Lament at Long Gate Palace

Three

Disclaimer: This is a translation of the Chinese novel 长门怨 by Qiao Xi/乔夕 and not my own work.

Translated by: Catharcity
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Everyone said that our marriage was merely a political wedding. Your mother wanted to become the Empress while mine wanted me to become the future Empress. Together, the two of them schemed and calculated, until they finally succeeded in pulling the Crown Prince, Liu Rong, off the throne.

Liu Rong died a tragic death. He was humiliated and he died with untold grief and injustice. All he wanted was just some water, yet no one within the entire palace dared to serve him a cup of it.

When I had gone over, his eyes were still bright and shining. In a small voice, he whispered something into my ears.

No one ever knew that Liu Rong’s last words to me was that he loved me.

He loved me, but he could not.

Back then, the real reason his mother rejected my hand in marriage was simply because she could not allow her son as the future Emperor to possess love – a weakness.

As he said his last words to me, the resentment within his eyes faded away. It was with serenity that he accepted his death.

I cried loudly. The four walls of his room bore witness to my sorrow.

That was the first time I came face to face with death. I looked at Liu Rong as his body began to still, until there were no longer any more movements.

I think it was that day where you held me in your arms. For a long time, you did not say a word. Without question, you were grieving. You had lost an elder brother, even if the two of you had never been on close terms. You murmured that the Crown Prince should have gone to Heaven for he did no wrong.

His only mistake was to be too kind and guileless.

That day, we sat under an old tree, staring quietly at the moon within the skies. The both of us were unwilling to return to the unfeeling palace. You said, were it not for the fact that you were born within the imperial family, life would have been much simpler. You would have been able to watch the sun rise and set each day, without having gone through the struggles for power.

Everything would be calm; at peace.

We sat there from nightfall until dawn arrived the next morning, when we were discovered by the palace servants.

Not long later, I married you to become your Crown Princess. I remember that on the day of our marriage, thousands of commoners lined the streets of Chang’an as they celebrated our joining.

As I sat within the imperial palanquin, I had a long and beautiful dream. I dreamed that when I had finally become an old woman, you were still the man who held my hands. In my dream, you had also aged into an unrecognizable old man, your face lined with wrinkles.

But you smiled at me as you called my name: Ah Jiao, Ah Jiao.

When I woke up, you were standing next to the palanquin. With a soft voice and two eyes filled with tender affection, you said to me, Ah Jiao, from now on, you will be my only consort.

You brought me to Changmen Palace.

My eyes were greeted with gold, shining so brilliantly under the sunlight. You turned to me and said that you have finally fulfilled your promise – you have built me a golden palace.

Without warning, my tears fell. It turns out, the words you had said so carelessly that day were from the bottom of your heart.

I asked, why did you still remember?

You said that you remembered every promise you have ever made towards me.

That you have never forgotten them.

You said that I was the only woman you, Liu Che, have ever loved.

That I was your only consort; that in the future, I will be the only Empress of Great Han; that you will love only me in our lifetimes.

The promises you made then were heartfelt.

They were heartfelt, so they were also heartless.

In the first place, I should not have treated them as a vow for eternity. Except, we women often thought of things as being set in stone. To you, a promise could be carelessly given, just as a lie could be carelessly uttered. In the end, our love was built on carelessness.

In those days, the stories of our love spread like wildfire through the country. Within Great Han, which woman did not envy me, a person who lived within the golden palace you, the Emperor, had built for me?

Indeed. Just like you the way you had vowed, you devoted all your love towards me.

When you finally ascended the throne, I became your Empress.

All was well.

Except, my mother, the person who conspired to put you onto your throne years ago, continually tried to obtain credit for her achievements.

She was arrogant, and had been raised as such. She thought that everyone would endure her vile temper and wilfulness the way my father had. Countless times, she reminded you of her role in your ascension, demanding for you to treat me well, or she would just as easily be able to pull you off your throne the way she had aided you to kingship.

She said these words only to threaten you.

But she never knew that what you hated most was to be threatened.

Perhaps, this was the reason why you began to distance yourself from me.