Chapter 47 Lovesickness
Night had fallen, yet the candlelight still burned in the Zichen Palace. Zhen Jiancheng sat alone before his desk, his vermilion brush hovering in mid-air, untouched for a long time. Memorials piled high, each word and phrase concerning the fate of the nation, now seemed like blurred ink. His thoughts drifted beyond the palace walls, to the garden with its scent of green grass.
From the moment he first met Huairou, he never thought of facing her as an emperor. In front of her, he only wanted to be Zhen Jiancheng again, a man who worried about the people's livelihood, worried about his family, and had ordinary joys and sorrows.
"Look," he had said countless times in his heart to the imagined Huairou, "this is the real me, the one who serves the people and cares about Yunji's safety; the one who admires your intelligence and kindness, and is delighted by your smile; the one who can drive with you and enjoy tea under the moon; the one who wants to help you solve your problems and see your brow unfurrowed!"
This "I" is not a symbol ensnared by power and bound by interests, nor is he an emperor who needs to balance the harem and maintain the court. How he longs to strip away this heavy dragon robe and stand before her simply as a man.
That's why he always carefully concealed his identity. He feared that once the identity of "Emperor" stood between them, the rare purity and sincerity between them would instantly change. He was even more afraid that if the world found out, Huairou would be dragged into endless strife, becoming a pawn in the struggle between various forces and a victim of clan honor and disgrace—this was the last thing he wanted to see.
The more Zhen Jiancheng understood Huairou, the clearer her hidden inferiority complex became. She steadfastly supported Yunji without asking for anything in return; she founded Liyuan to pass on skills and benefit the people; despite being in dire straits, she always maintained inner clarity and a clear goal; seemingly weak, she possessed the power to heal hearts.
"Such a woman," Zhen Jiancheng thought painfully, "an arranged marriage by her parents is not good enough for her, her illustrious family background is not good enough for her, even the throne of the emperor, and the empress's position, which is second only to the emperor, seem so vulgar and unworthy of her soul."
His gaze inadvertently swept over a report on the affairs of the Crown Prince's Palace on the desk, and the name Yunji stung his eyes.
Compared to his father, who was trapped on the dragon throne, Yunji was incredibly lucky! He was young, full of energy, about the same age as Huairou, and had inherited the best bloodline. More importantly, he had inexplicably and early on captured the softest spot in Huairou's heart. At that time, Yunji was unmarried and had a "clean" background, so in the eyes of the world, he had more right to be loved.
"Yunji has everything he has, and Yunji also has things he doesn't have." A bitter feeling welled up in Zhen Jiancheng's heart. Yunji had Huairou's unreserved love, while he, as the emperor, didn't even have the right to openly express his feelings.
What made him feel even more powerless was that even though fate had arranged for Yunji to eventually fulfill his political marriage obligations and marry Yuan Ya, he was still able to spend his days and nights with Huairou in the secluded paradise of Liyuan with his "tacit approval" or even "promotion," enjoying the warm companionship that he had longed for but could not have.
All of this plunged the emperor, who controlled the world, into an unprecedented depression.
The throne, once the platform for his diligent governance, now burns like a raging fire, scorching his body and mind day and night. The endless remonstrances from his courtiers and the seemingly never-ending political affairs have all become a long and arduous task. The vast palace, empty and desolate, is like an exquisitely crafted cage, tightly confining him within.
He felt as if a million eyes were watching him, and every move he made would be magnified and interpreted in countless ways. Even the harem, a place where he should have been relaxing and resting, had become a battlefield where he had to strain his nerves and carefully balance the interests of all parties.
"The only place I can sleep peacefully each night is this small imperial bed; the only thing I can wear is this yellow robe." He surveyed the vast and magnificent Zichen Palace, a profound sense of emptiness gripping him. "Yet for this small space, for this imperial robe, I must repeatedly pay the price of sacrificing my true self and suppressing my emotions!"
He thought of Yunji's mother, the girl who died when he was still a prince. "She was buried with the imperial power..." The thought sent chills down his spine. Now, Huairou existed so vividly, like a ray of light shining into his gloomy life, yet he sadly discovered that he seemed to have lost the right to love her. The identity of the emperor had become the deepest and widest chasm between them.
Meanwhile, inside the garden, Huairou stood by the herb garden under the moonlight, the cool evening breeze brushing against her hair.
With Yunji's crisis averted, her heart finally settled, and she relaxed as if all her strength had been drained. However, another indescribable emotion quietly crept over her. She knew that the emperor was ill and had gone outside the palace to recuperate. And in her heart, "the emperor is ill" meant "Gianchengjun is ill."
Her fingertips brushed against a sprig of mint, but the cool scent failed to dispel the gloom in her heart.
"What can I do?" she murmured to herself, gazing in the direction of the palace.
A man like Jiancheng Jun—no, a man like the emperor—will always have people more important than himself to care about him, will always have grander national affairs to handle, and will always have more "high-quality" women of noble birth surrounding him. Those heavy palace walls not only imprisoned his body, but also completely separated his world from her.
"What am I?" A bitter smile appeared on Huairou's lips. "Perhaps, just a substitute for someone important in his memory? An interlude to pass the time amidst his busy political affairs? A naive commoner woman who thinks she can change something with her limited knowledge of different eras?"
She could sense the subtle changes in "Ganseong-gun's" attitude towards her since Yunji's incident—he became increasingly polite, yet increasingly distant. It was as if the man who embraced her on the hillside under the moonlight and whispered in her ear, "Huairou, what is it that you truly want?" was merely an illusion.
"The fact that my groundbreaking remarks weren't considered heretical and punished is already a great act of imperial grace," she thought with a touch of self-deprecation. "My risky act of delivering the message to save Yunji must have put him under considerable pressure in court. After all, he's the emperor; he has his own constraints."
Her thoughts drifted away, and she recalled a dream she had long ago when she was recuperating from a fever in the Guanghe Palace. In the dream, a warm figure dressed in dark blue casual clothes gently placed Yunji's small hand in hers. It was a silent entrustment, filled with complete trust.
That figure... was none other than Jiancheng, whom I had only met once at Canglang Pavilion.
Huairou felt a pang of sadness. She turned away, her back to the imperial city, as if this would sever the source of her constant turmoil. Tears welled up in her eyes without warning, but she stubbornly raised her head, gazing at the cold, clear moon in the sky, refusing to let them fall.
Inside and outside the palace walls, two people of vastly different social standing, harboring the same unspeakable secrets, gaze at the same sky from their respective cages, feeling the same loneliness.
Confined within the ninefold palace, bound by his status and responsibilities, he could not have the love he desired. He could only suppress his surging emotions under the majesty of an emperor, alone tasting the bitter wine of inferiority and depression.
Living in a business-affiliated academy, she was broad-minded yet keenly aware of the gap between reality and her aspirations. She buried her budding feelings deep in her heart, warning herself not to dream unrealistic dreams. The increasingly polite distance between them was like a fine thorn, pricking her heart and causing a dull ache.
The crisis of saving Yunji was like a sudden storm, briefly and tightly intertwining their fates. After the storm, what remained was not sunshine, but a more complex muddy landscape and an unspeakable distance. Between them, everything seemed to have changed, yet nothing seemed to have changed. Only the once faint bond had become heavier and more restless.
This silent night became their shared prison. One tormented himself on the dragon throne, the other grieving under the moonlight. Separated by towering palace walls, strict etiquette, and an insurmountable chasm.
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