Liu Che sat within the most central and magnificent of the carriages, clutching a small bell in his hand. He looked at the woman slumped motionless in the corner and let out a series of cold, mocking sneers.
He truly hadn't expected Chen Ajiao to be so bold. The moment she stepped into the carriage, she had performed a "Golden Cicada Shedding its Shell" maneuver, leaving Chen Wan’s empty husk behind while she slipped away herself!
Fortunately, Huan Jun had given him a small bell, calling it a Sound-Transmission Bell. They came as a pair, a "mother" and a "child"; if one was shaken, the other would vibrate in resonance, even if it were at the edge of the world.
Liu Che grew even more incensed. Judging by Huan Jun’s implication, did Ajiao have no intention of returning at all?
She had claimed she was worried about potential accidents befalling Yan Zheng on the way to Changmen Palace and insisted on watching over her personally to be at ease. Couldn't she have just given Yan Zheng a bell and stayed by his side? He was the Emperor; wasn't he the one more likely to face "accidents"?
Was Ajiao too concerned about Yan Zheng, or rather, the child in Yan Zheng’s womb? A strange feeling surfaced in Liu Che’s heart. He had previously assumed she looked after the girl because Yan Zheng was the daughter of her old servant, but there was no reason for her to be this devoted, heart and soul.
Or was she planning to take Yan Zheng’s child as her own, emulating Empress Gao’s tactic of "borrowing a womb" to produce an heir? But if that were the case, there would have been no need for her to use the pretext of a "miscarriage."
Liu Che found himself unable to puzzle it out.
Ajiao, who had been utterly unwilling to leave the capital, had finally been dragged into the carriage by Liu Che. However, before departing, she had negotiated with him to move Yan Zheng to a different palace to nurture her pregnancy until the birth.
After considering various options, Ajiao had ultimately chosen Changmen Palace—for no other reason than its staff being small and its environment simple.
Since her death, most of the servants at Changmen Palace had been transferred back to Weiyang or Changle Palaces, while others were sent to Ganquan, the North Palace, or Shanglin Park.
Currently, only thirty or forty people remained at Changmen. This was partly to prevent the palace from falling into total ruin, and partly because Liu Che had actually stopped there twice to rest while on his way to pay respects at Baling after her death.
Upon careful inquiry, she learned that the current Chief of Changmen and the Female Scribe were both old acquaintances who had served her in the past. Wen Song, the Chief of Changmen, had been her mother’s household steward. After the Grand Princess passed away, he had observed the three-year mourning period before being appointed to Changmen. The Female Scribe was Ren Qiao, a female official her mother had once sent to look after her.
Today, as His Majesty set out from Chang'an for the Southern Commandery, Yan Zheng also departed from Weiyang Palace for Changmen.
Ajiao floated above the carriage carrying Yan Zheng, meticulously checking the accompanying personnel. Only after confirming there was nothing unusual did she return to the interior of the carriage.
The entourage was substantial. Aside from palace maids and eunuchs, there were over a dozen physicians. These individuals had been carefully selected by Song Zhen, and their names were submitted on a list; they were, for the most part, trustworthy.
Ajiao reached out and touched Yan Zheng’s belly. She felt she shouldn't have consulted that unreliable Lord Yunhe about finding a mortal identity. Wouldn't it have been better to simply remain by Lord Yunhe’s side as a ghost?
It would have been convenient, practical, and allowed her to strike unexpectedly at critical moments.
It certainly would have been better than her current state of being restricted by others.
Ajiao was filled with regret.
However, her regret didn't last long before the small bell hanging at her waist began to ring frantically. Ajiao’s heart tightened. Thinking that Yan Zheng’s side had already been checked and was safe, she immediately used a movement spell to chase after the Emperor’s imperial procession.
Ajiao had been engrossed in studying magic lately, and without the limitations of a physical body, her teleportation technique was executed perfectly. Within a few breaths, she saw the flags and banners blotting out the sun along the imperial highway.
Finding the Emperor’s carriage, Ajiao flashed inside to find Liu Che sitting safely within. The imperial carriage was vast, its floor covered in soft carpets and bedding, equipped with a small table and a cabinet.
The spell Shen Zhi had cast on Liu Che was not a permanent solution. Currently, Liu Che could not see Ajiao’s ghostly form; he assumed she hadn't returned yet, and his expression remained normal.
He was holding a scroll of documents, guessing when Ajiao might arrive. He remembered that when she had taken him out of the city last time, she could move a hundred feet in an instant. By his calculations, it would take her dozens of spells to reach this place, so there was no rush.
Suddenly, the bamboo slips in his hand flew up and were slammed onto the table. Liu Che frowned. "Ajiao?"
The bamboo slips were then swept into his lap as if by a hand.
"Ajiao, you're back so soon?" Liu Che smiled. "Where are you?"
Ajiao ignored him, sitting cross-legged on the table in a huff, watching Liu Che’s hand pass through her ghostly body as he felt around.
Only after Liu Che began to show signs of impatience did she slowly manifest her form. She had not yet mastered the spells used by Lord Shen or Lord Yunhe that allowed only one specific person to see them; when she manifested now, she was visible to everyone.
After scanning Ajiao’s appearance thoroughly, Liu Che reached out to touch her, but his fingers passed directly through her body, feeling nothing.
"Liu Che, why did you shake the bell for no reason?" Ajiao lowered her voice to emphasize her anger.
Liu Che smiled. "I missed you."
Ajiao: "???"
"Are you sick in the head?" Ajiao took a deep breath. "It was my mistake. Huan Jun and Chu Jun are both with you; how could anything happen to you so easily? Give me back the bell."
Liu Che arched an eyebrow with a smug grin. "This isn't yours. It was presented to me by Huan Jun. There is no such thing as 'returning' it to you."
Ajiao gave two cold laughs. "Then I'll just give mine back to you!" With that, she unfastened the bell from her waist, tossed it onto the table, and vanished.
The Emperor panicked for a moment, instinctively calling out, "Ajiao? Ajiao!"
There was no response.
***
Yan Zheng’s group traveled slowly, but with their frequent stops, they arrived at Changmen Palace by mid-afternoon.
She had heard of Changmen Palace for a long time but had never visited. She had expected a desolate, secondary palace, but to her surprise, the palace walls and roof tiles were exquisite—far better than the North Palace! In that sense, living at Changmen was much better than staying at the North Palace.
Wen Song, the Chief of Changmen, and Ren Qiao, the Female Scribe, were already standing at the gates to welcome the honored guest.
Yan Zheng did not dare to be arrogant and waived their formal salutations.
She had heard that Wen Song was the former steward of Grand Princess Dou. He was well on in years, appearing to be in his fifties or sixties, with graying hair. Ren Qiao was much younger, perhaps not yet forty, with her hair styled in a modest bun, looking very respectful.
The two led Yan Zheng inside. After winding past several palace walls, they entered the main residence—Luoshuang Pavilion, named for its height which often caught the frost.
Luoshuang Pavilion stood five stories tall. From the top, one could gaze far out over the mountains and waters; it was an excellent spot for viewing the scenery.
The Chief of Changmen bowed. "Lady, you shall reside here for the next few months. This is Luoshuang Pavilion. The original sleeping quarters were on the third floor, but considering your condition, I took the liberty of moving them to the second floor. Firstly, the stairs are gentler at a lower height, and secondly, it avoids the dampness of the ground. What does the Lady think?"
Yan Zheng nodded with a smile. "Just follow your arrangements."
Wen Song observed her speech and mannerisms, gauging that this Lady likely had a gentle temperament. He continued his report: "Changmen Palace has one Chief, four Assistants, twenty-seven eunuchs, one Female Scribe with a salary of a thousand dan, and fifteen palace maids at your disposal." As he spoke, he presented a bamboo scroll.
Yan Zheng took it and looked closely. The names, positions, salaries, birthplaces, and ages of everyone were clearly recorded. She smiled again. "I understand. I have also brought many people from the main palace this time. I'm afraid I must trouble the Chief and Scribe Ren to make the arrangements."
Wen and Ren both bowed. "This is our duty."
After escaping Liu Che’s pestering, Ajiao had spent some time instructing Huan Jiujun to look after the Emperor’s safety. By the time she returned to Changmen Palace, Yan Zheng was already resting on the second floor.
Wen Song and Ren Qiao, along with Yan Zheng’s personal maids Yuan Yi and Biluo, were organizing the accompanying servants.
In truth, Yuan Yi and Biluo held no official rank and were not palace officers; there was no need for them to be involved in such arrangements. However, Wen and Ren feared the Lady might be sensitive, so they included them nonetheless.
Ajiao walked over and gave a playful tug to Wen Song’s white hair, then touched Ren Qiao’s neatly styled low bun, her heart filled with infinite nostalgia.
When she had passed away, Wen Song had still been at Baling mourning her mother, but he had practically watched her grow up. Back then, he was a youth in his teens, sent to the palace as a eunuch because of his family's poverty. Because he was clever and thorough, he had been chosen by the previous household steward to enter the Princess’s manor.
Later, when the old steward became too frail to serve, he had slowly risen through the ranks.
Ajiao wandered upstairs. Luoshuang Pavilion had once been her residence as well, so the decorations were quite lavish. Now that the weather was cold, gold-thread rattan and red-lacquered bamboo curtains hung along the corridors to block the wind. Through them, one could faintly see green pines brushing against the eaves. Inside, there were pearl curtains, emerald hangings, silken canopies, and heavy veils. Designs of flying phoenixes and dancing dragons shimmered with radiant colors. On a carved lacquer desk sat a celadon vase with a water-wave pattern, from which a single branch of red plum blossoms slanted out.
For Liu Che, as long as it didn't cost his treasury extra money, he turned a blind eye to whatever gifts her mother sent into the palace.
One couldn't say he was good to her, nor could one say he was bad. Thinking back carefully, he simply didn't care; he couldn't be bothered to spend any thought on her affairs.
The spectator sees clearly what the player misses.
Ajiao had been lost in that game for decades. Now that she had finally escaped, how could she dare throw herself back into the "deep pit" that was Liu Che?
Was being a ghost messenger not good enough, or was the path to immortality not worth pursuing?
Ajiao sat cross-legged on a small couch and began to circulate her Qi. Guiding the divine power within her through her meridians, she slowly opened her eyes. Although she hadn't felt her divine power grow significantly over the past two years, her mastery over spells had indeed become more effortless.
She thought to herself that this place was very close to the Papermaking Bureau. She might as well take the opportunity to see how Lin Gao’s papermaking was progressing and, while she was at it, check on Chen Xuan.
When she reached the Papermaking Bureau, before she even saw Lin Gao, she was drawn to a lantern hanging under the eaves. There was a bit of a breeze today, yet the lantern remained brightly lit.
The lanterns she usually saw were either surrounded by fine gauze, which blew out in the wind, or wrapped in thick oiled cloth, which made the light so dim it was almost useless.
She flew up and took the lantern in her hands, only to discover that the exterior was covered with a layer of paper.
***
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