Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 42: Stunning

Unexpectedly, while Chun Tuo was still diligently attending to the affairs at hand, the new palace servants had already entered the imperial residence. Meanwhile, Liu Shou was able to sit up once more, and the height of summer had already settled over Chang’an.

Throughout this entire time, Wei Zifu remained utterly motionless, as if she had completely lost herself. If it were not for Chen Jiao’s constant vigilance and attentive concern, almost everyone would have forgotten that such a humble figure resided within Yongxiang Hall, living and enduring her solitary fate.

By the time Liu Shou was able to crawl, new attendants had already been appointed to Yongxiang Hall. Among these hundreds of palace women, as the empress dowager had foreseen, there were some willing to trade their beauty for power and riches. This path, though fraught with peril, was also a legitimate route to ascendancy—an avenue well-trodden by elders and nobles alike in the harem, many of whom rose to prominence through such means.

However, no matter how much favor they received, they could not shake Chen Jiao’s position.

Liu Che lusted after fresh beauty, but there were few people in the world who knew him better than Chen Jiao and trusted him more than her. He could get a body from anywhere.

Beauty was nothing new to him, but her smile was not something that anyone could laugh at.

Whenever he had free time, he would stay in Jiaofang Hall, chatting with her about the trivial matters of the previous dynasty, “Grandmother has finally given us permission to send someone to the Western Regions. Now the attendants are all speechless… Well, the journey to the Western Regions is long, and we have to pass through Xiongnu territory. Hehe, it’s no wonder they’re reluctant to give up the scenery of Chang’an.”

Chen Jiao couldn’t help but frown, “What did Han Yan and Kong Anguo say?”

He casually said, “The prince wanted to go himself, but I disagreed. When the war starts, with his extensive knowledge of the Xiongnu, he can either lead the army into battle or be my advisor. It would be a pity to send him.”

Although no one wanted to go, just looking at Liu Che’s tone showed that sending him to the Western Regions was a worthless move. Even if the entire army were wiped out, it wouldn’t surprise him. Among those with the ability to lead a team to the Western Regions, who would be willing to be treated as a pawn?

Chen Jiao had no choice but to console him, “This matter is related to your grand plan to conquer the Western Regions and connect with Great Yuezhi… Believe it or not, in the end, you will definitely be able to find the talent willing to go successfully.”

Liu Che himself harbored doubts that this matter could be resolved as simply as it appeared.

He regarded her with a gentle smile, “You are merely attempting to soothe me with words.”

“Do you suppose I am Yang Huo—relying on clever speech and superficial flattery, solely intent on pleasing the emperor?” Chen Jiao rolled her eyes at him, prompting a warm laugh from him.

“Jiaojiao, your familiarity with the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Analects of Confucius is quite evident, and now you quote the classics with such an air of Confucian propriety.”

In recent years, Chen Jiao had indeed been privately studying the Confucian classics, often accompanying Liu Che to listen to the teachings of Confucian scholars in Qingliang Hall. Without this pursuit, how else could she have kept pace with his thoughts and discerned his intentions within the court?

More than that, it was essential for her to ensure that the Chen and Dou families did not become obstacles destined to be cast aside—preserved not merely for her own sake, but to safeguard their influence and future.

Do not gaze upon her leisurely, as if she were confined solely within the walls of the Jiaofang Hall, basking in universal adoration. Beneath that serene exterior, however, Chen Jiao’s days were far from untroubled, for her time was meticulously occupied behind the scenes.

…

As the year drew to a close, a brave and foolish man stood up and said that he was ready to go to the Western Regions.

“That’s Lang Zhongling.” Liu Che and Chen Jiao talked about it, feeling incredibly happy, “It is said that he loved traveling east and west since he was young, and was very passionate about the customs of the Western Regions.”

He smiled again, “Of course, he also craved fame and fortune. He wanted to contribute and help conquer the Huns.”

At that time, to say that someone yearned for fame and fortune was a highly appreciated compliment.

Chen Jiao also laughed, “When I heard this person’s name, I felt that his name would go down in history and remain famous for thousands of years.”

Everyone loves to say auspicious things. She said this to encourage Liu Che and make him optimistic about the deployment of opening up the Western Regions.

He hummed, but his mood became depressed.

He put his arm around Chen Jiao’s shoulders and said in a deep voice in her neck, “Whether I can be remembered for thousands of years is only a matter of a few years or more. Even if Zhang Qian survived by chance, it would take several years to travel from Chang’an to the Pamir Plateau and back. Besides, the news about the Yuezhi people was many years ago. It is unknown whether they still have the ambition to fight against the Xiongnu…”

He smiled again, with a hint of self-mockery, “Now, I can only do this.”

Unlike her, Liu Che found waiting far more painful. He waited for the uncertain, uncertain news that never seemed to come. He could not speak of this wait to anyone, for if he did, it would be the most dangerous clue. This wait weighed heavily on his chest like a huge stone, and Liu Che often found himself choking. However, it certainly sharpened his hidden sharpness and tenacious patience.

Chen Jiao felt that he was getting closer and closer to becoming the Son of Heaven, the emperor.

At the very least, he had learned to endure and cultivated patience.

“A little preparation is not a bad thing,” she comforted him. “When war breaks out, it will be a war that will affect the fate of the country. The more we prepare, the more secure we will be.”

As she spoke, a twinge of guilt gnawed at her conscience.

Observing Liu Che’s expression gradually soften, she found herself unable to resist the tide of fear within her heart. Slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of destiny and deception intertwining to shape history.

Within this delicate moment, she understood that even the smallest change could set the course of events in a vastly different direction. Despite her reassurances that Liu Che was destined for greatness, an unwavering worry persisted in her mind: if her own actions were to undo all their efforts, the mighty Han Dynasty might tumble from prosperity into decline.

Could she bear such immense responsibility? Could she endure the burden of such a profound crime?

Having only glimpsed the grandeur of Liu Che and the opulence of Weiyang Palace, she perceived the world merely as a stage upon which she could wield her authority. She recognized her own shortcomings as a qualified empress, feeling that she had been indulged excessively. Her understanding was limited to the idea that water could carry a boat; yet, she remained unaware that those aboard the vessel must also move in harmony with the currents.

Now, with genuine intent to fulfill her role as a good empress, she came to realize that even the smallest adjustments within this turbulent world were exceedingly difficult.

Like Liu Che, she appeared akin to a child caught in the flow of centuries—holding a mighty sword, yet lacking the strength to master its weight. She could only wield it blindly, driven by ambition and aspiration, hoping to achieve precision—cutting away the excess without damaging the delicate core.

A few days later, she summoned Wei Zifu to Jiaofang Hall for a heartfelt conversation.

In the blink of an eye, almost a year had passed. This time last year, Jia Ji was still clutching her stomach, pleading for an official position in the palace. Now she was sleeping peacefully on the Xianyang Plain, and the Jia family had plunged into the long river without leaving a single wave. The matter was handled very quietly, and only a few palace servants knew the whereabouts of the Jia family.

But Chen Jiao thought Wei Zifu had guessed something—this was originally a common tactic used by harem women.

This time, she wanted to appear even more humble than before, not even daring to raise her head. From the time she entered the hall, she had wanted to press her forehead to the ground and face Chen Jiao with a submissive back.

“Raise your head.”

Wei Zifu’s shoulders quivered faintly as she gradually lifted her gaze to Chen Jiao, her eyes filled with a tender plea. Her lips trembled subtly, as if even the act of raising her head had already sealed her fate.

Chen Jiao gazed at her in profound admiration.

Over the course of a year, Wei Zifu had blossomed into a radiant young woman, her transformation seeming almost miraculous—like a rebirth from her former self. Even kneeling on the ground, her eyes were drawn to her luxuriant, shimmering hair.

The luminous glow on her face as she looked up was so captivating that Chen Jiao found herself reluctant to meet her gaze directly.

Without a trace of powder, her cheeks glowed with natural whiteness and dew-like freshness. Her eyes sparkled with life, her teeth gleamed with purity, embodying the timeless beauty described by Zhuang Jiang in the Book of Songs.

Though Chen Jiao had long held confidence in her own beauty, at this moment she felt an irresistible urge to reach out and touch Wei Zifu’s cheeks, eager to confirm that her own visage could rival the most exquisite.

“Such a stunning beauty—you didn’t dismiss her immediately back then,” she nearly questioned herself in astonishment. “How could you have left her intact?”

A bitter smile touched her lips as it softly replied, “I was possessed by a demon, and it led me into that grave mistake.”

Once such a mistake is made, even Chen Jiao in this lifetime bears its scars. At this realization, she sensed her resolve wavering.

The allure of the Wei woman—comparable to the formidable strength of her brothers—possessed the power to topple nations or cities. Even if it meant overthrowing an entire dynasty, Chen Jiao would not be surprised. Indeed, she had toppled the Hun dynasty itself, shattered the final grandeur of both the Chen and Dou families.

She reflected that, aside from her noble lineage, the Wei woman’s qualities likely surpassed her in every aspect.

Such a perilous adversary—she thought—should have been eliminated in her infancy, before she could become a threat.

In that moment, she suddenly grasped the depth of Wei Zifu’s fear.

Her tearful plea to leave was not merely a desperate farewell, but her final opportunity—her last hope to secure Liu Che’s favor. Only by winning his protection could she shield herself from his mercilessness, yet she had already watched this chance slip through her fingers. The path to the Jiaofang Hall might well have been her last glimpse of sunlight in this life.

As a reincarnated soul, Wei Zifu should have understood what awaited her; so why was she willing to relinquish this rare opportunity for ascent, choosing instead to live quietly in the shadows of Yongxiang Hall? Was she bracing herself for inevitable punishment?

With her current low standing, Chen Jiao could crush her effortlessly—just a flick of her finger would suffice. Perhaps she recognized her inability to compete with Chen Jiao as she was now, or perhaps she had carefully analyzed her circumstances and realized that victory was beyond reach.

Chen Jiao hesitated, her voice trembling as she inquired, “What is Wei Zifu like as a person?”

Despite asking three times, she received no response, only a dull ache in her head. Abruptly, she snapped back to reality, her gaze falling upon Wei Zifu with a mixture of horror and awe.

Wei Zifu, similarly, rested her hand on her forehead, her face etched with a mixture of shock, fear, and a flicker of comprehension. In that moment, she had overlooked the disparity of status between them, fixating on Chen Jiao with a look of terror.

On her normally timid, modest, yet undeniably beautiful countenance, it seemed as though a mask of dignity had been momentarily lifted, revealing something hidden deep behind her eyes.

Chen Jiao suddenly realized that her silence stemmed from being overwhelmed by Wei Zifu’s exquisite beauty—a beauty that had, perhaps, unearthed a profound understanding within her. This revelation explained many of her previous doubts, yet it also sounded the death knell for her innocence, signaling an irreversible change in the unspoken dynamics between them.