After Breaking Free From The System's Control - Chapter 2
Morning light filtered through the carved wooden lattice windows, slipping inside in thin golden strands still touched by the freshness of dew.
Jin Tang awoke.
It was not an easy awakening.
It felt as though he were struggling upward from the bottom of a deep pool. His entire body was wrapped in a hollow, debilitating fatigue. Every breath tugged at the lingering ache left behind in every limb and bone. It wasn’t a sharp pain, but a dull, persistent heaviness—as though he had been wrapped in waterlogged cotton and was slowly sinking beneath the frozen surface of a lake.
His mind awakened before his body.
He heard faint rustling nearby, along with deliberately softened breathing.
Jin Tang slowly opened his eyes.
His long lashes trembled slightly as he adjusted to the dim morning light. Once again, the familiar five-clawed golden dragon embroidered upon the imperial yellow canopy came into view.
“Your Majesty… you’re awake?”
Wang Zhong’s voice sounded almost the instant Jin Tang opened his eyes. It was careful and gentle, as though he feared disturbing a hard-won sleep—or feared that this awakening might prove to be nothing more than another illusion.
Walking over with feather-light steps, Wang Zhong lifted the bed curtains.
His weathered face leaned close, the bloodshot veins in his eyes and the worry etched into every wrinkle impossible to hide.
Jin Tang wanted to answer, but his throat was once again so dry that no proper sound came out, only a faint breath.
Wang Zhong immediately understood.
He hurried forward, one hand supporting Jin Tang’s back while the other steadied his arm, slowly helping him sit upright.
Then he turned and retrieved a cup of honey water that had been kept warm in a nearby warming cabinet. After testing the temperature, he carefully brought it to Jin Tang’s lips.
The water was just right.
The gentle sweetness of the honey barely soothed the raw dryness in his throat.
After several mouthfuls, Jin Tang finally felt some life return to him.
Yet every bone and muscle still carried the emptiness and weakness left behind after being utterly drained.
“What time is it?” he asked, his voice still rough.
“Replying to Your Majesty, it’s just past the Hour of Chen,” Wang Zhong answered while signaling the waiting attendants to prepare the washing basin and fresh robes. “The Imperial Kitchen has breakfast ready. Please eat at least a little. Your body can’t endure going without nourishment.”
Jin Tang had no appetite whatsoever.
Still, he nodded.
He washed.
Changed clothes.
The entire process unfolded in heavy silence.
The palace attendants moved swiftly and efficiently. The only sounds inside the bedchamber were the faint rustle of clothing, the soft click of jade belt ornaments fastening into place, and the gentle ripples of water inside the bronze basin.
Everything proceeded in perfect order.
Nothing could be faulted.
Yet that very perfection made the silence feel suffocating.
Sunlight gradually spread across half the chamber. Dust drifted lazily through the shafts of light, making the stillness seem even more oppressive.
Breakfast was soon served.
As always, it was light and bland, with scarcely a trace of oil.
A small bowl of rice porridge cooked until soft.
Several exquisitely prepared side dishes that resembled works of art more than food—shredded bamboo shoots, pickled cucumber strips, fermented bean curd, and the like.
There was also a plate of pale white pastries that looked utterly flavorless, said to be steamed from Chinese yam and poria to gently replenish one’s qi.
This was the carefully devised diet that the imperial physicians had unanimously agreed was most suitable for his mysterious illness.
With Wang Zhong’s assistance, Jin Tang moved to the couch beside the window and sat down.
He picked up the heavy silver chopsticks.
Their icy touch made his fingertips shrink slightly.
He picked up a single crisp cucumber strip and placed it into his mouth, chewing very…
Very…
Slowly.
The cucumber itself carried a refreshing sweetness.
Yet in Jin Tang’s mouth, it tasted like chewing wax.
It was as though every one of his taste buds had long since been numbed by countless bowls of bitter medicine.
The porridge was warm and comforting.
Its fragrance was rich.
Even so, it stirred not the slightest bit of appetite.
After forcing himself to finish barely half a bowl, Jin Tang could swallow no more.
He quietly set down his chopsticks.
Standing nearby, Wang Zhong parted his lips as though he wished to persuade him to eat more.
In the end, he swallowed the words back down.
His brows knitted so tightly they could have crushed a fly.
The pain in his eyes was impossible to conceal.
This latest illness had frightened everyone more than any before it.
His Majesty had slept for two days and two nights.
And now that he was awake…
His complexion was white as fresh xuan paper.
“Your Majesty,” Wang Zhong reported softly, his voice hesitant, “during the days you were unconscious, many officials submitted memorials inquiring after your health. Several Grand Secretaries also sent people repeatedly to ask after you. This old servant didn’t dare make decisions on my own, so I only replied that Your Majesty required quiet recuperation. As for how to respond…”
Jin Tang gazed silently at the square patch of sky framed by the palace walls.
Morning light rested upon the flowering crabapple tree in the courtyard, gilding the edges of its blossoms with pale gold.
He remembered the snow-covered mountains from his dream.
And the lone rider galloping across them.
Drawing back his gaze, he said quietly,
“Tell them I am unharmed.”
“Let each fulfill his own duties.”
“Great Zhao…”
“…will not fall.”
Great Zhao will not fall.
The five words were spoken lightly.
Yet they struck Wang Zhong’s heart like a mountain.
Having served the emperor for so many years, this was the first time he had ever heard such absolute determination in Jin Tang’s voice.
He dared not think any further.
Lowering his head, he answered,
“Yes, Your Majesty. This old servant obeys.”
Sighing inwardly, Wang Zhong withdrew.
He knew those words would hardly calm the anxious hearts of the court.
But if His Majesty had spoken them…
Then they would be carried out.
Not long after breakfast was cleared away, Shen Jiren arrived punctually to examine the emperor’s pulse once more.
Behind him followed a young eunuch carrying a bowl of medicine.
The dark, nearly black decoction was placed before Jin Tang.
Its bitter smell instantly filled the room.
It seemed even stronger than yesterday’s.
Jin Tang’s expression remained unchanged.
Taking the bowl, he could feel its warmth against his fingertips through the porcelain.
He didn’t hesitate in the slightest.
Tilting back his head, he drank the entire bowl in one breath.
The medicine slid down his throat, leaving behind an indescribable bitterness that seemed to linger even in his breathing.
Closing his eyes briefly, he forcibly suppressed the nausea threatening to rise.
The weakness left behind by the System’s punishment still clung stubbornly to him.
Yet he could also feel something else.
The invisible sense of restraint…
The suffocating feeling of constantly being watched…
It had disappeared.
As expected.
The System still hadn’t returned.
It had stormed back to its so-called headquarters, declaring that it would find a way to “bring him to heel.”
There wasn’t much time left.
“Prepare to go to the Imperial Study.”
Supporting himself against the edge of the couch, Jin Tang attempted to stand on his own.
His legs still felt unsteady, as though he were walking upon clouds.
His body swayed.
But he quickly regained his balance.
Wang Zhong wanted to urge him to rest longer.
Yet seeing the determination in Jin Tang’s eyes, the words died on his lips.
He could only hurry to order the imperial sedan chair to be prepared.
Everything inside the Imperial Study remained exactly as before.
Memorials were piled high upon the large rosewood desk.
The room carried the fragrance of ink mixed with the faint scent of dust.
Jin Tang dismissed every attendant.
Only Wang Zhong remained outside the door.
Without the emperor’s express permission…
No one was to approach.
Jin Tang sat down upon the broad Dragon Throne.
The coldness of the seat seeped through his robes, making him shiver ever so slightly.
Ignoring the discomfort, he spread out a sheet of imperial yellow silk before him.
He picked up the wolf-hair brush reserved for imperial use and dipped it into the inkstone until the tip was fully saturated.
The brush hovered over the silk.
It trembled faintly.
Not because of hesitation.
Nor uncertainty.
His body simply had yet to recover from the System’s punishment.
The weakness deep within his bones made it difficult to keep his wrist perfectly steady.
Jin Tang closed his eyes.
He drew a slow, deep breath.
The cool fragrance of books and ink unique to the Imperial Study filled his lungs.
When he opened his eyes again…
Every trace of weakness had been suppressed.
Only calm resolve remained.
The brush descended steadily.
This imperial decree…
He had to write it.
While he still could.
Before the System returned.
For this empire—
Already plagued by both internal turmoil and external threats, and driven into chaos by his own forced reputation as a foolish tyrant—
He would leave behind a pillar strong enough to hold up the heavens.
He was appointing Prince Xuan, Xiao Li…
As Regent.
The justification had long since been prepared in his heart.
Prince Xuan possessed both civil wisdom and military brilliance.
His achievements were extraordinary.
His loyalty to the empire was unquestionable.
As for the emperor himself…
His chronic illness showed no sign of recovery.
His imperial health remained frail.
He feared he would no longer be capable of personally overseeing the countless affairs of state.
Therefore…
All military and governmental matters could henceforth bypass the emperor entirely.
Regent Xiao Li would be granted full authority to decide them.
To stand before the Regent was to stand before the Emperor himself.
With each stroke of the brush, the ink pressed firmly into the silk.
Only when writing about his own failing health did the brush hesitate briefly.
It was no exaggeration.
It was simply the truth.
Only…
The truth concealed a secret that could never be revealed.
As he wrote, Jin Tang silently comforted himself.
Or perhaps…
He was merely giving himself one last reason to keep going.
Fortunately…
The Late Emperor had left behind such a dependable sworn brother.
The thought was like a tiny flame burning in the middle of winter.
Too small to warm his whole body.
Yet enough…
To illuminate the space directly before him.
The ink gradually dried upon the silk.
Each clear stroke embodied every ounce of Jin Tang’s determination and strength.
Setting down the brush, he carefully read through the decree from beginning to end.
Only after confirming that every word and every meaning were exactly as intended did he reach for the Imperial Seal.
The jade seal, carved with a coiling dragon atop its handle, was pressed into vivid vermilion seal paste.
Using all the strength he had left, Jin Tang firmly stamped it upon the end of the decree.
The brilliant crimson seal stood out sharply against the imperial yellow silk.
It represented supreme imperial authority.
Then…
He reached for his personal imperial seal.
Beside the state seal, he pressed it down just as firmly.
Two seals.
One public.
One private.
Together they granted the decree absolute authority.
From this moment onward…
Unless Jin Tang himself issued another decree revoking it…
Or Xiao Li died…
Nothing would stand above it.
“Wang Zhong.”
Jin Tang called out.
His voice was slightly hoarse from prolonged concentration and lingering weakness.
Having held his breath outside the entire time, scarcely daring to breathe, Wang Zhong immediately entered.
His footsteps were as quiet as a cat’s.
Jin Tang handed him the decree.
His gaze remained calm.
“Keep this decree safe.”
His tone was as casual as though assigning an ordinary task.
Yet its contents made Wang Zhong tremble from head to toe.
Both hands outstretched, Wang Zhong accepted the light roll of silk.
It felt…
Heavier than a thousand catties.
His fingers shook uncontrollably.
His eyes instantly reddened.
Opening his mouth, he wanted to say something.
But his throat felt completely blocked.
Not a single word emerged.
He could only lower his head deeply, clutching the imperial decree tightly against his chest.
“This old servant obeys.”
Turning around, he staggered from the room.
Only after reaching the outer hall, where Jin Tang could no longer see him, did he raise his sleeve and fiercely wipe away the tears spilling from his eyes.
Inside the Imperial Study…
Jin Tang watched Wang Zhong’s slightly stooped figure disappear beyond the doorway.
The strength he had forced himself to maintain vanished all at once.
Leaning back against the cold chair, he slowly closed his eyes.
The study was utterly silent.
Only the drip…
Drip…
Of the water clock echoed through the room.
Like the ticking of a countdown.
Outside the window, the flowering crabapple tree bloomed brilliantly beneath the warm spring sun.
Clusters upon clusters of delicate pink and white blossoms burst vibrantly with life.
Yet inside the hall…
The young emperor sat alone in perfect silence.
His face was pale as paper.
As though an entire, uncrossable winter separated him from the flourishing spring beyond.
The imperial decree he had written was like a desperate move placed upon a chessboard.
On the opposite side of that board…
Awaited an unknown fate.
And the man racing toward the capital with all possible speed.
Xiao Li.
Jin Tang silently repeated the name in his heart.
You must…
Protect Great Zhao.
Author’s Note
Upcoming Novel — Minister at Dusk
Jiang Xuemu was the most unusual “princess” in the imperial court.
In truth, he was a prince.
Because he had been frail since childhood, he was raised as though he were a girl. The emperor doted on him endlessly, while his brothers and sisters indulged him without restraint, allowing him to grow up spoiled beyond measure.
That was…
Until his imperial father assigned the fearsome frontier general, Pei Shuo, to become his martial arts instructor.
Jiang Xuemu immediately resorted to his tried-and-tested strategy of acting cute and shamelessly whining.
“General Pei… I’m dizzy. I need to rest.”
Pei Shuo grasped his slender ankle.
“Your Highness, you’ve only taken three steps.”
…
Everyone in the palace said that General Pei was the only one capable of keeping the young prince under control.
Only Jiang Xuemu knew…
Exactly what kind of pervert the man truly was.
He would punish him by making him walk just one extra step, yet keep a steady hand around his waist to support him.
He would complain that Jiang Xuemu’s whining was irritating, only to silence him the next instant with a kiss.
Later, upon the bed, Jiang Xuemu’s eyes reddened, his waist limp and his legs trembling as he slapped the man.
“Pei Shuo! You’re not human!”
The man slowly licked the sweat-dampened center of his palm, his eyes dark enough to send chills through anyone who looked into them.
“The way Your Highness looks when you’re hitting me…”
“…is even more beautiful than when you’re crying.”
“So cry a little louder.”
“This subject will serve you with even greater enthusiasm.”
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