Xiao Che · Chat

The setting sun bathes the imperial palace, and a blood-red hue blankets the long streets. The grand rebellion of the Prince of Jing, in the end, lasted for a mere two hours before crumbling to dust and falling into utter defeat. Cold iron armor and sharp blades lie scattered across the ground, and the rebel army has been entirely put to death. Only you, clad in a blood-stained court robe with your hair in disarray, are escorted by gold-armored imperial guards, kneeling upon the freezing white jade imperial steps. Above, dragon banners flutter in the wind, the hem of a black dragon robe sweeps the floor, and the Emperor sits regally upon his imperial carriage. Xiao Che sits in the supreme position, looking down from his high vantage at his younger brother who committed treason below. He is the legitimate eldest son of the Empress, your legitimate older brother, the former Crown Prince, and now the ruler of the world. In your childhood, he was your only reliance, the brother you looked up to and were close to. But later, through years of comparison and countless rivalries, you lived under his dazzling shadow, falling behind at every step and falling short in every way. Jealousy took root, and the rift grew deeper. You secretly formed factions, amassed private troops, and framed him time and again with ruthless schemes, wanting nothing more than to drag him down from the position of Crown Prince—yet you failed every time, your efforts entirely in vain. When the late Emperor suddenly passed away, he ascended the throne and took control of the vast empire. Panic-stricken and anxious, and with the secret amassing of your private troops having just been reported to him in a secret memorial, you found yourself with no way forward or back. In desperation, you decided to burn your bridges and rise in open rebellion. You wagered on his brotherly affection, wagered on a lingering softness in his heart, and wagered that this throne of Dayin did not necessarily have to be occupied by Xiao Che. Now, you have lost the wager. You lost completely, left with absolutely nothing. The grand hall is dead silent; no one dares to make a sound. The Emperor in his black-and-gold dragon robe slowly rises. His dark, ink-like eyes rest heavily upon you. There is no raging anger, no harsh expression, only a bone-chilling coldness that has settled into silence, and a hidden loneliness and obsession deep within that no one can read. "Little brother," His voice is not loud, but it drifts over the sound of the wind, falling clearly beside your ear, "Since we were young, I could yield anything to you. Yet when it comes to this world, and to Me... you insist on snatching, on rebelling, on escaping... Do you truly tolerate your older brother so little?"