Damn it all— a system that arrives late is worth less than grass.
The system’s prompt was clear: if Zhao Ye dies, she dies.
If Zhao Ye lives, she lives.
Not only would she survive, she might even get a chance to open a rift in time and return to the modern world. But for now, she had to rely on Zhao Ye to gradually activate the system’s functions.
At present, the system was nothing more than a stripped‑down version. Aside from announcing its own existence, it was completely useless. All other functions were locked.
In other words, not only did she have to keep Zhao Ye alive—she had to make sure he lived well.
Other people transmigrated as princesses or noble young ladies, with prestigious identities at the very least, or else with heaven‑defying cheat abilities.
Why was it that when it came to her, she had to survive for twenty years in this godforsaken ancient world before finally getting a so‑called cheat?
Rather than a cheat, it was more like a pile of crap.
But… better than nothing.
Because among the locked functions, she could vaguely make out an exchange shop.
The accumulated values on it were probably used to exchange items. She didn’t yet know how those values were earned, but they were clearly closely tied to Zhao Ye.
Aman wrung out the cloth, gently brushed aside Zhao Ye’s tangled hair, and lowered her eyes obediently.
“This servant has attended Your Highness since childhood. I’m used to it.”
After four months on the road, this was the first time Zhao Ye had spoken.
Not only had his legs been broken—his tendons in both hands and feet had also been severed. Other than his head, he couldn’t move at all, no different from a complete cripple.
“You should leave. I’m already a useless person.”
What Crown Prince? What noble imperial blood? He was nothing more than the discarded criminal Zhao Ye.
Without an order, he could not leave Ningzhou. Without a summons, he could never return to the capital.
In truth, Aman felt deeply distressed. She had been by Zhao Ye’s side since she was eight, watching him grow up. Anyone would feel pain seeing him reduced to this state.
Aman said, “You’re crippled. I’m a maid. If I leave, you’ll die.”
Zhao Ye: “……”
He said nothing more, as though even closing his eyes took great effort.
“Your Highness, this servant is being disrespectful.”
After wiping his face clean, she saw how deeply sunken his cheeks were, his eyes hollowed so badly that the outlines of his eye sockets were visible.
The elegant bearing he once had was long gone.
Aman went to undo his clothes. They had been wrapped around him for four months on the road—the stench was beyond mere foulness.
But she couldn’t throw them away.
Because they had nothing at all upon arriving in Ningzhou. His chest, already shriveled and gaunt, rose and fell only faintly.
He was the Crown Prince—at least, he had once been.
With every inch of skin she wiped, his flesh trembled slightly. Once his clothes were removed, she discovered that large areas of his skin were already ulcerated.
Maggots were even feeding on his flesh, yet Zhao Ye made not a sound, silently enduring the pain of being eaten alive.
“Your Highness…”
It felt as though a thousand‑jin stone was pressing down on Aman’s heart. The pain was unbearable.
Zhao Ye was bent on dying.
“You don’t need to care about me.” He seemed ashamed, turning his face away. His bloodless lips trembled slightly.
It made sense. He had once been a lofty Crown Prince—when had he ever been this wretched?
“If this servant doesn’t care, you won’t live.”
“Your Highness, this servant will help you. I only ask that you don’t die.”
If he died, how was she supposed to go back?
That damned system wouldn’t even give her a hint. Zhao Ye had already lost the will to live—his body covered in festering sores, crawling with maggots, all four limbs crippled.
This was a catastrophic starting point. How was she supposed to turn things around?
Aman was already screaming and smashing her head against the wall in her heart.
Perhaps the faint sob in her pleading voice stirred something in him—Zhao Ye’s fingertip twitched slightly.
In the end, he still said nothing.
Before night fell completely, Aman hurriedly cleaned all the maggots from his body.
Disgusting or not, Zhao Ye being alive was what mattered.
As for the festering sores, she could only go into town the next day to find a doctor.
She could feel his discomfort when she removed his trousers. Aman said nothing, pretending that the barrier between men and women didn’t exist.
After all, he was already a cripple. The rest didn’t matter. Besides, in his current state, there really wasn’t anything worth looking at.
Aman didn’t notice the system’s value bar surging wildly.
After cleaning his body, she dug out a set of clothes that were barely dry and helped him put them on.
Zhao Ye was so emaciated he barely looked human anymore. The reason Aman had been sold by her parents after transmigrating into this dynasty was, first, that the family was so poor they couldn’t afford food, and second, because Aman was strong.
From a young age, she could lift things two or three times her own weight. Because of that alone, her parents had sold her for a full ten taels of silver.
Other girls could only fetch three or four taels. She was worth ten.
At the Crown Prince’s residence, Aman did all the dirty and exhausting work. She wanted to save more money so that in the future she could find a quiet place to support herself in old age. That dream, however, had been shattered.
Later, seeing that she was strong, spoke little, and looked passable enough, the steward simply assigned her to serve Zhao Ye.
And so Aman stayed by Zhao Ye’s side for many years.
She watched him study late into the night every day, forever with books to read and essays to write. Back then, Aman couldn’t help sighing—being Crown Prince was truly exhausting, even worse than a modern workhorse.
If the emperor was dissatisfied with his studies, he would punish him with confinement.
And “confinement” didn’t just mean keeping him inside the Crown Prince’s residence. He was made to kneel before the ancestral tablets—however many days he was confined, that was how many days he knelt.
At those times, there wasn’t a single attendant by his side.
“Your Highness, please rest assured. As long as this servant is here, I will definitely keep you alive.”
She thought that perhaps she had been a servant for too long, kneeling for too many years. Her backbone had become so spineless—she simply couldn’t harden herself.
Especially in the face of the Zhao Ye before her now.
He still didn’t speak, his eyes tightly shut. His long lashes trembled against his deeply sunken eyes.
He let Aman move his broken body as she pleased. His shriveled chest showed no vitality at all, and Aman was truly afraid he might seek death.
“Your Highness… this servant… this servant will go cook something for you.”
After a whole day of work, Aman was already starving herself. Thinking of the ten jin of rice the constables had issued—ten jin to last until next month’s ration—she would have to scrimp and save, then scrimp and save some more.
On the road to exile, Aman had brought a small iron pot. Though it was exile, they hadn’t been completely stripped of humanity; basic items were still allowed.
She had some silver as well, but much of it had already been spent on getting Zhao Ye treated and bribing the constables.
Several times, Zhao Ye had been critically ill and on the verge of death. Aman could only take advantage of rest stops to have the constables bring her to nearby towns to buy medicine, hoping to keep a single breath in Zhao Ye.
If he was going to die, he should’ve died earlier—don’t die just as her system had finally awakened.
If Zhao Ye died, she would die with him.