After Breaking Free From The System's Control - Chapter 3

As Jin Tang lay down, he unconsciously lingered over that fleeting warmth.

The hall returned once more to that near-stagnant silence.

Jin Tang leaned back against the chair, eyes closed, letting the faint sunlight filtering through the gaps in the window fall across his eyelids along with drifting motes of dust, bringing with it a trace of warmth too slight to matter.

Exhaustion rose like the tide, wave after wave washing over the last of his strength.

Writing that imperial decree had drained every bit of energy he had only just managed to gather. His wrist was still trembling faintly, proof that he had overexerted himself while already weak to the extreme.

Yet in his heart, a weight had finally settled.

It sank firmly to the bottom and no longer hung suspended above him.

The rest of the afternoon passed between bowls of medicine and intermittent, feverish naps.

Wang Zhong came and went on tiptoe, the worry never leaving his face. Whenever he looked at Jin Tang, his eyes carried a concern he seemed desperate to voice yet could not bring himself to express.

Jin Tang noticed, but he had no strength to offer any comfort.

Words of reassurance would have sounded hollow now.

Only occasionally, during brief moments of clarity, would Jin Tang turn his gaze toward the palace doors, as though waiting for something—or perhaps confirming that something had yet to arrive.

At last, twilight descended.

The palace lamps were lit one after another, bathing the bedchamber in a dim, gentle warmth.

Jin Tang had just finished dinner—though once again, he had managed only a few reluctant mouthfuls of plain porridge. He leaned against a bolster, breathing slightly faster as he recovered from even that small expenditure of energy.

Then, from outside the hall, came footsteps utterly unlike those of the palace attendants.

They were steady and powerful, but hurried with the weariness of a long journey.

Each step landed upon the stone tiles outside, drawing closer and closer, as though striking directly against the heart.

Jin Tang’s previously unfocused gaze sharpened at once.

His fingers curled unconsciously, clutching the soft brocade quilt beneath them.

Wang Zhong had clearly heard it as well.

He listened carefully for a moment, surprise flashing across his face. Then, as though remembering something, he hurried to the doors and quietly asked a question through them.

A guard outside answered in a lowered voice.

The instant Wang Zhong understood, he spun around and hurried back to the bedside.

“Your Majesty, His Highness Prince Xuan has arrived. He is waiting outside and requests an audience.”

He was here.

Faster than Jin Tang had expected.

Something seemed to strike lightly against Jin Tang’s chest. He could not tell whether he had finally released a breath or drawn in another.

He tried to steady his breathing and sit up straighter, but even that simple movement sent darkness flashing across his vision and cold sweat beading at his temples.

Jin Tang gave up and leaned back again.

“Let Royal Uncle come in. Bring him directly to the bedchamber.”

“Yes.”

Wang Zhong bowed and hurried out to relay the order.

Jin Tang closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The air was filled with the faint scent of medicine and the subtle, weakened odor of prolonged illness clinging to his body.

He could feel his heart beating faster than usual, knocking against the hollow exhaustion inside his chest.

The footsteps sounded again.

This time they were clearer, striking the golden floor tiles of the inner chamber.

They remained steady, but seemed to slow slightly as they approached.

Jin Tang opened his eyes and looked toward the doorway, where the palace lamps outlined the approaching figure.

The first thing he saw was the tip of a boot marked with dust.

Then came the hem of a crisp purple princely robe, carrying the cold dampness of night dew.

Higher still was a lean waist cinched by a jade belt, broad shoulders, and finally, a sharply defined face.

Xiao Li.

His brow bones were high, his nose straight, his thin lips pressed tightly together. The clean line of his jaw was sharp as a blade.

Only his eyes were different.

They seemed to hold the eternal, unmelted snow of the northern frontier. At that moment, they were clouded with fatigue from the relentless journey, along with poorly concealed alarm and scrutiny as they stared directly at Jin Tang.

Xiao Li’s hair had loosened slightly, and his robes bore obvious creases and dust from the road.

He had likely entered the palace without even returning to his own residence first.

That urgency came from his suspicion toward the sudden summons, as well as his unease over the capital—and over the emperor’s present condition.

Their eyes met.

The instant Xiao Li stepped into the inner chamber and clearly saw the figure lying upon the dragon bed, the cold hardness of a frontier commander and the respectful composure of a minister appearing before his sovereign both fractured visibly across his face.

His pupils contracted slightly.

His gaze swept swiftly over Jin Tang’s face, pale to the point of translucence, then down to the thin hand lying weakly atop the quilt, its knuckles starkly defined.

Finally, his eyes returned to Jin Tang’s own.

They looked unusually large against his gaunt face, yet they were unnaturally calm.

Were it not for the instincts of a subject carved into Xiao Li’s bones through years of habit, compelling him to lift his robe, kneel, and offer his respects, he might almost have forgotten that the fragile young man lying deep beneath the imperial yellow curtains, looking as though the slightest touch might shatter him, was the emperor.

The only child of Xiao Li’s sworn elder brother.

“This subject, Xiao Li, pays respects to Your Majesty.”

His posture was flawless.

Only the faint tension across his shoulders and back betrayed the turmoil within him.

Jin Tang watched him kneel, and for some inexplicable reason, bitterness tightened in his chest.

He tried to raise the corners of his mouth, hoping to offer a lighter smile, but managed only a weak curve.

“Royal Uncle, there is no need for such formality.”

His voice was feather-light and breathy.

“Bring him a seat.”

Wang Zhong had already shrewdly moved a chair over and carefully placed it at a suitable distance from the dragon bed—close enough for conversation, yet far enough to preserve the proper boundary between sovereign and subject.

Xiao Li thanked him and rose, but did not sit immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on Jin Tang’s face.

There was shock in his eyes.

Confusion.

And a rapidly gathering flame of anger.

That anger was not directed at Jin Tang.

It was directed at everything before him.

The emperor was gravely ill, yet Xiao Li—the Prince Equal in Rank whom the Late Emperor had valued so highly—had been kept entirely in the dark.

Only after being summoned back today had he finally been allowed to see the emperor with his own eyes.

They had not met in three years, and there had already been distance between them.

The last time Xiao Li had seen him, the person before him had still been a young emperor carrying traces of youthful immaturity, more wary than affectionate toward the royal uncle who commanded a vast army and had received extraordinary honors from the Late Emperor.

But now, the person lying on the sickbed, barely breathing yet staring at him with eyes as still as deep water, filled Xiao Li with an entirely unfamiliar alarm.

In the end, Jin Tang spoke first, breaking the suffocating silence.

He looked at Xiao Li, his tone gentle with the concern of a younger relative toward an elder.

“Royal Uncle must have had a difficult journey. We have not seen each other in three years. Has everything been well in the northern frontier?”

Xiao Li suppressed the emotions churning inside him and lowered his eyes as he answered.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. All is well in the northern frontier. The border is peaceful.”

His reply was concise and formal, entirely in keeping with his usual temperament.

Only his clenched fist, the knuckles faintly whitening, told a different story.

Jin Tang nodded and seemed about to say something, but could not stop himself from coughing softly twice.

An unhealthy flush rose across his pallid face.

Xiao Li’s brows knitted instantly.

He took half a step forward, then forced himself to stop.

Watching Jin Tang’s body curl slightly from coughing, his shoulders so thin they seemed to consist of nothing but bone, Xiao Li felt his anger entwine with a strange restlessness until both nearly shattered his restraint.

At last, he could no longer hold back.

His voice deepened, carrying suppressed fury.

“What illness has struck Your Majesty? How has it worsened to this extent? What are the people of the Imperial Medical Bureau being fed for?”

The final sentence came out as a harsh rebuke.

Jin Tang finally managed to stop coughing, though his breathing had become uneven.

He raised one hand and waved it faintly, signaling that Xiao Li need not be angry.

His voice weakened further.

“They are not to blame. The imperial physicians have already done everything they can.”

He even attempted to make a joke, but the smile was so pale it made the heart ache.

“I did not summon Royal Uncle back merely so you could scold the physicians.”

Looking at the way Jin Tang forced himself to remain composed, every question Xiao Li had wanted to direct at the Imperial Medical Bureau lodged in his throat.

Though he and the Late Emperor had shared no blood, they had been as close as true brothers.

The Late Emperor had shown him kindness as vast as a mountain. Before his death, he had held Xiao Li’s hand and entrusted the young ruler to his care.

Yet for the past three years, Xiao Li had remained far away in the northern frontier.

Though he knew the capital had been plagued by turmoil and that the young emperor’s conduct had become increasingly “absurd,” he had refrained from interfering too deeply because of the formal divide between ruler and subject, and because of the subtle distance between them.

Now, faced with Jin Tang in this state, Xiao Li was seized by profound guilt and helplessness.

Suppressing his surging temper, he asked carefully in a low, measured voice,

“What exactly is Your Majesty suffering from? Why has it come to this?”

Jin Tang merely shook his head.

He could not speak the reason aloud.

The System’s existence was like a nightmare that could never be dispelled.

Jin Tang closed his eyes wearily.

When he opened them again, his gaze had returned to calm.

“I summoned Royal Uncle back,” Jin Tang said slowly, “because I intend to appoint you Regent, to manage the affairs of state in my place and stabilize Great Zhao.”

The bedchamber became deathly silent.

Xiao Li jerked his head up and stared at Jin Tang in disbelief.

Regent?!

Since ancient times, a Regent had possessed immense power and authority.

Xiao Li was already a Prince Equal in Rank, and his achievements were so great that they overshadowed the throne. He was precisely the kind of man the young emperor ought to guard against most fiercely.

Now he already commanded the military power of the northern frontier.

If he were also granted the authority of a Regent, it would be no different from placing the lifeblood of all Great Zhao directly into his hands.

“Your Majesty, this matter…”

Xiao Li instinctively began to refuse.

But the moment the words reached his lips, he met Jin Tang’s eyes.

Those eyes were clouded by illness, yet utterly open and sincere.

There was even the faintest hint of relief within them.

Xiao Li abruptly swallowed the rest of his refusal.

Unless a situation had truly become hopeless, what emperor would ever make such a decision?

Especially an emperor who had once clearly regarded Xiao Li with suspicion.

Looking at Jin Tang’s face, pale as paper, and the way even a few sentences left him struggling for breath, Xiao Li felt as though an invisible hand had closed tightly around his heart, squeezing until it ached.

Imperial Brother… this subject has failed the trust you placed in me.

Before such a heavy reality, every word of refusal seemed hollow and false.

Xiao Li’s Adam’s apple moved.

All the emotions surging through him eventually condensed into a grave acceptance of the decree.

He lifted his robes and knelt again.

This time, he bowed his head deeply.

“This subject, Xiao Li, accepts the decree. I will devote every effort to stabilizing the court, repaying Your Majesty’s trust, and comforting the Late Emperor’s spirit in heaven.”

Jin Tang watched him kneel.

The taut string in his heart finally loosened slightly.

He released a quiet breath, as though a burden weighing a thousand catties had finally been removed from his shoulders.

Exhaustion surged over him more fiercely than before, his eyelids so heavy he could barely keep them open.

“…Good,” Jin Tang answered softly, his breathing growing weaker. “I am somewhat tired. Royal Uncle has also traveled far. Go and settle in and rest for now. We will discuss the details tomorrow.”

Xiao Li rose.

Seeing the exhaustion written heavily across Jin Tang’s face, and realizing he truly had no strength left to continue, he tactfully said no more.

He stepped forward and supported Jin Tang’s arm, helping him lie down slowly.

Xiao Li’s palm was broad and warm, covered with the thin calluses left by years of wielding weapons.

Even through the fine sleeping robe, it carried a solid sense of strength.

Its warmth stood in stark contrast to the coldness of Jin Tang’s limbs.

As Jin Tang lay down, he unconsciously lingered over that fleeting warmth.

Xiao Li carefully tucked in the edges of the quilt, pulling the imperial yellow brocade up to Jin Tang’s chin.

His movements were meticulous and focused, as though he were carrying out something of the utmost importance.

His gaze lingered for a moment upon Jin Tang’s peaceful sleeping face.

The emotion in his eyes was difficult to distinguish.

There was concern.

Gravity.

And perhaps even a trace of tenderness that Xiao Li himself had yet to recognize.

Only after finishing did Xiao Li silently step back, bow, turn around, and leave the bedchamber one measured step at a time.

His back remained as straight as ever, yet it now seemed burdened by something unseen, making him appear more solemn than when he had arrived.

Wang Zhong gently closed the doors behind him, separating the light and shadows within from those outside.

In the final instant before sleep claimed him, Jin Tang thought hazily—

At last, he had taken this step.

Author’s Note

Love for someone begins with your heart aching for them.