What kind of person was Yuwen Jie? He Chang’an was probably the most qualified to speak on this, since the two had grown up together since childhood, only separated for a few years in between—he knew Yuwen Jie’s thoughts and personality inside and out.
This man had a communication impediment paired with a stubborn pride, always believing in the principle that “actions matter more than words,” often spending time doing things for people rather than explaining himself to them. Though his expression remained rather unfriendly on the surface, his heart was actually quite soft.
Thinking about it now, losing to a man like this, he really had nothing to regret. He’d simply come to his senses later than the other man, and hadn’t been as ruthless in pursuing what he wanted—now all that was left was to offer his blessings, which was only right.
Time slipped by. The little prince, Yuwen Huang, was already ten years old. Great Liang enjoyed favorable weather and a prosperous, peaceful nation, the harem remained harmonious and stable, with the Empress still standing alone, unrivaled.
Over these ten years, nothing had changed. The Emperor still accepted candidates for the harem and conferred consort titles—officials seeking to advance their own interests would still send women into the harem. But those who truly cared for their daughters were unwilling to send them in, because everyone knew that entering the harem was practically the same as being a widow while still alive. The Emperor would go through the proper formalities, but never actually favored anyone at all.
This made things even more infuriating and helpless—if he’d openly abolished the six palaces, the officials could at least jointly petition and apply pressure. But with him formally accepting consorts while never favoring them, the officials could hardly tie the Emperor to the consorts’ beds themselves, could they?
At first, everyone considered going after the Empress instead, since surely a woman would be easier to deal with.
But later they realized just how absurd that idea had been. Who said women were easy to deal with? The Empress handled matters even more flawlessly than the Emperor himself. Want to arrange for someone to attend the Emperor at night? She’d arrange it without hesitation! But the Emperor simply never went—what could anyone do about that?
For the first couple of years, everyone assumed the Emperor and Empress were still in the honeymoon phase, and with the little prince too, their bond was simply too strong for anyone to drive a wedge between them—just wait a bit longer, they thought.
But as the years wore on, Yuwen Jie’s attitude never changed in the slightest, from beginning to end.
Even Hua Chun found it somewhat surprising. One day, walking together with the Emperor in the imperial garden, she asked him tentatively, “Don’t you think the newly-arrived Talented Lady is quite pretty?”
“She is quite pretty,” the Emperor nodded. “She’s paraded past me several times now.”
“And Your Majesty has no thoughts on the matter?”
Glancing sideways at her, the Emperor said, “There are many beautiful people in this world, plenty prettier than you too, but this Emperor simply isn’t interested.”
Look at that—in just a few short years, his sweet-talking skills kept improving. What pleased Hua Chun even more was that Yuwen Jie never spoke empty words—though he said little, whatever he did say was always sincere.
So she happily spent the next two days helping the Emperor review memorials, in a very good mood.
When Yuwen Huang turned five, Hua Chun became pregnant again. The Emperor’s face went pale with fear, torn between conflicting feelings.
“What’s wrong?” Hua Chun asked, watching him curiously. “Don’t you want another child?”
“That’s not it,” Yuwen Jie frowned, his handsome features clouded with something dark, and left without another word.
Hua Chun couldn’t figure out what was going on for a long while, not until that evening when ten midwives poured into Renxuan Palace, and a line of palace attendants began rearranging the halls, wrapping every sharp table corner in soft cloth—only then did she understand.
Was this the trauma left behind from her premature labor before? That it would frighten him this badly was truly beyond her expectations—she’d thought the Emperor wouldn’t care much, after all, the more heirs the imperial family had, the better, typically.
“Let’s have a daughter,” Yuwen Jie said very earnestly, standing by the koi pond in the imperial garden when she was five months pregnant, making a wish.
“Didn’t you like sons?” Hua Chun rolled her eyes hard. “You said you wanted a son from the very start, a few more sons wouldn’t hurt.”
“This Emperor wants a daughter.”
Wasn’t it a bit late to come to this realization now? Hua Chun scoffed, sweetness blooming in her heart even as she feigned annoyance on the surface: “You looked down on daughters from the start—daughters will look down on you too, then.”
Words proved prophetic—Hua Chun went on to have three more pregnancies in quick succession, all sons, not a trace of a daughter to be seen anywhere.
Yuwen Jie said nothing about it, only quietly having banners reading “Men and Women Are Equal” and “Sons and Daughters Are the Same” put up throughout the streets and alleys, then opened up the imperial examinations to allow talented women to serve as officials in court as well.
Great Liang thus became the most progressive dynasty in history, giving rise to a large number of talented and politically minded women. Though it didn’t fully overturn the deep-rooted preference for sons, it did become the beginning of the women’s rights movement in Chinese history.
By the time Yuwen Huang turned ten, Great Liang had entered a golden age—favorable weather, a strong and prosperous nation, common people living contentedly, the Emperor and Empress deeply beloved by all their people, and their four sons each accomplished in their own ways, getting along harmoniously—a truly happy family in every sense.
He Chang’an never married, and though wrinkles had begun appearing on his face, his elegant bearing hadn’t faded in the slightest. Hua Chun never asked him why he remained unmarried, and He Chang’an, naturally, never volunteered an explanation. The two met once a month, discussing court affairs over a cup of tea, then parting ways.
The Emperor had been having dreams for many years, and one day, all the dreams suddenly connected together, and he abruptly remembered a great many things.
After remembering, he fell gravely ill, nearly losing his life, frightening Hua Chun half to death—she knelt by his bedside, tears streaming down endlessly.
“Alright, I’m not dead, stop crying,” he comforted her gently, his gaze deep and distant. “Once Yuwen Huang turns fifteen, let’s abdicate and go travel the mountains and rivers together.”
The topic had jumped quite a bit. Hua Chun couldn’t react for a moment, looking at him blankly.
“This Emperor feels he owes you far too much,” Yuwen Jie said, the corner of his mouth curving slightly, reaching out to pull her into his embrace, pressing her head so she couldn’t see his expression, his eyes reddening slightly as he said, “Since we managed to be together in this lifetime, let’s cherish it properly.”
“You…” Hua Chun pushed him away suspiciously. “Do you know something?”
His gaze shifting, the Emperor smiled slightly. “This Emperor doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
He actually smiled?!
Hua Chun stared, dumbstruck. The lines of the Emperor’s face softened, an utterly captivating smile, his star-bright eyes gleaming—she completely forgot what she’d just heard, forgot what she’d meant to say.
“You’re about to drool,” the Emperor snorted coldly, reaching out to help close her jaw, then said with narrowed eyes, “Never expected that after all these years, you’d still blush looking at this Emperor.”
Coming back to her senses, Hua Chun pinched herself, saying irritably, “If you’d gotten uglier over the years, maybe I wouldn’t blush anymore, but what’s with you getting more and more masculine and handsome with each passing year?”
His brow lifting slightly, the Emperor flipped her over onto the bed, pinning her down, asking in a low voice, “Are you praising this Emperor?”
“Yeah, do I get a reward?” Hua Chun smiled sweetly, reaching out her hand.
“Mm.” Nodding earnestly, Yuwen Jie leaned down and kissed her deeply.
The bed curtains fell, snow began falling outside, yet within Renxuan Palace it was warm as spring.
Eunuch Qin stood outside the door, rubbing his hands, breathing warm air onto them, muttering quietly, “Maybe next year they really will have a daughter.”
Mist dispersed into the air, icy chill hanging over the palace halls all around—but auspicious snow foretold a bountiful year, and next year would surely be a good one too. What needed to pass had already passed, and those who’d weathered hardship to reach sweetness now had a future to look forward to without limit.
It was just uncertain whether Hua Chun would ever manage to give Yuwen Jie a daughter after all.
(THE END)