The night was boundless, and candlelight flickered. Yan Wanqing, wrapped in a blanket, leaned against the Imperial Consort's couch, the unapologetically arrogant gaze of that person vaguely surfacing before her eyes, prompting her to shake her head.
"Arrogant."
Nowadays, the world was in turmoil—with Dawei at the forefront, the other Six Kingdoms all eyed each other like tigers waiting to pounce. Any disturbance in one country could cause a chain reaction, quickly drawing the attention of others. To unify the world under one ruler was an utmost challenge.
She simply thought he was gracefully backing out.
After all, "the world as a dowry" was something that only existed in stories.
Yan Wanqing rubbed her forehead, tired from a day's wanderings. Cong Ge came in from outside with a hot pot of tea, pouring it into a cup and, as she did so, used both hands to massage Yan Wanqing's temples.
"When will my lady rest?"
