Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 41: Monopoly

As the harshest days of winter gradually receded, Jia Ji was laid to rest with the dignity befitting her station beside the Maoling Mausoleum.

With the arrival of the third month of spring, Liu Shou was able to awaken anew. The once wrinkled, crimson-tinged skin on his body began to soften and smooth, revealing a natural, darker hue that distinguished him from Liu Che and Chen Jiao.

Both of them had been born with fair, even complexions—an inheritance from the grand empress rowager.

Smiling gently at the grand princess, Chen Jiao remarked, “He still resembles his biological mother.”

She then suggested to the painter that Jia Ji’s inherent dark skin should be faithfully depicted in the portrait, so that in the future, the child might have a clear sense of his origins and recognize the features he shares with his biological mother.

Children are meant to be raised, not deceived. Even though this mother-son relationship had been built on deception from the beginning, Chen Jiao had no intention of treating Liu Shou as her own.

Moreover, if she were to give birth to a son in the future, the truth would naturally be exposed. This would only make their relationship even more awkward.

The grand princess naturally didn’t object, “I think this child is very generous. Since you’ve been raising him since he was little, he probably doesn’t remember his birth mother very much.”

She could only laugh, “It’s a pity that Jia Ji was weak and didn’t survive the birth.”

Liu Che, who was standing next to her, agreed, “It’s truly a pity. I won’t give her a title. When the child grows up, I’ll give her a posthumous name.”

Despite the darkness that once cloaked Liu Shou, he remained undeniably his own son. As he matured, his days transitioned from mere eating and sleeping to awakening his keen, inquisitive eyes, eagerly observing the world around him.

Liu Che’s affection for the boy deepened with time; he often forsook outings after dinner with Chen Jiao, instead entrusting the palace servants to gently hold Liu Shou aside.

Together, he and Chen Jiao would delight in teasing the child and engaging in lighthearted conversations about the trivialities of daily life—creating a warm, harmonious family scene.

After careful reflection, Chen Jiao still arranged for Chu Fu to oversee Liu Shou’s daily care. Her decision was born of a sense of helplessness—there were few reliable and prudent individuals nearby.

The reason Chu Fu could consistently challenge her authority and retain her position as chief servant was not solely due to genuine affection from certain voices of influence, but also because her presence proved genuinely valuable.

Regardless of her status as empress, Chen Jiao experienced a profound sense of loneliness.

The higher one ascends, the more scarce are those who can offer assistance. Towering mountains are inherently more isolated than sprawling plains. When gazing down upon the multitude, she often sensed as if she were walking amidst the clouds. Though her ascent was steady, she was acutely aware that any misstep could lead to a fall, and in such a descent, she would descend with even greater force than anyone else.

A voice then gently counseled her, “With this understanding, avoid actions that might cause you to stumble. What is it that you still desire? Have you not already attained enough?”

Indeed, what more could she possibly seek?

Her parents’ love and favor were assured and unequivocal.

Her maternal grandmother, who also happened to be her husband’s grandmother, bestowed upon her such kindness that even her own granddaughters felt a touch of envy.

Her husband and extended family were remarkably considerate, uniting in their efforts to secure her a dignified future—whether she advanced or retreated—by ensuring she bore a legitimate son. With a legitimate heir, her status would be naturally elevated to nobility; without one, they would still be recognized as the eldest.

Though her mother-in-law, along with her elder and younger sisters-in-law, posed challenges, her husband’s partiality allowed her to wear a gentle smile despite their occasional dismissiveness.

In truth, her life had already improved far beyond what it might have been, surrounded by adversaries.

“If the current trajectory persists, in a decade or two, the world will be securely within your grasp. While hope for Changle Palace may be faint, even if your life is cut short, you will find your final moments within the halls of Jiaofang Hall.”

When it conversed with her, it never shied away from delicate subjects, speaking of life and death as casually as one might discuss daily meals.

“Surely you wouldn’t truly wish to be sent to Changmen Palace merely to enjoy humble bean soup and coarse grains,” it remarked.

Chen Jiao had never sampled the simple fare reserved for common folk.

She hesitated for a moment, intending to reply, but was interrupted by an urgent command, “Go and eat a meal of wheat rice before you speak!”

Reluctantly, she summoned a eunuch and dispatched him to purchase a bowl of wheat rice from the market. To her surprise, he was gone for half a day.

Growing impatient, she instructed the imperial kitchen to prepare a special tribute dish of wheat rice for the emperor’s tasting.

She hadn’t even finished two bowls of rice when Liu Che interrupted, “You didn’t go to Changxin Hall today. I thought we’d meet there.”

For the past year or two, he had taken Chen Jiao with him to Changxin Hall almost every time. He was indeed rarely alone there, as he was today.

Chen Jiao smiled, “Today isn’t a day for greetings, how did you know to go there?”

“Uncle was there, I talked to him.” Liu Che sat cross-legged next to her, “Is Liu Shou awake? If so, bring him in to play.”

He was still childish and treated his son like a toy. When free, he would pick him up and move his arms and legs, as if wishing Liu Shou would grow up quickly and delight his parents with his colorful attire.

The voice laughed softly in Chen Jiao’s heart, and finally added a bit of intimacy to the accusation, “When you get old, I’m afraid you’ll be so indecent.”

What she first heard was merely the opening words.

Though Tian Fen had lost his official post, he still maintained close ties to the imperial family and frequently moved within the palace. The emperor’s favor toward him had waned for a time, yet Chen Jiao sensed this was merely a strategic move to appease the grand empress dowager’s ire. Now, it seemed that Tian Fen’s resurgence in influence and prominence was but a matter of days away.

In truth, Tian Fen’s standing appeared to matter little to Chen Jiao herself. That was perhaps why Liu Che spoke of him so casually, his tone remarkably indifferent.

“Why do you seek to interfere in Tian Fen’s affairs and Dou Ying’s? Dou Ying is advanced in age; how many years can he truly have left? Furthermore, how many prime ministers of the Han Dynasty have met a noble end? If your intentions are truly kind-hearted, you should not be pushing him toward the position of prime minister.”

Chen Jiao could not help but let out a regretful sigh.

She was no longer worried about Tian Fen, but exchanged a few words with Liu Che, “The weather is getting warmer, so you should put away the thick clothes in the Jiaofang Hall. I sent a few new clothes I made for you this year to Qingliang Hall. Has Chun Tuo seen them?”

“Next year is grandmother’s seventeenth birthday. I heard that the princes and kings have started preparing gifts. We can’t fall behind…”

“When going on a spring outing and hunting, you must be kind and soft-handed. Don’t hurt pregnant female animals. Only then can you feel the harmony of nature–” she said, playing with Liu Shou’s little fist, and her cold eyebrows softened, turning into a puddle of water.

As she spoke, she buried her head in Liu Che’s arms and yawned, “I’m sleepy.”

He looked at her with a smile and deliberately blamed her, “The emperor is busy with state affairs every day, and you still mention such trivial matters to me!”

Chen Jiao hesitated briefly before casting him a sidelong glance, her expression carrying an undertone of cool detachment. It was as if a majestic, crystalline ice sculpture floated within a gentle pool of spring water—serene yet capable of shifting to icy aloofness in an instant.

Her disposition was such that, once displeased, she could swiftly adopt an impeccable, defensive stance. This combination of aloofness and selectiveness made moments of genuine tenderness all the more precious.

Liu Che mused to himself, “Though she did not thank me for what I did for Jia Ji—and perhaps it’s not fitting to expect gratitude—she knows deep down who truly cares for her, who stands ready to protect her with unwavering devotion.”

It was as if a proud feline, lured by a delectable treat in his hand, had finally begun to nuzzle against his neck, purring softly in coquettish affection—an evolution from her previous tendency to suddenly strike with claws, leaving fleeting, bloodless scratches. Those minor wounds were more a nuisance than a pain, yet they served as a reminder of her independence.

He gently flicked Chen Jiao’s neck once more, prompting her to exclaim with a hint of anger, “If you bother me again—”

She closed her eyes, pressing her face softly against his chest, then turned her back to him, already on the verge of drifting into sleep.

In that moment, Liu Che was filled with a quiet pride in his past self. He reflected on how, as a child unaware of the world, he had used a costly agreement to settle Chen Jiao’s disputes—an act that now seemed almost unimaginable. Yet, the emperor understood that if such a cherished Chen Jiao could not find peace resting in his arms… just that single thought, that single image, stirred a fierce, almost primal, emotion within him—an urge to protect, to possess.

Despite his multitude of men and women, he gradually realized that, over the past decade, only she could evoke such profound jealousy within him.

Unable to contain his feelings, he tightened his embrace, causing Chen Jiao to emit a soft, involuntary moan as she shifted between sleep and wakefulness.

…

Owing to Jia Ji’s funeral, the palace remained occupied with affairs until the arrival of spring.

Liu Che had previously expressed his intention to release some of the palace attendants and to undertake a re-selection of the palace servants, which consequently caused the matter to be postponed until April.

Seizing the moment, Chen Jiao proactively approached the empress dowager, “A’Che had this plan before the New Year, but due to the cold weather and the fact that we were all engaged outdoors, it was inconvenient to proceed at that time…”

The empress dowager was genuinely impressed by her initiative.

The process of selecting new palace servants entailed bringing in hundreds, if not thousands, of young women of exceptional beauty to serve within the two palaces. While not every one of them could be considered a true beauty, each had undergone an initial screening—making it entirely feasible to find seven or eight favored concubines among them.

After all, both she and the grand empress dowager had ascended to their exalted positions through similar avenues—by carefully chosen among a pool of promising candidates.

The emperor’s firstborn son was just born, his circumstances were fraught with uncertainty—whether he would survive to reach adulthood remained unknown. Yet, Chen Jiao remained remarkably composed and poised, even taking the initiative to broach the delicate subject of selecting concubines.

While Liu Che himself was unhurried, she displayed a resolute confidence and grace. Her conduct was so exemplary that the empress dowager found little room for criticism.

Even when she accused Liu Che’s actions—killing the mother and taking her son—ultimately hindered human relationships, her son responded with unwavering calm, “Mother, I have been raised with you since childhood, and I have seen many things.” She was left speechless, overwhelmed by emotion.

Mother and son shared an unspoken understanding of the tragic fate of the deposed crown prince—who had been sacrificed by the late emperor, compelled by loyalty to the empress dowager and Liu Che. What was the killing of a Jia Ji in comparison? When Liu Che himself journeys to the afterlife, he can face his ancestors with dignity, unburdened by guilt.

With a sense of wistful envy, she can only marvel at Chen Jiao’s fortunate circumstances—so much so that even if she wished to find fault with her, it would take her a considerable time to do so.

When Chen Jiao inquired whether she should send someone to serve Liu Shou, she was politely declined by her. This child was now as dear to her as her own son, and naturally, Chen Jiao would devote her best efforts to raising him.

Did the empress dowager intend to stir discord by revealing to the boy, once he was old enough to understand, that his biological mother had been slain by his father?

Her response was merely, “Good, good, Jiaojiao is so virtuous; what more do I have to worry about?”

It became clear that she harbored no desire to create complications for Chen Jiao or to vie with her within the harem.

Not to forget Princess of Pingyang, who continued to diligently seek Liu Che’s favor. On Liu Shou’s birthday, she sent a pair of finely carved jade disks—exceptionally intricate. Yet, according to the grand princess, the pair she presented to her was even more exquisite than that one.

In the spring of Jian Yuan’s third year, the outcome within Weiyang Palace appeared to be unmistakably clear, leaving little room for anyone to disturb Chen Jiao’s tranquil life.

She diligently adhered to the established protocols, methodically managing the processes of releasing individuals from the palace and selecting new entrants.

Throughout this careful conduct, she harbored a quiet anticipation—an expectant hope intertwined with curiosity. She wondered, with bated breath, whether Wei Zifu would once again shed tears and plead for her departure.