Speaking of which,
Xu Yuan took out a porcelain bowl, cradled a roughly one-foot-diameter porcelain jug with both hands, and poured the warm broth into it:
"This is a small token of Qingyan's and my regard for you, Your Highness. I hope you won't refuse."
Splash...
For a moment, the spacious loft fell silent, with only the sound of broth filling the bowl.
"Thud!"
After placing the porcelain jug heavily on the desk, Xu Yuan pushed the fragrant broth in front of Li Zhaoyuan:
"This soup is very nutritious. Even if you're on the verge of Mortal Transcendence, Your Highness, it should be quite beneficial."
Li Zhaoyuan sat upright on the soft couch, staring at the meaty aroma emanating from the bowl in front of him without speaking.
Xu Yuan sat across, gauging the other's expression.
Honestly, he didn't like people like Li Zhaoyuan.
They kept all their thoughts hidden inside, making it impossible to tell what they were thinking—no sense of retributive satisfaction at all.
