From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 125: Summer Jade
In the height of summer, only the mountains in the north remained a place of respite. In the shade of the tall, verdant trees was the imperial villa (1), rising grandly from the edge of the mountains like an immortal abode.
It was rare for Liu Yao to agree to the temporary relocation, or so Yan Zheyun had heard. The heat that swept across the capital like a wave might have been intolerable to the officials and concubines decked out in their long fine robes. But ironically, to the emperor, it was merely something to weather through, the imperial villa a costly extravagance that his spendthrift father had indulged too much in. Yan Zheyun could see why; the move took time and even more money. It wasn’t the same as just booking a family trip on some airline and hotel websites. Moving the emperor meant moving the court and the inner palace at the same time, with a long list of who to bring, whose servants to bring, and which belongings everyone would need to drag along.
So this year was the first time since his ascension to the throne that Liu Yao had acquiesced. And Yan Zheyun had a feeling he knew why.
That day in Tianlu Pavilion, after he’d mustered enough courage to ask Liu Yao about ’Ziyu’, Liu Yao had explained gently how a young prince, burdened by responsibilities he didn’t want, met a young companion in the summer imperial villa one year, who would change his life. He hadn’t tried to hide his love for Ziyu, which Yan Zheyun had been grateful for, because it had at least been honest, despite leaving a mild, sour feeling in his heart. Not the ugly acidic tang of hateful jealousy, no, but a deep wistful melancholy that he couldn’t explain even though it belonged to him.
After talking for the better half of the afternoon, Liu Yao had said, "I’ll show you." He hadn’t elaborated on just what he’d intended to show but the next morning, during the harem assembly, Head Eunuch Cao had appeared with a list of names of the concubines who would form the inner palace entourage to the imperial villa. And amidst the excited cries of the chosen ones and the groans of dismay from those who were to be left behind, Yan Zheyun had heard Liu Yao’s voice echoing in his head again.
I’ll show you.
Yan Zheyun was ready to see this part of Liu Yao that no one else dared to speak about.
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It wasn’t easy being the crown prince. Liu Yao had known of his destiny since he was a boy; as both the son of the empress, the official wife of the reigning monarch, and the oldest child to be born to the harem, it was like the heavens had favoured him as the candidate for ascension.
And sure enough, it didn’t take long before he was officially appointed his father’s successor.
’Heaven’s Proud Son’ (2), the capital liked to call their beloved crown prince. And it was easy to see why. The pretty, small child with fair skin and wide dark eyes soon grew up into a handsome youth, skilled in literary and martial arts despite his young age. How much the emperor and empress must dote on him, everyone thought, his younger brothers taking his prestige for granted as they looked on with greedy eyes at his enviable position.
But Liu Yao knew better. He knew that his father, the emperor, didn’t have any particular fondness for him. Quite the contrary, in fact. No emperor still in his prime, would tolerate a powerful, ambitious son, especially not one whose maternal relations were so powerful that he had no choice but to choose the boy who carried their blood as his heir, just so he could keep clinging onto his throne.
The Pei Family from the south produced great beauties, this was a fact renowned throughout the lands. And the empress, Liu Yao’s mother, was the most famous of them all. She was also lucky. Although her father had only been of modest rank, an official who would never have dreamed of even seeing the emperor in person, it didn’t stop the emperor from falling in love with her at first sight during an expedition to Lin Nan City. Nor did it stop her sister, also fair of face, from marrying into the powerful Ren Family, an old noble clan whose name even the emperor had to give some leeway to.
Connections upon connections in a messy, tangled web. A small noble’s daughter relied on her looks to morph into a phoenix overnight and a cunning old fox caught her and her son and weaved them into his intricate schemes. Even before Liu Yao could remember all their names, he was already embroiled in their politics, a five-year-old boy flummoxed as he stumbled through the crown prince appointment ceremony, unable to understand the malcontent in his father’s eyes.
By the age of ten, he had a better idea. Knew why his father never spoke to him if he could help it, carried his other sons upon his shoulders but never Liu Yao, checked the school work of the other princes but forgot that the eldest received praise from the tutors earlier in the day.
And he learnt not to care. What did it matter anyway? Ten was old enough to understand some truths but not old enough to be free of naivety. Back then, Liu Yao still believed that as long as he was worthy of the throne, no one could take what was rightfully his away from him. So what if his other brothers did not wish to play with him? So what if the other officials told their sons to aim to be the study companions of the other pampered princes because they deemed him nothing more than the crown prince in name?
As long as the Ren Family was a threat to the emperor, as long as his mother remained empress, his title was his.
Even if he didn’t want it.
What did Liu Yao want?
He found out too, that year when he was ten.
If there was one thing about that summer that most people remembered, it would be the extraordinary hotness, the kind of searing heat that burned across the skin like a relentless fire. That summer, a famine occurred that would turn the hairs on his harried father’s temples grey prematurely, but it hadn’t been Liu Yao’s turn to deal with that yet and what he recalled best was the long shaded corridors of the imperial villa with the blissful cool breeze and a pair of warm, soft hands that he held gently in his own as they explored the rock gardens in the early evenings.
Liu Yao met Ziyu before he became known to the literati of the capital as ’Ziyu’, and even as a child, he’d reminded Liu Yao of jade. If one were to describe him as warm, his elegant phoenix eyes lent him a natural aloofness that kept everyone else at bay. But if one were to call him cold, there was a spark to his wit that was bright enough to captivate his young, royal audience.
The crown prince’s quarters in the imperial villa were more isolated than the rest for reasons that no one talked about. But that year, the sound of childish laughter echoed within its lonely doors.
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"This is where you first met Young Master Ziyu?"
In the eastern corner of the imperial villa, at quite a great height, was a small pavilion overlooking the side of the mountain, with a breathtaking view of the sunset. Liu Yao had dismissed the servants after they brought up tea and delicacies and had taken it upon himself to do the honours instead.
He hummed in reply and poured the tea out with a satisfied smile, bi luo chun (3) from its light fruity and floral mix of aromas, and imperial grade, of course.
"What was he doing here?" Yan Zheyun asked, trying his best to imagine the sort of boy Liu Yao’s first love had been.
Liu Yao shot him an amused look. "What you’re doing now," he replied. "He liked the colours of the summer evening too."
Yan Zheyun froze in mid-action, before placing his leg back down rather awkwardly from where he’d been sliding it as surreptitiously as possible over the bannister of the pavilion. The crimson paint had been weathered away by wind and rain into a faded brown but it made the place feel more real, older, without any of the gloss from special lighting effects on movie sets, lending the atmosphere a sense of nostalgia that tugged lightly on his heart.
"It’s a good view," he said, mildly defensive of his lack of manners; nowadays when they were alone, it was becoming harder and harder to keep up decorum around Liu Yao, the ease of their interactions making Yan Zheyun forget that it wasn’t appropriate for cultured young men—and a concubine at that too—to be putting their robes at risk of snagging by climbing up and down, beautiful scenery or not.
And yet, a long time ago, another youth sat here in his place, breaking all the rules as he swung his legs and admired the fiery palette of the sky as it bid farewell to the sun.
Yan Zheyun heard the soft shift of fabric as Liu Yao rose to his feet but he didn’t turn around. As they’d strolled through the imperial villa earlier in the day, Liu Yao had brought Ziyu alive in his story, gave shape in Yan Zheyun’s imagination to a sweet companion, whose friendship blossomed over the years into something more.
But that was where the reminiscing had stopped. And although Liu Yao didn’t talk about where Ziyu had gone, his silence on the subject lingered in Yan Zheyun’s chest in the form of a persistent ache.
"Ah Yun." An arm wrapped itself around Yan Zheyun’s waist and he was pulled back to rest against a firm chest, reassuring and warm. This was Liu Yao’s favourite way of holding him, Yan Zheyun had realised a while ago, the emperor shamelessly taking advantage of his taller height and broader shoulders to fully engulf Yan Zheyun in his embrace, tightly, like he was afraid that if he loosened his grip, Yan Zheyun would slip out and be forever lost.
He’d always assumed it was because of Liu Yao’s innate possessiveness; being in complete control was a side effect of being emperor, Yan Zheyun could hardly fault him for it.
But now, looking at this pavilion, at Liu Yao, it was the same structure, the same mountains, the same time of the day in the same season, but the little crown prince had let something precious fall through his fingers and Yan Zheyun was left to pick up the shards.
Things are the same but the people have changed. (4)
"That day, my father was angry at his court officials for something or another," Liu Yao continued, his voice so soft it was nearly drowned out by the rustling of leaves. "My mother had thrown a party for Liu Wei but no one had invited me and so I came out for a walk on my own."
He brushed his lips against Yan Zheyun’s temple.
"That day was the first time Ziyu’s family had been invited to the imperial villa. The Yun Family had recently migrated to the capital from the south and their only son had yet to familiarise himself with the local nobility." He let out a quiet laugh. "So when he realised I’d watched him clamber over the bannister clumsily, nearly tripping over on his robes and falling to his death, he’d said..."
"Oops! Shh, please don’t tell anyone, my old man’s always going on about how I’ve ruined the family’s reputation, I’m worried he’ll ask me to kill myself in our ancestral hall to atone for my sins if I knew I’ve been scaling imperial architecture—hey, which little prince are you? Do you have a study companion yet? If you keep this secret for me, I’ll do all your homework for a week, how about that?"
"Ah Yun," Liu Yao murmured over and over again as he leaned over Yan Zheyun’s shoulder to capture his lips. "My Ah Yun is here."
Yan Zheyun felt his heart clench helplessly. He was, he was, but for how long? Could he stay by Liu Yao’s side forever? What would happen to Liu Yao if he vanished too?
"I love you," he heard, the words slipped in-between the incessant caresses of Liu Yao’s mouth, the pressure turning bruising as Yan Zheyun met him with teeth and tongue, the confession heady like a drug shot straight into his veins. "Ah Yun, my heart delights in you (5)."
"And mine in yours," Yan Zheyun whispered back, sincerity in every word that he uttered. His lashes fluttered shut as he felt Liu Yao grip his hair gently, tugging Yan Zheyun’s head back so that he could deepen the kiss.
The sunset was like molten gold. It was a splendid evening.
