Chapter 8: How long has it been since I last visited the Pepper Chamber Palace?

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“Ask Lu Xuan?”

“Ask again?”

“Won’t this make us seem too proactive? What if we get exposed? The wisdom of future generations is truly profound...” Zhang Liang fretted anxiously.

Liu Bang decided to stop overthinking.

“In any case, we’ve already agreed to kill him three months from now. Being a bit proactive won’t change much. Solving the current problems is what matters most.”

He looked at everyone, ready to immediately go consult Lu Xuan, but reconsidered—the sky was already darkening—so he let the thought go.

He dismissed the group; they dispersed and left one by one.

For now, the matter of Lu Xuan should not be spread.

After Zhang Liang and the others departed, Liu Bang sat alone upon the imperial throne in the Changle Palace, his expression heavy with worry and restlessness.

Sometimes, knowing too much is not a blessing; it means more matters demand attention. Many issues remained unresolved, and yet new troubles kept arising.

He reflected on the simpler times when he was just a humble magistrate in Pei County—those days had been quite joyful.

Rubbing his brow lightly, Liu Bang rose slowly and headed toward the Jiaofang Hall.

The hidden gardens stretched deeply, moonlight like flowing water.

Twilight had settled, the moon’s first pale light softly spilling over the glazed tiles of Jiaofang Hall, casting a cool and quiet glow.

Draped in a dark ceremonial robe, Liu Bang felt an unexplained complexity in his heart.

He stepped onto the polished white jade steps, their touch cold as ice.

Before him stood the vermilion palace doors, firmly closed, the bronze rings dulled under the moonlight.

After a long hesitation, he finally commanded the guards to open them.

Inside, the walls were painted a deep, intoxicating red with pepper mud plaster, the faint scent of pepper lingering warmly, as if it could dispel the pervasive loneliness and chill of the palace.

The floor was paved with silver bricks, each polished smooth and even, reflecting faint golden sparks in the hazy moonlight, like a golden river flowing with the glory and dignity of the Han dynasty.

Thick, straight pillars stood inside, their scarlet paint weathered and mottled, like the worn kisses of time.

Carved upon them were twisting patterns of dragons and phoenixes—the dragons’ scales exquisitely detailed, seeming to tremble slightly as if ready to break through the walls and soar; the phoenix’s feathers light and graceful, as if dancing in the breeze, preparing to sing aloud.

How long had it been since he last came here?

Quite some time.

Around four years ago, he met a woman.

Consort Qi.

In the years that followed, she bore him his third son, Liu Ruyi, which only deepened his affection for her, his obsession with her body, her beauty, her very being.

At that time, Empress Lü Zhi was not yet by his side.

Back then, he had reached an agreement with Xiang Yu to divide the realm evenly.

When Lü Zhi returned from being a hostage in the Chu camp to his side, he showed little joy, for he was then infatuated with Consort Qi, causing his relationship with Lü Zhi to grow increasingly distant.

Besides that, there was another matter.

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He did not like his crown prince, Liu Ying.

Liu Ying was gentle and weak, the least like himself, whereas Lü Zhi was strong-willed, and he could feel her cold nature.

If he were to pass away, Liu Ying would find it difficult to rule alone.

Thus, in his heart, he wished to depose Liu Ying—for his own good—and replace him with Liu Ruyi, the son of Consort Qi.

This matter had almost set him and Lü Zhi at irreconcilable odds and was why he had not set foot in Jiaofang Hall for a very long time.

“The Empress is a pitiful woman,” he murmured.

Since ascending the throne, Liu Bang found himself increasingly valuing emotions and kinship.

Naturally carefree and seldom mindful of others’ feelings or opinions, after hearing Lu Xuan recount the Empress’s lifetime of suffering, a different feeling stirred within him.

Sympathy, pity, guilt.

He felt he had failed Lü Zhi as a husband.

Learning of Lü Zhi’s grave illness only complicated his feelings further, swelling his sense of remorse.

After much hesitation, he resolved to visit Lü Zhi.

To offer her the husbandly care and attention she had been denied all these years.

The quiet Jiaofang Hall felt desolate.

Only sparse smoke rose gently, carrying a faint fragrance.

Liu Bang’s footsteps were soft as he moved deeper into the hall.

Gradually, he heard the rhythmic “sha sha sha” sound.

Before him, Lü Zhi’s face was calm as she pressed down firmly on a spinning wheel, slowly weaving cloth.

Liu Bang knew that over the years, she had personally woven and mended the children’s clothes stitch by stitch.

Like the emperor himself, Lü Zhi was remarkably frugal.

In stark contrast to Consort Qi.

Since unification, the sumptuous Qin garments and jewels from the former Six Kingdoms had been seized and granted lavishly.

The finest silks, jade ornaments intricately carved, hairpins and pendants fashioned from gold and silver.

Among all the concubines, Consort Qi’s palace was the largest and most luxuriously decorated.

She was also gifted in singing.

To allow her to fully display her talents, Liu Bang had granted her many excellent musicians.

Such favors the Empress Lü Zhi never received.

He vaguely remembered once preparing to bestow exquisite jewelry upon her, but she declined.

Liu Bang’s footsteps were light.

Accompanied by the spinning wheel’s steady clatter, Lü Zhi seemed unaware of his arrival—or perhaps she noticed but chose to ignore him.

Liu Bang, too, chose not to disturb her.

“Sha sha sha...”

Lü Zhi wore a robe of brilliant red, vivid and striking.

Her posture was upright and dignified.

Her black hair neatly combed back into a solemn bun, adorned with a silver hairpin set with a ruby that shimmered faintly in the light.

Her hands rested gently on the wooden handle of the spinning wheel, strikingly fair and slender, fingers nimble and deft.

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With a slight flick of her sleeve, the spinning wheel began to turn slowly, then gradually faster, emitting a deep and powerful “sha sha” sound.

Under her rhythmic tread, the pedal rose and fell steadily with each step.

Fluffy white silk fibers were swiftly and orderly twisted into fine, strong threads under her control.

Liu Bang noticed the wrinkles that had formed on Lü Zhi’s pale forehead and the beads of sweat glistening there.

Yet she did not pause her work.

After waiting a long while, Lü Zhi finally stopped.

“Why haven’t you gone to see her today?” she asked, her voice unusually calm.

But there was little trace of estrangement in her tone.

Liu Bang’s heart lifted slightly; he had feared she would remain silent and leave him, or even send him away.

Carefree as ever, he replied, “How could she be better than my Lü’er? Haha!”

Such shameless, almost roguish words from the emperor sounded entirely natural.

Lü Zhi’s expression faltered for a moment.

At her age, such reckless speech was unbecoming.

Hardly the demeanor of an emperor.

“I’m tired. I’m going to rest,” she said, turning away.

Liu Bang was not about to let her go.

He had come to make amends for past mistakes and the neglect she had suffered.

Except for matters of utmost importance, he usually shed all imperial airs.

Without hesitation, he followed her and gently pulled her down onto the bed.

After some time, warmth filled the room.

Liu Bang spoke softly, “I’m planning to summon the imperial physician to examine you.”

“You’ve suffered much over the years; perhaps there are lingering ailments.”

“Thinking of this makes me feel guilty. Haha, maybe I’m just a scoundrel—there are too many people I’ve wronged in my life.”

After speaking, Liu Bang theatrically raised his large fan-like hand, as if to strike himself.

Lü Zhi quietly watched him.

His hand hung suspended in the air, frozen.

“Do you think I would stop you?”

Liu Bang showed no embarrassment as he wrapped his large hand around Lü Zhi.

“Consort Qi might try to stop you; you might as well go to her.”

“Tonight, I’m staying right here. Nowhere else!” Liu Bang asserted boldly, then softened his tone.

“Remember what I said: you must take this to heart. There must be a hidden illness you need to properly nurture.”

“I don’t want to see you outpace me.”