Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 44: Jealousy

Wei Zifu consumed the medicinal potion, and inevitably, she experienced vomiting and diarrhea. About two weeks later, Chen Jiao summoned her to the Jiaofang Hall for a private conversation.

Her cheeks remained hollowed, and her complexion had taken on a faint yellow hue. Upon seeing Chen Jiao, her demeanor appeared markedly more familiar and affectionate than before, suggesting a natural ease and a sense of equality in their interaction.

It was evident that both women carried a shared secret—one that must remain hidden from others—and their encounter was tinged with an unspoken closeness.

Both had once held the highest positions in the realm; however, Chen Jiao’s tenure was brief, while Wei Zifu endured for many years.

Despite this, neither of them alluded to the past, even though Chen Jiao harbored curiosity about Wei Zifu’s return. Out of respect and discretion, she refrained from probing.

Their conversations exclusively revolved around poetry, songs, and the exquisite beauty of nature, creating an atmosphere of gentle camaraderie and refined elegance.

Chen Jiao, with a teasing smile, gently conveyed to her, “In your presence, I find a sense of calm, as though I am amidst a tranquil forest, where only the whispering wind fills my ears.”

Wei Zifu responded with a knowing smile, understanding the subtle beauty of her words.

Although she had not intentionally adorned herself, her smile retained a quiet elegance that was undeniably captivating.

When their voices unexpectedly intertwined, the resulting pain was so profound that Chen Jiao nearly fainted. Given this intensity, whenever she and Wei Zifu found themselves in the same room, they could only preserve their connection in the silent depths of their hearts, refraining from letting their words spill forth into the air.

It was a different, delicate form of peace—a restrained tranquility.

“Is Your Majesty addressing me directly, or is she perhaps deliberately provoking someone?” Wei Zifu playfully winked at her.

In that moment, Chen Jiao sensed a subtle, almost celestial sigh echoing within her soul, and she couldn’t help but burst into laughter, her mirth merging seamlessly with Wei Zifu’s own.

As Liu Che entered the hall, he beheld a scene that was undeniably pleasing. Yet, rather than softening his demeanor, his gaze turned cold as he cast a gloomy glance toward Wei Zifu.

He then proceeded to sit beside Chen Jiao, stretching out his legs with a measured ease, and in a subdued tone inquired, “What has brought about such joyful laughter?”

Chen Jiao quickly signaled to Wei Zifu with a subtle wink.

Unspoken guidance was unnecessary, for Wei Zifu had already assumed her humble guise, bowing deeply to Liu Che before gracefully withdrawing from the main hall.

If there was anyone in Weiyang Palace besides Chen Jiao who could speak to the emperor, it was Wang Ji, who had been chosen from the daughters of the families who had moved into the palace during this process.

Wei Zifu had indeed grown into a breathtaking beauty within a year, but compared to Wang Ji’s beautiful face and graceful figure, the Spring Orchid and the Autumn Chrysanthemum each had their own strengths.

To Chen Jiao’s surprise, Liu Che, despite having seen her several times in the Jiaofang Hall, not only hadn’t liked her but also didn’t seem very pleased to see her again.

“It was Lady Wei who spoke of the past in elder sister’s palace,” Chen Jiao said cautiously, with a smile between her eyebrows, but also with a rare shyness. “I have occasionally been interested and also like to inquire about the rights and wrongs of others, which made Your Majesty laugh.”

Her candidness pleased Liu Che, and a subtle smile curved his lips in response.

Gently, he drew her onto his lap, his long fingers threading through her hair with an air of familiarity. He pressed his fingertips softly against her temples, rotating them in gentle circles, eliciting a contented moan from her. Her eyes softened instantly, shimmering with a touch of allure.

“You, you,” Liu Che murmured in a low, measured tone. “If elder sister knew that offering a beauty would only breed your resentment, she would have regretted her choice long ago.”

Though laced with a hint of sarcasm, his tone revealed little dissatisfaction with Chen Jiao’s actions.

Over time, the bond between the siblings had gradually softened, yet he had long since accepted the rift between his aunt and sister, choosing not to intervene in their discord. Instead, he seemed to lean subtly in Chen Jiao’s favor, aligning himself more with her sentiments than with the fractured family ties.

Chen Jiao offered a subtle, knowing smile, her expression tinged with a touch of cleverness.

She mused quietly to herself, “If her concern for my resentment were genuine, she would not have offered beauty so readily…”

Before Liu Che could respond, she inquired again, “What troubled you upon your arrival today?”

Chen Jiao’s tone conveyed authentic concern, a sincerity that even his keen ears could discern as genuine.

In a court where many sought to flatter him, he came to treasure the rare moments of true sincerity that demanded no favor or ulterior motive. As he matured, a circle of talented young individuals naturally gathered around him. After all, the grand empress dowager’s influence waned with each passing day, while his power continued to grow unabated.

Over time, he grew accustomed to being enveloped by the myriad desires of countless individuals.

He perceived himself as a formidable vortex—wherever he directed his gaze, a storm of authority would erupt. His supreme power was intoxicating; it commanded trembling awe in others, yet it was a dangerous allure, irresistibly tempting them to indulge.

Occasionally, in moments of self-reflection, he wondered who truly held sway over him—beyond his own power, only Chen Jiao came to mind.

It was in these moments that he recognized the depth of thought behind his assertion, “I do not wish to meddle in the affairs of the former dynasty, nor am I inclined to do so.”

Naturally, this was spoken before his grandmother, and since the inaugural year of his reign, his unwavering patience and obedience had persisted, alongside the grand empress dowager’s indulgence—like playing with capricious cats and dogs, a delicate dance of control and surrender.

If Liu Che wished to construct Shanglin Garden, then let him do so. If he desired to send individuals beyond the reach of the Great Wall, he was free to send them.

As long as he remained obedient and caused no trouble beyond acceptable bounds, his grandmother would remain the most benevolent of matriarchs. Yet, crossing those boundaries would awaken her suspicion, doubt, and her swift, decisive nature—traits that, in their severity, resembled his own formidable resolve.

His mother and sisters, upon encountering him, only sought official titles and positions, their ambitions intertwined with both wealth and prestige. His maternal relatives and his wife’s kin shared an unspoken assumption: that they were entitled to share in his power, alongside his riches.

This expectation, however, filled him with a deep sense of disdain.

There are certain matters—certain ambitions—that only truly wise and loving individuals would refrain from pursuing or claiming. He believed that Chen Jiao had never sought official rank nor meddled in court affairs; she trusted that he could manage everything himself. Her genuine hope was for his safety and happiness, unburdened by fears that his anger might jeopardize her or their wealth.

Liu Che pressed his face tenderly into Chen Jiao’s hair and spoke in a hushed tone, “It’s the same old story. My uncle desires a higher official position, but I am unable to grant it.”

In recent years, although Tian Fen lacked an official title, he remained deeply trusted and cherished by Liu Che.

Chen Jiao was aware that, at times, within the secluded chamber of Qingliang Hall, the uncle and nephew could converse for an entire hour. She harbored no real animosity toward Tian Fen; despite his haughty demeanor as Marquess of Wu’an, he knew how to steer clear of the grand princess’s sharp gaze. Moreover, their encounters were infrequent, rendering their relationship more akin to strangers than kin.

Yet, often, the act of manipulating someone simply hinges on blocking their path.

For Chen Jiao, many of life’s challenges are akin to this—she could not afford to wait until harm was imminent. Instead, she must anticipate and neutralize threats before they fully manifest.

At some point, her inner voice had moved to the forefront of her heart’s depths, and she could feel the fiery warmth pressing behind her eyes—almost as if something yearned to use her gaze to see Liu Che with clarity.

“Everyone knows to brace for a rainy day; why have you yet to eliminate the Wei woman?” Liu Che teased her as he often did, then his tone grew more serious. “Be cautious—Tian Fen is not only proud but also vengeful. If words reach his ears and he realizes you’re obstructing his path, he will surely harbor resentment toward you.”

As for the empress dowager and the grand princess, their sentiments were evident. Even if they remained unaware of Chen Jiao’s words, their dislike for her would have been unmistakable.

“A’Che, if you can’t get something by asking directly, you have to take a detour.” She hugged his arm and said softly, “Is it just to promote Confucianism and Taoism and not let the Confucian scholars look down on you as emperor? If uncle can’t outsmart grandmother, can you find someone else, someone who can make grandmother nod, and that’s enough?”

“It’s not about promoting Confucianism and Taoism, but rather that my uncle is pressuring me too much!” Liu Che explained patiently.

“Actually, now isn’t the time to talk about Confucianism and Taoism again. Besides, as long as grandmother is alive, that person won’t be him, but Dou Ying…”

How could Chen Jiao not understand this principle?

She deliberately said, “Ah, so it was my uncle who pressured you… then I can’t do anything about it. Who told you to listen to him?”

Indeed, given Liu Che’s status, it should have been Tian Fen who was trying to curry favor with him, not him trying to curry favor with Tian Fen.

He was angry, but eventually sighed, “You don’t understand, there are too few people who can be used.”

Chen Jiao was completely unconvinced and could only smile.

But that perfect, spring-like smile, flickering across Liu Che’s eyes, only further angered him, and he blurted out, “I wasn’t that dissatisfied at first, but when I entered the hall and saw you and that Wei woman together, I became even more miserable.”

What did that have to do with anything?

Not to mention Chen Jiao, even her voice was laced with laughter and tears, “Are you jealous that I’ve become so close to her?”

He, however, replied matter-of-factly, “Why can’t I?” He was rarely so brazen, and she didn’t know what to say.

She could only laugh and sigh, “Fine, fine, whatever my A’Che says, so be it.”

Though her smile carried a touch of helplessness, it ultimately remained sweet and endearing.

This gentle expression graced her face, casting a subtle glow that softened her features. While it was not as luminous as the joy she displayed when conversing and laughing with Wei Zifu, it still radiated warmth and a springtime freshness.

Liu Che observed this and was struck by the evident ease in her demeanor when she spoke with Wei Zifu.

A sudden surge of jealousy ignited within him, prompting him to speak softly, almost plaintively, into Chen Jiao’s ear, “Do you know why I dislike you speaking with that Wei woman and Han Yan?”

He leaned closer and whispered in a tender, wistful tone, “Because when you talk to them, the smiles you wear are all genuine. Jiaojiao, I don’t want you to be sincere with anyone else. All your smiles should be reserved for me.”

Chen Jiao’s eyes widened in surprise, momentarily caught between admiration for his sharp insight and astonishment at her own lack of subtlety.

It became clear that Liu Che possessed an uncanny ability to discern the authenticity of her expressions at a mere glance.

On second thought, fear once again overcame her: Wouldn’t every smile she gave him be a smile from the bottom of her heart?

Although she had already developed the habit of looking before she leaped, she couldn’t always steel herself, and each smile couldn’t take on the expected curve and expression.

Being with Liu Che felt like breathing underwater, constantly surrounded by enormous pressure, and she wasn’t afraid to be cautious, often just doing what she wanted.

Now the effect seemed to be really good, and Liu Che had indeed become greedy and cared about such details. But for some reason, she felt an oppressive pressure.

Chen Jiao looked at him and asked in a low, hesitant voice, “A’Che, are you saying…”

“Didn’t you hear?” He whispered into her with moist, hot breath, “The palace servants privately call you the Ice Empress, Jiaojiao. For others, it’s already a blessing to see your cold side. Only I am allowed to see you when you melt away.”

Chen Jiao found herself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—uncertain whether to weep or to laugh, to feel honored or to be afraid.

With no other options, she closed her eyes, surrendered herself into Liu Che’s embrace, and let her instincts guide her. A delicate, almost hesitant smile subtly emerged.

Meanwhile, a quiet voice within her heart sighed with a bittersweetness that lingered in her memory long after.