Leaving the Changmen Palace - LTCP 46: Pincer Attack

Chen Jiao looked at Chu Jiao again, feeling a little embarrassed.

“What are you ashamed of?” The voice asked, sounding as if it was taking pleasure in someone else’s misfortune. “Do you think this is unusual? In the harems of princes and kings across the country, countless beauties are willing to give up their savings to beg Chu Fu for instruction. Even the favorite concubines would not hesitate to have a brief fling with a girl as skilled in the arts of love as Chu Fu.”

It has yet to be confirmed whether she was well versed in the arts of the bedroom. What if her parents were shamans? She served the palace from a young age. It is still unclear to what extent she has mastered the arts of her family.

Chen Jiao wanted to retort, but remembering its ambiguous relationship with Chu Fu in the past, she remained silent again.

She rolled her eyes languidly, and blushed reluctantly “You’re such a romantic that you wouldn’t let a woman go.”

The voice sighed, its tone tinged with lingering resentment beneath its triumphant veneer, “No matter how much Liu Che may favor you, he will eventually drift away.”

Despite her noble birth, when she descended into vulgarity, she was no different from the village women in the fields, “It was only after I followed Chu Fu that I truly understood what happiness in such matters could be. Do you think that by merely pretending to cooperate, he won’t see through your reluctance? If these affairs lack genuine pleasure, the distance between you will only widen over time.”

Since the young man broke the melon, Chen Jiao’s pain had eased over the years, yet she found little joy in the intimacy itself. To claim she had mastered the art of the bed is somewhat of a jest. She did not shy away from such matters out of fear of delay, but her desire was scarce, and she had little interest in honing her skills to secure Liu Che’s favor.

Though she believed that having a child would resolve many concerns, she had been married for nearly five years, leaving her to wonder, “Is this truly the way it must be?”

As she conversed with her inner voice—an echo of her own thoughts—she felt a subtle shyness. She instinctively concealed her face, turning away to hide her embarrassment from all.

“Could things be different?” it questioned softly, voice tinged with impatience. “Let her guide you. If only I were unencumbered by my body…”

Chen Jiao wished to envelop herself in darkness, dismissing the voice with a firm command, “Do not bring this matter up again.”

Yet, whenever she faced Chu Fu, a trace of discomfort lingered. Even in her gaze—her eyebrows and eyes—she found herself momentarily lost, as if caught in a fleeting spell.

Chu Fu, perceptive as she was, subtly sensed her unease, understanding that beneath her composed exterior, a complex emotion stirred.

Having already been subtly manipulated into a frightened, bird-like state by her myriad tactics, Chu Fu initially perceived her abnormality with a surge of panic. As a result, she became ever more cautious, scrutinizing Chen Jiao’s expressions and mannerisms with heightened vigilance. Yet, paradoxically, the more she observed her, the more evident Chen Jiao’s discomfort became.

Even Wei Zifu could discern that something was amiss.

She bent gracefully, delicately removing the melon seeds from the fruit and presenting the juicy, fragrant pieces to Chen Jiao with a subtle, meaningful gesture.

“These days, it seems Your Majesty has caused quite a stir within the palace,” she remarked softly. “Perhaps she has changed her mind and intends to dismiss someone from the palace?”

Chen Jiao was momentarily taken aback, then recalled Wei Zifu’s knowledge of Chu Fu’s true identity. It dawned on her that Wei Zifu, before even approaching Jiaofang Hall, likely believed she shared the same relationship with Chu Fu in this lifetime as she had in the past.

Before she could succumb to embarrassment, her thoughts had already shifted elsewhere: Wei Zifu had commanded influence for over a decade. Her initial rise was undoubtedly rooted in her comfort and familiarity with Liu Che—comfort that extended beyond mere repose to a deeper understanding of his desires. Given the swift ascent of the concubine to power, it was evident that she possessed intimate knowledge of Liu Che’s preferences.

If Chen Jiao sought to master the art of lovemaking, it would most likely be through her rather than Chu Fu. Her aim was to secure his favor within the Jiaofang Hall, not merely to satisfy her personal needs.

Observing her, a surge of strategic thought crossed Chen Jiao’s mind—yet she found himself at a loss for words, cheeks flushing with shyness, rarely revealing her vulnerability. Turning her head away in quiet bashfulness, she chose silence over speech.

As Wei Zifu cast an inadvertent glance toward her, she was momentarily taken aback. Her delicate, shell-like teeth gently pressed into her softly tinted lips, while her feline eyes appeared to be captivated by Chen Jiao.

Though neither woman spoke, an unspoken tension subtly lingered between them, creating an atmosphere charged with quiet intrigue.

Chen Jiao, lost in thought, mused inwardly, “Wei Zifu truly embodies unmatched beauty. A’Che is fortunate indeed to be able to behold such grace.”

Observing Wei Zifu’s unintentional distraction, she felt a quiet sense of satisfaction—affirming within herself that she was not inferior; after all, what else could explain her being drawn toward her?

Like a magnet, she seemed irresistibly pulled forward, her flowing, vividly colored skirt extending in tandem with her movement. Her jade-like foot gradually revealed itself, hinting at a poised intention—to gently lift Wei Zifu’s delicate, melon-seed-shaped face once more.

“Your Majesty!” Suddenly, warm greetings from the palace servants came from outside the hall.

The palace servant must have been walking under the corridor and happened to bump into Liu Che who had entered the courtyard.

When he entered Jiaofang Hall, Chen Jiao and Wei Zifu were playing chess.

Chen Jiao dropped a piece and said with a smile, “Lady Wei, you will lose this game.”

Wei Zifu didn’t even raise her head and said calmly, “Your Majesty’s chess skills are superb, and I am naturally not as adept as you.”

The subtle air of ambiguity that had persisted was immediately dispelled by the gentle rustling of Liu Che’s robe sleeves as he made his entrance.

He sat cross-legged beside Chen Jiao.

He was rarely interested, and even glanced at Wei Zifu a few more times, joking with her, “Jiaojiao’s chess is bad enough, but Lady Wei’s chess skills are even worse. How little knowledge do you have in your heart?”

Wei Zifu never dared to look him in the eye, and in front of Chen Jiao, she dared not show her elegance. She smiled timidly and did not respond, and the atmosphere suddenly became cold.

Chen Jiao thought that Liu Che had always been a little unhappy that Wei Zifu could please her, so she nodded to her casually, and Wei Zifu immediately knelt down and retreated.

Looking at Liu Che again, she felt that he did look much more energetic since Wang Ji came.

Thinking of the confident words in that voice, thinking of the charm emanating from Wei Zifu, even the seemingly ordinary Chu Fu had extraordinary abilities… Chen Jiao suddenly felt a little unconvinced.

Could it be that she was the only one who did not understand the joy of the palace from beginning to end and fell behind?

Suddenly, a voice rang in her ear, “Eat a piece of melon.” It carried an unmistakable tone of impatience.

As soon as Wei Zifu departed, it seemed to drift back into the space, its expression sharp and deliberate, as if finally recognizing that, with Chen Jiao’s growing maturity, its own once-dominant position was gradually receding. Yet now, it had once again seized the opportunity to reclaim its place at the forefront.

Chen Jiao listened quietly, filled with admiration, as she absorbed its words—like a child receiving guidance from a revered elder. Reluctantly, she reached for a piece of melon, her crimson lips savoring the juicy sweetness.

Glancing at Liu Che, who appeared distracted and engrossed in the unfinished game left by the two women, she inquired softly, “Did you just return from Qingliang Hall? This time, was Lady Wang or Han Yan by your side?”

Startled from his concentration, he looked up at her question, momentarily caught off guard.

Thanks to Chen Jiao’s rare generosity, it was an uncommon sight for her to ask a question tinged with such envy.

This rarity only deepened Liu Che’s amusement; rather than feeling annoyed, he was subtly pleased, even a touch exhilarated. He thought to himself: she has finally begun to show signs of jealousy. Luckily, he was wise enough not to respond truthfully.

Instead, he simply lifted his gaze, offering her a gentle, friendly smile.

Though he was well-acquainted with her composed, icy elegance, he couldn’t help but notice that she now appeared subtly transformed. She had been gradually maturing, evolving from her earlier youthful innocence into the poised grace she possessed now.

To Liu Che, she resembled a puppy he had personally nurtured—sometimes fierce, yet always deserving of his patience and care.

Despite her luminous and elusive spirit, he sensed that something was missing—an intangible element that rendered his relationship with Chen Jiao fragile, as if they floated atop a thin, shifting surface. Though they shared intimacy, a persistent instability lingered, creating a subtle barrier between them.

Countless men and women—such as Wang Ji and Jia Ji—eagerly sought to please him, their restless passions fueling their efforts to repay his favor. They could bring him fleeting happiness, yet he remained indifferent to their joy.

In contrast, Chen Jiao was different; she required his genuine care. He no longer cared for his own feelings but solely wished to bestow upon her the deepest happiness, mirroring the pleasure others had brought him.

Though he would never confess it openly, he secretly yearned to please her. In her presence, he often felt a loss of his imperial authority—like a passionate youth, eager to mark her with his essence, to let her radiance reflect the vitality and nourishment of his affection, making her beauty even more captivating.

Chen Jiao was not only deprived of his affection but increasingly found herself enveloped in loneliness and coldness with each passing day. Like a delicate bloom starved of nourishment, her beauty gradually waned into a state of weariness and pallor.

Liu Che pondered whether their intimacy—or lack thereof—was the root of her growing resentment, yet she remained silent on the matter, and he dared not inquire. He feared that his question might inadvertently awaken her awareness or curiosity, prompting her to seek new sources of stimulation elsewhere.

Such complexities were not uncommon within the harem of the Great Han.

Given her formidable mother, he had little doubt about the private boldness Chen Jiao could possess. Yet, in an instant, she seemed to have matured—her spirit awakening in harmony with her physical growth.

A transformed Chen Jiao now exuded a newfound awareness of her femininity and desires, revealing her allure with subtle grace. She lifted a jade-green fruit to her lips, biting into it gently, the juice trickling down to caress her long, porcelain-white neck, a silent testament to her blossoming sensuality.

Liu Che was taken aback to discover that a single moment was enough to ignite his desire entirely.

Leaning forward, he gently pressed her beneath him, his longing to possess her flourishing anew.

He captured her hand, guiding it above her head, and in a quiet, deliberate tone, he inquired, “Why now?”

Yet before he could finish his question, a realization dawned—if Chen Jiao had wished to heed Han Yan, she would have done so long ago. Han Yan was merely a distraction, a smokescreen.

The true source of her jealousy was likely Wang Ji. It seemed that word of Wang Ji’s allure and mastery had reached Chen Jiao’s ears—whether through Chun Tuo, Chu Fu, or Wei Zifu, Liu Che could not say.

Overcome with amused affection, he chuckled softly, pressing his chest against Chen Jiao’s without restraint.

In that moment, he silently resolved that all those involved—from Wang Ji’s downward—would reap their just rewards.

Indeed, Chen Jiao had reached the age of maturity, and through this clever and precisely timed stimulation, she had finally blossomed into a woman—one who yearned deeply for her lover. Yet, within her ears, the voice carried a tone of discontent, as if throwing a childish tantrum or harboring a jealous longing.

It snorted and snapped, “It’s just a bite of melon… Your Liu Che truly spoils you too much!”

Beneath the sourness and underlying resentment, there flickered a hint of greedy anticipation, prompting her to wear a bitter smile inwardly. She knew better than to provoke Chu Fu, who had once brought her great misfortune.

Now, as she was being used by her, she had to tread carefully, always vigilant—guarding herself against her influence. Whether in matters of intimacy or in the realm of enchantment, it was safest to conceal her for a lifetime, where she would remain most at ease.

Wei Zifu could be utilized, and now, she naturally yearned for their everlasting love to endure, hoping that he would provide her with greater care. Aware of Liu Che’s disfavor towards her and having no desire to vie for his favor, she chose not to undermine her rival in secret. Yet, despite her efforts to relinquish many burdens, her pride remained intact—an unyielding part of her.

Chen Jiao also understood that if Liu Che were to discover her involvement with Wei Zifu in such a clandestine scheme, Wei Zifu’s life might very well be in peril. Faced with these delicate circumstances, she felt compelled to seek out her husband—her emperor—and to appeal to him intimately.

Softly, she leaned in and, disregarding his question, whispered into his ear, “Tell me, how would you have me proceed?”

Liu Che responded not with words but with a commanding gesture—his finger boldly parting her, delving deep within—while his rough voice echoed in her ear. Though she had heard his voice many times before, never had it sounded so intense, so irresistibly fiery.

“No,” said Liu Che, “tell me, how should I do it?”

Before she could think of an answer, the voice was already panting in her ear, “Inward, slightly to the left, a little further in…” The sweet voice, which sounded exactly like her own, was so sweet that it could be squeezed out.

Suddenly, Chen Jiao sensed that this love affair, although it seemed ordinary, was actually extraordinary. Dazed, she was attacked from both sides.

…

TN: Ah, Chen Jiao was just pretending “it” the whole time! Except this time.