Who raised this war machine? Are they sick? Why is it a pig?
Why?
So troublesome.
Sighing, Zhu Qianyun propped her cheek with her hands, poking at the paper in her hand with utter boredom. Within the mansion, other government officials responsible for the selection of the King of Han's consort were bustling about, with stacks of documents and letters piling up impressively. At the heart of these letters, Liu Gongfeng dealt with each file casually, occasionally calling out to Ma Chenglong to brew him a cup of hot tea.
"The third letter should be sealed with wax, not hermetically sealed! Chenglong, quick, pour your old man a cup of hot tea, or else I'll give your forehead a good tap with my finger!"
Liu Gong handled the documents and letters with ease, flowing like clouds and water without a single hitch. However, Zhu Qianyun, the nominal person in charge, seemed particularly bored at this moment because Liu Gong had already finished all the work.
