From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 173: The Second Prince

Chapter 173: The Second Prince

"Yue Langjun, this..." It was rare for Cao Mingbao to hesitate to grant Yan Zheyun entry into the emperor’s study but today, Cao Mingbao took one look at the simple bowl of noodles that Yan Zheyun carried on a lacquered tray and started shuffling his feet with indecisiveness.

"Don’t worry, Cao Gonggong," Yan Zheyun reassured. "I’ve asked His Majesty for prior permission." It seemed like a lot of unnecessary fuss over a rather plain dish but it was early afternoon on Liu Yao’s birthday and he was aware of just how sensitive the date was for his husband. After learning that Liu Yao didn’t typically celebrate his birthday at all—apart from the state banquet the inner palace didn’t even dare to acknowledge the occasion—Yan Zheyun had felt his heart ache for him. He would be the first to acknowledge that he grew up privileged, and he understood that he was very lucky to have parents and siblings that took the time out to celebrate his birth every single year without fail. He also knew that not everyone was as fortunate. He’d had classmates with broken families who would choose to spend the day with their friends instead and that was fine too.

But the pain he felt when he thought about the emperor alone on his throne was immeasurable. Liu Yao was supposedly the most precious man in the kingdom but unable to feel like the day he’d been brought into this world had any worth.

Yan Zheyun sighed. It was cold in high places1.

Tianlu Pavilion was much the same today as it was on any other day. Inside, Liu Yao sat at his desk, his posture impeccable as always as he poured over the endless memorials stacked neatly in front of him with a small frown on his face. He looked up as Yan Zheyun walked in and the furrow between his brows smoothened out.

"These are the noodles you were talking about? This sovereign is blessed to be able to enjoy your home-cooked meals." ’Home-cooked meals’ was another phrase Liu Yao picked up from him. They’d had that conversation when Liu Yao had seen a silvery burn on his hand from where he’d accidentally touched the edge of a hot cooking pot while making porridge1. Liu Yao had tried convincing him he didn’t have to do any of the cooking anymore, that he would promise to eat on time even if it was the imperial buttery sending the food over. But Yan Zheyun had patiently explained to him that it wasn’t the same, that cooking for Liu Yao, now his cherished family member, was as important to him as Liu Yao eating the meals he prepared was.

Yan Zheyun smiled and waited for Liu Yao to clear a space before setting the tray down. He bowed with a little flourish. "Presenting my secret recipe longevity noodles, handed down from generations above." He paused for a moment before adding more gently, "Happy birthday, Ah Yao, I am honoured to celebrate today with you."

Liu Yao swallowed. Yan Zheyun watched as he took a deep breath, let it out, and patted Yan Zheyun on the back of his hand. "You’ve been thoughtful," he said before reaching for the chopsticks.

Yan Zheyun might have come from a different time and place but he had been pleased to learn that the custom of having longevity noodles to mark the occasion was the same. That being said, the tradition tended to vary from one region to another and he had learnt from some of the palace momos that here in Great Ye, the longevity noodles were prepared as one single long strand, which had to be eaten continuously without breakage in-between. This was symbolic of a long life.

Handmade noodles were always a challenge to prepare; Yan Zheyun couldn’t exactly just pop down to the supermarket and buy a pack of fresh longevity noodles from the fridge section. It had taken him days to get it right, working hard on this in the kitchens of Aiyun Palace whilst the servants watched on excitedly and promised not to spill the beans. They had long since grown accustomed to this particular consort showing up to take the cooking into his own hands.

"Eat it whilst it’s still hot," Yan Zheyun urged, not forgetting to include a reminder to Liu Yao that he had to eat it in one go without cutting off the strand with his chopsticks for fear of shortening his lifespan. Liu Yao shot him an amused glance, as if to tease him for being so superstitious, but did as he was told.

Yan Zheyun had expected to spend the rest of the afternoon quietly by Liu Yao’s side to keep him company, perhaps catching up on some light reading whilst Liu Yao forged on the endless administration of the realm, but to his surprise, after Liu Yao was done, he pulled Yan Zheyun over to sit on his lap, nuzzling into the back of Yan Zheyun’s neck before murmuring, "My Ah Yun is so good to me."

Yan Zheyun reached down to intertwine their fingers together. "My Ah Yao deserves it," he answered lightly.

Liu Yao let out a huff of laughter. "Do I?" he asked. "My beloved mother has never seemed to think so."

Yan Zheyun felt his heart twinge. He wriggled a little in Liu Yao’s hold until he had enough room to turn around and cup Liu Yao’s face in his hands. "She’s wrong," he said, feeling like he had never been more serious about anything before. "I don’t know what happened between the both of you and I won’t ask unless you wish to tell me of your own volition. But Ah Yao, you deserve my love and the love of your people." This was mushier than Yan Zheyun would normally allow himself to be, his cheeks flushing from the awkwardness that ensued under Liu Yao’s intense gaze, but he forced himself to remain firm. "You’re a good emperor and a good husband."

Whether he was a good son or not wasn’t for Yan Zheyun to judge but he wasn’t a saint. He would be the first to admit he was biased.

Besides, he hadn’t seen much evidence that the dowager was a good mother.

"She wasn’t always like this."

Yan Zheyun met his eyes patiently, attentively, to show Liu Yao that he was a willing listener.

"I can’t remember when things started changing." As Liu Yao continued speaking, his gaze grew distant as though he was no longer here with Yan Zheyun but instead, looking back on his hurtful past and confronting it with Yan Zheyun as an audience. "You might not be aware of this as he had passed away before your birth but this sovereign’s younger brother, the second prince was born within a shichen of me."

This, Yan Zheyun did not know.

"He was the son of Consort Huo, a favourite of the late emperor’s back then and the biggest competitor of his affections before Supervisor Liu." Liu Yao let out a mirthless chuckle. "Perhaps it was because the second prince died on the day of our birth, Consort Huo was always kind to me...much to the displeasure of my birth mother."

Yan Zheyun frowned. "You mean to say she treated you poorly because a concubine she disliked was nice to you?" He couldn’t comprehend it. Liu Yao was the oldest son, the only legitimate son, and in this conservative era, where male descendants borne by the first wife were prized beyond all else, he couldn’t fathom why the dowager chose to push her son away instead of doing everything she could to ensure that her son saw her as his parental figure more than the other concubines.

The corner of Liu Yao’s mouth quirked upwards. "Oh, no," he said casually. "My beloved royal mother was benevolent enough to bestow upon me a couple of years of maternal love, if you wish to call it that." The story that unfolded next was even more puzzling. "Interestingly enough, it was only when I reached my fifth summer that things took a peculiar turn."

That year, a fire sparked oh-so-mysteriously in Consort Huo’s palace in the middle of the night. During the efforts to put it out, the servants that entered Consort Huo’s chambers discovered a doll with the young first prince Liu Yao’s bazi embedded hatefully with pins.

Witchcraft was a sin punishable by death and the imperial family was particularly superstitious in this regard. Overnight, Consort Huo went from being the previous emperor’s elegant, magnanimous favourite to a scheming, evil demon out to threaten the rule of the Liu Clan.

Liu Yao was too young to recall much about the incident but it remained fresh in his mind that that was the year his mother started hating him.

That was the year she stopped celebrating his birth. He never understood why; how did she have no qualms about doting on Liu Wei when she acted like it physically hurt her to look twice at him on some days? Was he not good enough? Did he not try hard enough?

The contrast stung. As time flew by, he learnt not to have any high hopes of ever winning her approval again.

Any words of comfort died on Yan Zheyun’s lips as he listened numbly to Liu Yao retelling his tale. The inner palace was a harsh place to be, let alone for a loveless prince. To some extent, Liu Yao was lucky that he had been born the first and legitimate heir to the throne. Otherwise, he might not even be around now to pat Yan Zheyun on the head in an ironic attempt to reassure him.

"There, there," he murmured gently. "I didn’t intend to upset you, Ah Yun. If you’re going to cry, I’m not going to share anymore."

Yan Zheyun glared at him but with little heat. "I’m not crying," he insisted. "But I am angry."

"Good, as am I." Liu Yao reclined back in his seat. "For years now, I have investigated the matter. Cao Mingbao already served my dear royal father back then and has told me what he can remember. That shortly before Consort Huo was executed with poison wine, my mother visited her where she was held under house arrest in her palace."

Yan Zheyun looked at him seriously. "You think it was something that happened during that visitation that caused the dowager to change her attitude towards you?"

Liu Yao nodded. "It seems most probable, does it not? Can you not hazard a guess what this might be, Ah Yun?"

Yan Zheyun could. Having watched the most dog-blooded inner palace dramas at his mother’s behest, he’d already had a sneaking suspicion that it had to be related to whether the dowager was Liu Yao’s birth mother or not. Initially, he had considered that perhaps Liu Yao wasn’t truly her child, that the dowager had perhaps had a miscarriage during labour and chose to disguise this to secure her status by procuring a child from elsewhere to pull the wool over the eyes that were scrutinising her every move.

But with the involvement of Consort Huo, now that Liu Yao had told him about being born on the same day as the second prince, an even more ludicrous thought had occurred to Liu Yao.

"You...were swapped by Consort Huo You’re actually Consort Huo’s son?" he asked hoarsely.

Liu Yao let out a harsh laugh. "Who knows?" he replied. "A part of me believes that if the dowager had any evidence of this, she would have gone to great lengths to let the truth come to light. After all, raising the child of your rival...she is no bodhisattva1, I cannot believe that she would do so for so many years, even grudgingly."

Yan Zheyun’s brain whirred as he tried to rationalise this. "Not voicing her concerns about your parentage but unable to treat you as if you were her own...then maybe...she isn’t sure either."

"It’s all just speculation, of course." Liu Yao sighed. "In an alarming display of loyalty, Consort Huo’s servants hung themselves on the day that she was executed, choosing to follow their mistress in death1 and taking their secrets with them."

"The midwives? The imperial physicians?"

"All already interrogated but nothing suspicious had been discovered. If the switch had occurred though, then it is no wonder why my dear mother cannot reconcile herself with the truth. Underneath all her resentment, I imagine the guilt must be overwhelming."

Yan Zheyun could sense that he had more to add. Sure enough...

"You see, Cao Mingbao told me about another rumour. The death of the sweet young second prince was very likely linked to our beloved dowager."

It was like an explosion occurred in Yan Zheyun’s mind as he struggled to process the implications of that.

"You mean to say...she killed her own son?!"

Liu Yao shrugged. "As I said, who knows?" His smile took on a mocking slant. "Not you, not me, and probably not even she."

Following someone in death has a specific term (xun4). In ancient times, this was referring to a ritual of being buried alive with the dead to accompany them in the afterlife. For example, during the Qin Dynasty, there was a tradition of sealing servants in the tombs of the emperors so that they could continue to serve the emperor in the underworld. Xun4 can also be used to refer to the act of ending one’s life after the death of another, usually a servant willingly following their master. Xun4qing2 is the act of following a dead lover in death. Lastly, it is also a term that can be used to describe dying for a cause or being a martyr. Idiom which means it’s lonely at the top. I used the term porridge but am aware that in some cultures this might be interpreted as oats. I’m referring to congee in this case but the etymology of the word in English is actually Tamil, not Mandarin, and feels strange in the historical setting. Often used as a metaphor to describe someone who is very benevolent, not used with any religious connotations in such a context.