The Innocent Heart - Chapter 43

The following day, Chen Zhi rose unusually early and made his way to the palace.

His aunt, who served as Empress in the Weiyang Palace, was once again plotting something in secret with his grandmother. Early that morning, his grandmother had stopped him, mysteriously handing him a package to deliver to his aunt.

Although the Marquis of Tangyi’s estate was one of the noble houses that had endured since the early Han Dynasty, the true head of the household who called the shots was Chen Zhi’s grandmother, the Grand Princess Guantao. The men of the family—his grandfather, his father, his uncles, and Chen Zhi himself—all harbored a secret dread of this immensely powerful Grand Princess, even if they didn’t show it.

However, Chen Zhi was quite looking forward to seeing his aunt today, hoping he might also encounter His Majesty at her palace.

Yesterday, he had caught a significant amount of game in the outskirts. Having waited a long time for Huo Qubing to show up without success, Chen Zhi couldn’t help but think to himself: That boy must have known his haul couldn’t compare to mine, so he deliberately stayed away.

He was deeply dissatisfied with the Emperor’s blatant favoritism toward Wei Qing and Huo Qubing. Whether by blood or status, Chen Zhi and the entire House of Tangyi stood far above the Wei and Huo families. Even though he had joined the Qimen Imperial Guards, his opportunities to see the Emperor remained few and far between.

Thinking of this, he recalled that Huo Qubing entered the palace daily to serve as a study companion in the Xuanoshi Hall. Though Huo lacked an official rank, he was far more prominent than Chen Zhi, who spent his days standing guard over the palace chambers under General Cheng Bushi.

“When I see His Majesty later, I must have a good laugh at that bastard Huo Qubing’s expense!” Chen Zhi thought spitefully.

Inside the Pepper Chamber, the splendor was as dazzling as its mistress—magnificent and grand to the extreme.

To be fair, Chen Ajiao was a great beauty. Unlike Wei Zifu’s gentle submissiveness, Ajiao’s beauty was flamboyant, so striking that one could never forget it after a single glance. Currently, she sat idly in the hall, staring listlessly at the autumn scenery outside.

To her, this place was nothing more than a magnificent cold palace. The only man who could make it warm again had not set foot here for a very long time.

The man had grown tired of the peony’s national grace and overwhelming richness; he had turned instead to the lotus—gentle, calm, and subtly fragrant.

“If I could have Ajiao as my wife, I would build a golden house to store her.” The childhood promise still rang in her ears, yet looking back, she realized she was the only one who had taken it seriously.

A woman’s beauty fades quickly. People say, “Nothing is without a beginning, but few things have an end,” and “She who serves with her beauty finds that when beauty fades, love departs.” But in Chen Ajiao’s eyes, the most tragic thing for a woman was for love to depart even before her beauty had faded.

She hated to admit that a noble lady like herself had fallen to the point of envying a mere singing girl like Wei Zifu.

“Your Majesty, Young Master Chen Zhi has arrived,” a maid reported in a low voice.

Chen Ajiao masked her weariness and forced herself to focus. “Bring him in.”

Shortly after, Chen Zhi was led into the hall. Ajiao looked at her nephew; she hadn’t seen him in a while, and he seemed to have grown taller. She almost didn’t recognize him. In truth, aside from her mother, Ajiao was not close to her relatives. During her childhood and adolescence, she seemed to spend more time in Weiyang Palace than in her own home. In her subconscious, this palace was her true home.

“Aunt,” the youth greeted her with a respectful bow.

“Azhi, sit. It was difficult to call you into the palace so early on your day off. Are you hungry? Would you like some snacks?” Without waiting for him to respond, she turned to a maid. “Quickly, go to the Imperial Kitchen and have them prepare the snacks the Young Master usually likes.”

“So overbearing… no wonder His Majesty only visits the Qingliang Hall these days,” Chen Zhi grumbled inwardly, having had no chance to voice his own wishes.

“Azhi, Azhi… what are you thinking about so intently?” His aunt’s slightly reproachful voice snapped him back to reality.

“Aunt, what is it?” Chen Zhi blinked and looked at her, still somewhat dazed.

“The things your grandmother asked you to bring—did you bring them?” Chen Ajiao repeated impatiently. Chen Zhi hurriedly pulled a small bundle from his robes and handed it over.

Ajiao felt a wave of relief, and a genuine smile finally touched her face. She carefully placed the small bundle into a jewelry box. Only then did she turn back to chat with her nephew.

As Chen Zhi answered her questions, he observed her demeanor. She seemed distracted, her eyes constantly drifting toward the palace doors as if waiting for someone. Is it the Emperor? he wondered. The two of them chatted for half a day, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Ajiao’s face grew darker and her responses more perfunctory.

Just as Chen Zhi was about to nerve himself to share some family anecdotes to break the stifling atmosphere, Ajiao finally snapped.

“If you, your father, and your uncles had even half the favor those two bastards Wei Qing and Huo Qubing have, would His Majesty have refused to step into my Pepper Chamber for over a month?”

It was always like this. Whether it was his grandmother, his aunt, or even the Emperor—everyone seemed to think that illegitimate boy Huo Qubing was far more capable than a noble marquis’s son like himself.

This made Chen Zhi feel quite slighted. Unable to help himself, he recounted his encounter with Huo Qubing the previous day.

“Aunt, that Huo Qubing is nothing but a fraud. I met him yesterday in the outskirts and we agreed to a hunting match to see who could catch more. Who knew he would lose his nerve and flee at the last moment…” Chen Zhi bragged with a look of smug satisfaction.

Halfway through his story, Chen Ajiao suddenly stood up. With a look of joy that bordered on losing her composure, she rushed toward the entrance.

“Your Majesty, why have you come today?” Ajiao greeted him with a smile, practically throwing herself into Liu Che’s (Emperor Wu’s) arms.

Liu Che looked at the lovely face in his arms and felt a moment of contentment, allowing her to lead him into the hall.

“Azhi, how rare. Why have you come to the palace today?” Upon entering, Liu Che looked with surprise at Chen Zhi, who was sitting stiffly in the hall.

“Azhi went hunting yesterday and caught a lot of game. He came specifically to offer some to Your Majesty,” Ajiao said, her beautiful eyes darting a warning glance at her nephew, telling him not to speak out of turn.

“Yes, yes… I came specifically to deliver some wild game.” Chen Zhi, eager to show off his prowess before the Emperor and outshine Huo Qubing, listed his catches. “I hunted a stag yesterday. I had the servants prepare it immediately and brought the velvet antlers, the deer blood, and two hind legs into the palace.”

His words were half-truths; he did bring the items, but the timing of the hunt was exaggerated.

Liu Che showed a hint of interest. “Oh? Azhi went hunting yesterday too? What a coincidence. Those two boys, Qubing and A-Yao, went into the mountains yesterday and killed a man-eating tiger.”

Liu Che stroked his chin, looking intrigued. “Speaking of which, it is indeed a good time for the autumn hunt. Perhaps next time I shall host an imperial hunt and invite the court to enjoy themselves.”

Meanwhile, Chen Zhi was drowning in a sea of shock. He didn’t hear a word Liu Che said after that.

Huo Qubing killed a tiger?!

He stared blankly at the floor, suddenly feeling that his earlier self-congratulation was nothing more than a joke with no audience.

At the same time, the “tiger-slaying heroes” Huo Qubing and Guan Yueyao were resting in the courtyard.

The combination of yesterday’s terror and the day-long exhaustion meant that even after a night’s rest, their muscles were so sore they could hardly move. Fortunately, neither of them was injured. Their escape was thanks to Huo Qubing’s decisive shots; sight and hearing were a tiger’s most vital tools for hunting. Furthermore, having trained together for months, the two shared a wordless rapport, often understanding each other with a single gesture or glance.

Of course, the incident had caused a major stir.

When Wei Qing saw that the children had not returned past the curfew, he disregarded everything else and went to the palace to explain the situation to the Emperor. After receiving permission, he left the city to search for them.

Wei Qing still didn’t dare recall the sheer terror he felt when he found Guan Yueyao covered in blood and his nephew in a similarly wretched state—nor the fury that followed once he confirmed they were unharmed.

A child’s body is a gift from their parents; to see these two youths being so reckless… if something had happened to them… Wei Qing didn’t dare think further. The usually gentle Wei Qing had hauled them home and thrown a massive fit.

Even Wei Shao’er (Huo Qubing’s mother) had fainted from shock upon hearing her son had encountered a tiger, throwing the household into further chaos. Consequently, an angry Wei Qing placed Huo Qubing under house arrest to reflect on his actions. Guan Yueyao, however, was spared this punishment because she held an official duty.

“Uncle, I still have to go to the palace to serve as a companion. If you keep me locked up and His Majesty asks, it won’t be easy for you to explain,” Huo Qubing wheedled by his uncle’s side, trying to appease him. “Besides, I heard that was a man-eater. It frequently came down the mountain and had already taken over a dozen lives. A-Yao and I were just getting rid of a threat to the people.”

“That’s right, Lord Wei! We were doing a good deed!” Guan Yueyao chimed in, hoping to win leniency for her friend.

To their surprise, mentioning this only reignited Wei Qing’s fading anger. He slammed the table and stood up while they watched in shock.

“It seems you still don’t understand where you went wrong. I think it’s best if this punishment remains in place.” Without another look at them, he slammed the door and left the courtyard.