The Innocent Heart - Chapter 46

The two youths had resolved their grievances and reconciled, but for the Emperor and Empress they had spoken of, there was no longer any path back.

As one of the most powerful halls in the Weiyang Palace, the Pepper Chamber had long been the residence of the mistress of this magnificent palace complex. It was a place of constant bustle and prosperity, envied by every woman in the palace.

Today, as evening approached and the daylight grew dim, no candles were lit within Weiyang Palace, even though Empress Chen Ajiao still resided there. The vast number of maids and eunuchs who once served her had already scattered—some dead, others relegated to the Yeting (the palace lockup/workhouse). They were the first victims of a political struggle and a power shift that, in truth, had nothing to do with them.

Chen Ajiao sat alone in the great hall. she was dressed with exceptional solemnity, wearing the deep-robe style silk ceremonial dress reserved for ancestral temple visits, with a dazzling gold buyao hairpin swaying in her hair. Born a “daughter of heaven” and pampered from birth, it had taken her the entire day to dress herself properly without the help of servants.

She straightened her slightly disheveled collar, pulled her spine erect, and tilted her head high as always, exposing the elegant line of her chin. She intended to meet her fate in her most perfect state.

“The Empress has lost her way, misled by sorcery and prayers; she can no longer bear the Mandate of Heaven. Let her surrender the seals and ribbons, and retire to the Changmen Palace.”

As Wang He’s voice faded, Chen Ajiao opened her eyes. There were no tears shimmering in them, contrary to what everyone had expected. In the long memory of the palace attendants, Empress Chen had always been an overly emotional person—joy, anger, like, and dislike were always written clearly on her face. In this regard, she was strikingly similar to the Emperor, who was currently behind closed doors in the Yilan Hall.

Yet, after Wang He finished reading the decree of deposition, the former Empress neither wept nor made a scene. She accepted the decree with a face of total calm.

Knowing her reputation, Wang He had brought dozens of armored Qimen guards to prevent any desperate acts or suicide attempts. He hadn’t expected her to offer no struggle at all.

“Hmph. If you want to condemn someone, any pretext will do!” A flash of mockery crossed Ajiao’s eyes. “Where is Liu Che? Where is he now?”

Hearing the Emperor’s personal name used so brazenly made Wang He turn pale. He steadied himself before replying, “His Majesty is occupied with affairs of state and truly cannot find the time to… to see you.”

As he finished, a sharp clink of stone hitting the floor rang out. Wang He looked down to see a lustrous, translucent jade jue (a ring with a gap) lying at his feet, shattered into two pieces.

“I intended to return this to him in person. Since Liu Che is a coward and dares not face me, you shall deliver it for me.”

The former Empress’s indifferent tone made Wang He uncomfortable. As the Emperor’s most trusted personal eunuch, he had perhaps dealt with Chen Ajiao more than Liu Che himself had. He had heard her speak in every possible tone: furious, ecstatic, bossy… her willfulness had often given him headaches. But compared to the woman standing before him now, he instinctively preferred the old Ajiao.

Having witnessed Liu Che’s ascension, his grand wedding, and now this deposition, Wang He had seen the Emperor grow into his power while simultaneously watching Empress Chen wither from a peerless flower into a faded shadow.

But Wang He could say nothing. He quickly suppressed his fleeting pity and maintained his professional, detached tone. “I must ask Your Grace to move to Changmen Palace. Please do not make things difficult for us.”

He gestured to two small eunuchs to “assist” her into the carriage. Seeing this, Chen Ajiao brushed them away and snapped, “I can walk myself. Do not let your hands soil my robes!”

With her head held high, as proud as the day she attended her coronation ceremony, she walked out of the palace she had lived in for over a decade with solemn, steady steps. As the carriage carried her further away, she never once looked back. She stared straight ahead as if she were merely accompanying the sovereign on a routine tour, rather than leaving as the loser of a power struggle.

If someone had been sitting beside her, they might have noticed that beneath her invincible pride and the cover of her long sleeves, her hands were trembling slightly.

Having safely seen the former Empress off, Wang He breathed a long sigh of relief. He arrived at the doors of the Yilan Hall and sighed at the tightly shut entrance.

“Your Majesty, the former Empress has surrendered the seals and departed for Changmen Palace,” Wang He reported loudly to the silent hall.

The interior of the Yilan Hall, much like the Pepper Chamber, was unlit and shrouded in darkness. As the place where Liu Che had lived since childhood, it was also where he and Ajiao had played together as children. Even to Wang He, this hall was filled with memories of the sovereign and his Empress growing up together. It was a hall with a living memory.

There was no response from the darkness.

Inside, Liu Che sat alone. He had heard the report. But now that the news of Ajiao’s departure had come, he did not feel the sense of relief he had anticipated. Instead, he felt a sharp, violent tug at his heart. The words “former Empress” sounded grating to his ears.

Raised in the palace, he had seen the struggle for the throne between his mother and Lady Li; he had seen his father use thunderous means to execute his eldest brother, the former Crown Prince Liu Rong. He remembered the day his brother died—his father had called him close and told him:

“In the Imperial House, there are no fathers and sons, no brothers. Since you are my Crown Prince, you must understand: the day you become Emperor is the day you become a ‘Lonely Man’ (Luanjia). Remember, as an Emperor, the mountains and rivers, the state, and the grand hegemony are the only things you should hold in your heart. Do not be tied down by sentiment or kinship. Only by discarding personal emotion can you truly master the art of power and the hearts of men.”

The young Liu Che had taken those words to heart and believed he was doing well. But why, now that he had finally deposed Ajiao and cut off the last bit of influence his aunt, Grand Princess Guantao, held in the court, did he not feel the joy of a victor?

Ultimately, Ajiao was special. In his heart, she was different from every other woman in the harem. He couldn’t say for sure if his lingering at Wei Zifu’s Qingliang Hall over the last few years was because of her gentle understanding, or because he was afraid to face Ajiao in the Pepper Chamber.

Forget it. The matter is settled; brooding is useless.

Liu Che took a deep breath, trying to purge these thoughts. He was the ultimate chess player of the world. The land was his board, and the heroes of the age were his pieces. He was playing a dangerous but necessary game. Grand Princess Guantao, influenced by Empress Dowager Dou, followed the Taoist philosophy of Wu Wei (non-action), which had long put her at odds with Liu Che’s political ambitions.

His ending with Ajiao had been written long ago. It had very little to do with whether she had borne him a son or not. As of today, Liu Che was a player who never regretted a move, and his first wife, whom he had once loved, had finally become a discarded piece.

Before the state and his personal ambition, romantic sentiment was a small thing. He had grieved for her and their past for an entire afternoon; that was surely enough.

He stood up and pushed open the doors. “Did she say anything before leaving?” Despite his resolve to never ask again, the question escaped his lips the moment he saw Wang He.

Wang He, looking terrified, carefully produced the two pieces of the broken jade jue from his sleeve. “The former Empress asked me to return this to Your Majesty.”

Liu Che stared at the broken jade, dazed. He reached out and took the pieces, examining them closely. For a moment, his memory flashed back to the night of their wedding. The joy then had been so real that even now, he couldn’t help but feel a phantom smile. He squeezed the broken jade in his hand, letting the sharp edges of the fracture bite into his palm.

“Let’s go. To the Qingliang Hall,” he said, his voice as flat as he could make it.

“His Majesty proceeds to the Qingliang Hall!” Wang He announced loudly. The imperial procession that had been waiting outside finally began to move slowly.

As the dust settled, the Pepper Chamber fell silent while the Qingliang Hall grew lively. Everything in Weiyang Palace seemed unchanged, except that the person being flattered and fawned over had changed.

That night, Ajiao sat in the cold, desolate courtyard of Changmen Palace, her heart a whirlwind of emotions.

The world was full of irony. She didn’t know whether to laugh at the fact that her “cold palace” was actually the estate her mother had gifted to Liu Che through her lover, Dong Yan; or whether to laugh at the fact that Liu Che had been “kind” enough to move her to a palace built by her own mother’s hand.

Many of the servants here were old retainers from the Grand Princess’s household. Living here, she knew her mother would ensure her physical comfort. But it would be a life of profound loneliness.

“Fair as the snow upon the mountain, bright as the moon among the clouds. I heard you have a divided heart, so I have come to say farewell. Today we share a cup of wine; tomorrow we part by the canal. I walk beside the royal ditch, where waters flow east and west. So bitter, so bitter—a bride should not weep. I only wish for a heart-to-heart man, to stay together until our hair is white. How lithe the bamboo fishing pole, how lively the fish’s tail! A man should value spirit and integrity; why should he care for coins and knives!”

She looked at the scroll of Baitou Yin (Song of the White Hair) she had been idling flipping through. With no one around, tears finally fell silently down her cheeks.

“Why didn’t I read this poem sooner?”