for a moment, and finally, she asked faintly, “This servant understood—Your Majesty?”

Chen Jiao asked with delight, “Do you know about Lady Jia? Just because she is pregnant with the dragon seed, His Majesty might want to make her brother an official. Soon, the family can transform from a poor family with no rice in the pot and no clothes on the pole to a family with golden halls and jade horses.”

She blinked once more, a flicker of understanding beginning to dawn, though her expression still betrayed a hint of confusion.

This genuine uncertainty was clearly reflected on her face, prompting Chen Jiao to continue with a gentle smile, “I must have forgotten to mention that your mother, brother, and sister have secured residence within the Marquess of Tangyi’s mansion. Coincidentally, Lady Jia’s family has recently been granted a new residence and has vacated a courtyard. According to the grand princess, your brother has a fondness for dancing with knives and guns, while Lady Jia’s brother has always been passionate about martial arts, who left behind numerous weapons. Your brother is quite pleased with his new quarters.”

She spoke with a soft, composed tone—her words imbued with kindness and patience, whether addressing a humble singer or a princess.

The earlier display of neglect and disdain, evident when she had dismissed Wei Zifu with a foot just moments before, seemed to have vanished entirely, replaced by a demeanor of serene benevolence.

Wei Zifu’s heart trembled uncontrollably, as if a profound emotion had taken hold of her from within.

Suddenly, the empress’ visage appeared before her—like the intricate brocade garments adorning her own body. Though undeniably exquisite and captivating, there was an elusive quality to her face, as if veiled by a delicate, smoky haze that obscured her true countenance.

A whisper of doubt stirred within her mind, “This cannot be right. This cannot be right.” Yet, only a hollow silence responded in return.

A flood of thoughts surged through Wei Zifu’s consciousness, until at last she lifted her gaze, her eyelashes fluttering with tentative tremors, yearning for clarity amid the uncertainty.

“Your Majesty,” she softly implored, kneeling once more with the utmost reverence, her brow pressed gently against the brocade. Through the delicate fabric, a subtle scent of earth wafted to her—a familiar fragrance that brought her a sense of renewal.

“While I have been fortunate enough to receive His Majesty’s favor on occasion, I am fully aware of my lack of beauty, and I fear that His Majesty’s gaze may never linger upon me again. I humbly beseech you, Your Majesty, to grant this humble servant permission to depart from the palace and reunite with my family. I am deeply grateful for your boundless kindness and virtue, and I would gladly be a humble beast in my next life to repay your benevolence.”

Even Chen Jiao was momentarily taken aback by her unexpected plea.

…

TN

“有所思 (You Suo Si)”—“There is someone I think of,” is a famous Han Dynasty yuefu song that expresses the suffering of ordinary people in a vivid and emotional way.